SUMMER OF SNARRY: FIC: Tenting Tonight Challenge: Summer of Snarry Title: Tenting Tonight Author:elmyraemilie Other pairings/threesome: None Rating: Explicit Word count: 4900 Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *none* Summary: You'd think that, after years of acquaintance with Severus Snape, Harry would know better than to tell him, “We'll do whatever you want for our holiday.” But apparently not. Live and learn, Harry. Live and learn. A/N: Thanks to beta extraordinaire badgerlady, not least for the turn of phrase that inspired the end of this story. All errors, especially those having to do with British camping practices, are mine alone.
Harry felt that he knew Severus very well, even though it had been less than a year ago when they finally admitted to their mutual attraction. Stepping into the relationship felt like getting aboard a favorite broom. All was familiar, a comfortable unison of action and direction, with a heart-pounding, gravity-defying zoom on take-off which never paled, for all that.
It now became clear, however, that there were some topics on which the two of them were not of one mind.
"Camping? You want to go camping?"
"That is what I said, is it not?"
"Well, yeah, but it never crossed my mind that you'd want to spend our time away in a bloody tent. You don't even like taking walks by the lake."
Severus breathed out a sigh. "I dislike the lake because it is often crowded. Further, it is crowded with students, and I prefer to spend our hours together in privacy, or at least in the expectation of not having our every gesture gossiped about throughout the school."
Harry was silent. He knew Severus was a private man; he just never considered that as a motivation for such a trivial thing as avoiding walks together on the grounds. Severus broke in on his thoughts. "You asked what I would like to do for our holiday. That is my suggestion. If you dislike it, we will consider other options."
But that was not what Harry had said. His exact words had been, "We'll do whatever you want for our holiday. You've been without time off for so long, you deserve to have your pick."
Therefore, he replied, "Nonono, if you want to go camping, that's what we'll do. It's just...my last camping trip was not what you'd call relaxing."
That slight scroll of Severus' lips, that implication of a fond smile, always warmed Harry's heart. "No one would imagine that it was. Most people, I among them, would not go so far as to call that 'camping.'" He quirked an eyebrow. “I have no desire to spoil your holiday by insisting. You might find, though, that you take more pleasure in the experience than you expect.”
When Severus said “pleasure” that way, his tongue slipping over the “ell” and his lips caressing the sound of the “u,” Harry's mental faculty abdicated and his libido stepped in to take control. Perhaps that was why, the next morning at breakfast, he found himself looking through bright-colored brochures of campsites, trying to determine which might afford them the better holiday.
“You can't be serious. Here's one called Jelley Legs, and can you believe the name of the town—it's in Studley Roger.”
Severus, who was turning over the pamphlets as Harry laid them aside, said, “I don't think that's a Wizarding ground, either. How they came upon the name is a mystery.” He took a sip of tea and sat up a little straighter. “Here, what about this one? It's in the Wizarding Preserve outside Inverness. We could Apparate into Aviemore and then walk in. It's only three miles or so.”
Harry looked over. “Oh, that one. I didn't think it would be far enough away from civilization for you. See? 'Quidditch pitch and walking trails, convenient access to Floo and Apparation points.' Seems like one of those fake-camping places the Dursleys used to take Dudley, where they had television and take-away service on the grounds.”
“You failed to read the back page.” Snape pointed to the paragraph as he read, “'Secluded campsites available within the forest bounds. Owl for further information.' That may suit our purposes very well indeed.”
XOXOX
“Wish these bloody midges'd bugger off!” If that phrase carried any magical weight in the mouths of Muggles, there wouldn't have been a midge within ten miles of the campground. Harry and Severus walked past a campsite parked with three automobiles and peopled with big, rangy blokes in Manchester United t-shirts. They were all swatting and spraying insecticide just like the other three groups they'd passed, but with the unpleasant addition of shouting profanities as they did so. Had they not been drunk and distracted by their own misery, they might have noticed that the two men on the trail appeared to be blissfully midge-free. Harry blessed his magic once again, and gave the anti-midge charm just a little nudge for good measure.
A few hundred yards later, they entered the margin of the forest, and Severus pulled out the map they'd been sent. “The trail to the left should be...ah, just there.” The wand-and-campfire sign of their campground glowed gently next to a trail hidden, as the symbol was, from eyes deprived of magic.
Their way had risen gently from the level of the town and continued to rise, a little more stringently, as they neared the manager's cabin. Harry thought he was pretty fit for a thirty-something schoolteacher, but by the time they reached the blue-painted door, he was feeling the climb. Severus directed an amused eyebrow at him, and, perfectly composed, knocked on the door.
“Yes, yes, do come right in! Here now, would you like a cuppa or a glass of water? It's a wee hill, coming up here, but you won't regret a bit of it.” The woman, stout and ruddy and fit in her middle age, shook both their hands and produced their reservation form from the desk by the stairs. She spread a map out on the high counter between the little reception area and her living space. “We're here, see, that little house? You'll go out the door and to the left as you were going, up the hill and then right at the fork. You'll see the campsite about fifty paces further on. It's at the end of the path, you can't miss it.”
Provided with a list of activities available, the map of the campground and a warning about the proximity of Muggle campers, Harry and Severus sought out their tent site. Their path continued upward and gave a sharp turn to the right just after it split off from the main trail. Here it leveled out before turning downhill somewhat. Harry was trying not to look for Death Eaters behind the heavy trunks of pine and the bushy rowans, when Severus said, “Oh, this is very nice indeed.”
Ahead of them, the trees thinned out, leaving a narrow opening over a tumble of rock. In the distance another ridge of the Cairngorms could be seen. The two of them stepped up onto the level stones and stood looking over the broad valley, a fabric of cleared land patched with woods, embroidered with the silver of a wandering stream.
“That is the River Avon,” Severus said, pointing off to the northeast. He sank down on the outcropping and shrugged off his pack. Beside him, Harry did the same, and they took in the beauty of the vista before them. Bird calls and the lilt of the breeze through the branches lulled them into silence. Off in the distance, Harry could just hear the sound of an automobile on the access roadway, but beyond that, there was nothing to break the peace of the place.
Severus slid his arm around Harry's shoulders. “I...” he began, and then stopped. Harry waited, and in a moment Severus went on. “I will not speak of it again after this, but I want you to know that I appreciate your acceding to my wish to camp on our holiday. Your time in the Forest of Dean must have been most...most difficult. If at any time this week you find yourself overwhelmed or uncomfortable, just say the word and we will be back in our rooms at Hogwarts with all speed.” He leaned over and kissed Harry on the temple, just beside the faded zig-zag scar. “My own experience of camping was possibly the best part of my childhood. I dare hope that perhaps you will come to enjoy it as well.”
How, Harry thought, could anyone resist that? He leaned into Severus' mild embrace. “It will be fine. I'm sure it will. For one thing, it's not winter. That'll help immensely.” Severus kissed him again and they sat for a minute longer before Harry said, “If we want to be all set up before dark, we'd better get the tent out.” One thing for sure—Harry had plenty of practice in the taking down and putting up of tents.
XOXOX
It was indeed settling for dark by the time Harry and Severus had arranged their campsite as they wanted it. The tent Severus had hired was not as elaborate as the ones Harry knew from his ill-fated camp-outs at the Quidditch World Cup and in the Forest of Dean. It provided a bedroom with a large, comfortable bed, a tidy sitting room, and a toilet and shower room through a door at the back. At Severus' suggestion, they put the front opening toward the valley view and the fire more toward the east, where they could sit and look westward at the sunset in the evenings.
Harry sat on his camp chair, turning his mug of tea between his hands as he tried to take it all in. He'd put on his sweatshirt against the chill; it was a washed-out oversized gray thing that had served him well, though it could never be called stylish. Severus had pulled a heavy flannel shirt over his lighter cotton one, and the garnet color of it gave him the look of some ancient king in the light of their fire.
“Here you are.” Severus handed him a long stick, freshly whittled down to a point and soaked in a bucket of water from the pump. From the packet between them, Harry extracted a sausage and speared it, then held it over the flames. Severus did the same, but he held his food toward the base of the fire, where the coals glowed beneath a drift of ash. Harry quickly shifted his own to roast at the base as well.
“It prevents the skin from burning before the meat is cooked,” Severus observed. That made sense. Harry never had the chance to take his time cooking over an open fire like this; it was relaxing, just sitting there, waiting for his dinner with nothing else to worry about. The wards Severus had put up would have kept out a herd of erumpents. Harry had not missed the glance directed at him as Severus spoke the wards aloud. At the time, he'd felt sheepish and a bit resentful, but now, with the dark coming down around them, he knew the gesture for the kindness that it was.
Turning his sausage to cook on the other side, he asked, “So you said you went camping as a child, but when?”
“When I was very small, perhaps four or five, my father's sister would take me along with her two kids. I suppose my parents were still getting along then—it gave them a couple weekends to themselves during the summers.”
“I didn't know you had an aunt. Are you still in touch with her?”
As soon as Harry asked, he wished he hadn't. They were beginning to wind down into vacation mode, but the look on Severus' face said that the answer to his question was not a happy one.
“When things went bad between my mother and father, his sister chose to take my mother's side. Aunt Ruth and her family were personae non gratae after that. I know she died sometime in the 1980's of lung cancer. Of her children, I know nothing.”
“Oh.” Harry looked over, but Severus was concentrating on his cooking. “I'm sorry. At least you have the good memories.”
“They are good memories, yes. Playing with my cousins, being tucked into sleeping bags at night, my aunt's laugh.” He paused to pull his stick away from the fire and look critically at the meat, then put it back again. “I may be foolish, trying to recreate my childhood with this trip.”
Harry frowned. “Do you think so? I'd call it reclaiming a happy pastime. After all, if you were trying to recreate those days, we'd be sleeping in sleeping bags, right?”
He'd been looking at Severus, who now for some reason started laughing, looking at the fire. Harry followed his gaze to see his stick, sausage and all, ablaze at the top of the flames. “Shit!” he yelled, and waved and blew until the flames were out, and they laughed themselves silly over it. Wrapped in a piece of bread and well-coated in mustard, that sausage was delicious.
XOXOX
It was dead dark when Harry shot up out of bed, wand in hand. There was someone yelling. They were coming. He had to find Hermione. Was it Hermione on watch? Where was Ron? He couldn't kindle a Lumos, they'd see the tent, but the room was different and there was someone there—
A deep, quiet voice came out of the night. “Harry. Harry, it's all right. Look around you.”
Lumos minimus was spoken then, and Harry sank down onto the edge of the bed, dropping his wand to the mattress. His heart was beating its wings against the cage of his ribs, frantic for escape. He drew in a breath and let it out, put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. A light touch, tender and hesitant, ran across his shoulders.
“I'm okay. Sorry.” In the distance there came another yell, followed by the sound of raucous laughter. He jerked upright, then subsided with a shaky laugh. “Those stupid footballers. Do they mean to go on all night?”
“I hope not.” Severus turned himself around to sit beside Harry. “I should hate to have to take the trouble to hex them all into insensibility.”
Harry quirked his lips and shrugged. They stayed as they were, Severus rubbing Harry's back, Harry working at bringing his heart rate back to normal. He sighed again and repeated, “Sorry.”
“Perhaps it is I who should apologize. If I had known you would be so affected I would never have suggested this trip.”
“Oh, come on. I didn't know either. I mean, for crying out loud, it was sixteen years ago! Most of what went on...well, it's not exactly history, not for me, but I thought I'd come to terms. I haven't been like this for a really long time.”
“Still, my apology stands. I would not cause you anguish for all the world.”
Harry looked up at him then, seeing Severus, his Severus, with love plain on his face. It was so—so wondrous—that Harry's voice was tight with emotion when he answered, “I accept your apology, though it's unnecessary. And I love you.”
Severus leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Harry's mouth. “Shall we try to sleep?”
Harry nodded, so Severus doused the light and pulled him down on the bed, wrapping him up in his long arms. Down in the valley, a woman's voice could be heard shouting something indistinct. The noise from the sportsmen's camp dropped away, and with his head pillowed on his lover's breast, Harry slept.
XOXOX
“Do you really think Merlin lived there?” They were walking back from one of the historic sites marked on their map.
“It certainly is a very old habitation. There is no actual proof one way or the other, despite the information provided by the guide. For all we know, it was a sheep-herder's hut.”
Harry laughed at that. “Well, I like the idea of it being Merlin. It feels right to think that he came into Scotland.”
“I must agree. Surely a place as powerful as the ground on which Hogwarts would later be built would have drawn him northward.” They strolled past the footballer's camp, still quiescent at this late hour of the morning, and headed into the Wizarding preserve. Severus moved on when Harry paused to tie his bootlace. He looked up to see Severus, his canvas trousers drawing tight over his hips, making a strong press up the increasing slope of the hill.
It was enough to make a man lick his lips. Harry lagged behind just a bit for the rest of the hike to their camp.
He'd woken this morning feeling a little bit lighter. The terror of the night before had burned away some uncertainty in him; he knew now that Severus welcomed all of him, the deeply hidden, scarred veteran along with the rest. It felt, too, as though he'd exposed to the light the last pocket of darkness left from the war. The bitter ache of memory eased in the face of his present contentment.
Severus had wanted to cut their stay short. They'd talked about it, but Harry had argued against that. There was no reason whatever to go home, as far as he was concerned. He'd gotten it out of his system and he'd be fine. They went back and forth with the discussion, and finally Harry agreed that if he had another episode like last night's, they'd pack up. He felt confident it wouldn't happen.
As he put together their lunch, he whistled an off-key version of a popular song from the WWN. Cooking over the fire was an interesting challenge; it made him think more about the mundane task of preparing edible food. He made a stew with the remaining sausages and some tomatoes and mushrooms, and pulled the loaf of bread from its charmed keep-fresh bag. Severus puttered around the campsite, bringing in wood and making tea.
When they were almost done with their lunch, Severus said, “I'd like to take tomorrow morning to look for herbs and fungus, if you don't mind.”
Harry chuckled. “I never imagined that we would get through a week in the woods without it. Do you want company or would you rather go by yourself?”
Both eyebrows went up. “Why would I not want you to come along? It's not as though your noisy tramping will scare the mushrooms away.”
“Funny guy,” said Harry with a smile. He stood up to carry their dishes to the sink on the side of the tent. “I'll just hold the collection bags and try to be quiet, shall I?”
Severus gave him an up-and-down look. “And decorative, as well, though that should take no effort.”
Harry made some exaggerated preening gestures and Severus laughed as he followed to set the cooking pot in the sink. He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist. Harry turned in his embrace, bringing them nose-to-nose.
“Am I?”
“Are you what?” Severus looked down his noble nose; his eyes were hooded, and something heated sparked in their depths.
“Decorative? Or is it just that I'm good at this?” asked Harry, and brought their mouths together. He pressed in, and Severus answered by relaxing into the kiss. There was always a little spark when they kissed, but this time it was a sharp, bright shock that ran from Harry's mouth right down into his belly. He knew Severus felt it too; the playful mood between them was overwhelmed by a sudden burst of passion.
His tongue slipped inside, tasting that wonderful, familiar Severus-ness, along with tea and tomatoes. Severus moaned into his mouth and pulled them tighter together, one hand low at Harry's waist and the other around his shoulders. The ache in his cock insisted that Harry rub against something, and Severus was right there, perfect, hard, receptive.
Unbalanced by the jerk of Harry's hips, Severus stumbled back one step and then took another to find firm ground. He pulled Harry with him, one hand exploring Harry's fly; it gave way, and at the first touch of cool fingers, Harry had to break the kiss and gasp for breath.
Severus took advantage. “Like that, do you?” he whispered, insinuating his whole hand into Harry's clothing to get a better grip. “I must say I like it. I like the sounds you make, too, and the way you look, disheveled and flushed.” He leaned forward and renewed the kiss, pressing forward, moving Harry back until he bumped up against something rough and unyielding.
A low, wandless whisper left Harry exposed. His shirt flapped open; his jeans slid down his thighs inch by inch as Severus kissed and tasted, traced and teased his way down Harry's torso. When he reached Harry's cock, jutting from his open fly, he looked up with wicked eyes. “How thoughtful,” he breathed. “Dessert.” He took it in to the root.
Harry shouted. Surely that mouth was much hotter than a body should be; it blazed around him after the cool of the forest air, made him arch and scrabble in Severus' hair with his fingers. “Too quick too quick too quick!” he stuttered, and tried to pull back, but he was captured, pressed against the tree with Severus' wiry strength. Still, the tightness around his aching shaft eased, and Harry slumped back in relief; he'd been close to coming, and it was far too soon for that.
Severus had not ceased his attentions, however. Now he was cradling Harry's sac in his hand, licking it and blowing air across the damp places, eliciting little shivers of pleasure. One finger wandered back to where the tail of Harry's shirt protected him from the rough bark. It stroked the soft skin, and Harry spread his legs another few inches in reply. He rolled his head back against the tree and moved his pelvis in encouraging circles.
The breeze picked up, and it dawned on Harry where they were, or perhaps where they were not. It was shocking to be in this position without four walls around him—shocking and titillating. While Severus did sinful things to him with his tongue and his fingers, Harry used one hand to play with his own nipples. The finger teasing at him was removed, to return seconds later, moistened and slipping into his body.
“Oooh, yeah. Yeah, do that!”
Severus' lips moved against the overheated skin of Harry's cock, and the rush of a lubrication spell traveled through him. Standing, Severus took his hands and kissed him hard.
“What do you want?”
“That! Fuck me, Severus, do it right here.”
“Here? Outside, you mean? Nothing to keep us hidden, is there?” The suggestive, intimate whisper left no doubt that Severus would be happy to oblige. “Are you so lewd, to want sex out here?”
In reply, Harry whispered a spell of his own. Naked now, Severus laid into him, kissing and biting at his lips as Harry kicked free of his jeans and one boot. He gave a hop and wrapped his legs around Severus' waist, braced between the tree and the heat of his body. A low growl rumbled in Severus' chest and he adjusted his position until at last his cock slipped inside.
It was exquisite. Harry's weight bore him down against the hot, hard length; Severus rocked back and forth, stirring the fire building in his belly. Harry reached up and found a branch to grab onto. He pulled himself up and released, fucking Severus as he was fucked in return.
“Yes. Like that. Gods, you are a feast.” Bending his head, Severus nipped at his chest and his neck. Harry reveled in it. When teeth sank into his nipple, he cried out. “Oh, gods. Now! Nownownow!” Snape reached around to support him from behind and sped his rhythm as Harry howled into his release. He was scarcely complete when Severus too came to the end and threw his head back with a groan.
Harry hung on as long as he could, but when Severus relaxed his grip, he dropped his feet to the ground. He gathered Severus in close as they recovered. For a moment, they leaned against each other and against the tree, kissing and nuzzling.
At last, Severus whispered, “I think we'd better get cleaned up. It's beginning to look like rain.”
Indeed it was. The bright morning had given way to thickening clouds. They stumbled into the tent and made a quick job of washing up, then went out to rescue their chairs and other items that needed to be kept dry. Just as Harry finished casting Impervius over their firewood, the heavens opened, giving them a far more thorough shower than the one they'd just taken. Harry, who was wandering about in only his pants, tilted his face up to the rain and smiled.
“It feels good, doesn't it?”
“Hmmm.” Severus shook his head. “You are welcome to stay here, Nature-Boy, but I will wait for you indoors. I prefer to shower somewhere without pine needles on the floor.” He dodged inside as Harry shook his head, spraying water everywhere.
Later that evening, they sat in the doorway of the tent, watching the rain. Harry yawned. “I'm getting sleepy already. It's what, only nine o'clock or so?”
“Camping takes more work than life at home, and the fresh air and exercise—” here Harry poked him with his foot—“as I said, the fresh air and exercise are conducive to sleep. Then too, we had broken sleep last night.”
“But not tonight,” said Harry.
“You are so certain?” Severus' eyebrow registered concern and skepticism in equal measure.
“I am. It's like—I don't know, like an aftershock. It just feels like that was the last of it. I'm not going to guarantee that I won't wake up in the night, but I know where I am and I know who I'm with. After that, there's nothing else I need.”
Severus stood and held out his hand. “Then come to bed, my dear. If it will help, I'm quite willing to remind you once again of those reassuring facts.” With a smile, Harry took his hand, and Severus did indeed give him a comprehensive reminder of his whereabouts and his company. Thoroughly relaxed and pleasantly tired, Harry cleaned up a bit and then lounged in bed, waiting for Severus to finish his ablutions. To his dismay, he heard a shout of laughter coming from the rowdies' camp.
As he returned from the toilet, Severus said, “I've seen that expression on your face before, and it boded no good. What are you up to?”
“Oh, nothing,” Harry replied, a certain innocence in his tone that would fool no one who knew him. “I was actually thinking about magical theory.”
“Magical theory, is it?” Severus slid in next to him and leaned up on one elbow. “The impermanence of transfiguration? The counterproductive interaction between antimony and spells of the Aguamenti class?” The corner of his mouth was twitching a bit.
“Ah, no. Actually I was thinking about the technical workings of the anti-midge spell. What happens to them? Are they just repelled, or are they banished or discorporated altogether?”
“Well, discorporation would indeed be harsh, even for so annoying a creature as a midge. They are banished to the closest uninhabited location. That's why the wand gesture terminates with a loop.”
“So, if it's banishing, then it can be directed. Like banishing our clothing doesn't make it go away forever, it just returns it to the bedroom.”
“I say again,” Severus sighed, “that for a man with a first-class magical education, you are certainly lacking in some of the basics. Of course it can be directed—” He broke off, interrupted by the sound of whooping from the footballers' camp. With dawning realization and no little bit of admiration in his eyes, he said, “You wouldn't.”
“They're damned unpleasant, Severus, completely annoying. We're not the only ones they disturbed last night, remember? And besides, it's rare that the punishment can be made to so aptly fit the crime.”
“It is positively Slytherin.” Harry took that as the compliment it was, and raised his wand. After a little thought, he spoke the charm and sketched it in the air with an extra tail on it.
There was a long silence, and then whooping of a different tenor reached their ears from down below. There was a great deal of confused shouting, and a terrible clattering noise.
“That might have been their tent,” mused Harry.
More crashing about and shouting reached their ears, and then the sound of automobile engines roared above the din. There were a few more unintelligible cries and some metallic rattling (“That big grill outfit they had, perhaps?” Severus speculated) and then the motor noise faded off toward Aviemore.
From further down the trail, there could be heard a faint smattering of applause.
In the following silence, Severus turned to Harry and said, “Are you going to reform the charm now?”
“Nah. Want them far enough away that they won't think about coming back. I'll give it a little while.”
“Very wise. In the meantime, would you like a game of chess? It only takes me half an hour or so to win, if I take my time.”
Harry smiled. “Sure. I'm not so sleepy anymore, anyway.”
They played, Severus won, the anti-midge charm was restored to its usual parameters, and together they climbed into bed. Harry lay there for a few minutes, thinking about their day. With Severus along, camping wasn't so bad. Maybe they'd do it again next year.