|snarryhols (snarryhols) wrote in snarry_holidays,|
@ 2007-12-08 21:16:00
|Entry tags:||au: magic, fic, rated: nc-17|
A Close Eye (2/2), for bewarethesmirk
Title: A Close Eye
Word Count: 14,596
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Prompts: (chosen from list of kinks): Snape, who is trying to fight his feelings for Harry and ends up faltering in a moment of weakness, ending in hot sex and confessions - all of this surrounded with some plot. Desperate passion and romance. Arguments. Snarky!Snape. Canon!Harry. Dirty talk, ohgodplease. Rimming. Rough sex. Student/teacher. Wartime is nice.
Written for snarry_holidays. Thank you to faynia and chiralove for running this wonderful feast of Snarry goodness.
Dear bewarethesmirk: I couldn't squeeze Legilimency in, but I got most of the rest of your kinks, I think. I chose Wartime rather than post-DH, as it included student/teacher. Hope it's not too fluffy for your taste, and Happy Snarry Holidays!!!
Warnings: Chan, Harry is 15. No DH spoilers; this is earlier, in a calmer, possibly kinder version of canon.
Author note: To my beta, who is a wonderful help, many thanks. I will thank you properly when I can name you.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story.
Severus knew he had gone too far. It had started months ago, when he'd first suspected Harry and the Weasley boy of having a physical relationship of some kind. From then the jealousy had begun to eat him up, he'd become obsessed with what they were doing together, what they might be doing. He'd started following Harry, trying to intervene. It had only made Harry's eyes flash brighter, his words become more impudent, but Severus couldn't stop himself. He had to know.
He'd been pretty certain Harry and Weasley hadn't gone very far. But the personal touches - Weasley was one of the only ones who regularly touched Harry, the other being the Granger girl - had seemed more intimate, the whispered conversations more frequent. He'd never considered Granger; Harry was always correct around her, she didn't encourage intimacy, not of any real kind. She was bookish and prim, reminding Severus of Madam Pince. But Weasley was all physical - he loved food, and sport, and any kind of rough and tumble, and Severus knew he would be pushing Harry into physical intimacy. And Severus could not bear it. And finally, he'd cracked. Last night he'd found the two boys prowling the corridors and separated them, and just this afternoon he'd opened his door to find Harry with his arm around Weasley, the other boy sprawled on the floor. Severus didn't care what was happening, didn't care why it was happening, he'd had to act. He'd just managed to restrain himself in class, but he'd let Harry know that things were going to change; he'd stood close to the boy, felt Harry's reactions to his presence, and Harry hadn't been unaffected. When he got Harry alone, that was that; Severus had acted, and now Harry Potter knew how his Potions master regarded him, knew that Severus wanted him.
The boy had left. He'd said he wouldn't go to Dumbledore. Severus should go, right now. He should confess his sins like a Muggle to a father confessor.
Severus stood and looked at the closed door. Harry had said 'goodbye'. He'd sounded wistful, and Severus' heart, starved of any true affection for the longest time, had heard a note of care in that voice. Could it be?
Severus shook his head, gathered up his papers, and headed for his quarters. He could always see Dumbledore later.
Snape hadn't been at breakfast next morning, and although Harry knew that wasn't particularly unusual, it still bothered him. Was it something to do with yesterday? Maybe he'd find out in their second lesson, for it was Potions again.
Harry sat in History of Magic; today he was not just bored but impatient. He wanted to get down to the dungeons again. Ron always moaned that Wednesdays were the worst day of the week, certainly the worst morning, with Binns followed by Snape, but Harry didn't think of it that way any more. He knew Snape would still be his classroom self, that most likely he would still be hateful to him, but now he knew there was another Snape inside the man, and that was enough to make him want to see him again. Binns seemed to talk more monotonously than ever, to get lost in the footnotes of his lecture and lag behind on the subject. So although time was passing, it passed by on leaden feet. Harry kept checking his Muggle watch, convinced it must have stopped working, tapping the face with a finger, holding it against his ear to detect the faint ticking that showed it still functioned, that the minutes were passing unbelievably slowly. He looked across at Ron, who had his head propped on his hand over his textbook; Harry could see Ron's eyes were closed and he was drooling slightly, though to Binns up at the front of the class he'd simply look studious. Harry looked at Hermione, who caught his eye from the other side of Ron, looking exasperated. She frowned at Ron, leaned across and jabbed him with her elbow. Ron snorted and his eyes shot open. When he saw it was Hermione and the lesson had not ended, he glowered. "Leave me alone, Hermione," he hissed.
Harry shuffled in his chair, restless, wanting to be moving, to be walking down the corridor to the Potions rooms. When would this class end?
Eventually, of course, it did; but it had been torture of a particularly long, drawn-out kind - death by boredom. As soon as the bell rang Harry shot out of his chair; his bag was already packed, he'd slipped the world's most boring textbook - The Goblin Wars: An In-depth Analysis by Rufus Mottle - into his bag ten minutes before the end of class. He headed for the exit, the first to leave as he'd been sitting at the back anyway.
"Hang on, Harry!" Ron called. "Where's the fire? It's only Potions next."
Harry didn't slow down, striding along the corridors heading for the dungeons. He could hear Ron puffing after him.
"Why didn't you wait?" Ron asked, catching up. "Hermione's miles behind."
"We'll save her a place," Harry said, tight-lipped.
"Yeah, but why do you want to be early? It's Snape, Harry. You don't want to sit at the front do you? We always sit in the middle, near the back if we can."
Harry couldn't help thinking that Ron sounded whiny. "Snape won't let us sit at the back, you know that."
"Right. But I want to be as far back as possible. Let the Slytherins suck up to him if they want."
Immediately, the images that came to Harry's mind at the mention of sucking were obscene. Maybe that's what would happen next; maybe Snape would expect Harry to suck him now he'd done it to Harry. Harry's body suddenly felt as if it was on fire, his cock and balls felt as if they weighed twice as much as mere moments before. He walked faster, not stopping until he was outside the Potions classroom door, where he came to an abrupt halt, panting slightly.
"Merlin, Harry," Ron moaned. "I know Binns is boring, but that's got to be the fastest exit from his class in the entire history of Hogwarts."
Harry didn't answer. Hermione caught them up and at least she seemed happy to be at the front of the queue again, but rather mystified by Harry's flight. Harry didn't answer her questions either.
In class Harry got no answers to his real questions. While he worked on his potion and genuinely tried to do his best, he kept glancing at Snape. But Snape never spared a glance at Harry. For once the man's dark eyes were trained elsewhere, and while he paced past the benches again, he didn't pause at Harry's. That upset Harry, he'd been hoping for a repeat of last lesson, of that delicious closeness when Snape had come up behind him. But whatever else he was, Snape wasn't predictable. The Slytherins were subdued too, missing the Potter-baiting. In fact, Snape was almost completely quiet this lesson, not bothering Neville either. Neville gave a thumbs-up sign to Harry and his friends when Snape turned and headed for Draco and Pansy's bench instead of pausing by his.
By the end of the lesson every Gryffindor except Harry was happier than they'd been for years in a Potions class. Harry was happy with his work, he'd produced a good potion and he knew it, but Snape hadn't met his eyes once, not even when he handed over his sample. Harry just wanted to look into the man's eyes, to see what Severus was thinking, to let him know it was okay, that he hadn't done anything stupid like going to Dumbledore or told anyone at all about what Snape had done. Maybe the man was acting like this because he had gone to Dumbledore instead. The thought made a cold weight sink through his stomach, settling in his abdomen. As they all filed out of the classroom, dismissed by Snape's curt order, Harry was the only one who wasn't feeling happy.
When Harry got some time to himself again, some thinking time, it was when he was in bed that night. He lay looking up at his four-poster's canopy, and he couldn't make sense of anything. What was happening? First Snape grabs him, kisses him, does all sorts of delicious, wrong things to him - for Harry knew they were wrong, however delightful - and then he ignored him as if Harry had ceased to exist. Why? What was Snape playing at?
It was a long while until Harry fell asleep, and his sleep was troubled by strange, anxious dreams.
Harry wasn't imagining it; Ron was suspicious. He kept looking at Harry, more than usually. He kept asking if he was okay, if everything was okay, and Harry got sick of nodding, or slapping him on the back jovially, or redirecting the conversation. Yesterday's scramble to Potions must have really bothered him. Harry hoped Ron didn't put that together with Snape's odd behaviour and come up with something scary.
As they sat down at breakfast Ron kept looking to see if Harry was eating. Harry understood that, he'd been having nightmares and visions which Ron found almost as scary as Harry did actually experiencing them. Hermione, seeing Ron's concern, raised her eyebrows.
Ron just shrugged, while Harry said for about the tenth time that morning: "It's all right; I'm okay, nothing is wrong."
Hermione smiled back and returned to her food, but she kept looking out of the sides of her eyes checking if Harry was eating too. So Harry took good portions of sausages, bacon and eggs, plus toast and butter, just to show he was truly fine and not off his food. This seemed to work as they all began chatting more normally.
All was fine until Ron nudged Harry, leaned close and hissed, "He's still looking, Harry."
Harry shook his head, not looking up from his plate. "No, he's not."
"He is," Ron insisted. "Look!"
Harry had to look, there was no way of avoiding it without his behaviour looking odd again. He glanced up quickly to the High Table, but he couldn't look away as quickly as he'd wanted to. His eyes had locked with Snape's, and Snape's dark eyes suddenly looked panicked. The Potions master's sallow face paled.
"See," Ron hissed right against Harry's ear. "I told you!"
Harry wrenched his eyes from Snape's, aware how much he'd been staring; worse, aware how much Snape had been staring at him. Snape's panic was making him feel ill; he'd never finish his breakfast like this. Something had to be done.
Harry stood up and walked toward the front of the hall, ignoring Ron's 'what are you doing, Harry?'
Snape was watching him like he was an approaching doom, and Harry knew why he was thinking that; he was thinking Harry was going to talk to Dumbledore. He smiled a little, hoping to show Snape he wasn't doing any such thing. Dumbledore had a slight smile on his face as he watched Harry approach, but apart from giving the headmaster a little nod as he passed along the front, Harry didn't acknowledge him. He stopped in front of Snape's seat.
"Please, Professor Snape, can I have a word with you?"
Snape's eyes widened in genuine surprise.