|Keeper of the Cocks (torino10154) wrote in snape_potter,|
@ 2016-07-05 15:00:00
|Entry tags:||fic, rating: pg-13, summer challenge16, torino10154|
Standing at the Edge of the World
Title: Standing at the Edge of the World
Other pairings/threesome: None
Word count: ~1,035
Themes chosen: This photo prompt, first time (sorta)
Summary: Sometimes you have to get away from it all to find what was right there in front of you.
"Don't tell me you're cold."
Harry looked up from the bonfire and smiled at Snape. "All right, I won't tell you."
Snape shook his head but sat down on one of the large logs that surrounded the fire. He was close enough to Harry that they could converse but not so close as to invade his personal space.
"I didn't expect it to be this chilly." They'd been warned about overuse of magic on their trip and Harry wasn't to the point of discomfort so he hadn't cast a warming charm as of yet.
"If you were home in England, surely you would have anticipated it," Snape chided.
"This is America. Everything's different here." It was almost like when Harry had discovered magic—an entire world to discover, though not everything was as brilliant as it first appeared. In both cases.
Harry frowned as Snape held out his hands in front of the fire. "Are you cold?"
"Residual nerve damage," Snape said, not looking at him. "My fingers seem unable to retain warmth."
"Must make brewing difficult," Harry blurted out.
"Which is why I consult for the Ministry now." Snape's tone was bitter.
Harry wanted to apologise yet again for not getting to Snape quickly enough after the final battle. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if someone had found him sooner.
If Harry had stopped the attack in the first place. He shook that thought from his mind. He knew there was nothing he could have done in the moment.
"I didn't realise—"
"As I haven't publicised my condition."
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find something clever to say to break the growing silence. He didn't want Snape running off. He rather enjoyed his company.
He chose not to examine the reasons too closely.
This trip they were on was some sort of relationship building endeavour between the Ministry and the American equivalent. Of course Harry had been the first one volunteered, as a war hero and poster boy for all that was right and good in the world.
He'd assumed Snape was there to spy on the Americans should they try to spy on the Brits. Closest of allies, yes, but not fools.
"Does anything help alleviate your symptoms?"
"What concern is that of yours?"
"If you're in pain—"
Snape looked up at him. "You no longer wish to see me suffering? I'm touched."
"Don't be like that, Snape," Harry replied calmly. "Things are different now."
Harry got up and walked over to where Snape was and sat down beside him, heart hammering in his chest. He carefully cradled Snape's hands between his own, the icy feel of his fingers shocking him. Though not as much as the fact that Snape did not pull his hands away.
"Body heat is a good source of warmth," he murmured, rubbing gently to create increased friction.
"What are you doing, Potter?" Snape said so softly Harry almost didn't believe he'd spoken.
"Helping you." He swallowed and looked up into Snape's eyes, his face as hard to read as ever. For all Harry could tell, Snape was either happy or planning to murder Harry in his sleep. "Is it helping?"
"I—yes, it is." Snape turned back toward the fire, Harry's hands clasped around his.
Harry tried to focus on the crackling fire rather than the man sitting beside him but it wasn't only his hands getting warm now.
The fine line between brave and reckless had always been one he'd had trouble determining.
When his thumb caressed the back of Snape's hand, Snape said, "This is strangely intimate."
"Sorry." Harry let go of his hands and scooted sideways, putting space between them. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's far more discomforting to me that you run away rather than finish what you started."
Harry exhaled loudly and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked at Snape out of the corner of his eye but his face was in profile, eyes seemingly fixed on the dying fire. "I can never tell what you're thinking."
"Fortunately, for the both of us, you are an open book."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut, a flood of embarrassment washing over him. "I've cocked things up, haven't I?"
Snape hadn't got up and left, which Harry took to be a good sign, and his hand lay on his thigh, not in a fist, but open and inviting.
Harry reached over and laced their fingers together, relaxing only when Snape tightened his grip.
The sun had set completely beyond the horizon and all the other members of their party had made their way back to the hotel where they were staying. The fire was reduced to a small pile of orange ember and the temperature had dropped significantly but he didn't want to leave only to discover he'd imagined what was happening between them.
"I don't really know what we're doing," Harry said finally.
Snape huffed in what sounded like amusement. "You'll muddle your way through. You always do."
Harry grinned. "Was that a compliment?"
"Should we head inside?" Harry asked, trying not to shiver.
Snape stood up, still not letting go of Harry's hand, and Harry did the same, starting to walk through the cool sand when he was abruptly stopped by the lack of forward motion on Snape's part.
"Snape?" he said, turning toward him to see what had held him up.
Snape pulled his arm, tugging Harry close, and kissed him.
Harry melted into the kiss, which started gently before turning passionate, his tongue slipping between Snape's lips as his hands fisted the back of Snape's shirt. Snape's hands ran down Harry's back to his waist then brought his hips forward making Harry gasp when he felt Snape's erection through his trousers.
"Christ, I want you," he murmured into the side of Snape's neck.
Snape's body seemed to tense. "Are you asking me back to your room, Potter?"
In the near darkness, he couldn't see Snape's face and his tone gave nothing away.
Muddle. Right, he thought to himself. He could do this.
"Be certain," Snape said, his lips brushing the shell of Harry's ear.
Harry squeezed his hand. "I am."