Disclaimer: not mine making no money
Summery: AU!! Big time!! Possibly OOC. Mention of recreational drug use, slash and OMC.
Set when Snapes 19, an artist decides that Snape is a work of art and does what he can to get those eyes to speak. MWPP also come to see.
A/N: wanted a break - massive plot bunny that stayed in my head. Wanted to try something different style wise.
The first time I ever set eyes on him, I knew what he was. Art.
In a smoky dimly lit bar, grey swirls dancing in the air and bright lights glittering from the glasses he blended in and stood out all at once. He was thin, painfully so but he was long limbed, walking that fine fine between awkward and graceful. Black hair fell far past his shoulders, slightly greasy but appealing in a rough way, big black eyes devouring everything they looked at. Nose too large but anything smaller would not have suited him. Lips thin with the promise of lushness, high sharp cheek bones, strong jaw, long fingers…
The man was hook nosed, greasy, skinny and dark, to an untrained eye they would more then likely call him ugly. But I knew he was beautiful, and bringing it out, displaying it to the world, presenting him as the art he truly was, would be my magnum opus. Seeing him talk to a friend of mine I quickly moved in, introducing myself and joining their conversation.
Severus Snape…even his name had an artistic ring.
He was 19, unemployed and bitter, with a biting wit, sarcastic humour, obscure knowledge and all in all enjoyable company provided you were as down to earth as he. I only briefly introduced myself, my name, and my profession as an artist and photographer. I detected a slight sneer at the nature of my work and was quick to engage him in an enjoyable debate on the topic. I took this as an opportunity to watch him closely; see the way his long fingers wrapped around his drink, his way of looking up at you through his hair, eyes guarded, the subtle shifts in his body, his legs, his hips. The man was complexity itself, and with each passing second I seemed to find another layer to him, another expression I wanted to explore, another view I wanted to discuss.
I was quick to establish how to get in touch with him and arrange another meeting. As friends.
These casual drinks in various pubs with or without mutual friends carried on for some time. I noticed his style and clothing choices; mostly black with some shocks of white and grey, clothes that while not form fitting, seemed to emphasize his small build, and always layers - shirts, jumpers, long coats, scarf's…I imaged even seeing him wearing a t-shirt to be quiet an intimate experience. I began to form ideas of how best to present him to the world…black and white photographs or a dimly lit room, eye contact shots to capture his intensity. After several drinks, and a few questionable cigarettes, I made sure to mention to him, in his relaxed and mellow state that I would love to have him model for me. He would always smirk and make a sarcastic comment.
Finally, months after we became drinking buddies, I managed to get him to my place. It was a Sunday, all the pubs shut early, and like most young men our age, we still wanted to drink. I suggested my place- it was close, warm, full of booze, food and all the popular drugs of the age. Looking at me with his deep eyes, already starting to mellow, he said "why the fuck not" and proceeded to stager heavy footed and swinging arms down the road. The walk was full of jokes, laughter, walking in to walls…neither of us were that drunk, just at the wonderful stage where you still feel in control of yourself, but the world is such a great place that you can relax. Severus's long limbs swayed with a loose graceful manner, emphasising his words, and his shoulders were back. He looked every inch the young man he was.
Making it back to mine, I was quick to dim the lights and grab some drinks from the well stocked fridge. Handing one to Severus I told him to make himself at home while I cleared away a pile of washing that was on the couch. Throwing it in my room, I grabbed my camera on impulse, just in case. If nothing it could be a talking point.
Stumbling back to the living, I felt my heart skip a beat as I took in the scene. Bathed in yellow light, Severus was splayed on the floor next to the coffee table, legs spread and knees bent to get close to it. He had taken his overcoat off, and was clad in black jeans and a black shirt with the top two buttons undone. His long, clever fingers were rolling a joint and when he flicked his gaze at me there was a challenge in his eyes. Smirking, I flopped on the couch next to him, took a drink and took the first drag when it had been rolled.
This was good…
Relaxation was swirling in my veins, my grin turning sloppy, my hands seeking out and touching, laughter coming easy. Severus seemed much the same, although he never seemed to be as clumsy in his movements as me. His eyes still seemed guarded, his words deliberate…I wondered if an orgasm would help him relax that final step…
Pointing at my camera, I made my traditional request to photograph him. I say it was a smirk but I knew my eyes gave away my sincerity. Hell, at this stage they were probably pleading. To my eternal shock, Severus smirked, rolled his neck and asked, in his deep and sensual voice;
"If I let you this once, now, will you shut up about it?"
Mouth open and nodding frantically I stand up quickly, grabbing my camera. This was not how I would have liked to do it, but I would take what I was given. Besides, the surroundings seemed to suit. Looking back at him, I immediately noticed a change in him. His eyes seemed more guarded, his shoulders hunched, his mouth tight in an expressionless smile. He was already regretting it. Smiling, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder I tell him to relax, I wont make him look a fool, that he's beautiful, he will look amazing. I sound a drunken and stoned fool. Still, I put my camera down, pass him another drink, and roll another joint, passing it between the two of us. This time, I sit close to him, shoulder to shoulder, the heat radiating off his body making me eager to touch, and I risk putting a hand on his knee. I talk to him about my work, about what captivates me, about how I want to display him. My comments are met with biting comments, cheeky smiles, rolling eyes and general mockery, but soon his head begins to swing that bit looser, his eyes that bit lazier and his body begins to lean into mine.
Saying nothing and moving slowly, I pick up my camera again, meeting his eyes as I aim my first shot of the night. The light was too bright and yellow, so I dimmed it further, till it was just a glow surrounding black cloth and pale skin. His eyes were still guarded and expressionless as his tilted and shifted this way and that on my request. I was getting to know his body and his forms, how the light would fold around him and I began to become more bold in my requests, knowing that what I had seen in him all those months ago would soon be realised. Keeping eye contact, I reach down and unbuttoned a bit more of his shirt, more pale skin becoming a contrast to his eyes and clothes. I tell him to lick his lips, tilt his hips, I move the angle of the shot up and down, side to side, determined to capture him from every possible angel. As I click away an obscure thought hits me - I wish I had some red lipstick. It would look amazing against his skin and hair, and smudged it would make him look decadent, wanton. Maybe next time…
During all this Severus never spoke, merely kept smoking, the inhale sharpening his cheekbones, occasionally taking a drink, lips becoming wet, eyes seeking out mine. With each click, the intimacy between us seemed to grow and I found myself breathing hard without realising. On impulse, I dropped to my knees, repositioning his legs, bending the knees and removing his boots so his bare, elegant feet could be in the shoot, positioning them against the back of the sofa, the table…
I suddenly realised I was kneeling between his spread legs, with those blown dark eyes staring down at me, an expression I had not seen before blaring out from them. We stared at each other, never moving, never talking.
I wanted Severus. I could admit that from the moment I first set eyes on him. I wanted to make him cry out, see the emotion during the most intimate act. Explore that body and have those clever fingers explore mine.
But he was my work of art.
The allure of Severus was his complexity, his layers, The way his soul was to so closely guarded, but constantly seemed to be shining out of his eyes. Looking at Severus inspired something in you…hate, love, replusion, interest, intrigue, sarcasm…he was something people wanted to touch and influence, for better or worse. But achieving that would remove a little bit of Severus himself…I could never look at Severus as the work of art he was if I slept with him…I would only see him and enjoy him as the undoubtedly great shag he was…If people knew what made the Mona Lisa smile, her charm would have faded centuries ago…I wanted Severus to stay an enigma…to me and my camera.
My argument poorly thought out, but my instants burning, I resign myself to never knowing Severus in the way I truly wished too. But, with my hands gripping his thighs, and his eyes staring down into my soul I knew I had give him release, to experience that most intimate of gazes…
Keeping my camera in hand, and aimed at his face and chest, I reach up and undo his jeans, pulling the zip down and pulling his most personal anatomy into the air. He breaths deeply, knees spreading wider, eyes never leaving mine. The intensity is almost paralysing and I take a few shots, not even sure if my camera is trained on him and where. It does not seem to matter at this point. Wetting my lips, I open my mouth, and try to show him how beautiful he is. He makes the most amazing sounds, soft sighs, and hollow moans, and I notice vaguely that I am still absent mindedly taking pictures. I jump and moan when I feel those gloriously long finger in my hair, gently running through it, and I toss my camera on the couch, running my now spare hand up his chest, under his shirt, exploring his body haphazardly, feeling the bones through his heated skin. Flicking my gaze up, I moan at the sight of Severus, lips parted breathing deeply, cheeks flushed. When he makes eye contact again we both shudder, his eyes boring though me, the acceptance and lust in them seemingly at odds with each other. Keeping my eyes trained on his face, his expression, I notice when his moans get more frantic, and his breath quicker and I know he is close. I pull out all my best moves and soon, he knees and thighs are tense, his fingers gripping my hair and he is achieving that greatest of hormonal highs. Releasing him, panting myself, acutely aware of the hardness between my legs but determined to ignore it, I kiss and nibble at his stomach and hips bones as I tuck him back in. His lands still lazily running through my hair and when I meet his gaze I moan - his eyes had never looked to naked. Before I could stop myself I lean up and kissed him hard, his mouth opening eagerly, fingers on my shoulders. Ripping myself away from his lips I grab my camera and start shooting again, panting and shaking determined to capture that look, that pose…
Legs still spread, but all the fun bits out of sight, shirt rumpled and mostly unbuttoned, head back and shoulders relaxed. Cheeks flushed, lips wet and bruised, looking freshly kissed, but his eyes…god those eyes…
Contentment. Relaxation. Smugness. Sexiness. confusion. Promises. His eyes seemed to promise everything and explain everything that had just happened. His whole body and pose seemed to hint of that sexuality, sensuality, yet it still reminded hidden from casual view, there but not there…
Euphoria of what I felt I had achieved kicked in, and with one final click I put my camera down for the night.
Feeling suddenly so tired, I smiled at Severus and thanked him, promised that I would only use the photos with his permission. He said if I did not he would rip my bollocks off. Laughing I all but collapse next to him. We continued drinking and talking for the next hour, thankfully still at ease in each others company, before Severus gave up the ghost and passed out on my couch…Smiling, I wrap him up in my spare blankets, kissing his forehead in thanks, before heading to my bed for sleep.
Tomorrow I would develop the film, and relive the beauty that is Severus Snape…
"I refuse to believe that fucking Snape is in this exhibit" Sirius scorned.
The four friends were making their way to one of the trendiest galleries in muggle London, dodging passing tourists and natives. The gallery was showcasing the artwork of one of London's top new up and comers, and had already had rave reviews, which the four had only skimmed. They had heard from Frank Longbottom that some of the exhibit featured Snape, or a man who looked remarkably like him and that they had to see it to believe it.
The very idea that Snape could be featured was laughable to James and Sirius- unless the exhibit was on something unpleasant, like ugliness, evil or Halloween. Snape cackling manically over a potion would be amusing and true enough, but not very arty.
Finding the gallery, and making their way through a considerable crowd, the quickly located the artists space and began running their eyes over the work, trying to find anything to do with their childhood enemy.
"I don't see-" James began, before being cut off.
"There!" cried Peter, and all four hurried over. Almost hidden behind a partition and a throng of people was a long blank wall, all of which dedicated to the one, the only Severus Snape.
"Well bugger me," whisper Sirius to the others, "its true…not that this or him could every be art, must have been a total hack that took these pictures"
"Sirius, look at them," Remus whispered, eyes never leaving the first portrait.
The other three turned and for the first time truly looked, and saw Severus Snape.
The first portrait laid out was clearly of Snape. He was sitting on a long brown couch, dim lights flowing over him, looking just beyond the camera. He was laying back, head tilted towards the audience, looking at them from the corner of his eyes, which looked huge, and seemed to start right through you, making I difficult to look away. The nose was still too big, but somehow it seemed to fit the face, the dark eyes matching the curtain of long black hair, which peek out behind his back, a few errant stands over his shoulders. His skin was pale, white, a plume of smoke appearing from off camera, made him seem as if he was literal born of the shadows. The stark background and expression seemed to be both challenging and accepting, and the four men could not make comment.
Subconsciously, they moved slowly along with the crowd, the following few portraits from different angles, showing how the light played on his skin, how the shadows made his face both gaunt of flawless,. But recurrent through them all were those big black eyes staring out at you, the expression raw and yet somehow hidden. Coupled with the almost expressionless face it was impossible to know what he was thinking, yet you wanted to know.
The final few pictures made the four stop dead, and each look and wonder. In one, Severus was curled up in the corner of the couch, pale elegant feet peeking out, knees under his chin, fingers curling around them. He looked small and broken and tragic, yet the same challenge was issued from his eyes. In the next one however, the angle had changed as has the layout of the frame. Shot almost diagonally and from a upward angle, it showed Severus from the waist up, shirt suddenly more rumpled and open, eyes half lidded, again looking just beyond the camera. His mouth was open seeming caught in a gasp, his fingers gripping the cushions. It was as if he knew something you did not, and whatever it was was so fantastic…The light reflected his sharp cheekbones, making his face triangular and he suddenly seemed to much more feral, so much more instinctive.
The final picture was stunning. The next transition was from a slightly downward angle and from a greater distance then the others. Snape sat with his legs spread, hands laying limp on slender thighs, shirt almost undone, exposing what seemed to be a pornographic amount of flesh and yet it was barely anything. His head was tilted back, hair mussed (bed head, Sirius mused) and his whole body was relaxed and open inviting you know to look and touch. But his face…His lips wet obscenely wet and slightly swollen, cheeks highlighted with a pink flush, looking like blusher on his white skin, cheekbones casting shadows. But what set the red lips, pink cheeks and white skin off was those damned black eyes. Open wide now, black almost taking up the whole eye, looking stoned, the was a sense of satisfaction, achievement, acceptance, of knowing something you don't know, a hint of happiness and sadness. The eyes seemed raw and naked and although you almost knew what had gone on off camera to get them to look that way, you never fully thought it.
Stepping back, the Griffindores looked at the collection as a whole. Severus never seemed to changed from picture to picture - thin, arms and long fingers, small chested and slim hips, black hair white face. He seemed a mix of punk, junkie and conservative, uptight and relaxed. They could clearly see the boy from the school days in the picture. But his eyes had never held those emotions, his face never so open, his body never so frail.
They wondered who the boy they went to school was, and who he had become.
When the crowd began moving again, the four were shocked to find they had spent 45 minutes looking at the pictures. They made their way to exit the gallery, grabbing some information leaflets on the artist and the exhibit (only to show Lilly, they told themselves) and stepped back onto the London street.
They were silent for a while. There did not seem to be anything to say. They could still feel those eyes staring just beyond them, and they were loathed to admit that Snape actually made a decent picture.
Had to be all due to the artist.
Still…although they said nothing to each other, they all hoped to run into Snape sometime in the future…just to see if those eyes really said that much, and to try and figure out what was being said behind them.
My exhibit was a roaring success, all due to Severus. People reacted just as I knew they would. They saw him. Hell, I think Severus saw himself…
I only hope I can get Severus to allow me to do this again…I have so many more ideas….
A/N
My apologies for the rambling but the idea just would not leave me alone. I don't think I quiet captured my idea so may return to this after some more work on my other fic. I may also do other chapters- preferred pairings people? Sorry if Snape seems OOC but hey, its AU.
I hope the new style did not confuse people - the details of the artist were not important, and conversaion between them would only stunt it
Anyway I gave it a shot.
Let me know what you guys think!
Motivate me with reviews!
Thank you!