Breath of Morning (or Morning Breath)
by Icarus
Harry stirred a little, suddenly aware that he was still dressed. His jeans dug into his stomach. He felt a little sticky too, but he could ignore that to sleep a little longer. Blue jeans had to be the single most uncomfortable garment in which to sleep he decided. Which made Harry wonder why were they so comfortable during the day? It was one of those great mysteries he pondered in the mornings when his mind drifted with little else to do. He always thought of odd matters like that when he was in his cupboard, staying there a little longer in the mornings just to avoid Dudley.
The morning was bright, it was late, but he had nowhere to be and he was very tired. His whole body anchored itself to the bed. Though his mind was stubbornly awake.
It was a bad combination, tired body, awake mind.
Harry blinked and glanced about. He was pleasantly surprised by his surroundings. Severus' room. Oh yeah. He remembered.
He unbuttoned the jeans, peeled them off… it was so hard to do… and tossed them onto the floor. Severus stirred beside him, always the light sleeper. Fortunately, Severus the morning viper curled into his corner of the bed and went back to sleep. Without complaint. That was rare. He did not like to be disturbed. For someone who complained bitterly about Harry taking too much of the bed, he certainly took very little of it.
Harry realised with a pleased smile that this was the first lay in he'd ever had with Severus. Usually, those few times they had accidentally fallen asleep after sex, they were too busy throwing clothes on and packing Harry off to his rooms. It didn't matter anymore. Harry was officially no longer a student. And he was welcome to stay. Harry savoured that a moment.
Harry looked down at his arms. There was no mark or any outward indication of the Spell. Somehow he had expected a Dark Mark or, well, something like it. But Severus said Voldemort had branded him, so this Spell must work somewhat differently.
It was so good just to lie here next to Severus. He rolled over deliciously and studied the older man aware he may never get another chance. Harry loved to sleep in, while Severus, despising the morning though he always did, was efficiently up early, every day. Something to do with a Wizarding bed that froze over after a certain hour as a child. Harry couldn't exactly picture someone like Mrs. Weasley doing that to her kids. The Snape family must be a joy. It made his cupboard seem quite luxurious by comparison. At least it was always warm.
Black hair tumbled across the pillow next to Harry. Elegant hands clutched the duvet, his precise cheek bones almost carved under dark lashes. He had a wide mouth, sensual, lips parted. He must be very tired to be so relaxed, Harry thought. Blunt dark eyelashes fluttered a little, and there was slight crease in his forehead. Severus did not have good dreams. He was also still dressed. Now that was a shame. Though his breeches looked considerably more comfortable than jeans. Even if they were stiff with blood.
"Hey, wake up a little, Severus. We have to get those off you." He was careful to speak first before touching him. Severus hexed out of a dead sleep, and looked later.
Severus groaned, wrapped himself around his pillow and rolled all the blankets off of Harry. But Harry knew Severus was awake. He couldn't sleep through a pin drop. A low growl proved Harry right.
"I would turn you into a potted ivy… if I were still amongst the living."
"Good morning. You know, you were much cuter when you were asleep."
Severus' cough was almost a laugh. "No one has ever called me 'cute.'"
Harry pulled the blankets and stained sheets off Severus. Severus was not helpful at all, he just threw an arm over his face. His sleeve was crusted to the elbow.
"C'mon. Ugh. You're covered in blood. Let's get these things off you - Ow!"
Harry had leaned up on an arm, forgetful of his freshly sliced hand. The cut broke open sharply, stinging, and seeped new blood. Severus glanced up.
"Watch where you bleed. The sheets are Hogwarts' - bleed on them. Not the pillows. Those are mine. We will need to tend our wounds. Tomorrow. Perhaps next week…" he rolled over on his side.
"No, no, no, I've got it. Sometimes I forget I'm a Wizard," Harry picked up his wand off the end table, leaving his glasses there for the moment. He pointed his wand at his hand: "Vestigia Retrorsum!"
The cut attempted to close itself, shuddered, and fell open again. Harry stared. Severus spared him a bleary sarcastic glance. There were dark circles under his eyes.
"You cannot counter the effects of a powerful Spell with a Healing Charm. Certainly not the Ligare Juncta Commisceo. Easier to fill a crater with a teaspoon. Our hands must heal naturally."
Harry hadn't considered that. It made sense though.
"Well?" Severus asked. Harry looked up, a bit confused. "You could conjure us a few bandages, yes?"
"Oh. Of course," said Harry, who quickly summoned a roll of Medi-Gauze. It had 'the best Healing Charms woven into every inch!' Or so the packaging said. Not helpful, but at least it was still gauze. As Harry wrapped Severus' hands, he asked curiously.
"You know that Spell then?"
"Yes. I have often tried to remove the Dark Mark," Severus grunted. He watched Harry as he carefully guided the bandage around his thumb. Harry's glasses had slipped to the end of his nose. Severus bit back a slight wince as Harry pulled it a little tight. "As no doubt your research discovered, the Dark Mark is believed to be based on the Commisceo. I must admit, I was so bent on removal I never considered the possibility of adding a competing Spell. But then, I suppose I did not want it either. One is bad enough."
"So, do you know what it does?"
"You do not?!" Severus sat up. Harry's hard work came undone in a spiral.
"Well, I have the general idea. But I didn't bother to go through all the details." Harry was a bit sheepish. Mostly he just needed to know how to do it. The 'why' of it was Hermione's job.
"Details he calls it. A Spell that is going to effect him for the rest of his life. Details." Severus said in disgust. "Harry - you are reckless! Of all the irrational, unthinking, mindless, misbegotten… you are a hazard to yourself and others! I ought to wrap you up and store you in box. Permanently!
"If I had known you were that stupid I would never have agreed!"
"Well what does it do?" Harry asked. It seemed pointless to be upset about it now. It had worked. He was just grateful they had survived. Besides, Harry trusted Hermione. Though she had been worried about this Spell. He had assumed her worry was because it was so difficult.
"I'm not sure. Oh, I know what the Commisceo ought to do. It is usually used by very close friends. Or lovers…" Severus' glance at Harry was warm. "But what it will do in conjunction with a competing version, the Dark Mark? I have no idea."
Harry took Severus' hand again to try to redo the bandage. It was no use. Harry conjured a fresh roll of the purple Medi-Gauze.He looked up at Severus.
"Well. I suppose we're going to find out."
"You are a fool, Harry. An outrageous arrogant fool," Severus said darkly, shaking his head with a laugh of stunned disbelief.
A slow smile spread across Harry's face.
Once stripped and bandaged, they had fallen back to sleep. Harry woke to a clattering sound in the kitchen and the sound of running water. He wandered in wearing Severus' robe and nothing else, yawning.
Severus was dressed in flowing black and was tasting what smelled like - and what Harry dearly hoped - was food. Harry was famished.
"G'morning," Harry said. Severus glanced back at Harry over his shoulder.
"It is afternoon. Be civilized and have a bath. You have blood on you," Severus gave him a look of distaste. Severus himself could not have been up that long however. His hair was still wet.
"You are a beast in the morning," Harry said, sitting down at the kitchen table and picking up The Daily Prophet.
"It's afternoon," Severus informed him. "And I hate mornings. Mornings are for headaches and responsibility. In the morning that beautiful boy from the night before has bad breath and bad hair - "
"I'll brush my teeth," Harry responded. He stood and hovered curiously over Severus' pans, and then ran his hands through Severus' wet locks. "But you know, I like it when your hair's a mess. Reminds me you're human."
" - and blood on him. Go have a bath," Severus pushed him away.
Harry tasted some of the blood on his arm, aiming a grin in response to Severus' best glare. "Salty. I think it's some of yours."
Harry lifted a lid on one of the pots and sniffed. "I didn't know you could cook…"
Severus set the spoon in his pot and gave him a long steady gaze.
"Potions is cooking. One would think that after seven years you might have noticed." He added some herbs. "Though I suppose I should not be too surprised. Given your grades in my class."
"Yeah, how did I do, by the way? On the final."
"Potions? You passed, barely. By the skin of your teeth. Virtually no one did. But you failed the Dark Arts. Miserably."
Harry sampled one of Severus' pots. "Oh…"
"Well, what do you expect? You only made an effort for one class. Though I may reconsider your Dark Arts grade, considering your, ah, recent extra credit work…"
"No - I meant, wow, this is really good." Harry seized some pot-holders and moved the steaming container to the counter. "I expected to flunk both classes, given how mad you were."
"I am not biased. I merely have higher standards than some other Professors, whom I shall do the undeserved favor of not naming."
Tongue in cheek, Harry decided not to answer that. He sleeked a lock of hair out of Severus' face and stroked his back.
"You look a little a pallid this morning, " Harry noted.
"It is afternoon. Go get dressed. And have a bath. Not in that order."
"Sure you don't want some of this blood back?" Harry smirked.
"Oh yes. Do save some of it for me. I shall have it in my afternoon tea. And sprinkle a little dirt with it, if you don't mind," Severus said, leaning back into Harry's kneading hands.
"Aha! We always knew you drank the blood of students!"
"As you drank the blood of your teacher?" Severus asked with an arched eyebrow.
Their eyes met darkly.
"You could at least say thank you. Next time Voldemort rings you, and you don't want to answer, you're either going to be able to fight back or I'm going down the toilet with you." Harry's gaze was steady. He leaned on the counter.
"I spend half the afternoon cooking. That means no house elves, no one around. No interruptions. One would think someone bright enough to locate that Spell might be able to put these facts together," Severus pointed out scathingly.
"Oh. Well, uh, actually… Hermione found it," Harry confessed.
"Then never mind: You flunk Dark Arts. Granger passes instead." Severus said.
"Hey! I worked the Spell!"
"Then you get everything else." Severus purred. He turned to Harry.
"I'll take you up on that. Right now," Harry said under his breath. He backed Severus against the kitchen table and began pulling up his robes, kissing his neck and face. The pepper mill clattered to the floor.
"Fucking on the kitchen table? Unhygienic…"
"You keep Bolyvorg Potion with the food - !" He finally had Severus' robes up to his waist. Trousers underneath. Wizards wore too much clothing.
Severus surfaced from a kiss and breathed through a toothy smile: " - it is Hermetically Sealed. I watched the Hermit Seal it myself." Harry had his trousers down. He had torn off the belt to Harry's robe. His robe. It was really fine Harry hadn't dressed after all. "So long as no one tampers with it - "
Harry was a pleasant pressure against his backside, pressed against Severus, trembling. Maddeningly, Harry stopped.
" - oh, do go on…" Severus gasped in frustration.
"In the kitchen? It's unhygienic." Harry teased him.
"I don't care!" Severus' fist hit the wall and the salt shaker fell to the floor, scattering salt everywhere. Severus looked up.
"You had better move my sugar bowl first."
Severus had finally managed to get Harry to take a shower. Harry's arms were draped around his shoulders and chest, the water cascading down their backs. It turned Severus' hair into a smooth black sheet, slick and soft along Harry's shoulder. Harry leaned his chin against Severus' collarbone with a sigh.
"Mmm. I love the hair," Harry nuzzled him.
"Really? I hadn't heard."
Severus' habitual toss of his head made the fine sheet dance on Harry's back. As he well knew. The reaction was predictable. Not that Harry being predictable was always a bad thing. Harry was very willing by the time Severus got him to the bedroom. Soft sheets and downy pillows was always his preference.
Later in the bedroom, Harry was zipping up his trousers and tucking in his shirt. He glanced about for his glasses. Useless to look for something when you can't see. He noticed Severus twirling something familiar in his fingers.
"Lost something, have you?" he chided, straightening his robes. "Be more careful, I almost sat on them. Objects are never quite the same after a Reparo Spell. Best not to break them in the first place."
"They've had ten Reparo Spells. At least. And I was busy. After all, I want to enjoy you before we're both dead."
"You do not think much of your abilities." Severus said flatly.
"Neither do you."
"Oh, I do not think much of your common sense. Or rather, your complete and utter lack of it." Severus pointed out. Not handing Harry his glasses back yet. "I also do not think much of you as a student to be perfectly honest. You are arguably one of the worst I have ever had. Despite your ability to somehow pass my exams. Your handwriting is atrocious - I should be wearing a pair of these by now as a result - and you have no patience for research. Your essays… are an equal mix of bullshit and mindless parroting, bereft of insight and sometimes even thought. Do not ever think you got away with it. I am not a bad teacher and I know when someone makes no effort.
"But. When it comes to real, practical, physical magic? Well, there are those say you are one of the best Hogwarts has seen in a long time. Do not let it go to your head, Potter! I have reservations about telling you." He handed back the glasses.
"According to who?" Harry was stunned.
"That is 'whom,' Harry. The werewolf, Professor Lupin for one. While he was here." Severus watched Harry carefully. "Dumbledore for another. As for myself, until yesterday, I thought they were blinded by that ineffable 'Potter mystique' that seems to cling to you and lets you get away with whatever you want. Even in my kitchen. But after last night's performance… well, it seems my teaching you was not a complete waste of breath. You may prove me wrong if you like. But if you don't mind, wait until after Voldemort has learned I'm a spy. Long after."
"It may not come to that you know," Harry said.
"We should be so lucky," Severus said seriously.
Finis. Next: 'Evening.'