Title: Invitation
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG Rated
Challenge: Written for snarry100's Drabble Prompt #392: Invitation. Originally posted on Livejournal.
Warnings: None
Summary: Mistakes are the portals of discovery, Harry decides.

Harry Potter knocks again at the oak door at Spinner's end. Come on, you bastard. I know you're there.

The door slams open and a very annoyed Snape glares down at him as if ready to curse him into a cockroach.

Harry starts, "Professor Snape. I hope I'm not bothering you," his words are met with an arched eyebrow suggesting you do, "but next week it's three years since Voldemort's fall. I am organizing a reunion for the old staff of Hogwarts and the students who fought in the war."

"Congratulations" Snape sneers coldly.

Harry puts his feet at the corner of the door to prevent Snape from closing it.

"Snape. I'm inviting you."

"Appreciated. Have a nice day, Potter."

"You smartarse, just - listen. I don't care if you prefer to spend yet another evening alone with your books. They'll be expecting to see you. I –" Harry pauses, "I was hoping to see you too."

"You saw me. Now-"

"Next Friday, nine o'clock. My place. In case you change your mind."

As Harry walks away to the wet streets of London, he realizes that the party is actually on Saturday. He should go back and inform Snape, he considers, otherwise he might come home and find Harry alone. Oh well.

HP

"You were wrong." Snape repeats.

"Um. Yes. Kind of. The party is tomorrow."

Even if he had swallowed a lemon, Snape would look more cheerful than now. "You mean to tell me, you were banging at my door for half an hour to invite me on the wrong day. How mature."

"I thought it was for the best." Harry explains smiling.

"For the best." Snape seems having some trouble believing his own ears. He stares at me the same way uncle Vernon used to react to magic, Harry thinks.

"Yes, well. The opportunity to talk to each other without you being snarky or in authority. I bet you'd come to the party to talk to anyone but me, anyway."

Snape's answer doesn't need to be told. He'd come to the party to talk to nobody.

"So, are you coming in?" Harry asks.

Snape walks past him and to the lounge, to sit on the orange couch Harry bought shortly after he moved in. Snape observes it silently as if it's some tremendous furniture mutation.

Harry taunts, "So. What kind of drink would you like so you can stand me for a few hours?"

Snape's lips twitch as he summons the whiskey. "Poisoned."

HP

"…Of course they won the Champion Cup; that was last week! How can you not have heard it? Even you must read the sports column from time to time." Harry insists.

"Quidditch," Snape retorts, spitting the word repulsed, "is nothing but a waste of time. What those fanatics believe they gain, watching fools flying around every week and stupidly gambling about their whereabouts is beyond me."

Harry laughs and takes another sip. "Dunno. Fun, maybe."

"Another proof some wizards have no gusto at all. Moreover…" As Snape continues his lecture about the horrible education level of everyone being alive, Harry realizes he's really drunk more than he should, and could feel his cheeks start flushing. Watching Snape into the low light, and pretending to be listening to him, he slowly brushes his fingers to Snape's thigh before turning his hand over and fondling softly the black trousers.

Snape stops talking and stays still as if he'd been struck by a bolt. "Mister Potter." His voice a dangerous hiss, "You have five seconds to remove your hand from my leg or I will break it."

Harry moves his palm a bit higher, the hot warmth of Snape's bulge almost penetrating the thin fabric. He whispers, "Five seconds is quite a long time. Are you sure you want me to remove it?" Snape's stare is deadly as he slams his glass to the table and with an unexpected strength grabs Harry's hand and pushes his fingers backwards.

"What do - ouch!" Harry's attempts to get away without breaking his knuckles bring him face to face with the man.

"Let me go." Harry orders.

"Tell me, why did you bring me here, Potter?" Harry's fingers are squeezed a little more and he winces.

"I told you." He answers angrily through his teeth.

"I bet you made up the whole reunion thing-"

"Oh, shut up Snape, I told you that was a mistake. Come tomorrow and see for yourself if you don't believe me."

Snape stares at Harry and Harry stares back.

Harry's fingers start to go numb. "You're hurting me," he says lowly.

Snape loses his grip and with a strong push on Harry's chest he lays him back to the couch and covers him with his own body, holding him trapped. Harry swallows. Snape smiles. Their lips almost touch and Snape leans closer to whisper to his ear.

"Hurting you? Not yet."

Fin