Edge Of Seventeen

Author’s Note: I have recently become obsessed with the song ‘Edge of Seventeen’ bevieevie Nicks. Has something to do with the fact that my boyfriend is, indeed, on the edge of seventeen and I’m a few years older. Having said that….Severus muses to himself one evening while listening to old records and realizes his hidden feelings for a certain, barely seventeen year old boy.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters or the song. I just borrowed them and I promise to put them back the way I found them, but slightly used.

The fire was glowing and warm in the private dungeon chambers of one Severus Snape, Potions Master extraordinaire and professor of potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His day had been a hard one and he was attempting to find solace in his favorite music. Contrary to what most believed, he loved muggle music. In fact, it was all he listened to.

The Slytherin had quite an extensive collection; mostly from the 70’s and 80’s. Among this were albums by bands such as Cream, Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, Aerosmith, Pink Floyd, The Doors and a slew of other popular artist of the time.

Without really considering what he was doing, he pulled a random record off the shelf and placed it on the old turntable he had managed to save. It was his redemption; to be able to sit alone in his chambers and lose himself in the music. He placed the needn onn one of the grooves, randomly choosing a song then went to sit down with his glass of scotch.

A catchy, beating rhythm, almost electronic, began. At first he didn’t recognize the song and he leaned back in his chair, resting his head as his eyes closed. While the song carried on, completely unaware of the words the female voice began to sing, his thoughts wandered to a dark figure with green eyes.

‘Stupid,’ he thought to himself. There’s no logical reason for him to be thinking about Potter in such a situation. He barely tolerated the boy, letne hne had pleasant feelings about….right? He mentally sighed and he finally really heard the song for the first time.

*Just like the white winged dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh. Ooh. Ooh. Just like the white winged dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby ooh. Said ooh.*

He sat bolt upright in his armchair and blinked furiously. Damn himself for choosing this particular album. Snape hadn’t listened to Stevie Nicks in years and lastlast time had been….Shit. Now it was like the woman herself was coming to haunt him, though he had never met her. Everything he was and had become since that period of time, for the life of him, he couldn’t understand.

Back then, the night he had put this record away for what he thought would be forever, he had been sitting in the same chair, drinking the same scotch, and thinking nothing about anything. He had been freed, temporarily of course, from Voldemort and Albus had been wonderful in offering him a way out of the terrible mistake he had made in the blindness of youth.

As the scotch had flowed from the decanter into the glass, then from there past his lips, he had gone into a trance like state which he, at the time, assumed had been brought on by the almost primal beat of the song itself. Within this trance he’d had a vision of sorts.

In this vision, Severus had been with a man, somewhat younger than he, with dark hair and green eyes. He knew himself to be older than at the time he was ‘seeing’ this. Which only left one option as to who this person could be; a student in Snape’s own future. Even thought he had wanted more than anything to let go of what he saw, the vision had a hold on him and didn’t release him until he was sure his heart was beating out of his chest. Damn himself for having a fantasy while listening to a song about an older, more experienced person falling in love with a not-so-legal young man.

The song began to play louder in his head as he remembered.

*And the days go by like a strand in the wind. In a web that is my own I begin again. Said to my friend, baby, nothing else mattered. He was no more than a baby then. Well he seemed broken hearted, something within him. From the moment that I first laid. Eyes. On. Him. I’m all alone on the edge of seventeen.*

It was all he could do to control himself even now. He had pushed all thoughts of that night out of his head, and when he had seen Potter, he hadn’t realized that the young man had been the one in his vision. It wasn’t until the boy had returned for his seventh year that Severus saw it. The young lover in his….what should he call it? A premonition? Snape snorted mentally. Gods above, Trelawny would have a field day with that one.

He shook his head. No, he wouldn’t let this capture him. Not like this.

*Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said ooh. Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said ooh.*

Blasted song! There was no getting away from it. He tried to stand and turn it off, but he couldn’t make his body move. It was as if his brain was letting him think it was telling his muscles to move, but it was really smirking and saying something along the lines of ‘He’ll never know, just stay where you are and let him be tortured by his hidden desires.’

*Well I went today maybe I will go again tomorrow. Yeah yeah, well the music there, well it was hauntingly familiar. When I see you doing what I try to do for me with the words of a poet and a voice from a choir and a melody. Nothing else mattered.*

The Slytherin growled and tried to launch himself out of the chair to no avail, the smoky voice of the woman continuing in a torturously painful tone. Hurt was evident in the lyrics.

*Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said ooh. Just like the white wing dove songs a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said ooh.*

He gulped as the song went on, his thoughts taking over his mind as he imagined Harry….’Shite, when did Potter become Harry?’ slowly taking his clothes off for a very responsive potions master. The green eyes flashing with lust and desire as the articles of clothing fell to the floor. Robes, trousers, shirt, pants….The boy was naked right in front of his eyes. It almost seemed as though Harry, ‘Damn his mind for changing what he called the boy without his permission!’ was actually there and performing a sensuous strip tease for him.

*The clouds never expected it when it rains. But the sea changes color, but the sea, does not change….*

Severus finally found his way out of his chair and turned the turntable off by the switch, the song stopping mid verse. He quickly went to his bedchamber and disrobed, climbing in between the cold sheets and attempting to find sleep that was apparently trying to avoid him. Visions of those fiery green eyes plagued him every time he closed his own eyes, but he needed sleep. The torture would just have to be endured.

The next few days he avoided not only his music, but his scotch. Both of which killed him since he indulged in both just about every night. Cursing under his breath he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, hopigaingainst all hope that he could avoid the general public but knew he had to teach his lessons.

Gods, Dumbledore and some higher power were trying to punish him for something. Torture him. Hadn’t he been through enough pain caused by Voldemort? Scowling he took his seat at the head table and ate his food in silence. Severus was unaware that he was being watched by those green eyes that he so longed for, but wouldn’t let himself indulge in.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry was ignoring his friends. It had become a normal occurrence, for him to avoid conversation all together with Ron and Hermione. Of course, they didn’t notice because they were too obliviously wrapped up in each other. Shaking his head, he looked up at the staff table. He had been doing a lot of that lately; watching Snape. The Gryffindor couldn’t understand why he was all of a sudden drawn to his potions professor.

He finished his breakfast and began to walk out of the hall when he heard a faint female voice as if it were whispering in his ear.

*Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said ooh….*

Harry had no idea what the hell that was, so he shook his head and walked down to potions as quickly as he possibly could, knowing he was early but not caring. As the dark haired student took his seat and removed his ingredients from his kit, he thought to himself. ‘Why am I all of a sudden thinking about Severus like he’s a person? And why the hell am I calling him Severus?!’ His thoughts were interrupted as the rest of the class poured into the classroom, setting up for yet another double potions period.

Snape stalked through the door not five minutes later with his black robes billowing behind him as usual. His mood was foul and he still had to teach these insipid brats. What was worse, Harry…’Damn it all to hell!’ *Potter* was in this particular class and he couldn’t rightly avoid the boy.

Scowling, he began the lesson by giving them a foot and a half of parchment for an essay about every possible side effect you could have from taking the Draught of Living Death for a prolonged period of time. Of course it was probably an assignment for a lower level class, but he didn’t care.

Sitting behind his desk, he pulled over a pile of parchment that needed grading, his red tipped quill scratching ruthlessly across the various essays and quizzes like wildfire. The whole period went by in a flash and he never saw the green eyes watching him, nor did he see when the young man those eyes belong to bravely lingered after everyone else left.

Harry knew he’d be in deep shite once the class was over, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually concentrate long enough to form a coherent thought, let alone write a foot and a half or parchment about side effects. The man must be losing his mind. If Harry had been thinking straight he would have been able to write the essay easily. Hermione had written it quickly, within 15 minutes, Ron was done halfway through the lesson and even Neville knew what to write.

Something was definitely up with the potions master, and Dumbledore’s Golden Boy of Gryffindor was determined to find out just exactly what had the dark Slytherin at his wits end. Which is why, taking a deep breath, he stayed behind, telling his friends in a rushed voice that he would see them for lunch and if he wasn’t in their next class not to worry.

As he edged near his professor’s desk, he heaved a sigh and began to speak.

“Sir, not to question your judgment, but why did you give us something so simple to do when you’re constantly claiming that we should be progressed much farther than we are in potions?”

Damn the boy for noticing, even if he was subconsciously trying to get his attention, Severus was hoping Harry, ‘Damn his mind again for allowing him to think of the young man as Harry instead of Potter!’ wouldn’t pick up on his change in demeanor.

Slyly, and with a scowl, he looked up at the boy, no *man* standing before him and answered in his usual acidic tone, “Well, *Mr. Potter*, it has come to my attention that you, your friends, and everyone else *gracing* my class hasn’t the mental capacity to form intelligent enough thoughts to write about anything other than what they should have learned years ago. The *simple* assignment was given so I may have some time to grade other papers and not have to suffer through having to grade the drivel you and the other students try to pass off as satisfactory work.”

His smirk firmly in place, he studied the boy’s, *man’s* no, *young man’s* face. If he was shocked at the words he wasn’t showing it. Apparently, Harry...*Potter*...Gods...had learned to hide his somewhat obvious emotions over the summer.

“Professor, I don’t know why you’re acting strangely,” he paused, gauging Severus’s ‘Ugh! Why me?’ response before continuing. “But it has a few of us worried.” He paused aga“Ok,“Ok, it has \'me\' worried, but I’m concerned about you.”

Snape couldn’t help but let a brief flicker of shock cross his features before he shuttered his face once more.

“Mr. Potter, I assure you I’m perfectly fine and of sound mind. Now, if you don’t mind I would like to get back to my work.”

With that, he turned his attention, or appeared to, back to the pile of parchment in front of him in hopes that the dreadful boy would take a hint and leave. He didn’t.

“Sir, I know you don’t like me very much, but I do care. We’ve worked together for awhile now and I…I don’t like seeing you so…”

Severus quirked a brow, waiting for a response. When it didn’t come he spoke up, “So *what*, Harry?”

‘Damn! Damn! DAMN!’ He watched the Gryffindor’s face light up momentarily and berated himself for his slip up. Using the boy’s…man’s…whatever!, given name was a mistake he didn’t think he could afford. Harry moved closer.

“Severus, you’re acting strange. That’s the only word for it. *Strange.*” Oh yeah, that was not only eloquent but wonderfully stupid. He not only insulted the man, but he had used his given name…Fuck!

After regaining composure, he glared, attempted to glare was more like it, at Harry.

“And when, pray tell, did I give you permission to call me Severus?”

Potter stood there stock still. ‘There,’ he thought. ‘Much better. *Potter*, not *Harry*.’ Then he found his voice, which was slightly above a whisper.

“I thought…”

He couldn’t hold back, “You thought *what* exactly? Hmm? That just because I wasn’t being my nasty, snarky self that you could call me by my given name?” He snorted, “You were mistaken. Goodbye Mr. Potter.”

But the Gryffindor didn’t leave.

“No, Severus. I’m not leaving. Not until you talk to me.”

When he looked up he saw the determination in those green eyes that had haunted his dreams ‘I’d rather prefer if we could call them nightmares, thank you very much!’ since the night he had heard the song again. Sighing mentally, he knew the only way he would get Harry, ‘Again! Ugh!’ off his back was to talk to the young man.

Rising, he motioned for him to follow, “Well, come on then!”

He led the way into his private chambers where Harry looked around thoughtfully. He had never been in here, had never thought he would see Severus’s inner sanctuary. A beat took up in his head against conscious protest.

*Just like the white wing dove sings a song sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said, ooh.*

Harry spied a turntable in the corner and walked over to it while Severus excused himself for a moment to ‘freshen up’. Not knowing what he was about to do, he flicked the switch and the song picked up where it had left off when Severus had turned it off a few nights earlier.

*…And so with the slow graceful flow of age, I went forth with an age old desire…to please. On the edge of seventeen. Ooh, yeah.*

At that moment, Snape decided to reenter the room and stood in shock as the song played. Harry looked up at him and felt the urge to walk toward him, his robe falling from his shoulders of its own volition as the song continued.

*Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said, ooh. Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baboh. oh. Said, ooh.*

The green eyed beauty stopped, recognizing the song and tilted his head.

“I know this may sound off, but I’ve been hearing those words in my head for the past few days,” He looked at his professor with purpose. “What does it mean?”

Snape crossed the bit of space between them and embraced the younger man, “It means, an older person fell in love with a younger man and strived to please him.”

Harry melted into the strong arms and without thinking, pulled the older man’s face down for a deeply passionate kiss. He broke away, breathless and flushed.

“Is that so? Why do I keep hearing it and why are you listening to it?”

Slyness was one of the reasons Harry was almost sorted into Slytherin. He was about to find out, along with Severus, that he was more Slytherin than Gryffindor.

“I think it was…,” he paused. ‘Dare I say it?’ Mentally he nodded. “Meant to be.” He captured Harry’s lips once more and put everything he was into it.

Slowly, and without realizing, they made their way to his bed as clothes fell to the floor. The song kept playing in the other room.

*Well then suddenly there was no one left standing in the hall. Yeah, yeah in a flood of tears that no one every really heard fall at all. Oh I went searching for an answer up the stairs and down the hall. Not to find an answer, just to hear the call, of a night bird. Singing come away.*

Muscles flexed and sweat gleamed while moans escaped slightly parted lips. It was his vision and he couldn’t stop the images from flooding his mind as everything he had ‘seen’ was now happening right in front of his eyes.

*Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said, ooh. Just like the white sing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said, ooh.*

After everything, they lay in each other’s arms and Severus could still hear the grainy last verse of the song in his mind even though it had long ago ended.

*Well I hear you in the morning and I hear you at nightfall. Sometime to be near you but to be unable to hear you, my love. I’m a few years older than you, my love. Just like the white sing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said, ooh. Just like the white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said, ooh.*

Sated and sleepy, the green eyed Gryffindor spoke softly, “Well, I suppose I missed my classes.” He looked into the face of his…lover? “What about the rest of your classes?”

Severus thought for a moment then closed his eyes and pulled the younger man closer. “Sod my classes. Even though I had no more this afternoon. Do you really think I would have done this *now* if I’d had classes? Besides, I wouldn’t leave *this* to teach those wretched brats anyhow.”

Apparently the vision had come to pass and they fell asleep in each other’s arms while a very smug looking headmaster sat behind his desk and waved his hand at the scene he was witnessing through a ‘window’ at face level. As it disappeared he sat back in his chair feeling pleased with himself and humming while the whispered words escaped his lips.

‘Just like a white wing dove sings a song, sounds like she’s singing. Ooh, baby, ooh. Said, ooh.’

FIN.