Harry looked up. He was sitting in the cold living room shivering whilst reading the book he had left out the night before - which actually seemed a long time ago - because Snape had walked in. The older man was wearing surprisingly muggle clothes, a black silk shirt and blue jeans. He walked past Harry without giving him a glance, and the boy couldn't resist leaning over to study his arse. Oh god, Harry thought, What reason has he got to hide it underneath that goddamn robe?
He watched the vision disappear into the kitchen. Then he blushed. He really shouldn't be thinking.... Snape reappeared with a mug in hand.
"Do you always have nightmares?" Harry asked abruptly. Then he looked up. Snape's cup was shaking and he slammed it down on the sideboard - it slipped out of the side of the mug slightly and on to his hand but he was too busy storming towards Harry to feel any pain, who raised his arms in self defence. When he lowered them Snape was less that a foot away from his face.
"Who told you?" he snarled. Harry backed away from him - he wasn't going to let him intimidate him - and crossed his arms.
"You were screaming last night. I came in. You were having a night terror." He paused. "I thought only children had those," he added spitefully. nape slipped into the seat opposite him. He had his head in his arms within a moment, his skin even paler than it usually was. There was a pregnant pause.
"Go away, Potter," he said quietly. Harry got up and stood indignantly on the rug, his hands curled underneath his armpits. As much as he hated to hurt him like this - revenge, something hissed inside him - he wanted to badly. He wanted to push it further, to see if the tables really had been turned.
"Come on, what is it? What have you been keeping from everyone?" he demanded. Silence. He took a step forward and Snape rose slowly from the chair.
"Who said you had a right to know?" he said softly. Harry knew his ploy. The soft-but-dangerous voice didn't work on him any more.
"I did," he growled. Snape blinked and Harry felt guilty for a second.
"And who are you?"
"We're not talking about me." Harry found himself nearer and nearer Snape with every word. "Come on, what is it? Your parents? Voldemort? My father?"
"SHUT UP!" He yelled it. Harry was taken aback. Snape had shouted before, but yelled? No. It was always dangerously low or growled. And the way he was looking at Harry was strange. Harry'd hit a nerve and he was standing wide-eyed, his arms uncrossed. He looked as if he'd been slapped. "Just SHUT UP!"
Harry wanted to stop. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when he was so near.
"That's it, isn't it? James, my father. You had an affair with him, didn't you?" It was Harry's turn to yell. His father with Snape? Impossible. Just impossible. "How..."
"No," Snape said. Harry looked into his eyes, saw a tear roll down his cheek. It was wiped away angrily. He shook his head. "No. That was the point."
Harry sat down on the couch a few metres away from him. He'd made him cry. After all this time he had his revenge. He'd made him cry. He felt darkness and guilt shroud him. " I don't understand," he whispered.
Snape had his back to him when he started speaking again, but Harry could see he was fiddling with his hands in his lap. "Harry, he chose your mother over me, ok? I know that's what you want to know. I act this way towards you because I resent you. I resent your existence, every fibre of your being because of who you are. And who you turned out to be."
"You're so bitter because of that?" Harry said, looking up.
"Got a problem?" he asked, turning. There was no infliction in his voice. "Why don't you rush off to tell you're little friends?"
"What do you take me for?" Harry was outraged. "You think i'd tell anyone something personal like that?"
Snape stood. "Anyone normal would," he growled.
Harry did to. "By that you mean Slytherin."
His eyes flashed. "Such an angst-ridden tone from the Boy-Who lived," he remarked. "You've no conception of what I've been through. Don't try to understand me."
"You think I'd want to?" Harry asked, incredulous. "You'd think I'd want to know what goes on in that mind of yours?"
"You don't know what pain is!" Snape yelled angrily. Harry would have been scared if he wasn't so angry.
"You don't know what love is!" Harry stood, wide eyed, inches from his face. Then he kissed him passionately.
Snape broke away, looked him straight in the eye. It was a question.
Harry nodded, leaning forward and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Snape caught his hands and Harry looked up.
"Harry, I can't," he breathed. "You're too young, you're James son..."
"I'm sixteen. And don't talk about my father. Please," he pleaded. "I want this. I know you do."
"Harry, it's morally wrong," Snape protested, trying desperately to ignore Harry's hand snaking towards his crotch. "I'm your teacher."
"Were," Harry corrected, as his hand found it's mark and their lips connected once more
***
Um, not as many funny bits in that chapter. But it was fun to write. And i did do as some of the reviewers wanted me to, i made sure i emphasised the fact that Snape and James was unrequited and suchlike whatever else....some of you may have noticed that it's not being written by all three of us any more ^_^ since i kept hogging the chapters with my uncliched weirdness and supposed excellent ideas, so we're doing a sort of challenge where we each write slash and whoever's got a certain amount of reviews in a certain time wins, so i get to carry on with weirdness. Also, as another point, chapter two was actually written by me and not Yuffie, long story, but basically i signed off with her name because she was overloaded with coursework. Anyway, expect lots and lots of slash in the next chapter since you all seem to be so perverted. I can see you all now, sitting on the edges of your seats with your face thrust in the monitor reading 'Yes Harry, harder!"
Some of you may think that Sevviekins wouldn't cry. Come on, guys, everyone has weaknesses. He's not always infallible. Oh, and if you've thought of a plotline I might use, think the opposite and I will.
You disgust me. Yet I still love you.
Yours,
Wil.
He watched the vision disappear into the kitchen. Then he blushed. He really shouldn't be thinking.... Snape reappeared with a mug in hand.
"Do you always have nightmares?" Harry asked abruptly. Then he looked up. Snape's cup was shaking and he slammed it down on the sideboard - it slipped out of the side of the mug slightly and on to his hand but he was too busy storming towards Harry to feel any pain, who raised his arms in self defence. When he lowered them Snape was less that a foot away from his face.
"Who told you?" he snarled. Harry backed away from him - he wasn't going to let him intimidate him - and crossed his arms.
"You were screaming last night. I came in. You were having a night terror." He paused. "I thought only children had those," he added spitefully. nape slipped into the seat opposite him. He had his head in his arms within a moment, his skin even paler than it usually was. There was a pregnant pause.
"Go away, Potter," he said quietly. Harry got up and stood indignantly on the rug, his hands curled underneath his armpits. As much as he hated to hurt him like this - revenge, something hissed inside him - he wanted to badly. He wanted to push it further, to see if the tables really had been turned.
"Come on, what is it? What have you been keeping from everyone?" he demanded. Silence. He took a step forward and Snape rose slowly from the chair.
"Who said you had a right to know?" he said softly. Harry knew his ploy. The soft-but-dangerous voice didn't work on him any more.
"I did," he growled. Snape blinked and Harry felt guilty for a second.
"And who are you?"
"We're not talking about me." Harry found himself nearer and nearer Snape with every word. "Come on, what is it? Your parents? Voldemort? My father?"
"SHUT UP!" He yelled it. Harry was taken aback. Snape had shouted before, but yelled? No. It was always dangerously low or growled. And the way he was looking at Harry was strange. Harry'd hit a nerve and he was standing wide-eyed, his arms uncrossed. He looked as if he'd been slapped. "Just SHUT UP!"
Harry wanted to stop. But he couldn't. Not now. Not when he was so near.
"That's it, isn't it? James, my father. You had an affair with him, didn't you?" It was Harry's turn to yell. His father with Snape? Impossible. Just impossible. "How..."
"No," Snape said. Harry looked into his eyes, saw a tear roll down his cheek. It was wiped away angrily. He shook his head. "No. That was the point."
Harry sat down on the couch a few metres away from him. He'd made him cry. After all this time he had his revenge. He'd made him cry. He felt darkness and guilt shroud him. " I don't understand," he whispered.
Snape had his back to him when he started speaking again, but Harry could see he was fiddling with his hands in his lap. "Harry, he chose your mother over me, ok? I know that's what you want to know. I act this way towards you because I resent you. I resent your existence, every fibre of your being because of who you are. And who you turned out to be."
"You're so bitter because of that?" Harry said, looking up.
"Got a problem?" he asked, turning. There was no infliction in his voice. "Why don't you rush off to tell you're little friends?"
"What do you take me for?" Harry was outraged. "You think i'd tell anyone something personal like that?"
Snape stood. "Anyone normal would," he growled.
Harry did to. "By that you mean Slytherin."
His eyes flashed. "Such an angst-ridden tone from the Boy-Who lived," he remarked. "You've no conception of what I've been through. Don't try to understand me."
"You think I'd want to?" Harry asked, incredulous. "You'd think I'd want to know what goes on in that mind of yours?"
"You don't know what pain is!" Snape yelled angrily. Harry would have been scared if he wasn't so angry.
"You don't know what love is!" Harry stood, wide eyed, inches from his face. Then he kissed him passionately.
Snape broke away, looked him straight in the eye. It was a question.
Harry nodded, leaning forward and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Snape caught his hands and Harry looked up.
"Harry, I can't," he breathed. "You're too young, you're James son..."
"I'm sixteen. And don't talk about my father. Please," he pleaded. "I want this. I know you do."
"Harry, it's morally wrong," Snape protested, trying desperately to ignore Harry's hand snaking towards his crotch. "I'm your teacher."
"Were," Harry corrected, as his hand found it's mark and their lips connected once more
***
Um, not as many funny bits in that chapter. But it was fun to write. And i did do as some of the reviewers wanted me to, i made sure i emphasised the fact that Snape and James was unrequited and suchlike whatever else....some of you may have noticed that it's not being written by all three of us any more ^_^ since i kept hogging the chapters with my uncliched weirdness and supposed excellent ideas, so we're doing a sort of challenge where we each write slash and whoever's got a certain amount of reviews in a certain time wins, so i get to carry on with weirdness. Also, as another point, chapter two was actually written by me and not Yuffie, long story, but basically i signed off with her name because she was overloaded with coursework. Anyway, expect lots and lots of slash in the next chapter since you all seem to be so perverted. I can see you all now, sitting on the edges of your seats with your face thrust in the monitor reading 'Yes Harry, harder!"
Some of you may think that Sevviekins wouldn't cry. Come on, guys, everyone has weaknesses. He's not always infallible. Oh, and if you've thought of a plotline I might use, think the opposite and I will.
You disgust me. Yet I still love you.
Yours,
Wil.