Note: In the original version of this story, it included lyrics from the song 'Real Love' by John Lennon which has been cut in this version due to the websites rules, but were mildly important (or at least a nice added bonus) to the fic. If you would like to read it with the lyrics, the link to my livejournal is on my profile. Once there, go through the tags to find the title.
Real Love
He doesn't know how to tell Harry that he loves him.
His life was never supposed to be like this, and he is unsure how to handle it now. Severus Snape has always been a person with low self esteem, and he fears pushing Harry away.
Sitting as Harry is now, in the window seat reading, with the sun bathing his body in an odd, almost ethereal glow, he looks the picture of good. The gold light seems to accentuate how young he is, giving an innocent light to his features.
Severus doesn't think he deserves Harry, so he relaxes in moments like these, committing every second to memory, convinced that, in the end, the memories will be all he has left. So Severus ignores the book in his lap, watching Harry instead as the sky starts to darken, waiting until the inevitable time when he will leave.
Severus Snape would never have thought that he would become so sentimental that he would watch a man for an hour without pause, but he is. And yet, he still can't tell the man he loves the true depths of his feelings.
Harry looks up; catching Severus watching him, and the sun only accentuates the beauty of the grin he flashes at Severus. Severus feels his breath catch, just for a moment, at the sight before him.
He briefly considers the fact that he may be going soft in his old age, and then files it away for later contemplation. There would be time for that later, once Harry left.
The glow is darkening, now bathing Harry in a darker light, but he is no less perfect because of it. Sometimes Severus thinks Harry looks best in dark colors, for they seem to show the contrast between themselves and Harry's brightness and vitality. Sometimes Severus is forced to face the fact that he is going soft. It surprises him by being a not entirely unpleasant thought.
Harry stands up, abandoning the book on the seat, and saunters over to Severus, a slightly mischievous glint in his emerald eyes. He plops himself onto Severus' lap ungracefully, winding his arms around Severus' neck and burrowing his head in Severus' shoulder.
"What are you thinking about?"
"You." Harry always knew if he lied.
"Why?"
Severus shrugs uncomfortably. "Because the sun was trying to give the misguided impression that you are innocent."
The emerald eyed monster snorts into Severus' shoulder. "Thank you, Sev."
Severus rests his head in Harry's hair, subconsciously memorizing the way his body fits perfectly against Severus' own, Harry's smell, the feeling of his hair tickling Severus' nose.
"What are you thinking about now?"
"Nothing." Severus would be damned before he admitted he like the way Harry smelled. The boy would be insufferable.
"Sev… I was wondering if it wouldn't bother you too much if I stayed over tonight. I mean, I don't have to work tomorrow, but if you do, then it's fine."
Harry has stayed over before, and not always on nights when he didn't have to work the next day, so Severus wonders what has made him so nervous. "It's fine with me, Harry."
"Good." Harry makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a sigh of relief. "Should I go make dinner, then?"
Severus usually lets Harry cook when he stays over. Harry is a tolerable cook, and it makes a nice change to have someone cook for him. Harry generally banishes him to his laboratory or office while he cooks, since, Harry claims, Severus had gotten too used to "abusing" him in Potions class and can't cut the habit when Harry cooks.
Severus is surprised, but pleasantly so, when he returns to his kitchen to find candles lit and a bottle of champagne open on the table.
"Special occasion?" he asks Harry with a lifted eyebrow.
"I just felt like it." Harry blushes, and Severus decides not to push the point. He sits down in his chair, watching Harry bring the plates to the table. Harry has made Shepherd's Pie, even though he doesn't like it, because it is one of Severus' favourites. Severus decides not to question Harry's motives in case he never does something like this again.
Dinner is a pleasant, if rather quiet, affair. Severus never talks much while eating and Harry seems too nervous to start any real conversation. Severus wonders if it is a Gryffindor thing, to suddenly be unable to form a coherent sentence. At least Slytherins only had a reputation for evil, and could still use their brains.
Harry serves trifle for dessert, another one of Severus' favorites. As Harry manages to almost spill something five times while bringing the trifle to the table and then serving it, Severus decides that, no matter how amusing it is to watch him fumble, it is probably time he talked to Harry. Preferably before the boy actually breaks something.
"You're nervous."
Harry starts and looks up.
"Hunh?"
"You appear nervous tonight."
"Oh…yeah…ummm…."
"Is there a reason?"
Severus knows it is irrational, but he fears what Harry will say. Harry looks at the table.
"Not really. I mean, nothing that I should be worried about, but, uh, well."
Severus lifts an eyebrow, clearly saying Your eloquence never fails to amaze me.
Harry mumbles for a second longer then says "Oh, screw it. But…just…let me do this properly, ok? Finish your trifle, then join me in the sitting room."
This has got to be the oddest break-up speech Severus has ever heard, but he continues to eat. Harry takes the bottle of champagne and both their glasses into the sitting room. He prepares silently, leaving Severus to his thoughts… which the man doesn't particularly appreciate. Suddenly the trifle tastes like dust, and Severus gives up and moves towards the sitting room.
Harry stands in front of the lit fireplace. He has lit the candles, and a Muggle CD player sits on the mantel beside him. He smiles nervously when he sees Severus, and gestures for him to sit on the chesterfield. Harry takes a deep breath and turns on the CD player. Music immediately fills the air.
"The song sort of fits…. but…unh… I wanted to…" Harry takes another deep breath, kneels, and then says, rather quicker than usual, "I love you, and I think you love me too. I love waking up beside you, the mornings you let me stay. I love how you're even grumpier than usual until you have a cup of tea. I love seeing you happy. I love seeing you around Potions, in your element. I love just sitting with you, just sitting. And well… I think you love me too, even though I worry sometimes that there is no reason for you to continue being with me, and that someday you'll realize that. But well… I wanted to ask you a question."
"I love you, Severus Tobias Snape. Will you give me the happiness of marrying and bonding with me?"
Severus feels his brain start again.
"You're too young to-"
Harry cuts him off.
"After all this time, are you really going to use my age as an excuse? I've never been young, Severus. I'm certainly not now."
Severus wonders if he is the only one who has noticed the room grow stuffy.
"Wizarding Bonds cannot be broken."
"I know." Harry finally drops his eyes, looking at the floor instead. The song starts again, obviously set on repeat. "But I don't want it to break… I mean, I get it if you don't want to, that's fine, you don't have too. I don't want to make you think that you have to Bond with me… it's OK, honestly. I just thought it would be…nice." Harry trails off, feeling his face flushing.
"I…" And suddenly, Severus realizes that he would like very much to Bond with Harry. Perhaps it is a selfish desire, but, for once, Severus does not stop to examine his reaction.
"I…Alright."
Harry looks up in amazement.
"Alright? To the Bond, even? Everything? You'd let me always be able to know what you're feeling?"
Severus couldn't lie to Harry about his emotions now, a Bond would only negate the need for him to ask. Severus nods. Harry crows in triumph and Severus finds himself with a lapful of happy Gryffindor, and his lips engaged in an activity other than talking.
When Harry starts kissing his neck, Severus screws up his courage—almost enough to say the three words.
"How did you know I love you?"
The fire and Harry's bright, happy smile battle to see which can light up the room brightest.
"Oh, it was quite easy, really." Harry's voice is teasing. "After a while, I noticed that there were whole hours when you didn't insult me or call me names. That's when I knew."
"Brat."
"Mmmmm. Your brat."
A good time later, Harry asks, "So, does this mean I can finally move in?"