snarryathonmod (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} snarryathonmod) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} snape_potter,@ 2009-04-19 06:43:00 |
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| Entry tags: | fic, rating: pg, snarry-a-thon09 |
Snarry-a-Thon FIC: Harry's Digital Obsession
Title: Harry’s Digital Obsession
Author: angela_snape
Other pairings/threesome: brief mention of Severus Snape/Bill Weasley, Bill Weasley/Neville Longbottom
Rating: PG
Word count: 2100
Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *EWE*
Prompt: 81: Harry sees Snape with another man and now can't stop thinking about a certain attribute of Snape's--but not his cock or arse.
Summary: After Harry Potter gets over his surprise at learning that Severus Snape is gay, memories of a certain kiss haunt him.
A/N: Thanks to jin_fenghuang and leela_cat for beta assistance.
Harry's Digital Obsession
Harry Potter stopped dead in his tracks, nearly dropping the carton of supplies he’d purchased for Blades, his Soho salon. In front of him, coming out of the Admiral Duncan Pub, was Severus Snape, dressed in arse-hugging black trousers and a dark green polo-neck sweater. His black hair was threaded through with silver and hung loose around his shoulders, blowing in the slight breeze. In the ten years since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry had seen the former Potions Master a handful of times, but they had all been at Ministry functions. While he was briefly surprised to see Snape in Muggle London’s gay district, Harry was gobsmacked when he saw who had followed Snape out of the pub.
Harry cast a quick Disillusionment Charm on himself and leant against the closest wall, out of the way of the pedestrian traffic. He watched as Bill Weasley clasped Snape’s potion-stained fingers in his own and brought them to his lips in a gesture so intimate that Harry felt his cock begin to harden as his cheeks warmed. Bill’s coppery hair was caught back in its usual ponytail, and he wore faded denims, motorcycle boots, and a Manchester United jersey. Harry wasn’t sure who was affecting him more, Bill or Snape.
Harry watched as they disappeared down the pavement, walking hand-in-hand, footsteps synchronised. Clearly, this had not been a random chat-up. Bill and Snape were a couple. Harry sighed, watching their joined hands swing for a moment before Disapparating.
Back at Blades, Harry found himself picturing Bill, pressing a kiss to Snape’s hand, at the most inopportune moments. Mixing hair colour – jet-black for a wannabe Goth girl named Natalie, one of his regulars – he nearly spilt it down the front of his smock as heat pooled in his groin with the memory’s return. The next day, whilst razor-cutting Imogene’s hair, he nearly sliced a fingertip off when potion-stained fingers flashed across his subconscious. It was a good thing that Paul, an older gentleman who preferred a straightedge shave, was on holiday on the continent. Harry could only imagine what could happen were he to be distracted by the image of Snape’s fingers during that appointment.
Harry was tempted to pull the memory from his head and store it inside his Pensieve, looking at it only when the timing was right, but somehow he never managed to get around to it. Oddly enough, it was the image of those potion-stained fingers, not Bill’s kiss, which intrigued him the most. Maybe he wasn’t meant to lust after his best mate’s oldest brother after all.
When he heard, several weeks later, that Bill had returned to Egypt to continue his work as a curse-breaker for the goblins, taking Neville Longbottom with him – not Snape – Harry’s obsession with his former nemesis increased. He found himself making excuses to go to Venenum, Snape’s Diagon Alley Apothecary, just for a glimpse at its surly owner. Harry now owned ten bottles of tincture of iodine – and a dozen packets of dittany – enough to keep him stocked for years.
“I need some Lawsonia inermis,” Harry told the gray-haired witch who worked in Snape’s shop, presumably so that Snape himself would not have to deal with such trivial annoyances as customers.
“Henna, Mr. Potter?” drawled Severus Snape, having just walked through the curtain that Harry had always assumed led to Snape’s workroom in the back. “Why would you come all the way to Diagon Alley for henna when you could buy it in a Muggle shop?”
“Er—” Harry’s throat closed over his comeback before he could get the words out.
“Of course, my henna is a purer grade than any you could purchase elsewhere,” continued Snape.
“Exactly!” Harry replied with more enthusiasm than necessary. “We must have got a bad batch in, because we had some clients end up with black hair when we were expecting auburn. I was hoping that a purer, higher grade of henna would be more reliable.”
Severus rubbed at his chin as if lost in thought for a moment before speaking again. “Mathilda, please see that Mr. Potter gets everything he needs – and pays full price,” Severus said with a smirk, and then turned on his heel and disappeared behind the curtain once again.
The encounter at Snape’s shop only added to Harry’s troubles. Now, in addition to the memory of Bill kissing them, Harry saw those long, slender fingers as Snape stroked his chin. He wondered – not for the first time – how they would feel stroking his own chin… or other places. Heat pooled low in his abdomen before Harry shook his head, and focussed on the task at hand, which was Natalie’s latest request for a change of hair-colour. Bored with the dark Goth look, she’d requested a colour he’d come to think of as Weasley Red. It would be his first use of Snape’s henna. Once he’d magically removed the black from the previous visit, he applied the henna paste and covered Natalie’s head with plastic wrap.
The bell above the salon’s door jingled, announcing the arrival of Harry’s next client. “Be right with you,” he called without turning to see who had entered. Quietly banishing the remnants of henna paste from the bowl, he was about to ask Natalie if she wanted another magazine when the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He had to turn and see just who had entered the salon.
Dressed in his usual black, and looking a little scruffy about the chin, Severus Snape stood a few steps from the door.
“Professor Snape,” exclaimed Harry. “What can I do for you?”
“I am no longer a professor, Mr. Potter.”
“Sorry, I guess it’s still a habit, even after all these years.”
Snape inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.
“So what brings you to Blades, Mr. Snape?”
“My skin has been reacting badly to my usual Shaving Charm, and Healer Bobbin suggested I try the Muggle method for awhile, else grow a beard.” The way Snape said ‘beard’ made it clear that coming into Harry’s salon was truly the former Potions Master’s last available option. “Of course, I have always used a Shaving Charm, and would prefer not to slice open my neck on a straightedge.”
Harry indicated the barber’s chair furthest away from Natalie. “Have a seat over there and I’ll be right with you. You’re in luck – my last appointment cancelled.”
After settling Natalie with a fresh cup of herbal tea and a new magazine, Harry gathered the supplies he would need for Snape’s shave.
“Because it’s your first Muggle shave, I’ll let you know what I’m doing as we go. The moist heat from this towel will open your pores and soften your whiskers,” Harry explained as he applied the towel to Snape’s face. He paused, taking a slow, deep breath, willing away the heat that was pooling in his groin. He needed all of his concentration to shave Snape – his obsession, his utter fascination – without slashing the man’s throat.
“The blade needs to be extremely sharp – razor sharp, actually – to ensure a close shave,” Harry continued as he rhythmically stroked the straightedge razor up and down the leather strop.
Grabbing the badger-hair brush he’d set to soaking in a basin of hot water, Harry allowed the bristles to drain, then dipped it into a tub of shave cream, and slowly worked it into lather that covered Snape’s stubble. “Now, the brush is very important.”
“Oh?” Snape questioned.
“Yes.” Harry relaxed – explaining what he was doing was easing his nervousness about working on Snape. “It helps to exfoliate the skin as it lathers, making for a closer and less irritating shave. No shave bumps.”
Harry noted that his client’s hands were clenched into fists – men were often nervous before their first barbershop shave. It was understandable, really, when you thought about it.
Harry covered Snape’s hands with his, feeling a tingle of magic that just wasn’t there when he touched the Muggle men he’d been dating of late. Feeling surprisingly calm, Harry reached for his razor, and murmured, “Just relax… I am going to start with the razor now.”
Harry began high on Severus’ cheek, gliding the razor down towards his neck. He took extra care when he reached the silvery scar tissue left by Nagini’s bite, and by the time he was shaving Snape’s prominent Adam’s apple, Harry could have sworn the man was asleep. After carefully inspecting his work to ensure he hadn’t missed a whisker, Harry wiped off the remnants of shave cream, and covered Severus’ face with a fresh, hot towel.
Harry cleared up his shaving implements, Scourgifying them before going to check on Natalie’s colour. Not red enough yet. He topped up her mug of tea and offered her a chocolate biscuit to go with it.
Returning to Snape’s chair, a bottle of after-shave moisturising treatment in hand, Harry paused to look at the older man. Remembering that day in Soho several months ago, Harry took the opportunity to look at Snape’s hands a little more closely. Long, with elegant fingers, they weren’t as stained as Harry remembered them from Hogwarts. The nails were longish without being claw-like, and they’d been well maintained, with nary a hangnail in sight. Harry allowed himself a moment to imagine those nails digging into his bare skin and felt his cock perk up just a little at the thought.
When Harry removed the towel from Snape’s face, the man’s eyes were closed and by all appearances, the man was indeed asleep. Harry poured a small amount of moisturiser into the palm of his hand. He rubbed his hands together to coat them in the lime-scented lotion, and then applied it to Severus’ skin, using circular strokes and light pressure. When he’d finished, he washed his hands and went to check on Natalie’s henna once more. Deciding it was ready, he glanced at Snape and decided to leave him sleeping while he finished the colour treatment.
Harry removed the plastic wrap from Natalie’s head, discarding it in the bin as he led Natalie to the sink. Rinsing away all remnants of the henna paste with warm water, Harry stole a glance at the black-clad man who still slept in his barber chair. With it being nearly closing time, an idea began to form in Harry’s mind… all he had to do was send Natalie on her way. Harry washed her hair with lavender-scented shampoo, finishing off with a conditioning rinse. Her hair now practically glowed as if it was afire – a perfect imitation of Weasley Red, if Harry did say so himself.
Pocketing Natalie’s tip, Harry flipped the shop’s sign from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’ before returning to the barber chair. Glancing down, he decided that Snape – no, Severus – would likely continue to sleep unless Harry woke him. Laying a hand on Severus’ shoulder, Harry coaxed the man awake. “Mr. Snape? Severus? You fell asleep in the chair.”
Severus pushed himself up from the chair, stepping away from Harry’s offered hand.
“Well, how does your skin feel?” Harry asked.
Severus stroked his chin for a moment before declaring his shave, “Adequate.”
Harry beamed. ‘Adequate’ was high praise, indeed, from Severus Snape.
“How much do I owe you for the service?” asked Severus, scanning the price list posted on the wall behind the till.
“Hvdnrwthme?” Harry mumbled.
“I beg your pardon?” Severus raised an eyebrow as he asked – to punctuate his query, Harry thought.
“Would you like to have dinner? With me?” Harry clarified.
“Dinner?”
“Yes, dinner,” repeated Harry. “You were my last client for today – I can lock up now.”
“You wish to have dinner with me? In lieu of payment for your services?” Severus spoke quietly, but the words rang in Harry’s ears.
“Yes, I do,” said Harry. “Look, I saw you and Bill in Soho a few months ago. I know I’m not him, but I hope you’ll at least consider spending some time with me.”
Harry looked at Severus expectantly.
“I know a great Indian restaurant around the corner,” Harry suggested. He hardly dared to breathe while waiting for an answer.
Severus nodded. “Indian would be acceptable.”
Harry held the door open for Severus, before following him out and locking it with both keys and wards. The evening breeze pushed Harry’s fringe into his eyes, and before Harry could push it back, Severus reached out and did it for him. Harry smiled, and then held out his hand, indicating the direction they were to walk. “Shall we?”
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