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My Armor, my Prison
"Potter, why?" The man was almost invisible in the dark room. The few glimmering coals in the fireplace gave but the barest hint that he sat in the high-backed chair behind the massive desk. His voice was low and even as always, tightly controlled, but Harry still thought he heard a slight tremor in it.
"Because I wanted to," he said, just as softly.
Snape stood up quickly, fury (and pain?) evident in every barely visible line of his body. The words were first a hiss, then a scream: "Do not make fun of me! I do not know what made you come here yesterday, ply me with whiskey like a... a cheap date and then seduce me into bed, but at least be straightforward and end this cruel joke! The night is over, and I am no longer falling for your unbelievable little story. You've had your fun with your greasy old Potions teacher, now leave and tell all your disgusting little friends like the good Gryffindor you are. Out!"
Harry knew any words would be for nothing. Silently, he left.
Dusk found him at the top of the Owlery, staring out into the slowly dawning morning, cold at heart and helpless. "But I do love you, just like I said. Why didn't you want to listen? Who taught you so well to believe yourself unworthy of love?"
He clenched his hands to fists so hard the nails dug into his skin. The first rays of weak, red sunlight touched the spires and bays of Hogwarts; red like blood, reminding him that Voldemort was still out there, waiting. Time was too precious to lose. Tomorrow, the new graduates would be leaving Hogwards for good, and no one, in this time of war, could say who would ever return.
He bit his lip then straightened resolutely. He'd break Snape's door down if needed, but he wouldn't leave like this. The man had to listen. Harry would make Snape see that he had meant everything he'd said.
"Harry Potter" ficlet by allaire mikháil, 340 words, Harry/Snape, Harry POV, rated PG
I blame this on too much HP/SS fanfiction. It was supposed to become a PWP, inspired by the recent discussion on [SnapexHarry] concerning hot but tasteful sex. The muses had a different idea, though. Oh well, who dares argue with them? I also had to write it this way because in regard to Snape, I love the spitting madman, not the saint.
Thanks to John of [RareSlash] for a quick beta of a not-so-rare pairing. :-)
I don't own the characters (wish I did, though) and don't get any money off this, either. The respective rights belong to Joanne K. Rowlings, Warner Bros and various other people, while this story belongs to me.
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