Dollop Of Daisy Author:roozetter Rating: PG Word Count: 1,387 Warnings: Herbologists would frown upon the use of daisies, sexual innuendo, swearing. Pairing: Harry/Severus Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Author's Note: Written during my "porn drought." *sobs* Don’t ask. Hence only innuendo, not full-on slash. For the Drabble Challenge on Severus *sighs* using the prompts, “love and courtship,” and “bump in the night.” Summary: Harry goes from a pleasant dream to a bewildering reality and gets asked for a date along the way.
Dollop Of Daisy
The sound of shattering glass ripped Harry from a peaceful dream wherein he rode a Thestral around the Forbidden Forest, rescuing his true love from a fate worse than death, before riding happily into the sunset. Harry rolled onto his back, still mostly asleep, and wondered what it would be like to have sex on the back of a Thestral. The sound of not-so muffled swearing pulled Harry from his new half-dream and reminded him he'd awoken for a reason. He groaned, flopping back onto his pillow and glaring fuzzily at the ceiling. If that was Ron downstairs, drunk off whiskey and waxing on about the self-help books he was currently obsessed with, Harry was going to kill him.
"I don't bloody care if women are from Venus," he grumbled, reaching blindly for his glasses and climbing from the bed. "Send his scrawny ass to Mars myself if he keeps waking me up to tell me why Hermione is a warrior woman." Stubbing his toe on the door frame convinced him to actually put his glasses on instead of simply holding them like a dolt, and so it was that sleepy as hell but with relatively improved visibility Harry tripped down his stairs, following the clanging and swearing to his kitchen. Where he stood in the doorway and blinked, wondering if he was still really upstairs in bed, dreaming about dreaming.
Severus Snape stood in his kitchen, naked, save for a daisy poking out of the top of his head, a daisy poking out of his ass, and a bundle of daisies clutched protectively in front of his groin. He did not appear to have noticed Harry, continuing to swear and cast spell after spell upon his body in an attempt to remove the unwanted flowers. Harry must have done something, made some choking noise perhaps, because Severus suddenly snapped his head up and pinned Harry with a fierce glare.
"Potter," he said calmly. Harry had to give the man credit - if it weren't for the flush creeping up his face and down his neck he would have never guessed at any discomfort with the situation.
"Severus?" He stopped, moving to scratch his stomach in an abstract and perplexed move. What do you say to a naked man standing in your kitchen at three in the morning with a daisy sticking out his ass? Sure, they'd become mostly civil to each other over the years, but still.
"Erm... would you like some tea?"
A single eyebrow arched at the suggestion. "Thank you, no."
Harry nodded, trying to meet Severus' eyes and failing miserably. How did one get a flower stuck up...?
"I presume you are curious as to my presence here?" Harry snapped his gaze back up and nodded. Severus made as though to hand Harry the bouquet of slightly-mangled daisies, realized where he was holding them, and tightened his fingers convulsively. "First, I would like to extend my compliments on the wards you have upon your home."
"Thanks," Harry answered automatically. He blinked again. "Is that why... did my wards do this to you?"
The flush that spread across sallow cheeks was slightly darker this time. Severus ignored the question entirely. "Mr. Potter, I wish to present you with these daisies as a symbol of my regard, and humbly ask you to accompany me to dinner Friday next."
Something warm melted inside Harry. "You brought me flowers?" He forced himself to focus; there were other concerns to be had at present, the nudity of the man in his kitchen one of them. "Why would you bring me daisies?"
Severus frowned. "All meanings associated with daisies are positive in nature, innocent. I thought... you would see it as willingness on my part to put the past behind us and start afresh." Harry continued to stare at him, eyes straying unapologetically. Severus clutched the flowers in front of him defensively. "Also, the daisy has an 'eye' just as its English name of day's eye suggests. Primitive medical men discerned the flower has varying levels of success in curing eye troubles."
"Oh, I can see you," Harry answered absently. He snapped his mouth shut, horrified, and tried to think of a way to rephrase that. Severus merely smiled sardonically.
"I admit these are not the circumstances I wished to deliver flowers." He raised his left hand to Harry, gesturing expectantly. "If you would be so kind as to cancel the curse, I will leave you to the rest of your evening and await your answer to my invitation to dinner."
It took a second, but Harry managed to work out that as the home-owner he had to be the one to reverse the spell. He smirked, leaning against the doorframe negligently. "My wand's upstairs."
Black eyes narrowed. "Of course it is."
Harry leaned harder against the doorframe, feeling his knees buckle as Severus gracefully walked toward him, looking more like a predator in heat than a man caught in a vulnerable situation. He reached out blindly, not taking his eyes away from the pale skin moving closer and closer, confused when his hand met silky petals instead of flesh.
Severus crowded Harry until they stood chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, and leaned down." The incantation is exspectata domus, Harry."
"Incantation," Harry agreed, tilting his head to the side and letting his hands flutter against Severus' pale chest. Jesus, he thought desperately, how can such a hard man be so soft? Harry let his hands roam higher, into damp hair, only opening his eyes as a snapping sound echoed in the silent kitchen.
They both stared at the flower clutched in Harry's hand before looking at each other. Severus reached up, feeling the once-again smooth crown of hair atop his head, a wicked smile darkening his face. "Never mind." In one smooth gesture he plucked the daisy from Harry and added it to the bouquet he still held in his right hand. "The spell seems to be recognizing my... welcome, on its own."
"That's nice." Harry shivered as Severus spoke against his neck, moaning pitifully as the man took a step back. "What...?"
"Do let me know if you accept my invitation."
Severus bowed lightly, presenting the bouquet of daisies. Harry accepted the flowers automatically, remaining against the wall as Severus turned on his heel and strode gracefully across the room to the fireplace.
"What about that daisy?" Harry blushed, but gestured to the flower still clenched between two surprisingly muscular ass cheeks.
Calmly taking the jar of Floo powder off the mantle, Severus turned with his customary arched eyebrow. Harry caught his breath at the look in the other mans eyes, reminded once again of a predator on the prowl.
"If you want that daisy, Harry," Severus stepped into the fireplace, turning to face Harry directly. Harry was relieved to note he was not the only one that had become hard during their brief encounter. "You will have to say yes." He disappeared in a whoosh of bright green flames.
Knees giving out altogether, Harry staggered to the table and sat down heavily in a chair. Severus had brought him flowers, had put a great deal of thought into the flowers he brought him, and had brought them at a time he had not expected Harry to be awake. All to, what, ask him to dinner?
Harry gave his fireplace a thoughtful look. He knew his wards, knew they would accept anyone on his list and reject anyone not on his list. He'd added Severus to his wards back when he still thought of the man as "Snape," in an attempt to prove to himself, Severus, and Hermione that he was maturing. So... why had the man chosen to show up naked and with a flower up his own ass at three in the morning?
He may never understand Slytherins, but he couldn't deny that Severus had his undivided attention.
Whistling for Obtuse, his owl, Harry scribbled something on a bit of parchment, added a flower petal, folded them together, and sent the bundle off before rising and heading back to his bed. He smiled slightly, remembering playground games from his youth, and gently held up one of the crushed flowers as he walked up the stairs.
"He loves me... He loves me not... He loves me..."