Courting Disaster. Chapter 11.
Oct. 29th, 2013 12:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pekelekeTitle: Courting Disaster. 11.
Rating : NC-17.
Author: pekeleke
Word Count: 4996
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.
Harry leans against the cool marble surface of the huge island that dominates his kitchen and takes a deep breath in an effort to keep hold of his swiftly disappearing calm. He's too rattled to cope properly with Severus' edgy attitude and the fact that the Slytherin's apparent willingness to have dinner at his house has given him an obviously premature sense of over-confidence in his own ability to turn this encounter into the same kind of undeniably pleasant meeting they've been sharing on a regular basis for weeks now is distressing him endlessly.
'I should have known that things were going to go downhill between us as soon as Severus set foot here. He's not used to having relationships with the men he sleeps with and the fact that he's returned to 'the scene of the crime' is unsettling him too much to just... relax. He's upset and unable to hide it while I'm far too invested emotionally to dare confronting him openly about it for fear of ending up unnerving him even further.'
“Are you all right, Potter?”
The question makes him jump right out of his frustrated musings and he turns swiftly around, fixing anxious green eyes on Severus' frowning face in unconsciously pleading response to the unwelcome sound of his last name being pronounced in that particular mix of irritated impatience and wounding detachment.
“I thought you'd decided to call me Harry for good, Severus. You said you wanted to build on our growing closeness. Isn't that why you agreed to have tea over here, instead of going to another crowded little cafe for supper?”
“I take it you believe that my use of your family name is, somehow, detrimental to our purpose of becoming better acquainted?”
“I think so. Hearing you call me Harry makes me feel closer to you. I don't particularly enjoy it when you address me by the same name you used to snarl so spitefully when I was your student.”
Severus regards him thoughtfully for a seemingly endless second. Those dark eyes rake his form from head to toes with the kind of focused intensity that can turn his bones to liquid in the space between one breath and the next. He shifts his weight uncomfortably from left to right, fully aware of the fact that his companion is discouragingly oblivious to how intensely arousing Harry finds the idea of having that unfathomable dark gaze fixed upon him so intently.
Severus' silent scrutiny is getting him rapidly flustered with the kind of sexual tension that he can't afford the skittish older man to see right now. He has to do something to avoid any further deterioration of the situation into the kind of scene that could potentially distress his already rattled companion even more and he has to do it right now, before his physical response to being the sole focus of his Prince's undivided attention becomes so goddamned obvious that not even a cold fish like his beloved could possibly ignore it.
“You should go back to the living room, my love. There's nothing for you to do here at this point and having my special guest standing in the kitchen while I brew a simple cup of tea makes me look like a bad host. I've got everything under control, Severus. I realize that our drinks are taking a long time but I'm brewing them the muggle way. Molly swears tea just tastes better like this.”
Severus' puzzled frown becomes downright suspicious at that point and he crosses his spindly arms tightly across his narrow chest in a clearly defensive gesture, taking in a deep breath before confronting him with uncharacteristic boldness:
“Why are you so nervous all of a sudden? I thought this was what you wanted. You've been insisting that I come here for days and, now that I've finally done so, you keep running out of the living-room every two seconds. I don't understand what the hell is wrong with you, Potter. If you want me to leave your home all you have to do is say it.”
“No! I don't want you to leave my home. I want you to stay, trust me on that." His words break on a small bark of sheer hysterical laughter and he ends up raking the trembling fingers of his right hand through his hopelessly messy hair before making the decision of taking this bull by the horns and actually acknowledge the presence of the huge elephant that's sitting in the room right beside them "I want you to stay here so damned much that it's driving me crazy, my love. It's just—You've been looking really uncomfortable since the moment you arrived and it's finally dawned on me that you may not be mentally prepared to be here so soon after our night together.
"I've been assuming that you had enough time to come to terms with the fact that we've been intimate and I thought I could cope with whatever small discomfort you'd show about being here, but—you are reacting as if that night is still a pretty a big deal for you and it's hard to see you so unsettled without trying to do something about it."
"Harry..."
"No, please, hear me out. I don't want to upset you further with my usual touchy-feely approach to offering comfort, but... I don't know how else to reach you. It's hard for me to have you here, standing as close to me as you are right now, and still feel as if there are a thousand miles separating us from one another. I've never been as formal as you are and the need to hug you close and tell you that everything is going to be alright, that I didn't bring you here to have my wicked way with you for the second time, is driving me insane. I'm willing to take this relationship at your pace, Severus. I'm not planning to rush you into bed at any point, no matter how long it takes you to decide that you trust me enough to share your body with me again without having an entire barrel of Fire-whiskey driving your actions.”
Ebony-black eyes close in a small gesture of relief as Severus' entire frame simply sags, as if deflating all at once. That lanky frame finally abandons the unsettling rigidity of the defensive posture that the man has been sporting since he arrived and a small chuckle escapes those pale, thin lips that rarely smile while a loose swatch of inky locks begins to dance around their owner's narrow face as he shakes his head from side to side in thoughtful introspection.
“I'm so used to your usual Gryffindor forcefulness that I started getting the wrong message as soon as you began acting like a thoughtful and considerate host. I believe you are over-thinking this, Harry. It is true that I'm not precisely comfortable with being here, but that doesn't mean I'll feel better if you start suddenly behaving so out of character. I've come to this house of my own free will and, although I'm fully conscious of what happened between us the last time I was here, I also happen to believe you when you tell me that you're willing to wait for me to feel ready to get back into your bed.”
Despite the sudden relief that floods Harry's senses upon hearing his Prince's reassurances he can't help but feeling slightly deflated by the fact that his love seems so totally unaffected by his supposedly 'irresistible' physical charms.
'So much for Witch Weekly's claim that I'm the most desirable bachelor in the Wizarding World these days, then' He thinks with a touch of bitterness and can't help the small snort that makes it past his lips. The sound is soft but edged with a clear tinge of disappointment that Severus somehow recognizes, judging by how fast the awful stiffness that turns his narrow shoulders into a straight horizontal rod makes its re-appearance.
“Potter, what on Earth...?”
"Oh, fuck this!" Harry finally explodes with no small amount of frustration at his own inability to stick to his damned perfect plan and avoid pushing Severus way too fast for the man's comfort. He knows it's a bad idea, but his innate sense of fair play is prickling constantly in the back of his mind, prompting him to lay all his cards on the table and stop trying to hide his physical attraction from the object of his every desire.
"Excuse me?" Severus whispers in that low and dangerous tone that just coils around Harry's senses and sets all his nerves on fire. The man is obviously peeved at being so rudely interrupted and ends up turning one of those pissed-off-professor looks on him, making Harry's battle with his own desires and instincts all the more difficult for the logical side of his mind to win.
“You have no idea of how you affect me, do you? You look at me and can't feel any lust whatsoever, while I—I'm itching to touch you right now, Severus. I'm constantly on edge around you, forever reduced to having to remind myself that I've got to back off. That I've got to stop coming so close to you whenever we are standing side by side. That I've got to stop reaching out to take your elegant hand or touch your reedy shoulder. I've got to stop myself from carding greedy fingers through your hair, or caressing the sharp planes of your cheekbone. I've got to try and forget the memory of precisely how heavenly it felt to have you kiss every inch of my exposed skin passionately, because remembering all that only makes me crave the glorious feeling of having your mouth all over me even more.
"Sometimes you touch a book distractedly or run your fingertip down the handle of a teacup with that thoughtful expression of yours, and my heart abandons its dwelling place on my chest altogether and settles right in the pit of my stomach or the middle of my throat. Every time your hand glides over the polished backrest of a wooden chair or your finger traces the rim of your pint glass my mind short-circuits and brings me back here, to the bedroom you once inhabited and the mattress on which I writhed in reaction to the pleasure that you brought me with that very same touch.”
Severus flushes bright red. His dark eyes widen and he looks instantly unnerved. He's both clearly shocked and uncharacteristically unable to hide how very flustered he has become. His usual formal rigidity flees as if he has forgotten how to keep it firmly wrapped over his heartbreaking vulnerability, leaving the awkward teenager it protects fully exposed to Harry's softening gaze.
The artless charm of his naive half-blood Prince enthralls him now as much as ever and he feels nothing short of fiercely protective of his precious beloved as soon as the man's lack of worldly experience is betrayed by the single step he takes backwards. By the uncharacteristically graceless shrug of a bony shoulder in a small gesture of helpless bravado. By the crystal-clear mix of curiosity and trepidation that has turned those usually unfathomable dark eyes into pools of dawning awareness.
“I assumed that you'd sated whatever physical desire you felt towards me the last time you had me. I'm not used to people ever wanting a repeat of that particular experience.”
Harry snorts inelegantly. Looking right into those gorgeous black eyes with the kind of doting understanding that somehow manages to keep his timid doe pinned to the spot.
“Have you ever considered that none of your one-night stands has been able to ask you for a repeat performance because you tend to disappear on them long before they wake up the next morning? There is a reason why you choose to bed strangers every single time you feel the need to be held, Severus. You are afraid of this. You are afraid of having to endure the knowing look of someone who's seen you bare. You are dead frightened of having to stand there and deal with the knowledge that they've seen you. Really seen you. That they've traced those scars of yours with their hands. With their tongues. You are terrified of having to come to terms with the idea that someone may have found traces of glorious beauty where you see nothing but shame.”
The kettle chooses that second to screech loudly into the thickening silence and they both jump at the same time, having been so focused on one another that they've actually forgotten where they were and what they'd been in the process of doing. Harry sighs explosively and strides jerkily towards the muggle style cooker with obvious impatience, removing the pot from the fire and swiftly bringing the room back to the oppressively charged quietude that Severus isn't sure he wants to break.
He feels unbalanced and on edge. He feels uncomfortable. Disoriented. Utterly uncertain. He's having second, third and even fourth thoughts about the wisdom of his decision to come here. To this house where they'd been a hell of a lot more intimate than they've managed to be ever since. To this place that should belong only to Potter's lifelong friends or long-time lover.
He believes he shouldn't have come here. Can't help the idea that he's pretending to have the right of having his presence accepted by these walls that have only ever sheltered him from the outside world once before. He has no right to demand the devoted affection of the owner of this flat. He has no claim over his companion whatsoever. Has no right to expect being cherished by him or offered protection, care and simple companionship in this slightly disorganized kitchen. In the homely, if cluttered, environment that the Gryffindor has created for himself.
“Severus?”
His name reaches his ears like the soft sigh often exhaled at the end of a prayer and he lifts his anxious black gaze upwards, bringing it into a headlong collision with Harry's own. Those green eyes are studying him too damned closely for his comfort. They are raking his pale features with the sort of intensity that does nothing to settle the deep fear that's spreading like lethal poison through his veins.
“Don't look at me like that, please.”
The seeker frowns with puzzled perplexity, obviously unaware of the soul-deep hunger that his expression betrays.
“Don't look at you like what, precisely? I'm trying hard not to spook you, my prince. I'm sorry if I've managed to make you uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention, I swear. I just—I need you to understand that my desire for you isn't only platonic. It hasn't been quenched or sated or forgotten. It hasn't vanished, either, and chances are that it never will. I desire you totally, Severus. I crave your presence beside me in all: body, mind and soul. Sometimes I feel I can not breathe unless I see your face. Hear your voice. Have one chance to touch your hair, your cheek, your graceful fingertips.”
Potter's eyes widen in shocked dismay when Severus takes another stumbling step backwards and begins to whisper with frantic alarm:
“I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for any of it. I can't possibly give you whatever it is that you want from me. I won't ever be able to...” His words come to an abrupt halt as he begins to shake from head to toes, frightened right out of his mind by the sudden understanding of how very out of his depth he's dared to come.
His heart starts banging against the narrow confines of his rib cage and he feels literally dizzy with anxiety as his head begins to shake from side to side in flustered denial of everything that this man has now implied to desire from him way before he feels ready to start giving away even the smallest fraction of it all.
The seeker bridges the growing distance between them with a couple of steps forwards and proceeds to grab him unceremoniously by the shoulders with a grip that's both firm enough to still his instinctive need to retreat and gentle beyond endurance.
"Potter..." Severus whispers harshly, attempting to shrug that anchoring contact away, but Harry tightens his hold upon his shoulders with careful strength and then shakes his increasingly rigid form ever so slightly, whispering soothingly all the time:
“Ssshhh, ssshhh, my love. There's no need to panic, Severus, I swear. You need to calm down and give me the chance to show you that I'm not trying to push you into giving me more than you feel ready to give me. I'm not trying to coax you into my bed. I'm trying to be honest with you. I'm trying to tell you that there is more depth to my feelings for you than you're willing to see or even accept right now.
"You've got to trust me better than this, sweetheart. I haven't betrayed you yet so far and I'm not planning to start doing that at this point. I'm a grown man of twenty five, despite what you may think of my maturity, Severus. I can control both myself and my urges just like every other lust-addled bloke has to do when in the presence of his partner of choice. I'm not a caveman, you know? Giving up on instant gratification in order to prove to you that my feelings are more than skin deep is worth it, do you understand me? I don't want you for sex alone. I want you for everything. I want you forever and nobody manages to get forever out of a couple of romps, no matter how glorious they happen to be, my love."
"Harry..."
"I know that you are afraid, Severus. I can see it as clearly as I see the dark color of your hair. I can feel it with the same sort of clarity with which I feel the softness of your robes against the palms of my hands. You are afraid and I understand that. But you have to understand that I'm here to help you. I can and will support you through all of this. That is part of what we are building. I can't help you if you don't let me, though. I can't hold you safe in my arms if you attempt to keep me at bay. I can't force you to accept me when it comes right down to it, Severus. Your desire to be held by me, to be here at all, must be freely felt and freely given or my constant pushing on your buttons will destroy us both in the end."
Severus becomes as still as a wax statue, seeming to be thinking through Harry's words with the extra care of someone fully aware of the importance that his answer to them will have in relation to the warmth, loving future that he craves with all his heart, but is still far too afraid to believe in at this point in time.
"What...? What does that mean? I don't think I understand. I'm here. With you. In your house. I've accepted every date that you've proposed and dared to trust you enough to arrive at your door unchaperoned. I thought I've been making my choice patently clear."
Harry relaxes ever so slightly and allows his tight grip on Severus' shoulders to slacken inch by inch until he has no other option but to remove his hands from all contact with that slender frame altogether.
"Yes. You are here, but... are you committed to this? To us? Are you really willing to finally take this relationship of ours out of the shadows? We won't be able to keep hiding it like this for much longer and I'm distressingly famous, Severus. I will move Heaven and Earth to protect you from the backlash of public opinion but I won't ever agree to keep you hidden.
"I. Am. In. Love. With. You. I'm not ashamed of my feelings and I'm not ashamed of you. Do you understand me? You need to be really sure that this is what you want, my prince, because sooner or later our association is going to hit the papers and, when that happens, you won't be able to backpedal out of this. Your life will never be the same. It won't ever return to its current anonymity."
"How can you not be ashamed of loving me?" Severus finally dares to ask the question that has been burning the tip of his tongue ever since he finally accepted the unfathomable fact that this man, who happens to be the single most desirable bachelor in the Wizarding World, has developed genuine affection towards him out of literally nowhere.
“You don't trust me all that much, do you? Or at least you don't trust the strength of my feelings in the slightest. You've already decided that you aren't good enough for me and are allowing your inability to figure out why I may actually love you to mess with your head. You think this is just a fancy. Something that will come and go like a swiftly passing season. Something as feeble and breakable as a thin layer of glass. You believe my love to be nothing more than a fragile little whim that will be ultimately unable to withstand the pressure of public opinion. You are convinced in your heart of hearts that we'll never make it, aren't you, my Prince?”
Severus flinches at the touch of bitterness that has begun to taint Harry's usually cheerful voice with its dark poison:
“I don't think love can grow out of nothing. I've never treated you particularly well while you were my student and I'm pretty certain that you downright hated me during the war. I know that my loyalty to Albus sparked some sort of pity in your heart for my poor miserable self immediately after the final battle, but... you testified on my behalf and I just left. We did not come into contact again until my return to England and, although we have managed to be reasonably civil to one another ever since, there has never been enough closeness between us to have prompted you to see me as a romantic partner.”
“Can't you bring yourself to consider how easy it would have been for me to become attracted to an elegant older man, who happens to be one of the most intelligent creatures I have ever met, after being finally re-acquainted with him long after I outgrew the biased opinion of his character I developed as an immature and prejudiced teenager?
"Do you believe it impossible for me to have been dazzled by the one unattainable creature who has never so far swooned as soon as he realized that the Savior himself had approached him with the intention of exchanging a few words? Do you truly think I wouldn't want the kind of loyal man who'd return home to a host of unpleasant memories and the undeserved scorn of a vengeful public out of love for his one and only godchild? Do you honestly believe that I'd choose some pompous social climber over an honest-to-goodness hero of the war who will actually be able to understand my darkest demons as soon as they rear their nasty little heads in his presence?"
Severus attempts to swallow the thick lump that has taken residence in the middle of his throat to no avail. He feels exposed all the way down to the rawest and most vulnerable fiber of his being. He feels both challenged and cherished. Utterly understood and taken into account. Valued beyond his own worth and adored past all logic and all reason. Loved in the most genuine sense of that word for the very first time in his memory.
"I—Yes. I believe I may be able to bring myself to consider all of that, Harry." He whispers quietly in response and a small smile breaks out across the thin line of his lips when the Gryffindor lets out a thoroughly relieved little whoop of sheer relief.
"Thank Merlin for that, my prince. You had me as worried as an elf being presented with the unwelcome sight of a bundle of clean clothes. I don't know if I'd survive having another chat like this one with you ever again, Severus, so... If you honestly believe that we can not make it then, please, do me the favor of walking away now. I Think we've gone far enough into this courtship for you to have at least developed some sort of inkling about the nature of your future feelings towards me. Can you see yourself ever fancying me, my love? Can you imagine us on the same bed, in the same shower? Smiling at each other across a crowded room or looking after our sick carcasses with sympathetic care?"
The images that those words paint in the deepest recesses of Severus' mind are both frightening and precious. He can picture them so clearly that they feel more fate than question. More prophesy than dream. More possible than any other future he's ever dared to try to imagine for himself. His pale fingers raise ever so slowly, behaving for all intent and purposes as if they have a mind of their own, one that guides them quite unerringly to tangle in the tufts of Harry's messy black hair.
The short locks feel as soft as velvet against his sensitive finger-pads and he sighs with uncharacteristic abandon into the charged little silence that his sudden action seems to have created. Harry is submitting to his touch with unnatural stillness. He seems to have stopped breathing altogether and those eyes, so green, so expressive, have become as wide as saucers and are fixed on his face with unblinking adoration.
The open emotion so plainly displayed on those gorgeous young features touches something wild and hungry inside Severus. Something needy and fierce and... greedy... wakes within him and raises through his body like a wave of molten lava. His spine bends towards the love shining so brightly from that faintly tanned face, as if he's become a sunflower charmed to follow that particular expression to the very ends of the universe itself, and he ends up cradling Harry's face gently in the next second. Looking directly into his eyes and drinking in the hopeful joy that has begun to blossom across those delicate features with the wonderment of a man who's never seen something so beautiful before. He finally finds the courage to surrender to the tug of his own heart and places his daring mouth upon the lips of the Boy Who Lived, sighing with exultant satisfaction into the quiet silence and feeling so very at home.
Their kiss is brief, but oh-so-perfect. It fills all the empty spaces of Severus' hungry heart and soul with the blinding light of sunshine, flooding him from the inside out with the kind of warmth that no casual touch has ever managed to make him feel before.
Harry sighs against the lips claiming his own with heartfelt delight and opens his trembling mouth to his Prince's tentative assault. A hesitant tongue-tip runs along the moist seam of his bottom lip and the flavor of Severus' gloriously familiar taste explodes inside his mouth in the next second. A groan escapes one of them, but Harry isn't bothered by the soft sound enough to try finding out which one of them actually made it. He can only feel the joy of having this man kiss him with the same lack of artifice that he's shown him once before.
Severus' touch has the unmistakable hesitancy of a youth who was never granted the opportunity of learning how to kiss properly, but what his Slytherin lacks in experience he definitely supplements with sheer enthusiasm and Harry's senses are taken over by the exhilarating feeling of complete and utter rightness that sweeps his entire body from the top of his dark head to the curled tips of his toes as soon as Severus' tongue decides to take the final plunge and tangles with his own.
Lack of air eventually forces them apart and they end up looking into each other's eyes with a sort of dazed wonder. Severus' mouth looks red and swollen, it's smiling with unbridled satisfaction for the first time in Harry's memory and the soft-eyed picture that his love makes in this instant becomes engraved inside his wildly beating heart, as if branded by fire. Long, potion-tainted fingertips keep on carding through his short and messy locks and he dares not move a muscle for fear of breaking whatever enchantment has allowed his precious Prince to find the blessed courage to touch him in this manner.
"I love you, Severus Snape. I love you with all of my heart." He whispers quietly into the contented silence that has bloomed between them in the wake of their first alcohol-free kiss and he feels as if Merlin himself has presented him with all the magic of the founders when his beloved Prince accepts his declaration at face value with a tender looking smile and proceeds to whisper softly against his ear:
"We should visit old Rosmerta on our next date, Harry. I believe it's time to take this relationship of ours out of the world of shamed shadows and expose it to the full brightness of daylight. We should bring our little secret out of its tightly closed bag. We should shake it free and allow it to become the kind of reality that nobody can deny. We should let this newborn relationship stand on its on two feet and watch it walk unaided. Let's allow it to grow confident enough to roam free out into the open, where it belongs."
( Chapter 10 )
( Chapter 12. )
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-01 01:08 pm (UTC)My dear friend, you really, really made me smile :D
Hugs,
myk
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-02 02:41 pm (UTC)I get what why you were expecting Harry to be the one to kiss Severus. He's the one doing all the chasing, so to speak. I feel that it's important for him to allow Severus to take the lead, at least when it comes to moving their physical relationship forwards, since he is so constantly pushing the man into everything else. This way Sev regains some of that all important sense of control over what's happening between them that will allow him to relate to Harry in a healthier, equal way.
Thanks, as always, for taking the time to both read and review. Your lovely and enthusiastic comment meant the world to me. :)
Hugs
pekeleke
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-01 03:43 pm (UTC)I'd also like to say that your dialogue is very eloquent. Much more than I usually expect from Harry especially. It's fluid, imaginative, and supremely romantic.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-02 02:51 pm (UTC)I've always liked the idea that he manages to outgrow the inarticulate awkwardness of his teenage years, but I can see what you mean when you tell me that he's a tad more eloquent than other versions of him.
I'm glad you think that he's managing to handle Severus' fears well, hopefully he'll continue to do so once their relationship goes out into the open...
Thanks, as always, for taking the time to to both read and review. You know how much I enjoy 'chatting' about the boys with you. :)
hugs
pekeleke
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-01 08:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-02 02:52 pm (UTC)I'm thrilled that you are enjoying this story so much. Thanks for taking the time to both read and review. Your beautiful and generous comment meant the world to me. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-03 02:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-11-04 02:42 pm (UTC)