Insecurities

Author: Adrienne Wolter (catsncritters).
Summary: Severus Snape ponders his relationship with Harry during a bout of jealousy.
Rating: PG
Warnings: SLASH, between Severus Snape and Harry Potter. If you notice, there is quite an age difference as well. If you don't know what slash is, you probably don't want to read this. If you do, and like it, I'd appreciate feedback, but it's in no way necessary.
Reviews: appreciated--but whether you like it or not, the story's written and as pleased as I am if someone finds enjoyment from something I've written, it was written to get the idea out of my head.
Archive: I don't really know how archiving works, since I've never had a story that's been archived. I'd certainly like to know if it is archived, however.
Noted: This is one-shot. I'm hoping that someday when I'm in the mood to write about their Order days, I will - but for now, I'm writing a rather time-consuming, chaptered HPSS story called Switched, and starting another chaptered story now would probably prove disastrous for both stories. Feel free to check it out if you like stories with plot, because Switched has quite a lot of it.

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A calming drought. Yes, that was what he needed. A calming drought and some firewhiskey would do quite nicely at the moment. Severus Snape sifted through cupboards of healing potions and poisons and finally found the firewhiskey bottle he kept just for this sort of situation. Well, he'd never had this situation in mind when he'd purchased the bottle, but anything involding Potter was unexpected and usually made him more and more bitter these days.

Potter. As he poured some of the calming drought into a goblet and poured in quite a bit of firewhiskey, he found it difficult to get the name out of his mind. It reverberated off his walls of thought and try as he might to stop it, it seemed quite happy echoing over and over. And sets of green eyes blinked and closed and opened, making him shake his head sharply to make them go away. All by themselves those eyes betrayed stronger emotions than all of Severus' admittedly strong facial features ever could. That was part of what made the damn Potter so... drawing. Attractive, though he was loathe to admit it to himself sometimes, especially at times like these.

They'd been forced to work side by side for the Order, often literally so. They fought together, worked on countercurses together, and shared the same inconspicuous Muggle quarters. Severus had been forced to come to terms with the somewhat disturbing fact that Potter simply was not his father. As a boy, he'd been proud of his father. But something had changed just a few years ago. He had the strong suspicion that what Potter had seen when peeking into his pensieve had something to do with it, though they never spoke about that occurrence after it had happened. This fact was something scary and unknown to him, however–when that image was ripped from his mind, much due to Potter insisting it wasn't true, himself, he had no real idea of what the boy was thinking, even after seven years of watching.

But Potter wasn't a boy anymore. Potter had made that known, too, the first day they'd moved into the Muggle flat and began working together. No, he'd grown into a man, and his maturity had appeared as well. The man simply didn't go looking for trouble, or breaking rules for the thrill of it anymore. Severus had seen that change, when he started actually looking.

Watching people was something Severus found a small amount of pride in. Stirring the contents of the goblet but forgetting to raise it to his lips, he gave a weak smile. He had always been good at watching people. Reading people. Even without Occlumency, he could usually tell what someone was thinking by looking in their eyes. That was part of what scared him so much about Potter. He couldn't read them like the rest. He got lost in them.

He did still understand some things about the man though. He saw a still-clumsy teenager finally growing into a confident wizard. But he saw Potter's insecurities, and that was what baffled him. The way he would constantly try and fail to flatten his hair–so different from his father, who made it messier on purpose. How he always tried to grin at everyone, even if all could manage was a shy smile. How he tried to hide his scar. But what he began to pick up on baffled him the most–these insecurities were around him, Severus Snape, of all people. An unreadable expression (oh, how they bothered him), another failed attempt at tamed hair, a glance at Severus when he had company over, to see when they overstayed their welcome.

And neither knew why, and neither ever mentioned it, but they kept living in the same dingy flat even after the last of the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again parties were long over. Severus had only ever brought up a similar topic once, when he'd asked the man why he didn't go pursue Quidditch or being an Auror. He'd only said that neither interested him anymore.

In their frequent late-night conversations they became more comfortable around one another. They spoke of a variety of light and serious topics, whatever they happened to be thinking about. Severus learned that the man had a handful of odd talents that he wished to pursue but probably never would. They'd finally agreed to be on a first-name basis when they were alone. And Severus always noticed that Harry took the seat furthest from the door.

The one he was sitting in now. Damn.

Neither was sure when companionable feelings had grown into something a bit more complex, but it did–and with it brought emotions awakening in Severus that confused him. Nothing had ever confused or consumed him so much as they cautiously, on his part, at least, explored their emotions. He was constantly amazed by Harry's unending patience and the ease with which he forgave others. The man's love of life captivated him. They grew closer, though they still were unsure of what to call each other.

And then Virginia Weasley had to begin waltzing in on her own, unaccompanied by her endless supply of brothers or Granger, making her own advances on Harry. The man regarded her with amusement and subtly polite let-downs at first which Miss Weasley interpreted as shyness on his part. Severus was neither amused nor polite when he came face to face with the young woman; she seemed to feel that the only reason Harry turned her down was because he was stuck here with him. Severus always felt like an idiot when the man appeared while he and Miss Weasley were bickering, and relieved when Harry rescued him.

But lately... he took a large sip of his drink, finally, the bittersweet taste of firewhiskey and calming drought enticing him to drink more. He'd never insisted on knowing where Harry was going when he left the flat, but the man had always made certain he knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing. Lately, though, he'd been disappearing at odd times and coming back in the middle of the night, always sour–such an uncharacteristic emotion for him. And though he was always extremely apologetic later on, he never really mentioned where he'd gone and Severus never pushed him.

Tonight was one of those times. He stared down at his reflection in the goblet, the milky substance showing that he needed to shave. Mouth twitching, he set it down on an end table, lacing his fingers together, falling back into thought. Miss Weasley certainly had something to do with these odd outings, that he knew. He sighed. What did Harry feel that he was? A toy? A sometimes-lover? He felt disgusted with himself, and even more disgusted at the thought that even through all the times they'd kissed and done more, the man may have been imagining that Severus was Miss Weasley. Guilt was creeping onto his brow. Of course he didn't. Of all things, he would have been able to read that. Unless maybe he was too blinded by love to see it....

He was just considering picking up his goblet to take a second sip when the door swung open. He heard it from the living room, but didn't look up as the man entered. He wouldn't meet the boy's eyes after he'd been using them to bewitch the youngest Weasley all night.

"Finally got rid of her," he told Severus, coming to stand behind the armchair and reaching over the back to wrap his arms around his shoulders. Sever stayed rigid in his chair. "What's wrong?"

He twitched. "Where were you?" So much for not acknowledging his presence.

"I was supposed to meet the three of them for dinner at that nice restaurant, you know, the one we went for for dinner with the Order last winter?" He knew the three he was talking about. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Miss Weasley. He nodded sharply, realizing that it was going to be two years since the defeat of the Dark Lord in a few months. "But once I got there, it was only Ginny. I couldn't believe her, it's the second time she's done this–pisses me off," he said, moving around the chair to sit in Severus' lap. "Seems to think I want to date her. I've tried getting her to realize it like Ron and Hermione have, but she doesn't pick up on anything at all. It not only took me telling her that I'm gay to get her to agree to stop, but that the reason I've stayed here with you is because I love you." He rolled his eyes, giving Severus a smile and stealing a quick kiss. "I do, you know," he said, leaning into him.

Anything left of his desire to hold a grudge melted then and there. Severus put his arms around Harry. His Harry. "I know," he whispered, smiling.