A Man Cannot Control His Dreams
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
59,068
Reviews:
275
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Snape
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
32
Views:
59,068
Reviews:
275
Recommended:
1
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.
Jealous?
Sorry It's so late! Also, 27 was crap so i revised it.
Again, to join the mailing list, send an email with the subject "Snarry" to floconcarne@yahoo.com
28
Jealous?
*
*
*
The table was alive with chatter – within respective houses, of course, though Severus rebuffed the half-hearted attempts at conversation directed to him at every turn. He wasn’t feeling terribly festive. Albus, sitting to Severus’ right, was particularly stalwart in his attempts at small talk. As if they hadn’t been “chatting” plenty as of late. Dumbledore had indeed approached Severus with his concerns over Harry not long after Christmas, leaving Severus in a foul mood. For, though Albus hadn’t revealed his reasons for inquiring, Severus guessed at it. And, sensing the true meaning behind the inquiry, he’d made sure to make a point of Harry’s poor performance. It offered an easy out for Severus if the Headmaster thought he’d found the source of Harry’s recent reticence. Why indicate otherwise? Though he would have preferred an excuse that didn’t link him to the boy…
Dumbledore had nodded in his sad-yet-understanding way, and asked him to go a little easier on the boy. Severus’ response had been appropriately scathing – something about the Dark Lord not “going easy” and the general uselessness of coddling.
Thankfully, though, the Gryffindor had actually begun to Occlude Snape’s presence with some regularity – a great improvement and relief to them both. Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple. What ground Potter had gained, in Occlumency and elsewhere, was starting to mirror ground Severus himself was losing. Loath though he was to admit it, he was self aware enough to recognize such things.
He knew full well why Albus had insisted on his attendance at the New Years dinner and following revelry; to help ‘get his mind off things,’ even to ‘bring him a little cheer.’ Severus sneered into his goblet.
The misguided old fool… not even things Severus enjoyed doing took his mind off of the inevitable. And this- this, forced mingling, was most certainly not something he enjoyed. And either way, would more distraction even prove beneficial in the end? Certainly not. The best, most logical choice here would be to fixate as much energy as possible on guarding his mind. On not letting down his defenses – not even one iota. As if he could hope to manage that with the young Potter popping up in his every thought. And now Albus was pushing him still further down the wrong path! It almost made him wonder after the headmaster’s soundness of mind. Hell, who was he fooling, it made him think Albus was going bloody insane.
It was almost as if the Headmaster saw the whole war effort as a game (albeit a dangerous, important one), that he could stop playing when he wanted to, in order to spend a night of holiday cheer with his friends and colleagues. Severus had no such luxury. To Severus, it was no game, nor even a profession. It was his life. However, that is not to say the remainder of the Holiday was spent entirely at work for Severus – he’d admit to more than his fair share of play. After all, it was holiday, and there was little to keep adolescent minds occupied.
Harry’d been had on nearly every surface in Snape’s office and private rooms by the time New Year’s Eve arrived, including the floor, though he’d abraded his back pretty badly on the stones.
Severus, to his credit, had managed to sustain a few minor injuries himself, not the least of which were a set of crescent-shaped bruises on his neck. Though usually hidden by his hair, Harry managed to catch sight of them for a moment at the dinner table that night.
Severus had turned his head sharply towards the Slytherin at his left, hair swinging forward. The marks may not have been as obvious to the surrounding diners as they were to Harry, but to him they were clearly fingernail marks. From his fingernails. As if sensing his reaction to the sight, Severus turned back to give him a sideways glance.
“You’re a beacon for attention. Stop it at once.” The thought brushed through Harry’s mind, and he looked down at his plate, embarrassed. And a little flattered despite himself that the Potions Master hadn’t healed them.
***
After pudding, Severus found himself “socializing” still more at the school-wide New Years Eve party, again, entirely against his will. After the third time Albus had caught him trying to escape, he’d begun to think that perhaps his skills in espionage were not as impressive as he’d thought. So, he took the firewhiskey offered to him, and resigned himself to wait for the strike of midnight.
Across the absurdly decorated room, Severus could just see the Golden Boy and his entourage chatting amongst themselves. They’d appreciate the harder alcohol more than he would, Severus thought, surreptitiously dumping his goblet into a potted plant. He hadn’t the slightest clue why Albus kept handing him alcohol when the man knew full well he couldn’t afford to let his faculties slip for even a single evening. With his luck, he’d be summoned for interrogation just as he crossed the line from pleasantly tipsy into piss-drunk. That would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it?
His luck, indeed. It was even surprising, really, how infrequently his obligations to either side had interfered with his dalliances with the young Potter. He wouldn’t have been terribly surprised if the episode of Dumbledore’s near-discovery had happened more than once. Speaking of which, he could tell at just the slightest brush against Potter’s mind that the boy was harboring a few youthful notions as he sat among his peers. The strongest of these happened to be the traditional desire to be kissed at the midnight chime. “Happy New Year” et cetera. Severus leaned back against a table, sneering his scorn. Little chance of that.
As midnight approached, Severus had given up even pretending to listen to the conversation intermittently directed at him. Instead, he stared at the grandfather clock in the corner, willing the hands to move faster. Thankfully, the first chime of twelve took all vestiges of attention off of him, and Severus readied himself for a swift exit. However, he found himself momentarily distracted by an attractive, though unassuming young woman. Heading straight for Potter. At the final chime sounded, she grabbed him by the hand, kissing him. Choruses of,
“Happy New Year!” filled the room to a raucous degree, but to Severus they may have been the distant buzzing of bees. The girl, a Ravenclaw by the looks of her robes, blushed prettily as she pulled away. Severus felt his blood go hot. They exchanged some words, and Harry smiled. But, Severus noted with some vindication, that the Gryffindor looked very uncomfortable indeed. The green eyes flicked around for a moment, before settling uncertainly on Snape, as if Harry did not know himself how to react to the situation and was looking for an indicator. Judging by the speed at which Harry disengaged himself from her company, Severus guessed he’d looked murderous.
****
“Hey Harry! Wait,” Cho called after him, but Harry was already well on his way to the closest boy’s bathroom.
****
“Headmaster, if I may, I believe the mandatory festivities have concluded,” Severus said, raising his voice to be heard over the chaos of celebration. “Congratulations, nitwits. You’ve managed to live another year,” he thought bitterly as Albus clapped a jovial hand on his shoulder.
“What was that, Severus? Have another drink, my boy!”
“No, Headmaster, I said-“
“Minerva! Come have a drink with Severus!” The old man grabbed the Gryffindor head by the sleeve as she passed, jerking her into the conversation. Severus put a hand over his face, thinking that if he’d actually drunk everything he’d been handed since dinner, he surely would have thrown it all up by now.
It must have been close to half-past by the time he finally managed to disentangle himself from the embarrassingly festive faculty. He made a bee line for his rooms on the off chance that he would somehow be harangued back into the party, as it had been showing no signs of ending when he’d left. Three floors or so away from the others, the castle became blessedly silent, and stayed that way until the moment he opened the door to his rooms.
*
*
*
*
TBC
Again, to join the mailing list, send an email with the subject "Snarry" to floconcarne@yahoo.com
28
Jealous?
*
*
*
The table was alive with chatter – within respective houses, of course, though Severus rebuffed the half-hearted attempts at conversation directed to him at every turn. He wasn’t feeling terribly festive. Albus, sitting to Severus’ right, was particularly stalwart in his attempts at small talk. As if they hadn’t been “chatting” plenty as of late. Dumbledore had indeed approached Severus with his concerns over Harry not long after Christmas, leaving Severus in a foul mood. For, though Albus hadn’t revealed his reasons for inquiring, Severus guessed at it. And, sensing the true meaning behind the inquiry, he’d made sure to make a point of Harry’s poor performance. It offered an easy out for Severus if the Headmaster thought he’d found the source of Harry’s recent reticence. Why indicate otherwise? Though he would have preferred an excuse that didn’t link him to the boy…
Dumbledore had nodded in his sad-yet-understanding way, and asked him to go a little easier on the boy. Severus’ response had been appropriately scathing – something about the Dark Lord not “going easy” and the general uselessness of coddling.
Thankfully, though, the Gryffindor had actually begun to Occlude Snape’s presence with some regularity – a great improvement and relief to them both. Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple. What ground Potter had gained, in Occlumency and elsewhere, was starting to mirror ground Severus himself was losing. Loath though he was to admit it, he was self aware enough to recognize such things.
He knew full well why Albus had insisted on his attendance at the New Years dinner and following revelry; to help ‘get his mind off things,’ even to ‘bring him a little cheer.’ Severus sneered into his goblet.
The misguided old fool… not even things Severus enjoyed doing took his mind off of the inevitable. And this- this, forced mingling, was most certainly not something he enjoyed. And either way, would more distraction even prove beneficial in the end? Certainly not. The best, most logical choice here would be to fixate as much energy as possible on guarding his mind. On not letting down his defenses – not even one iota. As if he could hope to manage that with the young Potter popping up in his every thought. And now Albus was pushing him still further down the wrong path! It almost made him wonder after the headmaster’s soundness of mind. Hell, who was he fooling, it made him think Albus was going bloody insane.
It was almost as if the Headmaster saw the whole war effort as a game (albeit a dangerous, important one), that he could stop playing when he wanted to, in order to spend a night of holiday cheer with his friends and colleagues. Severus had no such luxury. To Severus, it was no game, nor even a profession. It was his life. However, that is not to say the remainder of the Holiday was spent entirely at work for Severus – he’d admit to more than his fair share of play. After all, it was holiday, and there was little to keep adolescent minds occupied.
Harry’d been had on nearly every surface in Snape’s office and private rooms by the time New Year’s Eve arrived, including the floor, though he’d abraded his back pretty badly on the stones.
Severus, to his credit, had managed to sustain a few minor injuries himself, not the least of which were a set of crescent-shaped bruises on his neck. Though usually hidden by his hair, Harry managed to catch sight of them for a moment at the dinner table that night.
Severus had turned his head sharply towards the Slytherin at his left, hair swinging forward. The marks may not have been as obvious to the surrounding diners as they were to Harry, but to him they were clearly fingernail marks. From his fingernails. As if sensing his reaction to the sight, Severus turned back to give him a sideways glance.
“You’re a beacon for attention. Stop it at once.” The thought brushed through Harry’s mind, and he looked down at his plate, embarrassed. And a little flattered despite himself that the Potions Master hadn’t healed them.
***
After pudding, Severus found himself “socializing” still more at the school-wide New Years Eve party, again, entirely against his will. After the third time Albus had caught him trying to escape, he’d begun to think that perhaps his skills in espionage were not as impressive as he’d thought. So, he took the firewhiskey offered to him, and resigned himself to wait for the strike of midnight.
Across the absurdly decorated room, Severus could just see the Golden Boy and his entourage chatting amongst themselves. They’d appreciate the harder alcohol more than he would, Severus thought, surreptitiously dumping his goblet into a potted plant. He hadn’t the slightest clue why Albus kept handing him alcohol when the man knew full well he couldn’t afford to let his faculties slip for even a single evening. With his luck, he’d be summoned for interrogation just as he crossed the line from pleasantly tipsy into piss-drunk. That would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it?
His luck, indeed. It was even surprising, really, how infrequently his obligations to either side had interfered with his dalliances with the young Potter. He wouldn’t have been terribly surprised if the episode of Dumbledore’s near-discovery had happened more than once. Speaking of which, he could tell at just the slightest brush against Potter’s mind that the boy was harboring a few youthful notions as he sat among his peers. The strongest of these happened to be the traditional desire to be kissed at the midnight chime. “Happy New Year” et cetera. Severus leaned back against a table, sneering his scorn. Little chance of that.
As midnight approached, Severus had given up even pretending to listen to the conversation intermittently directed at him. Instead, he stared at the grandfather clock in the corner, willing the hands to move faster. Thankfully, the first chime of twelve took all vestiges of attention off of him, and Severus readied himself for a swift exit. However, he found himself momentarily distracted by an attractive, though unassuming young woman. Heading straight for Potter. At the final chime sounded, she grabbed him by the hand, kissing him. Choruses of,
“Happy New Year!” filled the room to a raucous degree, but to Severus they may have been the distant buzzing of bees. The girl, a Ravenclaw by the looks of her robes, blushed prettily as she pulled away. Severus felt his blood go hot. They exchanged some words, and Harry smiled. But, Severus noted with some vindication, that the Gryffindor looked very uncomfortable indeed. The green eyes flicked around for a moment, before settling uncertainly on Snape, as if Harry did not know himself how to react to the situation and was looking for an indicator. Judging by the speed at which Harry disengaged himself from her company, Severus guessed he’d looked murderous.
****
“Hey Harry! Wait,” Cho called after him, but Harry was already well on his way to the closest boy’s bathroom.
****
“Headmaster, if I may, I believe the mandatory festivities have concluded,” Severus said, raising his voice to be heard over the chaos of celebration. “Congratulations, nitwits. You’ve managed to live another year,” he thought bitterly as Albus clapped a jovial hand on his shoulder.
“What was that, Severus? Have another drink, my boy!”
“No, Headmaster, I said-“
“Minerva! Come have a drink with Severus!” The old man grabbed the Gryffindor head by the sleeve as she passed, jerking her into the conversation. Severus put a hand over his face, thinking that if he’d actually drunk everything he’d been handed since dinner, he surely would have thrown it all up by now.
It must have been close to half-past by the time he finally managed to disentangle himself from the embarrassingly festive faculty. He made a bee line for his rooms on the off chance that he would somehow be harangued back into the party, as it had been showing no signs of ending when he’d left. Three floors or so away from the others, the castle became blessedly silent, and stayed that way until the moment he opened the door to his rooms.
*
*
*
*
TBC