Title: Severus Snape and the Seven House Elves
Author: The Goddess Artemis (ckomm@uci.edu)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Not even the plot ;) I blame J.K. Rowling's wonderful character creation and the pervasiveness of Disney in American culture.
Warning: Contains slash. Enjoy ;)
A/N: Fic challenge at end! Feedback appreciated, even if I am a relative recluse.
Severus Snape and the Seven House Elves
Severus Snape looked down at the candied apple and scowled. What was that offensive thing doing on his desk? Another one of Dumbledore's attempts to get him into the holiday spirit, no doubt. "Ah well," he thought. "Might as well get rid of it." He took a bite, refusing to admit that he was actually very hungry, having missed dinner (again) in order to tag along on one of Lucius Malfoy's harebrained attacks on some poor Muggle village. No sooner had the piece of fruit passed his lips, than he staggered and collapsed in a heap on the ground.
The voices in the Great Hall were quiet, much quieter than usual. The teachers whispered solemnly amongst themselves, and none of them felt much like eating. At the Gryffindor table, Ron told his friends, "Well, at least we won't have to put up with that greasy bastard any more."
"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione. "You shouldn't say such things! He was a professor!"
"Honestly, Hermione. No one's going to miss him, except the Slytherins because they won't be getting any more points from him. I don't know why you care so much."
"Well, I don't!" said Hermione. "But you shouldn't speak ill of him, after what happened. Even if he is a complete bastard," she said, smiling. "I wonder who our new professor will be?"
Harry sat quietly, hearing his two friends talking about their professor. Then he got up and ran from the room. "What's with him?" asked Hermione.
"Maybe he's afraid he's going to be next?" suggested Ron. "After all, Dumbledore did tell us he thought that You-Know-Who was involved." Hermione nodded, a concerned look on her face.
Harry ran from the room, blinded by the tears that he dared not to let his friends see. It wasn't that their comments had been undeserved, just that it hurt to hear them discussing the man with so little compassion. He knew that they had never looked past the man's hard exterior; they had never needed to. Sometime during the past year, however, Harry had come to see a new side of him during the ongoing battle with Voldemort. Harry was determined that at least somebody would mourn his passing.
Out of breath, he climbed the stairs to the infirmary, preparing himself for what he would see. Severus Snape lay there on one of the beds, as immaculate as if he had been simply resting after a long day of teaching classes, and surrounded by a ring of seven house elves. "What are you doing here?" asked Harry, confused.
"We Master Snape's house elves," said one, looking sad.
"Poor, poor Master," said a second, wailing quietly.
"Could you go get me a chair?" asked Harry. The house elves disappeared. Slowly Harry approached the bed, gazing down at the midnight tresses that spilled over the contrasting white pillowcase, the sallow cheeks, the hooked nose. The closed eyes. Never had Harry seen him without those glaring eyes focused sharply and unmistakably on him. Slowly, Harry reached out a hand and touched the cold cheek that still held its softness. "How could you die like this?" Harry whispered. He wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. "You were supposed to live. To be our savior. MY savior…" His tears fell unheeded into the man's dark robes. "You… your…" He trailed off. "I need you"
Harry leaned over, tears and snot mingling with his mouth, tempered with the distinct taste of Severus' lips. After a brief moment, Harry pulled away, and without opening his eyes turned his back on the room.
"Aaack!" came a loud sound from behind him. The sound of coughing. Eyes wide, Harry beheld something he never believed he could see again. Snape, sitting up on the bed, coughing up his guts. Harry ran to him, disbelieving until he felt the body beside him, his hand on the Professor's back to ease his coughing. Finally he was able to speak coherently.
"Potter! If you ever do something like that again I'll… yuck!" He raised a hand to wipe the goop off his lips. Harry just held him, refusing to let go. A moment later Severus collapsed into his arms, burying his face in Harry's chest. "I can't believe I was so stupid!" he exclaimed. "And you... you came for me! Why?" he demanded.
Harry looked at him, shocked. "What do you mean? How… what… you're dead!" he said stupidly.
"Don't be a fool, Potter," Snape replied. "The poison merely induces a sleep resembling death, not death itself. I'm sure Voldemort never suspected that anyone would find the cure." He glanced down at the large chunk of apple that he had coughed up onto the bedspread. "Only a fool would make the mistake of assuming none of his servants have lovers."
"Lovers?" asked Harry, confused.
"Of course," said Snape. "This particular poison can only be cured by the kiss of one who feels love for its victim." He looked meaningfully at Harry, who blushed profusely. He remained silent for once, knowing he wouldn't be able to say anything intelligent. Snape reached out a hand to cup Harry's cheek. "You do have… feelings… for me, do you not? Harry would have blushed harder, if that had been possible. As it was, he ducked his head, nodding shyly. "Look at me," said Snape. He tilted Harry's chin up slightly, and brought his lips once more to those of the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry moaned softly, tears falling anew from his green eyes. "What's the matter?" asked Snape, worried now. "I thought you wanted this."
"I do," said Harry. "I thought you were dead," he reiterated. "Don't ever leave me?"
"Never again," promised Severus, before returning the kiss.
The End
Challenge: Write a Snape/Harry story based on a folk tale or children's story (i.e. Rumplestilsken, Hansel and Grettle, ect.) Bonus points for including Voldemort as a character recognizable in the original story. Stories I'd really like to see done include Rapunzel and the old (Scottish?) folk tale of Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight.
What are you waiting for? Get writing! J
