PLEASE READ: This story inspired by "A Perfect Fit", by Marie Goos. Slightly fluffy and OOC, but still, it started the SSxPW plotbunnies hopping.
I do not own these characters, nor am I making money off of this fiction.
Also, this fic contains SLASH. If you don't know what that is, you probably don't need to be here.
~~~~ = Memories. Although you could probably guess that.
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"Stop mocking me," Snape growled. He was furious. Of all people to say THAT to him, Severus Snape, it HAD to be Percy Weasley, that sniveling Gryffindor prefect. Percy's brown eyes flashed, glinting dangerously.
"I'm not mocking you, dammit!" His voice rose loudly, shrilly even, until Snape was slightly fearful someone would hear him and come down to the dungeons to investigate. Percy, almost as tall as he was, stood level with him, and it was difficult for Snape not to feel slightly threatened.
"Mr. Weasley, if I were you, I would march out of this room and back to your Gryffindor tower, where I would forget that any of this happened at all. And if I was lucky, I would hope that my professor would let it slip his mind as well." His black eyes glowed with rage. "I will not mention this to anyone if you do not-" His admonition was cut off by the pert mouth of the young redhead. His lips were soft, but they crushed hard against the thin line of Snape's mouth, demanding a response. Snape reluctantly, almost bitterly, returned the kiss, until at last, his young tormentor's hand left the back of his head and broke away.
"I hate you," Snape bit out, livid.
"I hate you back," Percy hissed.
Snape's anger flared. "Then why did you kiss me?"
"BECAUSE YOU NEEDED IT!" Percy roared. Snape was stunned. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously soft.
"What did you just say?" Percy knew that he was being reckless, but he didn't care.
"I said you needed it. You need to be kissed, hard and often, damn you. Jesus, you're so damn miserable, you can't see anything anymore. How long has it been since anyone wanted to kiss you? Or has anyone wanted to at all?"
The Professor of Potions was still, very still, like a snake before a strike. Percy's voice quavered as he plunged ahead. "God, you'd be so wonderful if you'd just smile every once in a while. Is it so hard for you to fucking smile? What has to happen to make you happy? Don't you think that you deserve to be happy?" Tears gave his eyes a silver rim, but he blinked them away, opening his mouth and inserting both feet. "Oh, I see," he whined sarcastically, "You're the Head of Slytherin, the great Potionmaster, Severus Snape. Heaven forbid that you ever be anything approaching happy or even content. You can't be either. You don't know how, and worse, you're satisfied with your slimy, sour world, wallowing in self-pity." His face took on a cruel sneer. "Imagine that, Severus Snape settling for second place."
Snape moved forward suddenly, with deadly speed, and gripped the young prefect's shoulders, his fingers digging into the soft flesh he found and he relished the pain that manifested on Percy's face. "Shut up." Percy looked up into the older man's face, searching his eyes, and then said in a hushed voice, "Of course, who am I to talk, right? When I leave here, I'll be settling for second place." His eyes rested on Severus' mouth, and through his grip on Percy's shoulders, Snape felt his arm jerk as if to touch him, and then go still. Percy shook out of Snape's claw like hands and picked up his books, trudging out the door, leaving a silent Snape in his wake.
Percy closed the heavy oaken door behind him, and then leaned against the wall on his arm, squeezing his eyes shut until he saw spots burst on the backs of his eyelids. It was time for dinner, and he was already late. He hitched up his robes and began jogging to McGonagall's office, hoping to catch her before she left. He did, but only barely, catching sight of her sweeping down the hall. "Professor McGonagall!" She turned her imposing face on him. "Yes, Percy?" She continued drifting toward the Great Hall, as she herself was running behind. He stammered. "I'm…not feeling well. May I pass on dinner this evening?" Normally, students wouldn't ask permission to skip meals- they just did. But Percy felt he had to go through the right channels. At least then, no one would ask about him.
McGonagall was surprised. "Of course you may. Do you think you might go to the infirmary? If it's your stomach, I'm sure Professor Snape can make a potion for it." Percy smiled weakly. "Oh, I don't think it's serious enough for that, but if it gets any worse, I'll be sure to see him." McGonagall nodded, satisfied with this and continued on to the Great Hall, leaving Percy alone in the cavernous corridor. Snape would be wanted at the head table during dinner, he was already late- if and when he went to dinner, it would be through this hallway. Percy made an effort to get to the Fat Lady's painting before he could encounter anyone else, especially Snape. The last person he wanted to see right now was the Potions professor. The Fat Lady looked down on him from her comfortable chair inside the painting. "Password?"
"Jumbleguts," he murmured and the painting swung open, admitting him to Gryffindor Tower. He ducked his head through the door- he really was almost too tall- and found Hermione Granger sitting at one of the tables, scrolls and parchments spread out around her. "Oh, hello Percy," she mumbled distractedly. "Hello, Hermione," he muttered back. She was up for Head Girl if she kept this up. For once in his life, he wished he hadn't been an overachiever. It might have been easier to blend away into the background.
Snape rushed through the halls, his large black robes billowing behind him. Damn Percy Weasley. Damn the whole Weasley clan. All they ever did was cause trouble and behave incompetently. Damn Percy Weasley again. What did he think he was doing, saying those things to him? Stupid boy. But he is a good kisser, his libido chimed in. Snape had been surprised at his response to the boy's mouth, which had been strong and instantaneous. Oh, he'd responded to Percy's advances alright, he thought to himself. Almost responded his way out of a job. Of course, his talents with potions were widely known- he could have certainly gotten a position at Beauxbatons, or worse, Durmstrang with that idiot Karkaroff. Frankly, he loved England's constant fog and mist. It matched his moods. He swept into the Great Hall, where he garnered looks from Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hagrid, but his foul temper shone through to the last, and for fear of causing a scene, all of them were quiet as the meal began.
After dinner, Snape returned to his dungeons, putting together things for the first class in the morning. He had just shifted some papers about, pretending to be busy. It was the not-busy that distressed him, because it meant he would be alone with his thoughts, and all he could think about was Percy Weasley. In exasperation, he began making up more healing concoctions for the infirmary. It was at least something to do. However, even that was so routine that his mind wandered. Percy had skipped dinner. Obviously it was to avoid seeing him, and Snape frankly couldn't blame him, although he felt the boy was a bit coward to run from him. He ought to take his punishment like a man, instead of avoiding him like a damn child. Snape would not let him forget this violation of his personal space and resolved to find some way to take it out on the Gryffindors in the morning. Maybe on Percy's younger brother, Ron, who was a friend to… His heart twisted into spasms of glee as he thought of what he could make Potter and Weasley do to make up for Percy's transgressions. Besides, torturing the Boy Who Lived always made Snape's day.
Percy woke from a dreamless sleep, his leg hanging out of his bed, his nightgown bunched up around his hips. He'd been flailing in the night, obviously, and he vaguely remembered falling out of bed and sleepily getting back into it. He rubbed his eyes, feeling them ache in his skull and his stomach rumbled loudly. He needed food, but he needed a shower first, to wash the fatigue off of him. He slid out of bed in the blue pre-dawn light, grabbed his things and a change of robes, trudging off to the prefect's washroom. The shower was hot, hot enough to turn his skin red, but it jolted him awake. He picked the sand out of his eyes under the water flow, scrubbing his face. He tried to check in with his brain, to see what classes he had today, and his brain responded with Yes, you have Potions today, you stupid git. Percy whined, leaning against the smooth tiled wall. He just had to survive the hour and get out as quickly as he could. It wasn't hard to feign dislike of Snape, especially when Percy was still so angry with him. He tried to recount the events leading up to The Kiss. Christ, he was capitalizing it already.
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Snape lifted an eyebrow as he looked up, finding the redheaded prefect waiting patiently for permission to speak. He pursed his lips. Although he disliked Gryffindors, Percy had a respect for order and rules that he admired.
"Class is over, Mr. Weasley, unless you had some problem with the lesson?" He tacked that last part on to annoy Percy- he knew very well that the star student would have had no problems with such a simple potion. It failed to have the desired effect, and Snape had to hide his disappointment.
"I was wondering, sir, if…" He trailed off and Snape put down his quill, folding his hands in a manner that spoke of annoyance.
"If what, Mr. Weasley?"
Percy gulped. "If you knew that you have a beautiful smile."
Snape blinked. Surely he was hearing things. "Excuse me?"
"I was wondering if you knew you had a beautiful smile, sir. Because it would be nice to see it more often." Snape's nostrils flared. Percy had some gall to tell him this in his own classroom.
"I don't appreciate your idea of a joke, Mr. Weasley. Five points from Gryffindor. I hope you're not going the way of your brothers," he finished, referring to Fred and George, the trickster twins.
"I'm not joking, sir. I really would like to see you smile more often. It would suit you, I think." Snape glared at him, which was more than enough to make even McGonagall think twice about proceeding with whatever foolish course of action she had chosen. Percy chose that moment to grin shyly at him, and it made Snape see red. "Don't insult me." Percy's smile faded. "I'm not." Snape's black eyes glittered and he sized Percy up. If necessary, he could take him. Percy, however, walked up to Snape, standing right in front of him, almost eye-to-eye with the older man. His voice dropped to more suggestive tones. "I would love to see you smile," he murmured. "Stop mocking me," Snape growled, stepping back from Percy. Percy's eyes were suddenly angry, suddenly outraged, and the change was so quick, it startled Snape. Suddenly, Percy was no longer an obedient prefect, but an aggressor. "I'm not mocking you, dammit!"
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Percy's eyes snapped open in the shower. It had happened so fast. He hadn't trusted himself to do it, but once he'd started, he couldn't stop. The glowering man who taught Potions had presence in boatloads. He bewitched Slytherin girls and boys in spite of his less-than-sexy appearance, and that same presence had bewitched Percy. Percy sighed and shut off the shower. It was time to go down to the Great Hall. He'd spent 45 minutes in the shower, just standing there. He was dreading breakfast something awful, but he had duties, and he had to fulfill them. Regretfully, he dressed, groomed himself meticulously and then left the steamy showers behind him, walking down to the Great Hall, where Snape surely waited.
I do not own these characters, nor am I making money off of this fiction.
Also, this fic contains SLASH. If you don't know what that is, you probably don't need to be here.
~~~~ = Memories. Although you could probably guess that.
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"Stop mocking me," Snape growled. He was furious. Of all people to say THAT to him, Severus Snape, it HAD to be Percy Weasley, that sniveling Gryffindor prefect. Percy's brown eyes flashed, glinting dangerously.
"I'm not mocking you, dammit!" His voice rose loudly, shrilly even, until Snape was slightly fearful someone would hear him and come down to the dungeons to investigate. Percy, almost as tall as he was, stood level with him, and it was difficult for Snape not to feel slightly threatened.
"Mr. Weasley, if I were you, I would march out of this room and back to your Gryffindor tower, where I would forget that any of this happened at all. And if I was lucky, I would hope that my professor would let it slip his mind as well." His black eyes glowed with rage. "I will not mention this to anyone if you do not-" His admonition was cut off by the pert mouth of the young redhead. His lips were soft, but they crushed hard against the thin line of Snape's mouth, demanding a response. Snape reluctantly, almost bitterly, returned the kiss, until at last, his young tormentor's hand left the back of his head and broke away.
"I hate you," Snape bit out, livid.
"I hate you back," Percy hissed.
Snape's anger flared. "Then why did you kiss me?"
"BECAUSE YOU NEEDED IT!" Percy roared. Snape was stunned. When he spoke again, his voice was dangerously soft.
"What did you just say?" Percy knew that he was being reckless, but he didn't care.
"I said you needed it. You need to be kissed, hard and often, damn you. Jesus, you're so damn miserable, you can't see anything anymore. How long has it been since anyone wanted to kiss you? Or has anyone wanted to at all?"
The Professor of Potions was still, very still, like a snake before a strike. Percy's voice quavered as he plunged ahead. "God, you'd be so wonderful if you'd just smile every once in a while. Is it so hard for you to fucking smile? What has to happen to make you happy? Don't you think that you deserve to be happy?" Tears gave his eyes a silver rim, but he blinked them away, opening his mouth and inserting both feet. "Oh, I see," he whined sarcastically, "You're the Head of Slytherin, the great Potionmaster, Severus Snape. Heaven forbid that you ever be anything approaching happy or even content. You can't be either. You don't know how, and worse, you're satisfied with your slimy, sour world, wallowing in self-pity." His face took on a cruel sneer. "Imagine that, Severus Snape settling for second place."
Snape moved forward suddenly, with deadly speed, and gripped the young prefect's shoulders, his fingers digging into the soft flesh he found and he relished the pain that manifested on Percy's face. "Shut up." Percy looked up into the older man's face, searching his eyes, and then said in a hushed voice, "Of course, who am I to talk, right? When I leave here, I'll be settling for second place." His eyes rested on Severus' mouth, and through his grip on Percy's shoulders, Snape felt his arm jerk as if to touch him, and then go still. Percy shook out of Snape's claw like hands and picked up his books, trudging out the door, leaving a silent Snape in his wake.
Percy closed the heavy oaken door behind him, and then leaned against the wall on his arm, squeezing his eyes shut until he saw spots burst on the backs of his eyelids. It was time for dinner, and he was already late. He hitched up his robes and began jogging to McGonagall's office, hoping to catch her before she left. He did, but only barely, catching sight of her sweeping down the hall. "Professor McGonagall!" She turned her imposing face on him. "Yes, Percy?" She continued drifting toward the Great Hall, as she herself was running behind. He stammered. "I'm…not feeling well. May I pass on dinner this evening?" Normally, students wouldn't ask permission to skip meals- they just did. But Percy felt he had to go through the right channels. At least then, no one would ask about him.
McGonagall was surprised. "Of course you may. Do you think you might go to the infirmary? If it's your stomach, I'm sure Professor Snape can make a potion for it." Percy smiled weakly. "Oh, I don't think it's serious enough for that, but if it gets any worse, I'll be sure to see him." McGonagall nodded, satisfied with this and continued on to the Great Hall, leaving Percy alone in the cavernous corridor. Snape would be wanted at the head table during dinner, he was already late- if and when he went to dinner, it would be through this hallway. Percy made an effort to get to the Fat Lady's painting before he could encounter anyone else, especially Snape. The last person he wanted to see right now was the Potions professor. The Fat Lady looked down on him from her comfortable chair inside the painting. "Password?"
"Jumbleguts," he murmured and the painting swung open, admitting him to Gryffindor Tower. He ducked his head through the door- he really was almost too tall- and found Hermione Granger sitting at one of the tables, scrolls and parchments spread out around her. "Oh, hello Percy," she mumbled distractedly. "Hello, Hermione," he muttered back. She was up for Head Girl if she kept this up. For once in his life, he wished he hadn't been an overachiever. It might have been easier to blend away into the background.
Snape rushed through the halls, his large black robes billowing behind him. Damn Percy Weasley. Damn the whole Weasley clan. All they ever did was cause trouble and behave incompetently. Damn Percy Weasley again. What did he think he was doing, saying those things to him? Stupid boy. But he is a good kisser, his libido chimed in. Snape had been surprised at his response to the boy's mouth, which had been strong and instantaneous. Oh, he'd responded to Percy's advances alright, he thought to himself. Almost responded his way out of a job. Of course, his talents with potions were widely known- he could have certainly gotten a position at Beauxbatons, or worse, Durmstrang with that idiot Karkaroff. Frankly, he loved England's constant fog and mist. It matched his moods. He swept into the Great Hall, where he garnered looks from Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hagrid, but his foul temper shone through to the last, and for fear of causing a scene, all of them were quiet as the meal began.
After dinner, Snape returned to his dungeons, putting together things for the first class in the morning. He had just shifted some papers about, pretending to be busy. It was the not-busy that distressed him, because it meant he would be alone with his thoughts, and all he could think about was Percy Weasley. In exasperation, he began making up more healing concoctions for the infirmary. It was at least something to do. However, even that was so routine that his mind wandered. Percy had skipped dinner. Obviously it was to avoid seeing him, and Snape frankly couldn't blame him, although he felt the boy was a bit coward to run from him. He ought to take his punishment like a man, instead of avoiding him like a damn child. Snape would not let him forget this violation of his personal space and resolved to find some way to take it out on the Gryffindors in the morning. Maybe on Percy's younger brother, Ron, who was a friend to… His heart twisted into spasms of glee as he thought of what he could make Potter and Weasley do to make up for Percy's transgressions. Besides, torturing the Boy Who Lived always made Snape's day.
Percy woke from a dreamless sleep, his leg hanging out of his bed, his nightgown bunched up around his hips. He'd been flailing in the night, obviously, and he vaguely remembered falling out of bed and sleepily getting back into it. He rubbed his eyes, feeling them ache in his skull and his stomach rumbled loudly. He needed food, but he needed a shower first, to wash the fatigue off of him. He slid out of bed in the blue pre-dawn light, grabbed his things and a change of robes, trudging off to the prefect's washroom. The shower was hot, hot enough to turn his skin red, but it jolted him awake. He picked the sand out of his eyes under the water flow, scrubbing his face. He tried to check in with his brain, to see what classes he had today, and his brain responded with Yes, you have Potions today, you stupid git. Percy whined, leaning against the smooth tiled wall. He just had to survive the hour and get out as quickly as he could. It wasn't hard to feign dislike of Snape, especially when Percy was still so angry with him. He tried to recount the events leading up to The Kiss. Christ, he was capitalizing it already.
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Snape lifted an eyebrow as he looked up, finding the redheaded prefect waiting patiently for permission to speak. He pursed his lips. Although he disliked Gryffindors, Percy had a respect for order and rules that he admired.
"Class is over, Mr. Weasley, unless you had some problem with the lesson?" He tacked that last part on to annoy Percy- he knew very well that the star student would have had no problems with such a simple potion. It failed to have the desired effect, and Snape had to hide his disappointment.
"I was wondering, sir, if…" He trailed off and Snape put down his quill, folding his hands in a manner that spoke of annoyance.
"If what, Mr. Weasley?"
Percy gulped. "If you knew that you have a beautiful smile."
Snape blinked. Surely he was hearing things. "Excuse me?"
"I was wondering if you knew you had a beautiful smile, sir. Because it would be nice to see it more often." Snape's nostrils flared. Percy had some gall to tell him this in his own classroom.
"I don't appreciate your idea of a joke, Mr. Weasley. Five points from Gryffindor. I hope you're not going the way of your brothers," he finished, referring to Fred and George, the trickster twins.
"I'm not joking, sir. I really would like to see you smile more often. It would suit you, I think." Snape glared at him, which was more than enough to make even McGonagall think twice about proceeding with whatever foolish course of action she had chosen. Percy chose that moment to grin shyly at him, and it made Snape see red. "Don't insult me." Percy's smile faded. "I'm not." Snape's black eyes glittered and he sized Percy up. If necessary, he could take him. Percy, however, walked up to Snape, standing right in front of him, almost eye-to-eye with the older man. His voice dropped to more suggestive tones. "I would love to see you smile," he murmured. "Stop mocking me," Snape growled, stepping back from Percy. Percy's eyes were suddenly angry, suddenly outraged, and the change was so quick, it startled Snape. Suddenly, Percy was no longer an obedient prefect, but an aggressor. "I'm not mocking you, dammit!"
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Percy's eyes snapped open in the shower. It had happened so fast. He hadn't trusted himself to do it, but once he'd started, he couldn't stop. The glowering man who taught Potions had presence in boatloads. He bewitched Slytherin girls and boys in spite of his less-than-sexy appearance, and that same presence had bewitched Percy. Percy sighed and shut off the shower. It was time to go down to the Great Hall. He'd spent 45 minutes in the shower, just standing there. He was dreading breakfast something awful, but he had duties, and he had to fulfill them. Regretfully, he dressed, groomed himself meticulously and then left the steamy showers behind him, walking down to the Great Hall, where Snape surely waited.