snarryhols (snarryhols) wrote in snarry_holidays, @ 2007-12-02 09:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic, post-dh: ewe, rated: nc-17 |
A Tolerable End to an Unfortunate Situation (2/2), for perfica
Title: A Tolerable End to an Unfortunate Situation
Author: who_la_hoop
Giftee: perfica
Word Count: 11,000
Rating: NC-17 (just about!)
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Warnings: DH spoilers, swearing
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR. This is just for fun!
Summary: In which Snape causes rather a stir by being emphatically not dead. perfica wanted Snape back, PWP in an unusual situation and a series of events conspiring to keep them apart, with a happy ending. I hope very much that this suits – happy holidays! :)
Harry woke in utter darkness, leaning heavily against a bony figure. “What..”
“You’re awake,” Snape said, his voice filled with a cold rage that made Harry feel incredibly nervous. “Good. Perhaps you can explain exactly where we are, and why this dark place is preferable to my former cell?” Snape shifted, and Harry became aware of an arm which was, inexplicably, still wrapped around him. “After all,” Snape continued, evidently warming to his theme, “although unpleasant, my abode in Azkaban did have the negative merits of light and a door, even if it was one through which I never expected to leave.”
“About before…” Harry started, uncomfortably, squinting into the darkness.
Snape’s arm dropped from around him instantly, as if it had never been there.
“Anticipating the matter you are about to speak of, Potter,” Snape said icily, “Let me inform you that the topic is most decidedly not up for discussion. Ever. Do I make myself clear?”
“Why not?” Harry asked, slightly annoyed. “Was I that bad?”
Snape made an indescribable noise and took a deep, audible breath. “That, Potter, is not the point,” he ground out.
“So I was?” Harry said angrily. “Well you didn’t seem to be complaining…”
“Desist!” Snape all but shouted.
Harry subsided, crossing his arms and glaring into the darkness. “Where the hell are we?”
Snape said nothing, but Harry could imagine his contemptuous look all too well.
“Well Hermione said it was a safe place, so I’m sure it’s fine,” Harry said, answering his own question, and trying to sound convinced. “Have you even looked for a light switch?”
Snape snorted. “Insolent boy. I notice you don’t have your wand.”
Harry frowned. “Of course not. They were hardly going to let me in your cell with it. Hermione has it for safe keeping.”
Snape seemed, by the sound of his breathing, to be trying to keep himself from exploding. “We are in a small, completely bare room, devoid of windows, doors, ventilation shafts, furniture – in short, Potter, it is a sensory deprivation room the like of which I have only ever seen in Malfoy Manor. Do I need to spell out where we are, or can you comprehend my words?”
“What?” Harry gasped. “Malfoy Manor?” He frowned. “Well I suppose that’s safe enough. It’s under Ministry control. I’m sure Hermione has sorted it out.”
Snape made an irritated sound. “We are in a sensory deprivation room, Potter. If we scream, no-one will hear us. There is no possible means of escape from the inside, and little chance of discovering it from the outside unless you know it already exists. Does Miss Granger know it exists, Potter?”
“I…” Harry gulped. “I’m sure she does,” he said, feeling very much not so sure.
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I suggest we talk,” Snape said sourly. “The longer we go without sensory stimulation, the quicker we will lose our minds.”
“We’ll probably freeze to death first,” Harry muttered. “It’s bloody cold down here.”
Snape said nothing but, after another awkward silence, shifted closer to Harry. Harry jumped when Snape’s fingers ghosted his face. Snape’s fingers felt cool against his skin, which flushed with a kind of embarrassed, half-aroused heat under Snape’s gentle touch.
“You do not feel in imminent danger of frostbite,” Snape said sarcastically, but with a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think you will live.”
Harry said nothing, then “I’m not that bad,” burst unexpectedly out of his mouth. He groaned to himself. He sounded like a sulky school kid.
There was an icy silence. “It was entirely inappropriate,” Snape all but hissed, his voice low. “I am your teacher…”
“No you’re not,” Harry interjected.
“Don’t interrupt,” Snape said sternly. “If we must go over this, then please do me the courtesy of actually listening.”
“But I don’t see…”
“Enough!” Snape shouted. “You are trying my patience beyond reason. It appears that not only is it not enough for you to force me into unlooked for physical intimacy, but now you must discover whether I enjoyed said intimacy, and force me to rate your own performance! I know you think little of me, but…”
“I don’t,” Harry said quietly. “I admire you. No-one else could have done what you did during the war.”
There was another silence.
“Sorry,” Harry whispered.
Another silence.
“It is I who must apologise,” Snape said slowly, speaking as if the words hurt. “You are young. I do not often make allowances for the folly of youth, but perhaps in this case…”
“I’m not that young,” Harry muttered.
“Yes,” Snape conceded. “Old enough to know better, no doubt.”
Harry scowled into the darkness. He still hadn’t had his answer. “Snape…” he began, then faltered.
There was yet another silence.
“No,” Snape said suddenly, sounding extremely annoyed. “Since you require me to spell it out,” he hissed, “No, you were not bad, as you so eloquently put it. Your performance was more than tolerable. Miss Weasley should count her blessings. Now we will have an end to this matter, Mr Potter. I refuse to be baited any further.”
Harry gaped into the darkness, feeling as if he were blushing from head to toes. It was the most complimentary he’d ever heard Snape. In Snape terms, he’d practically been gushing.
Harry blinked. ”I’m not with Ginny any more,” he said finally. “We split up.”
“Indeed,” Snape said shortly.
“Yeah,” Harry said, a little gloomily. “She asked if I’d rather kiss her or Ron. I didn’t get the answer right.”
There was a faint intake of breath from Snape, but otherwise no response.
Harry wondered if he were going mad, revealing such things to Snape of all people. But in a way, sitting together in total darkness, it was like they were corresponding again. And Harry had liked the man who wrote him those letters. He was sarcastic, sure, but there was humour rather than spite behind it.
“Snape…” Harry said gingerly.
Snape shifted, and Harry could feel Snape’s warmth against him as he turned slightly towards him. His hair brushed against Harry’s cheek for a moment as Snape misjudged the distance between them, jerking back a little. Harry was acutely aware of Snape’s arm resting against his, Snape’s thigh brushing his own.
“Yes?” Snape said, a little tetchily.
“Can I kiss you again?”
Snape actually flinched, stiffening into icy disapproval beside him.
“Sorry, forget it, I can see you don’t want to,” Harry mumbled quickly, feeling like an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking? In what world would kissing Snape for fun be a good idea? Merlin he wanted to though, with an urgency that shocked him. His whole body felt on edge with desire. He wondered if he’d gone mad, to want to do such a thing.
“That would not be a good idea,” Snape said tightly.
Harry frowned as he considered this. “You mean you want to?”
“And that is certainly not the point.”
“Well fine,” Harry snapped, “instead of doing something nice to pass the time in this hell hole before we die, lets just argue about it shall we?”
“It would not be right,” Snape ground out, from what sounded like a locked jaw. “You would regret it deeply once we are freed, and I have no doubt that if we were to embark upon such a ludicrous course of action, we would be freed. In my deep and painful experience, Potter, there is no scrape that you cannot get yourself out of, particularly if it will cause humiliation and embarrassment to myself.”
“Why do you always bang on about everything,” Harry said irritatedly. “Can’t you ever just speak in a sentence shorter than a hundred words? Look Snape, I know this whole situation is kind of peculiar, but I don’t really get the problem. It – before – it felt good. Don’t you want to do it again?”
“Anyone would have to stark raving mad to not want to kiss you, you irritating moron, but as I am trying to make clear to you, that is not the issue under discussion here!”
Harry decided that words were not going to sway Snape, who was evidently suffering from some kind of personal dilemma that Harry didn’t feel up to delving into. He supposed that Snape had seen him as a 12 year old boy, and if that wasn’t enough to put anyone off their stroke, then he didn’t know what was. Action, rather than discussion, was required.
Harry shifted against Snape, putting one hand up to search out Snape’s face, and aimed. Snape jerked his head away, but not enough. Harry’s mouth connected with Snape’s neck, and it seemed the work of a moment to kiss his way up it. Snape made an incoherent noise and Harry paused for a heartbeat, before licking a slow line towards Snape’s ear.
Snape made a gasping noise and said “oh,” in a quiet, odd way. Almost, Harry thought, as if no-one had ever thought to do such a thing for him before. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t exactly going to be winning any awards for experience, but surely Snape had…
“Stop it,” Snape said, in a cold, flat way.
Harry did so, instantly, pulling away and shuffling over so that he was no longer touching any part of Snape. His cheeks burned. Rejected! Rejected by Snape of all people. And now he was going to starve to death, trapped in a too small room with a man who obviously had nothing but contempt for him. He’d been ridiculous to think that Snape would… He frowned. Would what? Submit to Harry’s own hormones? Be used and then tossed aside when they were freed? It wasn’t exactly difficult to work out what Snape was thinking. Harry instantly was overwhelmed with confusion and guilt. He didn’t want a relationship with Snape after all, did he? Did he?
“Fucking hell,” he said, then realised he’d said it out loud. “Sorry.” He smiled wryly. What was he afraid of, Snape taking points? “I can be such a dickhead. I’m really sorry. Merlin.” Harry shook his head. “I’m not good at this stuff, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Snape made a noise that was almost a laugh. “In the area of ‘not being good at this stuff’, Potter, I far outrank and outclass you. It is…” Snape paused, “embarrassing,” he concluded dryly. “My life has not often thrown such situations in my way. I am unused to dealing with them.”
“Right,” Harry said, a little dumfounded that Snape had actually spoken to him as if he were an adult, and actually told him something personal.
“What I would do for a stiff drink,” Snape said wistfully. He sighed, and then there was a shuffling noise as he moved closer to Harry.
“Would it be acceptable if I…” Snape started, his voice very formal.
“Yes,” Harry said firmly.
“Potter, you don’t know what I was going to say,” Snape said dryly. “I could, for example, wish to pull your brains out through your nose and eat them with a spoon.”
Harry laughed. “Do you?”
“Snape snorted. “I confess that while the idea holds a certain charm, I…” He stopped, and took a deep breath.
Harry started when he felt Snape’s fingers tilt his chin upwards, and he held still. Snape’s lips brushed Harry’s with exquisite slowness. For a few minutes Harry was aware of nothing else but the soft, slow touch of lips caressing his own. Snape was agonisingly gentle, his light, soft kisses tantalising and infuriating.
Snape paused, and drew back slightly. “I…” he stared, sounding slightly panicked and most unlike himself.
Harry leaned forward and pulled Snape towards him. Their lips bumped, and suddenly the kiss was anything but gentle. Snape’s fingers were tangled so tight in Harry’s hair that the grip almost hurt, his breath coming quickly. When he opened his mouth to allow Harry’s tongue entry, Harry wondered if he’d survive the encounter, his heart was beating so fast.
Harry twisted and Snape started to speak, but Harry shut him up with a kiss, pushing him down to the floor. Their hips met and Snape drew in a loud, sharp breath as their erections brushed through thin cloth.
Harry felt a wicked desire to make Snape make some noise. He moved gently against Snape, turning to nuzzle his neck. His own body pulsed in return, and he struggled not to gasp.
Snape’s fingers curled in his hair, and his other hand snaked up to grasp Harry around the waist. Harry wasn’t sure if he was being prevented or encouraged, so he rubbed slowly against Snape again, fastening his lips on Snape’s throat.
Snape bucked against him with a muttered “fucking hell,” that made Harry feel dizzy with desire, for the sheer wrongness of those words coming out of Snape’s mouth.
Harry continued to writhe against Snape, grinding his own hard-on against Snape’s until his entire body was singing with arousal, and Snape was kissing him with a fervour that threatened to tip him over the edge. He slowed, trying desperately to prolong the feelings that sparked through his body, and made every touch of his groin against Snape’s both a pleasure and a torment.
Snape tugged his head away. “Stop,” he gasped, “unless?”
Harry was certainly not going to stop, not when he’d succeed in making Snape practically speechless. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could, even if he wanted to, he was that close to the edge. Ohhh. Snape arched his back as Harry’s tongue stroked his and the pressure of Snape’s hardness against his own was too much. Harry came hard with a shudder, red heat flashing through his vision.
Snape groaned and muttered “fuck,” his whole body vibrating, until he convulsed with a groan, and pulling Harry’s hair so hard as he came that Harry couldn’t suppress a yelp.
They lay panting together as they rode out the aftershocks. Harry wondered what the etiquette was when you’d just made your former enemy come in his pants. He wondered slightly why he didn’t feel grossed out by what he’d done with Snape, and was slightly panicked when he realised he would have gone much further if he’d known what he was doing. And wanted to go much further. He tried to think logically, but all he could focus on was how much he wanted to actually see Snape’s face as he came and – Merlin’s balls, he must have gone insane – would, in fact, quite like a date with Snape, with wine and kissing and a large, soft bed.
“Potter,” Snape said, sounding slightly irritated.
“Yes?” Harry said, still reeling from his thoughts.
“As much as I value the romantic gesture of your full, elephantine weight pressing me into the cold, hard floor…”
Harry hastily rolled off. “I’m sorry,” he said, then laughed. His scalp hurt. “Have you got a mirror? I’d like to see if you’ve left me with any hair on my head.”
There was a snort. “My apologies,” Snape said, sounding anything but sorry.
They both sat up.
“Ow,” Snape muttered.
“What hurts?” Harry asked, feeling slightly guilty.
“What doesn’t?” Snape replied, tersely.
Harry rolled his eyes. It had been too much to ask for that a post-orgasm Snape would be any mellower than a regular Snape. He tugged at Snape who shifted grudgingly, and started to massage his shoulders.
Snape’s breathing faltered. “What…” He cleared his throat. “What are you doing, Potter?”
“It’s called a massage,” Harry said, speaking slowly. “Mass-age.” He grinned. “Your back hurts from the floor, right? It’s the least I can do.”
“Of course,” Snape said, but he sounded uncertain. Then Harry’s fingers kneaded at a tight spot and Snape relaxed slightly. Harry continued until his fingers ached, then gave Snape’s arms a gentle squeeze.
“Done.”
Snape turned and leant partly against the wall, partly against Harry. “Thank you,” he said, sounding surprised. “That was – most pleasant.” He paused. “All of it,” he added, sounding very disagreeable, as if daring Harry to deny it.
“Yeah,” Harry said with a grin. “Brilliant.” He laughed. “Could do with visiting a bathroom though.”
Snape made a snorting noise. “Well if you find one, do let me know.”
Harry gave Snape a small shove. “Ha ha.”
“Ah, Potter, your level of witty repartee never fails to astonish me,” Snape said, but there was an amused tone to his voice.
There was a silence, but it wasn’t a totally uncomfortable one.
“Snape,” Harry began. “When we get out…”
“Yes, I know, Potter,” Snape said, suddenly sounding weary and annoyed.
“You know what?” Harry said, confused. He’d only just decided that he had nothing to lose by asking Snape out for a drink. How could Snape know what he was thinking?
“I am quite prepared for your denials, Potter,” Snape said icily. “Rest assured I shall hardly be boasting of our encounter. You have my word that if anyone hears of it, it will certainly not be from me.”
“Oh,” Harry said. He flushed with annoyance. How dare Snape think he was like that? “I was going to ask if you fancied going for a drink.”
There was silence.
“Well do you?” Harry said, irritated. “I don’t see why you have such a low opinion of me,” he continued, his temper rising.
“You don’t even like me, Potter,” Snape snapped. “There must be someone else…”
“Fine. You could just say no, you know. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice for once.”
“…you can annoy with this nonsense.” Snape paused. “What?”
“What do you mean, what? And what do you mean nonsense?”
“Do I understand your offer to be sincere?” Snape said slowly, sounding astonished.
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” Harry muttered, feeling like an idiot.
“The very idea is preposterous,” Snape said. He laughed sardonically. “But I confess to some not insignificant curiosity as to where the heights of your lunacy will drag me, so I am not entirely averse to the notion.”
Harry frowned. “Was that a yes?”
“It was a maybe, Potter,” Snape said sharply. “I still have high expectations that, upon leaving this prison, you will take one look at my visage and recall all the compelling reasons why this is a complete disaster of an idea.”
“You don’t think much of yourself, do you?”
Snape snorted. “I am quite aware of my own shortcomings, Potter. It came to my attention long before you even existed that I was not a thing of beauty nor, in all likelihood, a joy forever.”
“You don’t look that bad,” Harry said, with feeling, and then felt a bit embarrassed at his choice of words. He was uncomfortable aware that he had thought of Snape as ugly. Now, he wasn’t so convinced. Sure, Snape wasn’t a great beauty, but then he, Harry, wasn’t going to be winning any prizes he thought, not with his scrawny build, untidy hair and awful eyesight.
“A compliment which, despite its sweetness, fails to make me feel weak at the knees,” Snape said dryly.
Harry laughed. “Yeah, sorry. You’re…” He panicked slightly, and then relaxed. “You’re just you. I dunno. I like you the way you are.” He grinned. “That was either really stupid, or really profound.”
Snape laughed slightly. “Do you require positive confirmation of my response to that inane statement, or shall we take my opinion as read?”
“Definitely profound, then,” Harry grinned. Then a yawn took him by surprise. “Merlin, I’m tired.”
Snape said nothing, but shifted, pulling Harry down so that his head was in his lap. “Sleep then, idiot boy.”
Harry laughed sleepily, and made himself comfortable. It wasn’t long before he dropped off.
* * *
Hermione squeaked when she finally managed to open the door to the dark room, and saw Snape glaring at her malevolently, an unconscious Harry sprawled across him.
“You took your time, Miss Granger,” he said, his voice sour.
“What have you done to Harry?” Hermione asked, keeping her wand raised.
“I didn’t poison him, or assault him with a blunt instrument, if that is what you are asking,” Snape replied. “He is asleep, Miss Granger.”
Hermione coloured. “Of course. I’m sorry. He just looked…”
“And you just leaped to conclusions,” Snape said, glaring.
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. She took in the scene in front of her. Snape’s left hand was resting lightly on Harry’s stomach, his right cradling Harry’s head. It was almost romantic… She gasped.
Snape’s eyes followed her gaze. His expression turned even colder, but a rosy colour tinged his cheekbones.
“I’m glad you got to know Harry better,” Hermione said, trusting her gut instinct. Snape and Harry? Snape and Harry? Well, unlikelier things had happened in the world, and who was she to complain if it made Harry happy. She was no fool and after Harry had told her about the contents of Snape’s memories she’d worked a few things out. This was an unexpected, but not unwelcome development. Harry deserved to have the love of someone unceasingly loyal, who loved him for himself, and wasn’t swayed by his reputation as the Boy Who Lived. And that certainly applied to Snape.
Snape looked as if he were about to say something unpleasant, but then Harry stirred, cutting him off mid sneer.
Snape’s hands dropped off Harry instantly, as if they’d never been there, Hermione noted. So Snape didn’t want Harry to know how much he cared, she thought. The man truly was an idiot. She wondered if she’d have to do something to kick-start them into action, or if Harry could work it out for himself.
* * *
Harry woke up feeling very confused, and for a moment he had no idea where he was. Then he grinned, as he took in the light streaming into the room. “Hermione, is that you?” he said, squinting as he fumbled for his glasses.
Snape handed them to him silently. As their fingers touched, Harry felt his heart thud. They were obviously saved and Snape was – Harry put on his glasses and the room clicked into focus. Snape was looking incredibly… Snapish, his expression cold, strict and forbidding. Harry smiled sheepishly at him, but Snape didn’t smile back.
Harry got up with some effort, his limbs still half asleep. He offered a hand to Snape, but the man muttered something doubtless unpleasant and pushed him away impatiently.
“Come and sit somewhere comfy,” Hermione said. “There’s a living room just out here.” She left the room, the doorway a blaze of light.
“I…” Harry said, then stopped, not sure what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Snape that he felt embarrassed, and stupid, and oh so horny, and relieved, and happy and terrified about what had happened, all in one. But he couldn’t think how to put any of that into words without evoking scorn from Snape, so he didn’t. Snape’s expression wasn’t exactly helping matters.
“Don’t bother, Potter,” Snape said bitterly, and strode towards the door and out.
Harry followed quickly. He found himself in a luxurious sitting room, with a warming fire. Snape was sitting on a sofa looking murderous, and Hermione was curled up on a chair opposite.
Harry sat, rather gingerly, next to Snape, unsure of his next move. It was a shock to actually be able to see Snape, after what had happened. Not a bad shock, but an exciting, nerve-wracking feeling that made him feel even more inept than usual. He felt ridiculously tongue-tied. And now he’d obviously offended Snape, although he wasn’t quite sure how. What, did Snape expect him to embrace him under the watchful eye of Hermione, or something? He glanced at Snape, who was glaring dead ahead. No, Harry thought decidedly, sure that it wasn’t that.
“So, what’s the news? When can we leave?” Harry asked Hermione.
Snape looked even angrier, his whole body stiff and clenched.
“Oh, Harry, you know it’s not that easy,” Hermione said reproachfully. “We’ve informed the media that it’s us that set Snape free, and they’re helping us run a campaign against the Ministry. It shouldn’t be long before we an set up another trial for Professor Snape. We’re up to our ears in lawyers. This probably wasn’t the easiest way to get the Professor out, you know, Harry.”
“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it?” Harry said, with a grin. “And Malfoy Manor’s a lot better than Azkaban. I take it no-one else knows we’re here?”
Hermione shook her head. “Just Kingsley. Sorry about landing you in that room. The place was crawling with Aurors earlier. We had to be sure you wouldn’t be found.”
“That’s OK,” Harry said. “It wasn’t too bad.”
Snape looked like he was going to explode.
“Well if we can’t leave, could you at least arrange for a really good meal to be delivered tonight, with wine?” Harry asked tentatively. He shot a glance at Snape. “I have a date.”
Snape turned and stared at him. “With whom?” he asked, in a frosty voice.
“With you, you blithering idiot, unless you want me to eat two meals all by myself while you sulk up a corner,” Harry said firmly, and tried not to blush.
Hermione cleared her throat, and looked like she was trying not to smile. “Of course, Harry. I’ll make the arrangements.” She stood up and walked to the fireplace. “We’ve got the whole place warded, so you have the run of the whole house. Just don’t go outside. I’ll pop round tomorrow.” She winked at Harry, who looked back in astonishment, then vanished into the Floo network.
Harry plucked up the courage to look Snape in the eye. “Sounds like we’ll be here for a while,” he said. “That OK?”
Snape looked back at him contemplatively. “I cannot see that I have any choice in this matter,” he said. His lips curled up into the closest thing Harry had seen to smile on his face. “But it will, perhaps, be tolerable.”
Harry moved closer to Snape on the sofa, and was amused to see that the man looked a little startled. He reached over, his heart pounding, and pulled Snape towards him for a brief kiss. When Harry moved away, Snape’s expression was calm but his cheeks were tinged with pink.
“Tolerable?” Harry said, with a grin. Maybe, he thought, this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.
“Perhaps, Potter, I might go so far as to say it will be acceptable,” Snape conceded, pulling Harry back towards him into another soft kiss.
Harry smiled against Snape’s lips and kissed back. It was an unexpected end to the rescue of Severus Snape, but he thought, as his blood thundered through his veins and his breath quickened, that it would do nicely. Very nicely indeed.
THE END