Weight of the World

V.

Severus was still dragging his heels. Harry could tell because he
decided to label each cardboard container of Chinese food before
putting it away, carefully organizing it in the empty refrigerator as
if he needed everything in its proper place, even though nothing had
a proper place yet.

Harry snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around the older man's
barely there stomach. “Severus,” he purred. “What's
the deal? One second you seem all for this, and the next I may as
well be a leper. If you don't want to do this, just say so. I'll
understand.” He would pout and sulk about it, but he would
understand.

Snape swallowed a lump that had spent the past ten minutes forming in
the back of his throat as he felt Harry's breath gust over the side
of his throat, his body hot against his spine, hands splayed across
his stomach as if they wanted nothing more than to tear his shirt
away. 'You're just imagining that,' he told himself. “I
suppose I am waiting for you to change your mind,” he said
after a stretch. That was partially true. What was more true was
that he was nervous. He could barely remember the last time he had
intercourse. What if he disappointed? He didn't know how he would
ever live it down.

“I've been waiting for me to change my mind since we said
hello,” Harry answered. “If it hasn't happened yet, I'm
pretty sure it's not going to. What about you? You seem to be
changing your mind every ten seconds,” Harry asked.

“I am not changing my mind every ten seconds,” Snape
answered. “It is far more frequent than that.”

Harry laughed at the little joke. “Hey, look at me,” he
said, forcing Snape to turn around. “You know I want this, but
if you don't, you don't have to. I mean, I'll be disappointed, but,
you know. I mean, I know I've been coming on pretty strong. I don't
blame you if you're freaked.”

“I am not freaked,” Severus answered as if the
very thought of him ever being freaked out by anything after all he'd
been through was not only outlandish, but also insulting. “Perhaps
a bit...” he struggled for a word because the one that jumped
to mind was 'intimidated', but he refused to admit it. His second
choice, 'confused', was not much more promising. “...out of
practice,” he settled on.

Harry let a relieved laugh go. “Oh, is that all?” he
said, pulling himself in closer to Snape so that their bodies were
flush from chest to thigh. “You don't have to worry about
that. I'm easy to please. My previous lover was particularly fond of
telling me so.”

“Harry, if we are going to do this, I have one ground rule in
particular that I will have to insist upon.”

“Hm?”

“We will not discuss previous lovers. I neither wish to hear
about yours or discuss mine. I must insist on this matter.”

Harry grinned. “You're the jealous sort!” he declared.

Snape pursed his lips irritably. “It is simply a matter of
tact. It ruins the mood.” Lies, Severus, lies. You are
the jealous, possessive sort, and you damn well know it. Harry knows
it now too, but he's at least learned not to push the subject now
that he's not a child any longer.

“Okay, okay, wizard's honor,” the young man answered.
“Now can we please go to bed and do inappropriate things
to each other?” He rubbed his lithe, young body against his
former professor in hopes of impressing his eagerness upon the man,
and Snape found he didn't need to use legilimency to receive the
unspoken message very firmly.

“So be it,” he answered. “I am yours, Harry Potter,
for the night, at least, and we will see what comes of it.”

Harry pulled him down into an eager kiss and smiled up at him. “I
won't disappoint you,” he said. “When it comes to you, I
can't possibly have any mistakes left to make.”

“I certainly hope not.”