...years and six months
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Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
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Adult +
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
3,785
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
September
September
4.
“…I guess I liked him enough not to care...”
Raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, he mentioned his girlfriend, but… It was one thing to know she exists somewhere, but been introduced to her made it kind of…um…final.”
“Potter, even you are not that thick as to entertain any ideas…”
Interrupts hotly, “I am not thick, I am just…I am tired of…” Deflates. Dejectedly, “He is so bloody handsome. Such a waste.”
“I am sure it’s not wasted.” Takes a sip of his drink.
Ignoring him, dreamily, “His eyes are so blue... And when he smiles… Damn.” Jumps up and walks back and force for several minutes. Mutters, “Damn, damn. Why do I always…”
“Potter, sit down, you are making me nauseous.”
Complies after some more pacing. Shakes his head. “You know, it was so nice - walking next to a handsome guy, talking about…things…”
Sneers, “Somehow I am confident that Mr. Walton’s replacement will make an appearance shortly.”
Shrugs. “May be.”
“And we’ll read all about it in the Prophet.”
“Yeah, you are right.”
“Then there is no need to discuss the subject any further.”
“Damn.” Stares at the fire in the hearth. After a pause, “We were sitting at Fortescue’s, the two of us, waiting for his girlfriend. Out of nowhere this reporter came – ’Mr. Potter, our readers would like to know…’ You know, the usual crap. And Cain got up, all six and a half feet of him, glared at that idiot, and said very softly, ‘Get out.’” Chuckles. “You should have seen the look on that reporter’s face. Priceless. And then Cain looked at me and said, ‘Harry, if anyone bothers you, just let me know.’” Smiles and runs his hand through his mess of the hair. “For a moment there I felt that, Merlin, I’ve got my own knight in shining armor.”
The lips curled as in revulsion.
Notices. “Right. Sorry, Snape. I know how much you hate it when I talk about this. About my…men.”
“Hate?” Raises an eyebrow. “I simply do not care to learn all the sordid detail of your,” sneers, “romantic entanglements, real or otherwise. But, I am sure there are plenty of people who would find the information fascinating.”
“Yeah…” Smiles lopsidedly. “Trouble is in this god forsaking place you seemed to be the only one I’d like to talk to about it.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Right.” Looks at him. “Why, though? I wouldn’t mind if you tell me about your…um…ladies.”
“Unfortunately for you I do not have the need to flaunt my personal affairs.”
Grins, “Well, may be if you had any of those…”
Rather snappily, “Potter, whether I have them or not, frankly, is none of your business. I refuse to indulge both your incessant curiosity and unsolicited bluntness.”
“Well, if you put it this way…”
“Yes I do. Not for the first time, mind you.” Glares into the hearth.
Still grinning, “Come on, Snape, what else would we talk about if not Cain’s wide shoulders and blue eyes? Weather?”
“Potter, if you find my request too taxing,” scowls, “ you are welcome to leave. And not to come back.”
“Oh.” Looses the grin. Looks uncertain for a moment. “Right. Sorry, Snape. I didn’t mean to… Right.”
It is quiet for a while.
Begins carefully, “So, who do you recon is a Longbottom of this year?”
Glances quickly from behind the curtain of black strands. “It’s been less than two week since the school started.”
“Well, you always have you peak early. And, might I add,” smiles, “you are usually right.”
“Flattery, Potter, I see. Very well - Ms. Dashings.”
“Dashings? Seems fine in Defense.”
“You haven’t seen her with a knife, have you?”
“No.”
“I sent a boy, who shared a worktable with her, to the infirmary today. Do you want to guess why?”
“No, but should be good.”
“It is. She stabbed him in the back!”
“What? On purpose?”
“No! She was getting something from her bag.”
Frowns slightly. “With a knife in her hand?”
Nods.
“But how she got his back?”
The corners of his mouth tremble. “Stumbled over her bag.”
“And?”
“And fell.”
Chuckling, “And stubbed the boy.”
“Among other things.”
“What?”
“She is in infirmary too. With a fractured wrist.”
“No way.”
“Oh, and broken ribs.”
Bursts out in laughter. “Ribs!”
“Two actually. Broke when she fell on the chair.”
Laughing out loud. “A chair!”
“Yes. Took me several Repairos, but I am not sure it will ever be the same.” A barely perceptible smile.
Bends over laughing.
5.
“Kingsley sent me some great stuff – description of spells they teach in the first year of Auror training, some departmental brochures, and, listen to this, a really cool collection of old cases. I mean, the whole shebang – the crimes, the investigations, the arrests. My seventh years are going to be ecstatic! I believe even you might find some of it fascinating. Want to see?”
Curtly, “No.”
Looks puzzled. “Oh, um, okay.” Frowns slightly. “I thought you liked all this defense stuff.”
Curls the lip. “Stuff, Potter?”
“Well, you know, spells, casting, fighting.”
“No, I do not care for this…stuff.” The last word is hissed.
“Right.” Goes to pour a drink. “Refill?”
“No, thank you.”
Sits down. After a pause, “He’s asking about you.”
“Is he?”
“Yeah. Every time I talk to him.” Turns to look. “What happened with you two? I thought you were rather friendly with Shacklebolt. Friendlier than with anyone else.”
“Were I.”
“He was the one you made an initial contact with after…you know…Dumbledore.” Gulps his drink. Coughs.
“He was the only one willing to listen.”
“And afterwards. You talked to him! You don’t talk to people.”
“I guess we ran out of topics to talk about.”
“Right after your trial?”
Clenches his teeth. “About that time.”
“Should I ask why?”
“No, you should not.”
6.
“So, you survive the weekend with the redhead tribe, I see.”
Snorts. “Survived is a right word.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.” Smiles. “Don’t get me wrong – I love them all. They are my family.”
“But.”
“But they are…there are so many of them. And they all talk, and kids scream and run around, and… Merlin, I honestly don’t know how one can remain sane in all this mayhem.”
“Practice, I suppose.”
“Yeah.” Pauses. Then, “Listen, Percy and I had a little chat about the next year celebration. You know, the battle of Hogwarts.”
Stiffens.
“He wondered why you never come.”
Turns. Frowns. “Pardon?”
Patiently, “He thinks you should come.”
Continues frowning.
"Just as I always tell you - you deserve to be at that celebration. You fought with us. You managed to save my life. Again...”
Interrupts, “Yes, and was arrested immediately afterwards.”
“But they let you go. Eventually. You are free.” Waves the hand around. “You work, you lead…um…normal life...”
Long, thin fingers curl around the armrests.
After a pause, “Yeah, it’s never really over, is it?” Runs his hand through his hair. “I still dream about the war, and especially about that night. Do you?” Gets noncommittal “hmm.” Continues. “That small clearing in the Forest, Death Eaters, us, the fighting, the duel, the Voldemort’s death, the blast… I dream how I am lying there, after the blast threw me away from the clearing - not an intact bone in my body…my glasses gone, my wand in pieces. How I could hear people screaming ‘Harry! Ron!’ but couldn’t answer. And then the black fire – the heat, the darkness…” Rubs the faded scare on his forehead. “Jump up sweating every single time.”
Fingers clench around the armrests.
“I must’ve looked quite a fright when you found me.”
Very quietly, “I wasn’t looking, Potter.”
“Right.” Frowns. “Right.” Sights. “So, the celebration. Think about it. And if you are afraid, you know, because of Ron…”
Snaps, “I am not afraid.”
“Right, if it is about Ron, no one blames you – Weasleys, Hermione… No one.”
Narrows his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying what I told you back then, seven years ago.” Considers for a moment. Then, “All right, may be not seven years ago, but when I had a chance to really think about it.”
“A noble occupation indeed, but quite useless under the circumstances. I left the boy in the damn Forest.”
“You couldn’t find him…”
“I should have, shouldn’t I?”
“With your leg almost cursed off, with me as dead weight?”
Looks away.
“Snape, there were Aurors, and some members of the Order… When blast threw Ron and I into the Forest, no one knew what to do. He went one way, I – another. And then there was the fire. Just because you managed to find and drag me out…”
Visibly grinds his teeth, the long fingers bore into the leather of the armrests.
Dons his drink. “Right. Right.” Twirls the glass in his hands. “Anyway, I think you should know that even Molly has finally accepted that…you didn’t mean to abandon Ron.”
Sneers, “Oh, and how did this monumental event happen?”
More to himself, “I haven’t told you, have I?” Frowns. “Look, I know that it was not only my luck you found me, and not Ron. There was something else.” Turns and looks at him. “A spell? A portkey?”
Keeps sneering.
“Right, you aren’t telling.” Gets up and begins pacing. “Anyway, couple of months ago, when I visited with Weasleys, Ginny and I were sitting late at night, chatting, trading funny stories and such. You know…”
Arches an eyebrow.
Notices. “Right.” Resumes pacing. “So I told her how I was helping you brew the Skele-Gro. Remember, when you yelled at me for grounding the betel nut with the wrong hand, and I explained to you that my right hand wasn’t right, and you yelled at me for getting confused with my own two hands, and….”
Interrupts, “Potter, is there a point to this?”
Looks sternly at him, “Yes, and I’ll get to it shortly.”
“Please, do.”
“So, as I was talking, Ginny was smiling. I didn’t notice that somewhere, midway into my story, she stopped.” Looks at him. “The reason was that there was Molly, standing in the doorway, listening to me prating away. To tell you the truth, I was petrified when I saw her. She really didn’t let anyone mention your name around her, let alone tell the whole story about you. So, there I was, two seconds away from a good shriek, Ginny frozen next to me, ready for the worst. But Molly just looked at me kind of…um…sadly and said, ‘Now I understand how he found you.’”
Coldly, “So?”
Eyes him carefully, “So, it seems Molly knows…”
Icily, “And?”
“And you don’t have to worry about her anymore…”
Haughtily, “I didn’t worry about Molly Weasley.”
“Right. Just thought I’d mention it.” Walks to the other side of the room. Turns and looks at him. “She wouldn’t tell me how you did it, though.”
Snaps, “Because there is nothing to tell. It was your sheer dumb luck.”
“Right.” Puts his empty glass down. Goes to the door. “I wish you’d trust me enough to tell me. Whatever it was…”
Ignores him.
“I wish you’d believe me when I say that I trust you.” Pauses, waiting for a reply. “Right. Anyway, I hope you won’t throw away your invitation to the ceremony this time around.” Smiles lopsidedly. “We could go together.”
Scowls.
“Good night, Snape.” Leaves.
Buries his face into his hands and groans.
4.
“…I guess I liked him enough not to care...”
Raises an eyebrow.
“Yes, he mentioned his girlfriend, but… It was one thing to know she exists somewhere, but been introduced to her made it kind of…um…final.”
“Potter, even you are not that thick as to entertain any ideas…”
Interrupts hotly, “I am not thick, I am just…I am tired of…” Deflates. Dejectedly, “He is so bloody handsome. Such a waste.”
“I am sure it’s not wasted.” Takes a sip of his drink.
Ignoring him, dreamily, “His eyes are so blue... And when he smiles… Damn.” Jumps up and walks back and force for several minutes. Mutters, “Damn, damn. Why do I always…”
“Potter, sit down, you are making me nauseous.”
Complies after some more pacing. Shakes his head. “You know, it was so nice - walking next to a handsome guy, talking about…things…”
Sneers, “Somehow I am confident that Mr. Walton’s replacement will make an appearance shortly.”
Shrugs. “May be.”
“And we’ll read all about it in the Prophet.”
“Yeah, you are right.”
“Then there is no need to discuss the subject any further.”
“Damn.” Stares at the fire in the hearth. After a pause, “We were sitting at Fortescue’s, the two of us, waiting for his girlfriend. Out of nowhere this reporter came – ’Mr. Potter, our readers would like to know…’ You know, the usual crap. And Cain got up, all six and a half feet of him, glared at that idiot, and said very softly, ‘Get out.’” Chuckles. “You should have seen the look on that reporter’s face. Priceless. And then Cain looked at me and said, ‘Harry, if anyone bothers you, just let me know.’” Smiles and runs his hand through his mess of the hair. “For a moment there I felt that, Merlin, I’ve got my own knight in shining armor.”
The lips curled as in revulsion.
Notices. “Right. Sorry, Snape. I know how much you hate it when I talk about this. About my…men.”
“Hate?” Raises an eyebrow. “I simply do not care to learn all the sordid detail of your,” sneers, “romantic entanglements, real or otherwise. But, I am sure there are plenty of people who would find the information fascinating.”
“Yeah…” Smiles lopsidedly. “Trouble is in this god forsaking place you seemed to be the only one I’d like to talk to about it.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Right.” Looks at him. “Why, though? I wouldn’t mind if you tell me about your…um…ladies.”
“Unfortunately for you I do not have the need to flaunt my personal affairs.”
Grins, “Well, may be if you had any of those…”
Rather snappily, “Potter, whether I have them or not, frankly, is none of your business. I refuse to indulge both your incessant curiosity and unsolicited bluntness.”
“Well, if you put it this way…”
“Yes I do. Not for the first time, mind you.” Glares into the hearth.
Still grinning, “Come on, Snape, what else would we talk about if not Cain’s wide shoulders and blue eyes? Weather?”
“Potter, if you find my request too taxing,” scowls, “ you are welcome to leave. And not to come back.”
“Oh.” Looses the grin. Looks uncertain for a moment. “Right. Sorry, Snape. I didn’t mean to… Right.”
It is quiet for a while.
Begins carefully, “So, who do you recon is a Longbottom of this year?”
Glances quickly from behind the curtain of black strands. “It’s been less than two week since the school started.”
“Well, you always have you peak early. And, might I add,” smiles, “you are usually right.”
“Flattery, Potter, I see. Very well - Ms. Dashings.”
“Dashings? Seems fine in Defense.”
“You haven’t seen her with a knife, have you?”
“No.”
“I sent a boy, who shared a worktable with her, to the infirmary today. Do you want to guess why?”
“No, but should be good.”
“It is. She stabbed him in the back!”
“What? On purpose?”
“No! She was getting something from her bag.”
Frowns slightly. “With a knife in her hand?”
Nods.
“But how she got his back?”
The corners of his mouth tremble. “Stumbled over her bag.”
“And?”
“And fell.”
Chuckling, “And stubbed the boy.”
“Among other things.”
“What?”
“She is in infirmary too. With a fractured wrist.”
“No way.”
“Oh, and broken ribs.”
Bursts out in laughter. “Ribs!”
“Two actually. Broke when she fell on the chair.”
Laughing out loud. “A chair!”
“Yes. Took me several Repairos, but I am not sure it will ever be the same.” A barely perceptible smile.
Bends over laughing.
5.
“Kingsley sent me some great stuff – description of spells they teach in the first year of Auror training, some departmental brochures, and, listen to this, a really cool collection of old cases. I mean, the whole shebang – the crimes, the investigations, the arrests. My seventh years are going to be ecstatic! I believe even you might find some of it fascinating. Want to see?”
Curtly, “No.”
Looks puzzled. “Oh, um, okay.” Frowns slightly. “I thought you liked all this defense stuff.”
Curls the lip. “Stuff, Potter?”
“Well, you know, spells, casting, fighting.”
“No, I do not care for this…stuff.” The last word is hissed.
“Right.” Goes to pour a drink. “Refill?”
“No, thank you.”
Sits down. After a pause, “He’s asking about you.”
“Is he?”
“Yeah. Every time I talk to him.” Turns to look. “What happened with you two? I thought you were rather friendly with Shacklebolt. Friendlier than with anyone else.”
“Were I.”
“He was the one you made an initial contact with after…you know…Dumbledore.” Gulps his drink. Coughs.
“He was the only one willing to listen.”
“And afterwards. You talked to him! You don’t talk to people.”
“I guess we ran out of topics to talk about.”
“Right after your trial?”
Clenches his teeth. “About that time.”
“Should I ask why?”
“No, you should not.”
6.
“So, you survive the weekend with the redhead tribe, I see.”
Snorts. “Survived is a right word.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.” Smiles. “Don’t get me wrong – I love them all. They are my family.”
“But.”
“But they are…there are so many of them. And they all talk, and kids scream and run around, and… Merlin, I honestly don’t know how one can remain sane in all this mayhem.”
“Practice, I suppose.”
“Yeah.” Pauses. Then, “Listen, Percy and I had a little chat about the next year celebration. You know, the battle of Hogwarts.”
Stiffens.
“He wondered why you never come.”
Turns. Frowns. “Pardon?”
Patiently, “He thinks you should come.”
Continues frowning.
"Just as I always tell you - you deserve to be at that celebration. You fought with us. You managed to save my life. Again...”
Interrupts, “Yes, and was arrested immediately afterwards.”
“But they let you go. Eventually. You are free.” Waves the hand around. “You work, you lead…um…normal life...”
Long, thin fingers curl around the armrests.
After a pause, “Yeah, it’s never really over, is it?” Runs his hand through his hair. “I still dream about the war, and especially about that night. Do you?” Gets noncommittal “hmm.” Continues. “That small clearing in the Forest, Death Eaters, us, the fighting, the duel, the Voldemort’s death, the blast… I dream how I am lying there, after the blast threw me away from the clearing - not an intact bone in my body…my glasses gone, my wand in pieces. How I could hear people screaming ‘Harry! Ron!’ but couldn’t answer. And then the black fire – the heat, the darkness…” Rubs the faded scare on his forehead. “Jump up sweating every single time.”
Fingers clench around the armrests.
“I must’ve looked quite a fright when you found me.”
Very quietly, “I wasn’t looking, Potter.”
“Right.” Frowns. “Right.” Sights. “So, the celebration. Think about it. And if you are afraid, you know, because of Ron…”
Snaps, “I am not afraid.”
“Right, if it is about Ron, no one blames you – Weasleys, Hermione… No one.”
Narrows his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“I am saying what I told you back then, seven years ago.” Considers for a moment. Then, “All right, may be not seven years ago, but when I had a chance to really think about it.”
“A noble occupation indeed, but quite useless under the circumstances. I left the boy in the damn Forest.”
“You couldn’t find him…”
“I should have, shouldn’t I?”
“With your leg almost cursed off, with me as dead weight?”
Looks away.
“Snape, there were Aurors, and some members of the Order… When blast threw Ron and I into the Forest, no one knew what to do. He went one way, I – another. And then there was the fire. Just because you managed to find and drag me out…”
Visibly grinds his teeth, the long fingers bore into the leather of the armrests.
Dons his drink. “Right. Right.” Twirls the glass in his hands. “Anyway, I think you should know that even Molly has finally accepted that…you didn’t mean to abandon Ron.”
Sneers, “Oh, and how did this monumental event happen?”
More to himself, “I haven’t told you, have I?” Frowns. “Look, I know that it was not only my luck you found me, and not Ron. There was something else.” Turns and looks at him. “A spell? A portkey?”
Keeps sneering.
“Right, you aren’t telling.” Gets up and begins pacing. “Anyway, couple of months ago, when I visited with Weasleys, Ginny and I were sitting late at night, chatting, trading funny stories and such. You know…”
Arches an eyebrow.
Notices. “Right.” Resumes pacing. “So I told her how I was helping you brew the Skele-Gro. Remember, when you yelled at me for grounding the betel nut with the wrong hand, and I explained to you that my right hand wasn’t right, and you yelled at me for getting confused with my own two hands, and….”
Interrupts, “Potter, is there a point to this?”
Looks sternly at him, “Yes, and I’ll get to it shortly.”
“Please, do.”
“So, as I was talking, Ginny was smiling. I didn’t notice that somewhere, midway into my story, she stopped.” Looks at him. “The reason was that there was Molly, standing in the doorway, listening to me prating away. To tell you the truth, I was petrified when I saw her. She really didn’t let anyone mention your name around her, let alone tell the whole story about you. So, there I was, two seconds away from a good shriek, Ginny frozen next to me, ready for the worst. But Molly just looked at me kind of…um…sadly and said, ‘Now I understand how he found you.’”
Coldly, “So?”
Eyes him carefully, “So, it seems Molly knows…”
Icily, “And?”
“And you don’t have to worry about her anymore…”
Haughtily, “I didn’t worry about Molly Weasley.”
“Right. Just thought I’d mention it.” Walks to the other side of the room. Turns and looks at him. “She wouldn’t tell me how you did it, though.”
Snaps, “Because there is nothing to tell. It was your sheer dumb luck.”
“Right.” Puts his empty glass down. Goes to the door. “I wish you’d trust me enough to tell me. Whatever it was…”
Ignores him.
“I wish you’d believe me when I say that I trust you.” Pauses, waiting for a reply. “Right. Anyway, I hope you won’t throw away your invitation to the ceremony this time around.” Smiles lopsidedly. “We could go together.”
Scowls.
“Good night, Snape.” Leaves.
Buries his face into his hands and groans.