alisanne (alisanne) wrote in snarry100, @ 2006-08-10 20:40:00 |
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Original poster: lesyeuxverts00
Title: Daisy Roots and Sunday Traditions
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Word Count: 3(100)
Rating: G
Challenge: #18, In their spare time
Warning(s): slash implied
Disclaimer: I own nothing and never will.
The daisy roots had been chopped into precise quarter inch pieces. Severus looked up at his fidgeting husband.
“These need to be cut along the diagonal, not straight. You’ve wasted my supplies and your time.”
He retrieved his mortar and pestle, turning away from his unsolicited assistant. “Perhaps celebrities aren’t required to keep normal lunch hours, but the rest of us have no such luxury. Waste your time elsewhere if you’re not returning to work today.”
A light touch of cool fingers against the back of Severus’s hand and then Potter said, “Today is Sunday, you insufferable git,” before Disapparating.
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The Sunday dinner tradition started before their wedding and never changed. Potter cooked, Severus chose the wine, and they ate by the fire.
Severus selected his favorite Syrah and waited for Potter. The kitchen was silent past their usual hour. Severus didn’t wait there with the echoes of past Sundays, pans clattering and Potter’s laughter. The house elves brought dinner and he spelled it to stay warm.
Severus opened the wine, but it was tasteless without Potter’s beef stew to accompany it.
When Potter returned, he shut himself in his study. Finishing the bottle, Severus stared at the closed door.
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Potter fiddled in the study with his Muggle contraptions, the acid-free paper and inks, the stickers and the bizarre scissors that Severus wasn’t allowed to use on potions ingredients.
Severus rested a hand on his husband’s shoulder and watched the new page emerge from scattered photos. Granger – dancing at the Yule ball, bickering with Weasley, hiding behind a book – she was in every picture. Severus felt Potter’s breathing hitch at the final one, the tombstone draped with roses.
Severus slipped an arm around his husband’s chest and nibbled at his earlobe with a whispered, “Come away, come to bed, love.”