Author's note: This being fanfiction, the standard disclaimers apply. This was supposed to be at least mildly amusing, but between Napoleon and an unfunny mood... Oh, read it. ^^
You Can Cry On Me
Severus held out his arms; Harry ran into them and held on for dear life. The older man staggered slightly under the sudden impact of youthful indignation and Quidditch-toned muscle and bone.
" 'S not fair! " sniffed Harry, crushing his lover to him. Severus relaxed. Unused as he still was to comforting anyone, let alone the boy hero of the Wizarding world, he had to admit that it warmed the cockles of his sinful heart. He didn't really mind Harry crying all over him; it didn't take much to divert his attention to... other things. Yes, a nice feeling, despite everything.
Harry pulled up fistfuls of Severus's sleeves. And shifted his hips so that their groins connected.
A very warm feeling.
" You're not getting off dinner with your little sobfest again, Mr. Potter, " deadpanned Severus, the gruffness of his voice belied by the hand awkwardly stroking Harry's perpetually unruly hair.
A nice, warm, ...
*SNIFF!*
... wet...
Harry sprang back, his face reddening. Severus Snape looked slowly down at his shirt. Where a sizable blob of greeny pale snot glistened, fresh from the disgusting mucous layers within Harry James Potter's nose.
...
" POTTER! "
There is a time to fight, and a time to flee.
Harry fled.
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