Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 18:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic harry/severus, hp fic he plays at hazard |
HP fic: He Plays at Hazard, chs. 1-3 [Harry/Severus, general]
Title: He Plays at Hazard
chapter 1, "Laid Bare"; chapter 2, "Something Ventured"; chapter 3, "Hold Fast"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Rating: general
Summary: Sometimes the risk is worth the gain. Harry makes Snape an offer he hopes cannot be refused.
Note: These three parts were originally written for various prompts in the 100quills challenge and are also posted in that series.
Laid Bare
The impending chance of death provokes Harry to speak to Snape in ways he might never have done.
The sigh seemed exaggerated, even for Snape. "And just why would I want to listen to your inane maunderings, Potter?"
"Did you have something better to do?" Harry gestured at the bare little room. "We still have eighteen hours to wait before the attack. If we do any magic, it'll be detected, and personally I can't sleep for that long, even if two blankets on a stone floor were less uncomfortable."
"Talking to you is not necessarily preferable to silence," Snape muttered. "Unlike yourself, I have plenty to think about to keep me occupied."
"Like what, potions recipes?"
"As a matter of fact, yes." Snape glowered at him. "I've been trying to reformulate the Wolfsbane Potion to be more stable, so that it can be brewed in advance rather than every month. An improvement that I believe your friend Lupin might appreciate."
"Oh," said Harry, looking down. "I didn't realize..."
"No, you wouldn't have."
"You could talk about it with me," Harry offered.
"As if that could possibly help. Miss Granger, perhaps, but not you."
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to stay calm. How did Snape always manage to make him feel small? "Even if I don't know nearly as much about the principles of potion-making as you do, discussing it might be useful," he said stubbornly.
"I would rather not." Snape sat on one of the two rickety wooden chair and closed his eyes. "If you must natter on to stave off your boredom, choose some other topic. Ideally something that might be of mutual interest."
Mutual interest? Snape couldn't possibly have guessed what Harry wanted to talk about, could he? And wasn't going to, not without feeling his way a bit first
"Er," said Harry, "er, why did you decide to do this?"
"Do what, precisely?"
"Come back." He waved his hands vaguely, not sure quite what he meant himself. "Keep helping the Order. After... after Dumbledore, you must have seen in the Prophet, or heard from someone who had, that you were identified as his killer."
"I trusted Albus to have left exonerating information about the orders he gave me, to Minerva if to no one else." Snape frowned. "I didn't think it would take so long for her to believe it."
"That was partly my fault," Harry admitted.
"So I have been given to understand." Opening his eyes, Snape glared at Harry. "Are you enjoying this discussion?"
"I want to know what your motives are," Harry said adamantly. Not that it really made any difference, but he was curious.
"It seems rather late for that, given that you will be relying on my help to destroy your enemy in less than a day." Snape raised his eyebrows. "I might also want to know yours."
"That's easy." Harry shrugged. "It's me or him, according to the prophecy. I don't like it but I've had to get used to the idea."
"But why work with me?" pressed Snape. "We have a long history of, shall we say, mutual dislike. You could have ensured that your partner tomorrow was Shacklebolt, or Moody, or any of a number of other people; you have enough prestige to have done that." For once he sounded more interested than contemptuous.
"I could say that you're the only member of the Order who's actually been inside the building, and knows the most about it, so you're the most... reliable."
"You could say that." Snape pounced on the conditional. "But you don't."
"No." Harry stopped pacing and sat on the other chair, turned slightly away from his companion.
"Why, then?" The dark voice was wary, not a tone Harry was accustomed to hearing from those lips. "Because you don't trust me, I suppose."
Harry laughed at that, a choked snort that he couldn't hold back, even for Snape's furious scowl. "Rather the opposite, actually." They could both die, he reminded himself. Which would be worse – to speak, and risk Snape not just loathing him but having something to hold over his head, should they both live; or to stay silent, and possibly never have the chance again?
"What do you mean? You've never believed that anything I did was for your good, or the Order's good. That has been evident for years."
"Professor." That was not right; Snape was no longer his teacher. To use his surname alone seemed equally wrong, somehow, and he definitely was unable to call him "Severus." There was only one alternative. Harry shook his head and began again, watching Snape sidelong. "Sir."
Snape's eyes widened.
"I was wrong," said Harry. "I misunderstood what you were doing, and why. I apologize."
"Trying to salve your conscience with a last confession?" The snapped words were as condescendingly daunting as anything Harry had ever heard from Snape, but he went on nonetheless.
"Maybe, but that's not all I wanted to say." He faltered at that point, shifting on the seat of the chair and clenching his hands in the folds of his robe.
After several minutes, Snape said, "Well?"
"If we both survive tomorrow... um. I'd like to make it up to you. How I've acted all this time. Anything that you want, from me going away and never darkening your door again, to... well, to putting myself into your hands. For whatever you choose to do with me." Harry risked a more direct glance at Snape, who looked disconcerted. "And I do mean anything," he added softly.
"That is not necessary." Snape's voice was stiff, and Harry could see his throat moving as he swallowed. "You don't want..."
"I do want," Harry knew that it was rude to cut across Snape like that, but he couldn't let the words be said. "Even Ron sees me as The Boy Who Lived, sometimes. You don't. There's no one I could trust more than the person who's seen all my secrets," he flinched and hurried past that tender subject, "who only thinks of me as Harry. Don't you understand?"
Snape was quiet. At last he said, "If we both are alive, this time tomorrow... you may make me that offer again, if you still mean it."
"I will." The promise was sweet on Harry's tongue. "I will."