Secret Snarry: FIC: The Patient Winter Title: The Patient Winter Author:elmyraemilie Gift Recipient:dandru Rating: PG Word count: 2,884 Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *None* Summary/Prompt:Three prompts: When nothing is sure, anything is possible." ~Margaret Drabble; strangling the muse; hanging the stockings with care. I hope the first and the third are clear; I can assure you that the second was very much a part of the production of this story. A/N: Thanks to my betas M and MB. All errors are mine, because I cannot leave well enough alone after a betaed story is returned to me.
The Patient Winter
The table was set with silver utensils and gold-bordered porcelain. A tiered cake stand waited for its burden of delicacies. Harry longed to worry at the pale blue linen serviette that lay ornately folded in front of him, but he kept his hands clasped instead. He wanted this to be perfect, and Madame Millefiore's Manual of Manners emphasized that when one came first to the tea table, one did not fiddle with the accoutrements placed there. One waited for one's companion patiently, in a composed yet anticipatory manner.
Harry figured that even though he was still faking composed and patient, he had anticipatory down to a fine point. He looked out the window at the first yellow leaves falling through the afternoon sunlight and reminded himself that this was going to be fun.
At last, the maitre d' came into the room with the lanky form of Severus Snape at his heels. Severus looked much as he had when Harry first saw him all those years ago — bold features, all sharp planes and high contrasts — but his looks affected Harry much differently now. Snape was wearing a charcoal-gray frock coat suit, cut as always with long sleeves covering the first joints of his thumbs. Harry yearned to open those cuff buttons and turn the fabric back, see what happened when he kissed Snape's wrists and the palms of his hands.
What he did, however, was stand and smile, reaching out for a handshake, which he hoped to turn into a hug. Snape took his hand briefly, murmured, "Mr. Potter," and seated himself in the chair the maitre d' pulled out for him. Harry subsided into his own seat with an inward sigh; when he looked across the table, though, he saw what he thought was pleasure in those handsome dark eyes.
"Severus, I'm so glad you came. We're due a little treat before the kids come back to school!"
"You have certainly chosen an unusual setting for our meeting." Snape leaned back to allow the server to offer a selection of teas. Harry nodded when Severus suggested the yin jun mei. The tea was spooned, the hot water poured into the cozied pot; the server stepped away, leaving behind a tiny hourglass to mark the steeping time.
"I was thinking that this was more in the line of a date than a meeting."
Snape seemed fascinated by the tumble of sand through the neck of the hourglass. "A date. You have persistently made demands upon my time, Mr. Potter, but I do not recall taking part in any...dates."
"What? Remember the boat ride? That was a date!"
"You suggested I should take part because the flora of Lancashire would be of interest."
"Well yes, but that was a way of getting you to come out with me." Just as Harry poured the tea, their server wheeled a laden cart to the table. They chose sweets and sandwiches, and the little pots of jam and cream were settled in place before them. When the cake stand was filled and they were alone again, Harry asked, "What about the concert?"
"As I recall, it was I who purchased the tickets to that event." Severus selected a triangle of ham sandwich and a scone. Harry passed him the clotted cream.
"No, no. Well, yes, but I did ask you to go. It was only coincidence that your tickets were better than the ones I had. I offered to pay you for them, remember?" He dropped two cubes of sugar into his tea and one into Severus', then pushed the plate of lemon slices across. "Surely you can't say that the picnic on the hill behind Hogwarts wasn't a date!"
"Colleagues taking a meal away from the confines of their workplace? Hardly." With an arch look, Severus took some marmalade and passed it to Harry, who heaped it on his scone with a wry grimace.
"You're determined not to acknowledge that what we have is a relationship, aren't you? I mean, we've been going around together for over a year. When will you admit to yourself that you like this?" Like me he wanted to say, but Harry had learned early on where the boundaries lay.
There was a moment of silence. Severus sipped his tea and looked out the window; Harry wished he could take back that last question.
"Mr. Potter. Harry." Looking up, Harry was startled to see what might almost have been a smile. "Whatever would make you think that I don't like this?"
Their eyes met above the teacups, and Harry's heart risked hope.
XOXOX
One of the house-elves was building up the fire in the sitting room of Harry's suite when Snape swept through the door. The poor thing squeaked and seemed on the cusp of Disapparation when Harry called, "Wait, Jinjin! Could you bring tea, please?"
Still eyeing the tall black column that towered above her, Jinjin gave a nervous nod and whirled away. Harry waved hello to his guest.
"I'd get up, but..." He pulled up the blanket that covered his leg, which from the knee down was three times its normal size.
"I heard about your mishap. Surely you weren't allowing those imbeciles to practice Engorgio?"
Harry pushed himself up with his hands and maneuvered his outsized limb into a different position on the footstool. "I wasn't allowing them to practice Engorgio, for pity's sake! Cherry Birdwhistle—"
Snape's eyes narrowed in a way that did not bode well for Miss Birdwhistle. "The Ravenclaw? She's nothing but trouble. Thinks she knows what she does not."
"Yes, exactly. Her older brother taught it to her and she decided it would be a splendid offensive spell." The tea tray snapped into being on the table beside Harry; he poured a cup, added sugar and lemon and held it out.
Snape continued to fume. "Well, why hasn't Belby reversed the spell?"
With a glare, Harry gestured to the seat across from him. "Will you stop looming over me and sit down? Here, take your tea." Pouring his own cup, Harry said, "Apparently she got it wrong. She cast Engorgiamus. Belby says that he checked back through Madam Pomfrey's notes, and she advised against attempting to reverse it. From what he read, reversing it hurts like hell and it doesn't usually work very well anyway. By all accounts, I should return to normal in a day or so."
"I trust the Headmistress has taken steps," Severus snapped. "That foolish chit could have done you real damage."
Harry let that sentence warm him for a second before he said, "The trophies in the second-floor cases will be much, much cleaner by this weekend." He sighed. "She really was very upset and apologetic. She just hasn't learned to think first, that's all." He moved around in his chair again, trying to get comfortable.
Setting his cup aside, Snape frowned and reached out tentatively to touch Harry's bare foot. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice low.
"Some." Harry felt his breath become shallow; he held very still. Severus' hand rested on the bridge of his foot; he did not look at Harry's face, but began very gently to pass long strokes from the ankle out to the toes, like petting a cat. It felt nice, but the idea of it, that Severus would actually reach out to him, that it was Severus Snape's hand that was tenderly rubbing his foot — that felt wonderful.
Harry sighed and relaxed into his chair, savoring the feeling of being cared for. Snape shifted around and began to massage the knee, where the swelling began. "Too hard?" he asked, and Harry shook his head. He was glad for the blanket across his lap; the question of hardness was more appropriate than perhaps was, well, appropriate.
Snape's hands were warm and strong. They left a pleasant tingle behind as they coaxed circulation into the distended tissues of Harry's leg. Those hands moved from the knee down to the foot over and over again, pressing the ache right out the ends of Harry's toes. It was relaxing; it was blissful; it made Harry's heart full and happy, and his eyelids heavy.
"Mmmmmmm..."
Dimly, Harry felt the massage stop. The warm weight of the blanket came up to cover him and a feather-light touch brushed his face as his glasses were laid aside. Harry thought right before he slept that he heard Severus whisper, "Ah, Harry."
XOXOX
One thing could be said for the dungeons of Hogwarts; they were not drafty. Damp, cold and smelling faintly of mildew, but that far below ground, there were no drafts. Harry pulled the collar of his robes up closer to his neck and marched quick-step along the hallway to the familiar door; he knocked in a jaunty rhythm. The door swung open.
"Come in."
"Thanks." As he stepped into the sitting room, Harry said, "I like your wreath this year. It's cheerful, with the holly berries and all."
Last year, when he'd first visited Severus' quarters during the holidays, Harry had been shocked to see that the man put up decorations. A wreath on the door, fairy lights over the mantel and colored, scented candles on the tables hardly made for a showy display, but at the time even that had seemed out of character. When he'd remarked on it, Snape replied, "My mother decorated when she could. I do so to remember her." Harry asked no more, but added that bit of knowledge to his growing ideas about the man he was beginning to feel so deeply for.
As it had been last year, the round drinks cabinet at the side of the hearth was spread with a crocheted-lace snowflake that Harry guessed had been made by Eileen Snape. On it were several small packages wrapped in green paper. He added his gift to the little pile and sat down in his usual place, putting the bottle of cognac he'd brought near the fire.
Snape's eyebrows went up when he looked at the label. "Breaking into the Black vaults to pay the liquor bill, are you?"
"Not at all," Harry returned, trying for the arch look that Severus pulled so easily. "I sold matches on the street corner in Hogsmeade to get the money to buy that."
Snape shot him a glance full of amusement and said, "Well, since it was so hard-earned, I suppose we'd better have some." He drew two glasses from the cabinet and transfigured them into full-bellied brandy snifters, then poured a measure of amber fire into each one.
Settling into his chair, he raised his glass. "To..." His voice trailed off and he seemed embarrassed, looking up at the lights on the mantel. After a moment, he recovered himself and began again. "To absent friends," he said, and Harry added, "And present ones," then tapped their glasses together.
They sat for a few minutes, savoring the brandy. Harry took the chance to admire Severus' profile. The terrible pressures of the war were long in the past, and though the painful sharpness of his features had mellowed a bit, Snape's face still bore witness to all he had seen and done in those dreadful years. Harry saw strength and courage written in every line, and loved him the more for it.
Shaking off his pensive mood, Harry leaned over and took the gift he'd brought from the side table. "Here you are," he said. "I hope you like it. You're a tough man to buy a gift for."
Snape untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper carefully, then laid it aside. He looked up at Harry with raised brows when Madame Malkin's logo was revealed on the lid of the box. Slipping it off, he parted the tissue paper to reveal a white shirt. His long fingers brushed over the silk, touched the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. "It's exquisite." With a suddenly sharp look, he asked, "Where did you get my measurements?"
"Ron's daughter Rose has been working there part time over the holiday. I asked her to look them up for me. Don't worry — she can keep a secret, and I didn't march into the shop and say I wanted a shirt made for you." Harry tried on a smile, though it made him a little sad to say it. He really wanted to be able to do just that.
Setting the box beside his chair, Severus leaned forward as though he would take Harry's hand. "Harry, I..." He stopped the gesture in midair and the old familiar mask of formality slipped back into place. "The shirt is elegant, and most appreciated. I will wear it with great pleasure. Thank you." Then, with an expression of resolve, he went over and selected a package from the gift table. He sat down again and held it out. "I hope you will accept this in the spirit in which it is given."
The box was lighter than it looked, and Harry juggled it a bit, getting the ribbon and paper off. When he lifted the lid, he stopped for a moment, peering at what was inside. Then he slid careful fingers in and removed a roll of brittle old tissue. He laid the box aside.
"Wow..." The bundle unrolled to reveal two Christmas stockings, in faded red and green velvet. The gold braid that trimmed the cuffs was coming loose on the red one, and the green one had a mended place on the seam at the toe. The nap of the velvet was missing in some places and crushed down in others, as though they had been stored away for a long time.
Harry looked at them and then up at Severus. "They're lovely. They're very old. How—"
Severus held up a hand to stop him. He took a sip of brandy and set his glass aside.
"Last year, I told you that my mother decorated for the Christmas holiday when she could. Sometimes my father would tear the things down, and sometimes he wouldn't let her put anything out at all. One of the last times I went home over the winter holiday, she took me aside and gave me these. She said they belonged to her mother and father. When she was a child, her parents — my grandparents, who I never knew — hung them up every year, along with the stockings for the children. She never risked putting them out in her own house, as you can imagine."
All this time, Snape had been watching as Harry rubbed a thumb along the velvet of the green stocking. Now he drew a deep breath and reached across to lay his hand over Harry's, stilling the motion. "That feels like far longer than a lifetime ago. There has been so little time for the treasures of the past, or for such innocent traditions."
He took the stockings and laid them on the table, pulled Harry to his feet. "You have been patient with me, Harry. You have persevered even when I was sure I could not give you what you wanted. You laid the foundation and waited for me to understand that you meant both of us to build upon it." Harry made to speak, but found Severus' fingers laid lightly over his lips. "I would be a greater fool than words might express if I did not accept such a precious gift. I hesitate only because what I have to give in return is so shabby, so worn and damaged, that it hardly seems a just exchange." He looked away. "I must hope that the value, however poor, will be enough."
Words clumped in Harry's throat; deprived of speech, he leaned in, put his hands on Severus' arms, and brushed their lips together. The kiss was returned in the same tentative fashion, and then again with more certainty. A breath, then another, while they looked at each other; it seemed to Harry that he saw the familiar features for the first time, and loved them all over again. Severus gathered him in, and with a groan, Harry pressed against him and kissed him with his whole heart, with two years of need and hope and growing love.
That same yearning flowed back to him in waves of sensation and emotion. He gave himself up to the kiss, to learning at last the textures of Severus' mouth, to feeling warm hands in his hair and a bristled chin against his own. They went on and on until they were breathless. Pulling away a scant inch, Snape cradled Harry's face in his hands. "All that I have," he whispered.
"All that I have," replied Harry, and brought their lips together again. This time the kiss was tender, more certain, and afterward they held each other for a long moment. Harry tried to store away the details — the fire, the scent of pine, the taste of cognac on Severus' lips. He shook his head to clear it; he was dizzy with sudden happiness, the resolution of two years' pursuit.
Severus frowned a little. "What is it?"
With a chuckle, Harry took the stockings from the table. "Probably lack of oxygen," he said. "Where do you think we should hang these?"
"Let's leave that for the morning, shall we?" Severus took his hand and smiled.