TITLE: April 25
AUTHOR: Allocin
SUMMARY: Harry is feeling lonely on one of the greatest wizarding holidays, but lucky for him there is someone willing to go to great pains to make him feel better.
RATING: PG
CATEGORIES: PWP/Romance
CHARACTERS: Harry/Severus.
TIMELIME: Future fic.
A/N: Birthday present to my fabulous friend Shei, who turned 18 on 25/04. Happy Birthday! Try not to trip on the clichés.
DISCLAIMER: The Author would like to congratulate you on realising that she is the Sole Lord and Master of the Known Universe and Everything Contained Therein. Do not dispute it, or risk my Wrathful Minions of Unspeakable Evil. cackle
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Harry stumbled into his room with eyes half-shut with sleepiness. He threw his bag down by the remains of his alarm clock, kicked the door shut behind him and flopped onto his bed, which had never felt more comfortable. Every joint in his body creaked as he ever so slowly relaxed into the mattress. A deep sigh breathed past his lips, and most of his frustration went with it.
He was still somewhat annoyed, of course. It was the end of April 25, one of the most prized days of the year, and he had spent it under the burning Greek sun maintaining shields and charms while Hermione and her team of magi-archaeologists scurried around in the dirt. It was enough to make one sick.
"What are you looking so glum for?" one of the archaeologists, Nuthall Spock, had asked him as he stood in the shade of a pillar. His sour glare had been attracting concerned looks all morning.
"It's April 25," Harry had replied as if it explained everything. Unfortunately, Nutty was from the United States and had no clue about obscure British traditions. Harry had stared, appalled.
"You don't know about April 25?" he had asked. Nutty had shaken his head.
Harry groaned and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. It was so aggravating to have to work on a day usually spent making wicker hamster-hats and eating Special Edition Chocolate Hamsters. He hadn't seen any hamsters of any variety, and that nerked Harry immensely.
"April 25," he had explained slowly," is the Celebration of Lord Cuthbert Ninnypants and His Slaying of the Unnaturally Large Hamster." Nutty had looked even more clueless than before.
"Let's ask my fellow American," he declared as Kate McDonald wandered past. She pouted at the two men and whined,
"I'm not American! I'm Canadian!" Nutty smiled indulgently and patted her arm.
"Of course, sweetie. Have you ever heard of this Lord Cuthbert what's-his-name?" She stared blankly from Harry to Nuthall.
"Whatever," and walked off. Nutty shrugged and followed her, leaving Harry to stew in his frustration.
April 25 was a day of great festivities in wizarding Great Britain. Six centuries ago Lord Cuthbert Ninnypants, the worst student Hogwarts had ever seen, went south on a trivial errand and ran into the Huge Hamster that was terrorising Hamble in Hampshire, eating whole flocks of sheep and urinating on the town church. Quite how he managed to slay the beast was never found out, but Lord Cuthbert became a National Wizarding Hero and the day of the Hamster's defeat became a National Wizarding Holiday. One that Harry had participated in every year since First Year, until today. He was not happy.
What annoyed him more was that no one from home had bothered to send him anything. It was customary to swap Chocolate Hamsters and send cards to friends who were away, but Harry hadn't received anything from Ron, Sirius, Remus, or Severus. He berated himself for expecting anything, but it still stung.
So busy was he in scowling at the internal train of his thoughts, that he didn't notice his door opening silently or the dark figure swooping into his room. Black cloth rippled as the man glided towards the bed in the corner, his eyes focused on the man reposed on the covers. He was close enough now to reach out and touch the bent knee, but his hand hovered just above contact. Outside insects chirruped under the setting sun, but in the motel room all was silent. The body had stopped moving.
For his part, Harry had gradually pulled himself from his miserable musings enough to become aware of the second presence in the room. Instincts aside, his gut told him to stay still; he recognised the unique feel of the man standing to his right. Belatedly he realised he had forgotten to breath, thus giving away his awareness. Cursing his stupidity, Harry opened his eyes a fraction.
Severus' stare, be it angry, incredulous or amused, was always intense. The emotion it conveyed at that moment was pure, unadulterated lust. Harry's mouth went dry as every witty greeting he had thought to utter transmogrified to images of naked Sev. He found himself very close to drooling and wondered distractedly how one could be dry-mouthed and salivating simultaneously.
Like a Lethifold swooping down on its dinner, Severus' mouth covered Harry's in a gasping kiss, effectively curtailing any mental recovery on Harry's part. Tongues slid against each other in familiar greeting as Sev manoeuvred himself so he was lying half across Harry. Runaway hands fleeted over shoulders and ribs, rubbing circles and pinching at more sensitive areas. Lips were bruised as their kiss became more frantic, and distantly Harry heard a keening noise, belatedly realising it was himself. Firm hands stroked his arms, slowing the tempo until the two men were not frantically rubbing against each other. Opening his eyes blearily, Harry smiled at his lover.
"Hi." Severus quirked his customary eyebrow.
"Good evening," he answered, his hands still unconsciously moving over Harry's side in long strokes.
"So you were that sick of the festivities you thought you'd join me in exile?" Harry asked teasingly.
"Impudent brat," Severus replied lightly, but didn't deny it. "It was somehow made known among a select group of moronic, meddlesome Gryffindors that I was considering a short holiday abroad, upon which I was immediately bombarded with a variety of ridiculous messages and gifts to bring with me should I accidentally find myself in the company of a certain wizard."
Harry's eyes had grown as wide as dinner plates. He sat up with Severus as the professor pulled various shrunken packages and scrolls from his pockets and lined them up neatly on the bed like potion ingredients. With one eye observing the dumbstruck expression on Harry's face, he returned each object to its original size. Several Chocolate Hamsters, two wicker hamster hats, photographs from the festival in Diagon Alley, and several letters. Beaming in delight, Harry threw his arms around Severus' neck.
"Thank you so much."
"It was far more trouble than you can possible imagine. Trying to carry them through Customs was an appalling event," Severus responded. Harry snorted and placed a chaste kiss to Sev's temple before pouncing on his gifts. Most of the Chocolate Hamsters were stored in the bedside cupboard, though a few mysteriously vanished. The letters were devoured with as much fervour, simple as they were - one each from Ron, Sirius, Remus, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Dumbledore. Harry forced Severus to wear one of the hats, though he looked less than pleased. The sight was so utterly ridiculous Harry couldn't help but laugh.
Severus was content to relax against the pillows and watch Harry enjoy his gifts, his thumb unconsciously rubbing circles on his lover's thigh. His own gift to Harry was back at Hogwarts. Severus didn't celebrate April 25 like other wizards, but there was no harm in getting something for a man returning home after eight weeks working away. That was his reasoning at least; it didn't matter that Harry was going home the very next day.
Piling his letters and photos onto his bedside table, Harry lay down beside Severus, tucking his head underneath the older man's chin. "Happy Celebration of Lord Cuthbert Ninnypants and His Slaying of the Unnaturally Large Hamster," he mumbled, just before he yawned widely. Severus wrapped his arms tightly around his lover and, after kissing the crown of his head, listened for the deepening of Harry's breath. When it finally came, signalling sleep, Severus allowed himself to relax too.
"You're entirely welcome," he murmured as he drifted off.