Iulia Linnea (iulia_linnea) wrote in snape_potter, @ 2008-08-23 14:01:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | fic, iulia_linnea, rating: nc-17 |
FIC: Fits and Starts
Title: Fits and Starts
Author: iulia_linnea
Rating: NC-17
Warning (highlight to view): For the inclusion of implied non-Snarry relationships.
Disclaimer: This piece is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling, and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thank you, fbowden, fodirteg, and torino10154, for beta'ing. This fic is dedicated to venturous, who won it by generously supporting marriage equality as a bidder in the livelongnmarry charitable event at LiveJournal. ♥
Summary: After the war, Harry and Severus achieve an understanding with each other in their own, imperfect way.
"—doing what he could for us the entire time," Ginny finished, squeezing Harry's hand.
He sighed and squeezed back, looking up at the stars from their position on the Burrow's rooftop. "Can't believe how stupid I was, thinking Snape was . . . ."
"Why? I mean, why should you have felt any differently than the rest of us? He had to be horrible. It was his job."
Harry snorted. "I don't think it was all make-believe, but that's still no excuse to keep him prisoner at St Mungo's."
Ginny rolled over into Harry's body and stared into his eyes. "You've heard something?"
"Only that he's not under arrest, just 'protection', and he doesn't want to see anyone," Harry admitted, feeling confused for more than one reason as Ginny nestled her head against his neck.
He was glad they'd managed to find time alone. Ginny rarely asked him questions—at least, not ones that he didn't want to answer—and it was comfortable, being with her. Of course, there were still some things he hadn't been able to explain.
Where did they come from? he wondered, again, thinking of the glimpse of memories he'd received from Snape when he was "dying." The memories, he'd taken them; they hadn't been given. How? I'm pants at Legilimency.
"So," Ginny murmured sleepily, "are you ready to tell me, yet?"
Harry stopped breathing.
"Inhale."
Harry took a breath, sitting up abruptly as he did so. "Sorry," he said, turning to Ginny, who was pushing herself up. "How do you do that?"
"We're . . . friends. That's how."
Swallowing hard and looking at his feet, it occurred to Harry that Ginny's way of saying "friends" sounded very like how he felt when he considered his feelings for her: she was a friend, a good friend, just a friend—who he occasionally wanked to—but she wasn't, he'd begun to suspect, the sort of friend he wanted to marry.
Thinking about it made him feel sick, and before he could stop himself, he said, "I'm supposed to marry you."
Ginny's breath caught with the sound of a repressed sob, and when Harry looked at her again, there were tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. His chest tightened.
"You're . . . not supposed to do anything you don't want to do," Ginny whispered, drawing her knees into herself and hugging them.
"I don't know what I want to do," Harry admitted, blinking rapidly. "Everything's . . . it's all gone pear-shaped inside."
Ginny leant gently into him; Harry leant back. They didn't acknowledge their tears, but both of them took comfort from the press of shoulders and whatever kind of friendship they did have.