Entry tags:

2009_fic, ewe, fic4:faeryqueen, snape/harry

fic for faeryqueen 'Romantic' (Snape/Harry)

Fic for: faeryqueen
Title: Romantic
Author: midnight_birth


Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Content Info: highlight between brackets if you prefer story warnings:
[EWE, AU in that Snape is alive, humour - some rather ridiculous situations Snape doesn't appreciate I stuck him into, snogging. ]
Summary: Severus Snape doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. But for a special occasion, he somehow finds himself trying to pull off a “typically romantic” evening. It doesn’t go quite as well as expected. He is convinced it is the price of listening to Hermione Granger.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing.
Word count: ~1,850

Romantic


"You've bred potions. You've invented potions," Severus was grumbling to himself as he studied the package in his hands. "You should be able to do this." He shook his head in frustration and scowled. "Who invented this?"

Somebody had told him that cooking for your significant other was romantic. "And cooking," the bushy-haired somebody had pointed out, "is not waving your wand around, professor, but doing it yourself. He'll know you care by the amount of effort you put into doing it." Apparently it wasn't the thought that counted anymore. It was the end result, which at the moment was looking more disgusting than most potions he's ever encountered.

He wiped his hands on his trousers and grabbed for the page with a few hand-scribbled notes on it. If there was one thing he was good at, it was following instructions, and he knew he had followed them to the last word.

Severus was surprised at how difficult it was proving to be. He had always insisted that Muggles did things the hard and unnecessary way, even if that was the only way they knew how. He was always convinced, for example, that when it came to cooking he still knew how to do it, he just didn't do the dirty work. He was the one administering the spells, after all, which, logically, signified that he knew what had to be done, but didn't do it with his own hands. What could be such a big difference?

He had found out soon enough that the difference was great. He knew that the boiled egg had to be peeled, but how? The shell was not coming off without the egg itself, it was breaking and crumbling, and while he needed an undamaged egg, he ended up staring at a pile of shredded white and yellow on the table.

He was not feeling any better about Muggles and their ways as he meticulously followed the instructions with no luck. The instructions were obviously faulty, as everything that was supposed to happen didn't, and he ended up with something completely opposite from the promised result.

He had put out three oven fires in under an hour. The contraption didn't make sense to him, and Hermione hadn't bothered to write down instructions for that. She had probably figured that Severus knew how to use it, it being in their flat and all, but he was fairly sure the flat had come with an oven, and neither he nor Harry touched it once during the two years they had lived there together. He had decided, upon going through the humiliation of receiving a few detailed recipes from Hermione, to spare himself the disapproving stare of the insolent girl if he told her he didn't know how to use most anything that had to be plugged into a wall. And why would he? He had spent most of his life at Hogwarts, where house elves performed the cooking. And he was fairly positive they didn't use ovens, either. He and Harry always ordered or went out for dinner. Harry had never gotten the opportunity of learning how to cook and his job took him away for most of the time anyway, and Severus was just fine with that.

Tonight had to go well. He shook his head and berated himself for the millionth time. He should've known better than to take on this ridiculous potion. He knew better than anyone that you did not experiment on a potion that had to come out right the first time.

He surveyed the kitchen with a frown. There was a plate of utterly deformed deviled eggs that he was sure tasted like a mix between raw fish and dirty socks, but Hermione had told him it was a rather specific taste. He hadn't tried them himself before (and was certainly never going to allow one to come anywhere close to his mouth again), but Hermione had assured him Harry loved them. The salad was the only thing, in fact, that wasn't charred, misshapen, foul-smelling, or visible uneatable.

Hello, Harry, Severus imagined himself saying. Here is some probably poisonous mush that, albeit it doesn't look it, used to be food. How was your day?

He groaned when, as if in response to his thoughts, he heard the sound of a key. He stood in silence, considering, while listening to Harry come into the flat.

"Bloody hell!" he heard Harry say, and rolled his eyes. "Are these... candles?"

"Sit, Potter!" he roared. He swung around when he heard Harry enter the kitchen. Harry's eyes widened, but before any words could leave his mouth, Severus was shoving him out of the kitchen none too gently. "At the table," he growled. "Just do it."

Severus turned back to face the kitchen and took out his wand. He waved at the mess and then at himself to clean up, but his arm paused when he pointed it at the assortment of plates with food on them that looked so bizarre he could hardly distinguish what each dish was originally supposed to be. He had never bothered to learn any strictly domestic spells, and he most certainly couldn't even begin to imagine what he could do to it to somehow make it better. He shrugged. Most dishes Hermione had suggested he wasn't actually even sure about. Some of them he'd never seen or tasted before, so he couldn't vouch for the fact that it was the way they were supposed to look and taste.

He levitated the plates into the living room. Harry was sitting around their small table, looking surprised, nervous and apprehensive. He had obviously assumed that Severus had gone mad, and really, Severus wouldn't be too fast to argue. Now that everything was said and done, the idea seemed so ludicrously stupid to him he couldn't imagine how he could have at any point thought it was going to end in anything but a bloody disaster.

"So..." Harry was now eyeing the dishes in front of him, and Severus could plainly see it wasn't an excited look. "What is all this?"

Severus shrugged and sat down. Hermione had advised him on the way to act - no sarcastic, demeaning, condescending comments, no losing his patience, and no talk of work. She had told him all those things weren't "romantic". Of course, all the things she had told him were romantic turned out to be quite the opposite, so he was inclined to forget Hermione Granger's every word right there and then.

"Nothing," he snapped, and pushed the plate of deviled eggs towards Harry. "Got bored. Thought I'd cook, thought I'd make it nicer." When Harry raised an eyebrow, he added, "I just felt like staying in, ok, and thought you'd be more inclined to do it if I made it seem like a restaurant. I know you're basically addicted to going out to eat. Now eat."

Brilliant, Severus thought to himself. A kind untrue exchange of insults is the only thing this night was missing.

He observed Harry closely as he took the eggs and the meat and poked them with a fork. When he caught Severus's eyes, he forced a grin and shovelled the egg into his mouth. If it wasn't so tragic Severus would have laughed long and hard. Harry moved his jaws twice and then went a sickly shade of green. His eyes lowered to his plate as he slowly chewed, exaggerating the movements, and then swallowed with difficulty, obviously trying to spare himself the torture of any more chewing of something that foul-tasting, even if the unchewed food barely fit down his throat.

"I didn't know you could cook, Severus." Harry's voice was sounding strained. He smiled again, but Severus rolled his eyes and grabbed the plate of food away before Harry could spear another deviled egg with his fork. His conclusions had proven true. It wasn't what those were supposed to taste like. He waved at the candles in irritation, vanishing them, and turned on the regular overhead lights.

Harry was obviously overcompensating for what he thought was an insult. "It's not that bad," he said quickly, trying without success to take his plate back. "it's the thought that counts! I can't believe you would do -"

"I can't believe it myself," Snape spat. "What is so romantic about candles, exactly? And why do I have to cook the meal? It is a tiresome, useless, unnecessary waste of time."

Harry frowned, confused. "Romantic? You? And who told you you had to cook a meal at all?"

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was going to do it and then possibly Obliviate himself to forget the entire occasion. It wasn't, as Hermione was adamant in assuring him, "the most magical night" of their lives.

He reached into his robes and procured a small box, placed it on the table and pushed it towards Harry. Calmly, he met Harry's still confused gaze.

"I'm not doing this in the typical bloody stupid way this is apparently "supposed" to be done. We're both adults and we can deal with this like adults. We've lived together for a while, we've been content, and I've heard rumours that marriage actually means something to you." Harry's eyes widened. "I must admit it is a logical, though rather conditioned, expectation from a long-term relationship, and I don't see any negatives about it."

Harry stared, shaking his head, as the meaning of Severus's words slowly sunk in. He looked at the small box and then back up at Severus.

"You're asking me to marry you? And you have a ring?" Harry muttered barely audibly.

"The ring is customary, if I am not mistaken. And yes, we are having a conversation to mutually decide whether marriage would indeed be a beneficial and wanted progression of our relationship."

Harry looked like somebody had just doused him with ice-cold water. He kept looking from the ring to Severus, as if expecting either to vanish. That even Severus could not resist. With a small smirk he stood up and grasped Harry's chin, forcing the younger man to look up at him. Severus's lips claimed Harry's hungrily and, after a minute of stumbling unsurely, Harry's finally responded with equal passion.

Severus didn't consider marriage a huge deal, or a necessary occurrence. He failed to see what it changed. But Harry had wanted it, and now, kissing him, Severus was surprised to note he was excited about the prospect, too. He had been nervous, as well.

Harry leaned away and suddenly grinned mischievously. "So you were actually going to pull a romantic guy on me? Candle-lit dinner, get down on one knee?"

Severus growled. "Watch it, Potter. Mrs Hermione Granger will not be receiving a thank you letter for the stupidest advice she had ever given."

Harry laughed and Severus was quick to silence him with another kiss. The night had turned into something quite different than what he had initially hoped, but he was completely happy. And that, Severus realized, was a quite different feeling, too. He loved it.





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