Happy Belated Birthday, Torina! Fic: Times Like This Title: Times Like This Author:winoniel Pairing: Snarry Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 1650~ Warnings: none Summary: Living with Harry Potter is both the best of times and the worst of times. A/N and Disclaim-her: Happy Birthday, Torina Archelda, this is late but heartfelt! I’m not sure if this is what you asked for, but it was a pleasure to write, and I hope you enjoy it.
This story is all mine, but is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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Another long evening brewing. Severus took off his apron, and replaced it with his lightweight summer robe. He was exhausted, and was hardly looking forward to an evening of Harry’s inane chatter. That boy (alright, they’d been living together for five years now, Severus supposed he could finally acknowledge that Harry was a man) could babble for hours without saying a word. It was particularly exhausting on evenings when Severus just wanted to sit back with a brandy, staring into the fire or perhaps browsing through a book. It was at times like this that he regretted his foolishness in letting Harry Potter into his home and life.
As he murmured, “Nox,” he caught out of the corner of his eye a small tray just inside the laboratory door. He remembered now, with a small warm uncurling in his chest, that Harry had brought him a late lunch. Severus had snapped something, embroiled in the thorniest part of brewing a tricky poison antidote. He often forgot to eat when he was engrossed in his research or brewing, so Harry had taken to bringing him meals, often accompanied by sickeningly cute little love notes.
Severus had never actually gotten to the meal, but would return in the morning to clear it away before Harry saw it. That was another thing that annoyed Severus, that the brat could look so hurt when one of his little gestures of affection were ignored or mocked. Severus fumed a bit at the indignities he suffered daily putting up with Harry.
Moving into the main part of the house, Severus was surprised to see the kitchen dark. He had known that Harry had several afternoon errands to run. The little schoolboy terror had grown into quite the businessman, running the Potter Trust and several other foundations at a level far beyond his age. Usually, however, he was home by dinnertime, unless he’d made previous plans go out with friends after work. He always made a point of telling Severus as soon as he made those plans, though. Even when they were quarrelling (which if Severus was honest with himself, had been happening more and more frequently) they both let the other know their comings and goings, a habit that was a holdover from the troubled times immediately after the war.
Thinking of the kidnappings, murders, and violence of those times sent a shudder down Severus’s back. It made the peace of the past five years seem even sweeter, and his time living with Harry that much more of a gift. Throwing off his irritation with the brat, Severus threw a pinch of floo powder into the hearth, and once the flames burst up, he called out “Violet Cottage!”
“Severus?” Hermione Granger-Weasley came to the front of her fireplace, holding a napping infant. “Is something wrong?”
“My apologies for disturbing you, Mrs. Weasley, but can you tell me where Harry is?” Severus asked politely, his moderated behavior the result of yet another row with his young lover.
“I-isn’t h-he with you?” She stammered slightly. Something flashed in her eyes, and Severus narrowed his own.
“Where is he?” He demanded.
“I thought he would be home by now—I mean, I don’t know where he is,” she exclaimed, dismayed.
There was a commotion in the fire, and Severus excused himself, “There is someone trying to reach me. Thank you for your help,” he said sarcastically, pulling his head out of the fire. Immediately, a head appeared in his fireplace.
“Good evening, Severus, is Harry there?” Draco Malfoy drawled. “I wanted to go over some material with him—”
“When did you last see Harry?” Severus interrupted.
“Why, Severus, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Draco said archly.
“I don’t have time for this,” Severus bit out. “When did you last see Harry?”
Quickly taking in the clenched teeth and glare, Draco replied promptly, “I didn’t see him, but he sent an owl about midday asking about some documents. I thought that if he had some time this evening, we could—”
“Do you know any of the business he’d hoped to accomplish? Where he might be going today?” Severus interrupted again, his mind leaping to the number of Death Eaters that had yet to be captured in the aftermath of the war. There were still several that would give their eyeteeth to capture their former master’s bane.
Hastily calling Draco through, they discussed the places they thought they could find Harry, and leaving Draco to wait by the fire, Severus plunged into the growing dusk of summer evening.
With each location crossed off his list, Severus’s controlled panic grew. None of the Harry’s friends had seen him that evening. The only one Severus had not contacted had been Longbottom. He told himself that the exasperating idiot would just be tongue-tied in the presence of his former professor, but if the truth was told, he knew that most of that discomfort had been his own fault.
The bumbling hanger-on had been over for a brunch that Severus and Harry had hosted, and while the two had been alone in the kitchen fetching more orange juice for mimosas, Longbottom had made the mistake of referring to his fellow helper as ‘Severus.’ With Harry not around, Severus had felt no need to censor his diatribe, which had been filled with such phrases like, ‘unalloyed impertinence,’ “disrespectful, useless oaf,’ and ‘ignorant half-wit.’ By the time he’d finished, Longbottom had dashed off, chin quivering, with a whispered excuse to the rest of the party.
Harry had stormed into the kitchen, guessing what had to have happened, but Severus remained strong in the face of the accusations thrown at him. Since Longbottom never confirmed Harry’s suspicions, he had let the subject drop, and Severus had grimly enjoyed the satisfaction that could only come from the dismantling of yet another insolent Gryffindor’s veneer of bravado. It made up for some of the frustration of being constantly surrounded by them in his home.
Now, however, he would do anything if Longbottom could tell him anything off Harry’s whereabouts, but it seemed that no one was home at the manor house he shared with his grandmother. Severus, shoulders slumped turned towards home. This was the last place that he knew to look and he had come up empty-handed. Returning back to their home, he found that Draco had queried the remainder of their acquaintances by floo.
“Don’t worry, Severus, you know how Harry is,” Draco had said doubtfully. “He’ll probably just show up tomorrow morning with a mountain troll or Blast-Ended Skrewt that had followed him home and that he’d tried to housebreak so you’d let him keep it.”
With a bark of laughter, Severus exchanged farewells with his godson, then turned away from the fireplace to his quiet house. It always seemed so still, almost glum when Harry wasn’t around. Severus had often bemoaned the racket, the hustle and bustle that always attended the Boy Who Lived, but he had never realized how much of the excitement in his life was because of their relationship. Without Harry, life, while quiet and peaceful, was also rather drab and emotionless.
Severus was proud of his self-sufficiency and independence, qualities that had kept him alive during the wars. He had learned, however, that one of the joys of his life with Harry was the freedom to be himself and let the other man care for him, let Harry jealously guard his partner from the Ministry, the press, from all of the forces of the outside world.
Severus’s ire at Harry’s prattle swiftly changed into a desire to kiss those plump, pink lips again. The potion master’s disdain at his lover’s friends and idle pursuits melted into a need to hold the younger man again in his arms. All of the little aggravations of living with Harry Potter became just that petty, little, unimportant annoyances. Severus wanted his lover back. He wanted that body next to his in their bed, feel that shuddering heat around him, hear those dirty words whispered into his ear, see those long, golden pale limbs wrapped around him, smell the fragrance of sweat and lust and love.
Gritting his teeth, Severus moved toward the kitchen. The thought of preparing something to eat at—he peered at the mantel clock—two o’clock in the morning was too much to contemplate, but his stomach was growling, and he knew that he’d be waiting up until Harry returned. He should really get something.
Remembering the tray that Harry had left, Severus decided to snatch a bite from there. As he brought up the lights in the lab, he froze at the sight of a note tucked under the teapot. Quickly glancing at it, he couldn’t waste the time on the stairs, but apparated directly into their bedroom. Rapidly shedding his clothes, he almost leaped into the bed, where Harry lay, snoring gently.
“Whuh—Sev’rus?” Harry’s voice, thick with sleep, slurred delightfully to Severus’s ears.
“Your note said that you were going to be naked, panting, and ready for me,” Severus whispered, low enough that his little sob was almost inaudible.
“Hmmnnn,” Harry muttered then chuckled, turning in the arms that were twined rather tightly around his body. Facing Severus now, head tucked under the taller man’s chin, he continued, “I was eagerly awaiting you several hours ago. M’mm sleepy now….” The last word turned into a low hum, which was followed by a resumption of the snoring.
Severus sighed and held the brat so tight the snoring was interrupted by a sputter and gurgle. He’d been an idiot, and would probably have to face Draco’s sardonic comments for a few days, but that was unimportant. Breathing deeply the scent of wind-tossed hair, he relaxed his arms and his heart, listening as his lover resumed a deep, steady breathing and feeling the gentle peace suffusing his veins, muscles, thoughts and dreams. It was at times like this when he gave thanks for the amazing wisdom of allowing Harry Potter into his home and life.