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Fic for purplefluffycat 'By The Clock' (Snape/Dumbledore)

Fic for: purplefluffycat
Title: By the Clock
Author: fluffyllama


Pairing: Snape/Dumbledore
Rating: R
Warnings/Content Info: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings:
[none]
Summary: Albus Dumbledore's pursuit of Severus Snape was widely considered the slowest courtship in history.
Disclaimer: The world of HP and its characters belongs to Rowling. The author of this fic has borrowed them for the purposes of storytelling. No profit was or will be made.
Word count: ~4,400

By the Clock

Albus Dumbledore was not, in general, a creature of habit.

It might have been surprising in a Headmaster of a school with such a long history and so many traditions as Hogwarts, but if Albus was certain of anything it was that Hogwarts had more than enough routine to make up for any of his personal shortcomings in that area. As long as he didn't neglect his duties, there was no reason why he shouldn't come go as need - or the greater good of the Wizarding World - dictated.

There was only one time each week Albus was guaranteed to be where he was supposed to be. He would leave an important discussion with the Wizengamot (to their obvious annoyance) as easily as he would the dullest meeting at the Ministry, or abandon the most intriguing passage in a book to ensure he was always, without fail, seated at the small dining table in his sitting room at Hogwarts by six fifty-five on a Friday evening.

At precisely seven o'clock, just as the clock chimed, Severus Snape would knock on his door and join him for dinner, drinks, and sometimes a game of chess. Albus would look, every time, for a sign of interest from Severus. He would search for any hint that Severus joined him in his rooms out of anything other than politeness (unlikely) or a sense of obligation (more probable), but Severus gave little away and asked for nothing in return, as always.

At eleven o'clock exactly, Albus would see Severus to the door, accompanied once more by the chimes of the clock. He would take care to tell Severus that he was welcome there at any time. Any time at all, Severus. Dear boy.

Severus never took him up on his open invitation, but his farewells were no longer quite so abrupt as they had once been; the familiarity of several years had improved some of his social skills, and he would linger a few moments now, almost as if he was loath to end their conversation. Anything more than that, any touches or heated looks that might pass between them, took place purely in Albus's thoughts after he had retired to his bed chamber.

Albus Dumbledore was, as Minerva McGonagall pointed out on most Saturday mornings, an old fool.



Albus Dumbledore was a tease. Either that or Minerva was having a joke at Severus's expense.

"He's just keeping an eye on me," Severus snapped when Minerva started on him yet again during the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match one blustery afternoon. "Making sure I'm not corrupting innocent youth or falling back in with any of the old crowd."

Minerva snorted. "For eight years? Or is it nine now? You're as big a fool as he is."

"Perhaps he also enjoys having a competent opponent at chess," Severus said. "Or intelligent conversation over dinner. Nothing more."

"What he enjoys is your company," Minerva said. "And he would like to enjoy it in more ways than chess and conversation."

Severus felt heat rise up in his cheeks, and was grateful for once the gusts of wind that blew his hair across his face. He was even more grateful that the cheering of the crowd made it impossible for anyone to overhear their conversation. He set his back in a firm straight line, defying the wind that buffeted against him. "You're being ridiculous."

"The man would do anything for you, more fool him," Minerva sniffed. "You need to show him you think of him as more than a colleague. Ask him for a favour, that's what friends do. Give him a chance to let you know he's interested."

"He is not interested. More to the point, I am not interested."

"Poppycock."

"I'm perfectly content as I am, as I keep telling you." Severus turned to glare at her. "And I have never asked for favours. Not Dumbledore, not anyone."

Minerva, as usual, appeared unimpressed. "Then maybe it's high time you did."



"Gifts?" Albus said. "Are you sure, Minerva?"

"I'm always sure," Minerva said, and Albus had to allow that was nothing but the truth.

"I have very little experience with the process of-" Albus paused to concentrate on pouring them both a cup of tea.

"Seduction, Albus. It's called seduction." Minerva's nose wrinkled as if she disapproved. Whether her disapproval was for the notion of Albus having any sexual appetite at all, for his selection of Severus as its focus, or for the whole concept of relationships, Albus wasn't sure. "At least it will be when you actually start to do something about it."

"I was going to say 'courtship'," Albus said, placing a teacup in front of her.

"It's the slowest courtship in history." Minerva accepted a squeeze of lemon in place of milk, and sipped cautiously at her tea. "And I'm not the only one who thinks so. If you want to move things along then you need to make your intentions clear."

"And gifts are the best way to accomplish this, you think?" Albus wasn't sure what type of gift would be welcomed by Severus. He was wary of anything that hinted at charity, and questioned any kindnesses shown towards him on principle, few as they were. Any gift presented out of the blue was bound to arouse suspicion, even one from Albus.

"For heaven's sake, Albus, I'm not suggesting you buy the man flowers." Minerva fixed him with a determined eye. "Listen to what he says, look for opportunities to give him something he wants, and you'll find the right gift."

"But-"

"I've said my piece," Minerva said, and pursed her lips. "If you don't take my advice then I don't want to hear one more word about it."

She always said the same thing, and Albus never took her advice. He never even pretended to consider her advice when it touched on such matters. It had not yet stopped her offering her opinion again, but still. Perhaps it was time he tried one of her suggestions.

It wasn't as if he was getting very far on his own. There were good reasons for it, of course. It had taken Severus more than a year to relax in Albus's presence at their weekly dinners. Even now, on occasion, it was as if he was waiting for Albus to ask something of him; perhaps to prove his usefulness. It was as if he saw the dinners as a means to soften him up for a blow that would fall at any time. Most of the time their evenings were relaxed, but their talk was strictly business, whether Hogwarts, potion-making, or some other branch of magic. Albus would be delighted if Severus let slip any sign that he had any personal aims, wishes or desires these days, but it seemed so unlikely as to be near impossible.

Sometimes Albus had to wonder if Minerva knew Severus at all.



Friday evening arrived with Severus none the wiser as to any favour he might request from the Headmaster. Not that he believed Minerva's ridiculous notions, but it seemed to be one way Severus could prove that she was imagining things.

If she was imagining things.

Oh, of course she was. The whole thing was ridiculous.

But still… there were repairs needed to the ceiling of the second year dormitory, but the time and place to bring that up was the staff meeting. The same applied to his request for an increase in the Potions budget. Severus strongly suspected that his predecessor had used the school supplies as his own personal ingredient supply on more than a few occasions, and Severus was still reaping the consequences years later as jars and vials that should have been full turned up empty at the back of dusty shelves.

He had complaints about the exclusion of a Slytherin student from the Restricted Section of the library, but that might be pushing his luck. Even Severus had reservations about that request, but fair was fair, and his students shouldn't be discriminated against because of their House.

Even if Dumbledore agreed to any of his requests, none of them were what he could call personal. They might be things he would agree to because they were necessary, or out of fairness, but not because he held Severus in any particular regard. None of them would indicate that the Headmaster had any particular interest in him.

The man would do anything for you, Minerva had said.

No, if he was going to ask for a favour, if he was going to test Minerva's theory, then he needed to come up with something more personal.

Perhaps he wouldn't ask. By rights it should be a cold day in hell before he would take advice from Minerva McGonagall.

There was a light showing under the Headmaster's door, and the scent of steak and ale pie drifted down the corridor. Severus's stomach rumbled, but he slowed his footsteps to give himself another moment to think.

It wasn't as if he had any interest in the matter. It was of no consequence to him if the Headmaster had any ulterior motive for the evenings they spent together. No consequence at all.

The clock on Albus's mantelpiece chimed the hour, a tinkling musical reminder echoed high above by the Hogwarts clock. Severus needed to hurry. He knocked on the door just as the last note faded.



If Albus was a little nervous during the dinner, and refilled his wine glass more frequently than usual, Severus didn't seem to notice.

Then again, perhaps Albus was imagining things, because Severus's glass seemed to empty just as quickly as his own.

It was when the after-dinner conversation turned to Horace Slughorn that Albus spotted the opportunity he never expected to have.

"You know he only sent that article in to Potions Today so he could mention his 1754 first edition of Rare Potions of the Olde Worlde, don't you?" Severus said, his lips a thin sneer.

"Horace does like to blow his own trumpet now and again," Albus agreed, smiling a little. "But the article was an interesting read, so I think we must forgive him."

"It would be far more interesting and possibly even useful with a copy of the book for reference," Severus said. "The later editions are a travesty. Most of the author's notes were removed by mistake, and there are more spelling errors than you would find in a first year essay in some texts. If Slughorn wanted to be helpful he'd allow his copy to be used as the basis for a new edition - it's next to impossible to find a complete version."

"Really?" Albus hadn't realised the problem with the text was quite so serious. It was possible he had let his expertise in the area of Potions, such as it was, slide a little too much. Severus was flushed with the force of his emotions, although it was possible the wine was contributing to his colour in some small way.

"Slughorn's is the most intact copy we know of," Severus said, "so it would most easily withstand the handling and magical forces necessary to create new copies. The only other copies I'm aware of are a cursed volume still held by the Ministry, and one in worn condition bought in 1899 by an unknown private collector and never seen since."

"I suppose he thinks it will lose some value if it is reprinted," Albus said thoughtfully.

"You-" Severus's voice was as uncertain as Albus had ever heard it. Without the fortifying wine in him, Albus had the feeling he might never have spoken. "Slughorn might allow it if someone he greatly respected asked him, Headmaster. Perhaps if you-"

Albus couldn't help smiling at that. "I'm afraid Horace Slughorn is a law unto himself, Severus. I can't offer you much hope he would agree to such a request. But I may still be able to help." Albus stood. "If you'll excuse me for a moment?"

The cabinet in Albus's bed chamber held many books on its shelves, but Albus ignored them all in favour of a locked drawer near the bottom. The key turned stiffly in the lock, as well it might because Albus had not opened it for oh, the better part of half a century. Inside lay a small oblong parcel wrapped in a well-worn red and yellow scarf. Albus removed it carefully and carried it through to the sitting room.

"This may not be in such fine condition as Horace's copy," Albus said as he unwrapped the parcel. "If it had been I could never have afforded it at the time. But I think we might be able to hold it together well enough to have that new edition printed."

The book that lay before them was not the most prepossessing tome Albus had ever seen. It was even shabbier than he remembered, and it had never been the most attractive of volumes.

Severus, however, reached one skinny finger out and traced over the faded lettering that clearly read 1754 in a bold hand.

"There was never a cover," Albus said, acutely aware of the dog-eared pages and the ink stain down one side. "But I don't think there are any pages missing."

"It's incredible," Severus said, reverence in his voice. His hand lingered over the page, fingers barely touching, but obviously itching to turn the page. "Do you mind if I--?"

"By all means," Dumbledore said. "It's yours to do with as you wish, my boy."

Severus looked at him then, and Albus was glad to see longing in Severus's eyes, not wariness. He was looking forward to telling Minerva how successful he had been in finding a suitable gift for Severus. It really had been a most fortunate conversation.

The clock chimed a quarter to eleven, and Albus thought perhaps it would be best to leave the evening on a high note. He wasn't sure how much conversation Severus had left in him in any case, with the way he was obviously itching to start reading.

Albus folded the scarf carefully around the book once more. "Why don't you take it back to your rooms with you now," he said. "If you start reading it here I suspect the house elves will be dusting around you in the morning."

"I can't tell you how much-" Severus started, and it seemed it was true because he didn't continue. "I mean, this will be a great asset, and I. I-"

Albus was surprised when Severus clasped his hand, and he blamed shock for his sudden impulse to pull the man into a brief hug. Severus was stiff and unyielding against him, but when Albus released him his face was more flushed than ever, and his eyes burned dark in their sockets. Albus had a moment's warning when determination flashed across Severus's face, but he had nowhere near enough time to pull back before he felt a quick press of cool, firm lips against his, and a brush of hair across his cheek. Albus's glasses slipped a little to one side, but all he did was push Severus back until he was pressed against the wall, and lean in to return the kiss.

Severus was ready for him, but it was still tricky. There were angles to work out and noses to negotiate, and it turned out teeth could clash painfully if you didn't get it right. Albus's glasses fell off altogether between the third and fourth kisses, but by then Severus's hands were clutching at Albus's robes and his tongue was in Albus's mouth so it didn't trouble Albus greatly.

Albus was no expert, but it had seemed easier when he was a young man; smoother with the sun on his face and soft hands in his. It certainly hadn't been like this, with long fingers digging hard into his hip and shoulder, but it was a long time ago and perhaps the years had flavoured it sweeter than it deserved. Severus's breath was harsh and sour, but it was hot in his ear, his mouth, against his neck, and the leg that pressed between Albus's was trembling with an excess of adrenaline, emotion, or perhaps both.

Severus was-he was still young but life had made him hard, coarse grained and as rough to the touch as his starched robes, and Albus wanted to scrape himself on every sharp edge, every raw need, rub away the shiny surface of Albus Dumbledore, respected Headmaster, and remember what it was like to just feel.

Albus had no comparison point for the moment when Severus's hands crept inside his robes and curled around his flesh, but he hoped he would have use for one in future. He filed it away, sensation by sensation, image by image.

Severus's fingers, cool around the warm length of Albus's cock.

The sound of his own voice, unfamiliar in its rough urgency. "Severus, please-"

Severus's teeth against his neck, biting down with the final tug that sent Albus tumbling over the edge

His own hands tearing at Severus's buttons.

Severus's throat pale above his black robes, his head flung back against the wall when he shuddered and spilled over Albus's fingers.

Severus stayed against the wall when Albus took a step back, and Albus wished Severus was looking at him, but there were so many things Albus wished for that one more didn't seem to matter so much. He wished they were not already past the limits of his own experience, and he wished-

"Will you stay, Severus?" he asked. His fingers worked uncertainly at his robes, fastening and unfastening a button. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate to disrobe further, but if he covered himself up, Severus might think he regretted what had happened.

"I-" Severus's voice was hoarse, and he stopped. His face was still turned away from him when Albus glanced towards him, and his robes still in disarray. Severus might need a moment of privacy to put himself back together too, of course.

Albus turned, and paused to pour more wine into the glasses that still sat on the table. It might help Severus, and he rather felt the need for a drink himself.

"I don't expect anything," Albus said, placing the bottle down carefully once more. "But you are more than welcome to stay here for the night."

At last he heard Severus move behind him. He was disappointed when he heard the door swing open a moment later, but not entirely surprised. When it closed, a draught blew chilly around his ankles and the clock began to chime eleven.

Albus sat down heavily and sighed. The book he had been so pleased to give to Severus still lay on the table, half wrapped in that old Gryffindor scarf.

So much for Albus Dumbledore's good ideas.



Severus managed to avoid Minerva for a few days by a combination of late arrival at meal times and a sudden reluctance to hand out detentions. As was only to be expected, several Gryffindor troublemakers took advantage of this until he was forced to spend a long Wednesday evening supervising them while they harvested lionfish spines and brewed preservative for rat tails.

He was tempted to kick the tabby cat that marched into the classroom half way through detention, but he supposed it might set a bad example. He ignored it as best he could, even when it took to scratching at his potion desks one by one, but his glower was so bad by the time detention ended that the Gryffindors fled without a word or a backwards glance.

"You're avoiding me." Minerva dusted her hands off on her robes. Severus hoped she had a splinter, blast her. Ten splinters.

"Don't flatter yourself," Severus said, as nastily as he could. "I'm just. Busy."

"Albus has been avoiding me too," Minerva continued, clearly ignoring the warning in his tone. "I don't think he's spent more than an hour or two in the castle this week."

"Really." Severus did not have to feign disinterest; it was of no importance to him what Albus Dumbledore had been doing. "I can't say I'd noticed."

"He'll be here on Friday for your usual dinner, I suppose," she said, her eyes sharp and watchful.

Severus kept his face carefully blank.

"I'll find out what happened, you know," Minerva said. "One way or another."



"Severus told me all about it," Minerva said after the Thursday staff meeting. Albus had to admire the way she looked him straight in the eye.

He didn't believe her for a second, but an outrageous bluff always deserved some appreciation.

"Did he now," he said, and pursed his lips as if in thought. "Tell me then, Minerva. What should I do?"

Minerva almost choked on her tea. "You want my advice?"

Albus summoned up his most benign smile. "Of course, Minerva. You can't abandon me in my hour of need."

Minerva straightened in her seat and pushed her glasses firmly onto her nose. "I'll need to hear your side of the story, naturally."

"Naturally." Albus leaned back in his chair and eyed the second hand of the clock. If he could make Minerva blush inside a minute, he might reward himself with a second helping of treacle tart at dinner tonight.



Severus was not accustomed to having his Friday evenings free. It seemed most of the castle, from house elves to… well, the Deputy Head at least, were enjoying themselves. The Great Hall was full of chatter and some kind of theatrical nonsense and it was barely six-twenty, hardly time for tea for to be cleared away. The corridors were full of barely restrained energy, calls for late Quidditch practice, and too many damn children as always. Severus was relieved to step outside under the chiming of the half hour and take a deep breath in the cool, clear November air.

Even outside it was hard to find peace and quiet to think. There was music - if you could call it that - booming from the direction of Hagrid's hut, so Severus headed for the edge of the forest in search of tranquility. He ignored the owls screeching as he passed, but when the clock chimed eight something rumbled far off in the depths of the forest, and Severus was almost at the railway line, so he turned towards the lake instead.

By a quarter past nine only the gentle slosh of water kept him company. By ten he could see the shallows freezing almost before his eyes at the most exposed edge of the lake, and the night, he was certain, was the chilliest of the year so far. By half past he gave up on keeping an adequate warming charm going and headed back to the castle.

The clock struck eleven as he entered his chambers. Often when he returned to his rooms at about this hour on a Friday night they seemed sombre and stuffy, too silent after an evening of good conversation.

Tonight they just seemed empty.

Apart from his desk, where there lay a book which did not belong to him.

There was no light showing under Albus's door when Severus approached it, but it was not locked. The sitting room was in darkness, and only a faint glow illuminated the door of Albus's bed chamber.

Severus did not knock, but Albus seemed unsurprised to see him, or the book he carried with him.

"You said I was welcome any time," he said when Albus reached for his glasses.

"Indeed you are." Albus gestured for him to have a seat on the bed, but Severus ignored him. "I hope you haven't come to return my gift, Severus. I should very much like you to keep it."

"I left it behind for a reason," Severus said, and infuriatingly, Albus just smiled.

"There are no strings, Severus," he said gently. "No conditions whatsoever. And it's not…" he waved a hand vaguely. "It's not payment or anything. I would have given it to you long ago if I had known you wanted it."

Severus was sure he could hear Minerva's coaching in that little speech, but there was nothing but sincerity in Albus's voice. He cleared his throat before he could trust himself to speak.

"I suppose I could say the same thing," he said finally, and was relieved to see Albus's face brighten. He let his face relax a little, and laughed. "I'm not sure which of us is the bigger fool, but at least I have the better of this bargain."

Albus patted the bed once more, and this time Severus sat.

"I bought this book as a gift," he said, and Severus watched his eyes drifted up as if following a memory. "For a young man I cared for a great deal."

"Why didn't you give it to him?" Severus couldn't help letting his fingers stroke the spine of the book, as if this phantom young man from the past might come back to claim it at any moment.

"I did," Albus said, and there was regret in his voice. "He also left it behind, but not for the same reason. He liked fine things, and this?" Albus laid a finger on the ragged front page of the book and sighed. "This was not fine enough for him."

Severus had no idea what to say to that.

"I really think that was my first inkling that all was not well with him," Albus said thoughtfully. "He was far more concerned with the outward appearance of power than learning what it could teach him, and with the superficial in general." He shook his head. "He never understood how foolish he was, and he would never, ever admit he made a mistake."

"This isn't a mistake," Severus said, and slid his fingers closer to where Albus's rested on the book.

"No, my boy," Albus said, meeting him half way. "I don't think it is."



Albus Dumbledore was still not, in general, a creature of habit. After so many years it was unlikely he would change, even if he wanted to.

But for Severus, as always, he would simply make an exception.






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