Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Lilies	By : strosevae Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 6378 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter 9
The melody that drifted out of the dungeons was one of distress and agony. It was loud, chilling, yet melancholic at the same time. And it was coming from Snape’s room.
Snape ended the piece by slamming the poor piano keys in a huff. Usually, whenever he was in a sour mood, playing a few loud pieces would calm him down. Now, however, no matter what or how long he played, his mood didn’t improve at all. Snape closed the piano, sighing angrily, and plopped down on his sofa, tapping his feet anxiously.
It has been almost 5 weeks since the summer holiday began, and throughout Snape had tried hard not to think about a certain black-haired boy. He really tried, and even when Snape assured himself that this time would be different, he still found himself worrying about the Muggles mistreating Harry. Snape grimaced at the thought of the boy returning to Hogwarts with more fresh wounds.
Snape downed a glass of Firewhisky and, now filled with liquid courage, stormed up to Dumbledore’s office, who didn’t seem surprised at Snape’s sudden appearance. He simply motioned for him to take a seat.
“Is there anything I can help you with, Severus?”
“I want to know about… about how Potter’s doing,”
Dumbledore didn’t answer immediately. He paused and looked as if he was crafting his words carefully, “I’m afraid he’s not doing too well. Mr Ronald Weasley informed me about his failed attempt at communicating with Harry.”
Snape exhaled in irritation. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the holiday to end. There must be something he can do. He couldn’t bear the thought of Harry getting abused for much longer; he felt like he could go crazy with worry.
“Can’t he stay somewhere else?”
“He has no other relatives, Severus, and I’m sure you remember the importance of that place to Harry’s well-being,”
Snape scowled, “I remember, but there has got to be something we can do. The boy could very well die under their care,” he spat the last word with disgust. Dumbledore twirled a little silver ball in his hand.
“Where do you propose he stay for the remainder of the summer, Severus?”
Snape stood up and paced around the room, his robes sweeping behind him. There were a few people who sprang into his mind, but they were quickly crossed out one by one. Not Minerva, she’s married and school policy doesn’t permit her to stay with anyone of the opposite sex besides her husband. And Hagrid is too careless and possibly dangerous to Harry’s health. Staying at Gryffindor tower was also not an option as school policy doesn’t allow anyone to stay there alone without supervision. Snape sat back down with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“My place,” he said quietly.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“No,” Snape replied, “But it’s better than him staying there,”
Dumbledore kept twirling the silver ball in silence as he contemplated Snape’s offer. Snape himself was horrified at his own suggestion. Living with Harry - the walking reminder of James’ arrogance - was something he had never considered, but the words seemed to spill out of his lips in reflex, and he couldn’t retract the offer now. His body tensed as he watched Dumbledore thinking about it.
After what felt like hours, Dumbledore finally put the ball away and took out a piece of parchment, dipped his scarlet quill in ink, and began to write.
“I wrote about your offer, but it’s still his decision,” Dumbledore said, slipping the parchment into an envelope and giving it to Snape, who nodded curtly at the older man before going out of the office.
For the last 6 days, Snape had spent most of his time lingering by the window, squinting against the harsh sunset, searching for signs for a certain snow owl. And every night that the owl didn’t come left a little sting of hurt inside him. On the seventh night, when the pale moon shone like a silvery claw in the night sky, Snape was about to go back to the dungeons with yet another tinge of hurt reverberating through him when a subtle shadow flickering across the spilled moonlight caught his eye.
It was Hedwig, and she was bringing a letter.
Snape’s heart jumped in his chest as he leaned forward with his arm outstretched to try and lessen the distance between him and the white owl. Hedwig fluttered lightly onto his arm, hooting softly and once Snape put her down, extended her leg so he could untie the parchment attached.
The reply was simple, brief, and written in a rushed, sloppy way, but it made something warm flow throughout his entire being. Happiness? No, more of… satisfaction. Snape slipped the parchment into his pocket, let Hedwig hop onto his arm, and went back to the dungeons, a shadow of a smile gracing his lips.
Harry stumbled as he got out of the fireplace when they arrived at Dumbledore’s office. Snape immediately caught him by the waist, causing the boy to wince before he thanked him and sat down.
“Ah, Harry, I’ve been expecting you,” Dumbledore smiled warmly. Harry smiled back.
“Um… can I really stay here? I don’t have to go back to the Dursleys?”
“Yes, you’ll be staying with Professor Snape,”
“Why can’t I,” Harry glanced nervously at Snape, who was standing near the door with his usual blank expression, “Stay in Gryffindor tower?”
“I’m sorry Harry, but school policy dictates that no student can stay in the dorms without supervision,”
“Oh, okay...”
“Another thing to note is that there are no meals in the Great Hall for the summer. You’ll have to eat in your room. Now why don’t you go and get comfortable in your new room?” Dumbledore smiled.
Harry nodded and turned to look at Snape expectantly, who simply said, “Follow me, Potter,” before walking out of the room.
Snape’s private quarter wasn’t what Harry had expected at all. It was quaint and cozy, with a soft carpet and a big, plush sofa near the extensive bookshelf - filled with not only a vast amount of books but also glass jars containing potion ingredients - that took up an entire wall. Harry, amazed at the amount of books Snape had, absentmindedly let his fingers softly trail along the books as he took in the rest of the room. There was a fireplace, a round coffee table, a grandfather clock, and a desk at the corner of the room, stacked with parchments. It wasn’t much, but it made Harry feel more comfortable than he had ever been, second only to the Burrow.
“If you’re done looking around, you can start unpacking your things. I’ve made space for you in the chest of drawers in the bedroom,” Snape said, making Harry blush. He immediately went into the room Snape pointed and stopped in the doorway. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. There, in the corner of the bedroom, stood a beautiful black piano that really complemented the decor, and although his broody professor didn’t strike Harry as someone who plays the piano, that wasn’t what shocked Harry. It was the slim silver vase on top of the piano that had a lily in it that surprised Harry. The birthday lily he had given Snape, still alive and seemed to have grown even lovelier.
But didn’t Snape burn the lily? How was it still here then?
Harry quickly unpacked what little clothes he had from his trunk, which Snape had placed near the drawers, before going back to scrutinize the lily. It was definitely the one he had gifted him. But… how?
He was so fixated on the flower that he didn’t hear Snape calling him with impatience dripping from his voice. Snape entered the bedroom, annoyed and ready to snap at the boy for his incredible slowness, but the words froze on his tongue, rendering it numb when he saw Harry stroking the lily petals softly, as if afraid it would disappear right under his touch, just like an illusion or a trickery of the light.
“Potter…”
Harry turned to look at him; disbelief, curiosity, and fear flickering across those clear, green eyes; his lips parted in a silent question that couldn’t get past his throat; his fingers trembling slightly under the unspoken pressure. Harry had never looked as vulnerable as he did in that moment.
“Potter,” Snape tried again, and as the sound shattered the silence, Harry seemed to have found his voice once more.
“You didn’t burn it,” he whispered so quietly that Snape almost missed it.
“I didn’t.”
“But, that day… During the detention…”
“I simply placed it in my room, which is why you didn’t see it during the detention,” Snape paused, and looked straight into Harry’s green eyes, which were wide and brimming with emotions, expectations, hope. “I would never burn it,” Snape whispered, surprising himself.
Harry stayed quiet, letting the words wash over him, igniting a warm glow from within. He wanted to hug the man and express his happiness in a stream of grateful words, but knew that Snape wouldn’t appreciate it, so he smiled at him instead, hoping it would convey all the feelings he couldn’t say.
And it did. Snape didn’t say anything and his expression remained passive, but Harry could see something stirring in his obsidian eyes. Snape gave a little nod before turning and walking out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his excitement. He felt a little lightheaded from all the happiness bursting out of him and carefully sat on a nearby armchair to wait it out. A sigh of contentment escaped him as he curled up on it and closed his eyes, his lips stretched into a smile he couldn’t suppress.
“Potter, it’s time for lun-” Snape peeked into the room and stopped when he saw Harry sleeping on the armchair, looking very serene. Snape hesitated for a moment before picking him up gently into his arms and carrying him towards the bed. Harry turned and snuggled into his chest.
Snape put him down softly and pulled the blankets up to cover the boy before turning to leave, but was halted when Harry wouldn’t let go of his hand. He tugged lightly, trying to get his hand off, causing Harry to whimper in his sleep. Snape sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, rubbing comforting circles on the back of Harry’s hand, watching the boy fall into a deeper sleep, his chest rising and falling slowly.
The smile never left his face.
Harry wanted to wash the dishes after dinner - he felt guilty for not doing anything useful and embarrassed for having woken up in Snape's bed - but Snape refused to let him near the sink and insisted that magic will do just fine. So Harry sat down on the soft carpet and started doing his homework on the short coffee table, grateful that he didn’t have to do them in the dark again. Snape was absorbed in reading an old, thick leather-bound book on the sofa near Harry, who took his chances and stole little glances at the man, taking in his relaxed yet focused expression as his eyes pored over the small, cursive writing in the yellowing pages of the book.
Harry jumped and instantly felt his face burn when Snape casually asked “What is it, Potter?” without looking away from the book.
“I- um… nothing…” Harry mumbled and quickly turned to his half-written essay, blushing furiously at being caught staring.
Snape held back the urge to chuckle. Harry had no subtlety at all.
When he was finally done with his Charms essay, Harry rolled up the parchment with a satisfied grin and put all his writing instruments away before getting up onto the sofa and stretching, tired after sitting cross legged for so long. He held his arms as high as he could, arched his back and moaned as he felt the relief wash over him. Sighing softly, he scooted closer to Snape but still left a respectable distance between them. After a few moments of silence and him fidgeting, Harry finally spoke up.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Why did you keep the lily?”
“Would you rather I burn it?” Snape’s reply was sharp and sarcastic as usual, yet Harry couldn’t help but grin sheepishly.
“Well, no. I just never thought you’d care for it for so long.”
“Then you don’t know me that well.”
“True…” Harry trailed off and stared at his hands. All of this was starting to feel a little too personal but the curiosity bubbling up inside got the better of him. “Why were you angry at me that day?”
Snape closed the book slowly and placed it onto the coffee table. He looked thoughtful for a few moments before turning to face him. Harry stiffened; he was not expecting the question to bring about such seriousness from the man. His black eyes locked with Harry’s own green ones.
“Because you reminded me of your mother,” Snape said softly, after a few moments of silence in which he contemplated whether to tell Harry the truth or not. He didn’t like having his privacy - his humiliating past - exposed, but Harry’s eyes were so genuine and innocent that he reluctantly gave in.
Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. He had never heard Snape talking about his mother in such a way: gentle, tender, almost caringly. Harry could see that the man was struggling to continue and - feeling like he had trespassed into an unknown and private territory - placed a hand on top of Snape’s, surprising the older man.
“Thank you,” Harry whispered, looking straight into Snape’s eyes and saw the emotions flickering briefly in the dark reflections. Then the grandfather clock chimed and the fragile moment shattered into pieces. Harry withdrew his hand, feeling a little embarrassed at his spontaneity, and when he looked up, he could no longer see what the Potions Master was feeling, his expression blank as usual.
“It’s getting late. We better go to sleep,” Snape finally said, getting up and leaving for the bathroom. Harry changed into his pyjamas (an oversized T-Shirt and pants) and waited for Snape to come out of the bathroom before brushing his teeth and washing up. When he came out, Snape was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and reading a smaller book, wearing only grey sleeping trousers with no shirt on. He was very fit, lean, and not overly muscular. Harry could feel the blush reddening his cheeks at the sight. Not wanting to be caught staring again, he immediately went towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Snape’s sudden question startled him.
“Um… the sofa. That’s where I’ll be sleeping, aren’t I?”
“No,” Snape put away the book onto his nightstand. “You’ll be sleeping on the bed.”
Now there was no hiding the blush on Harry’s face. “But…”
“Whatever ridiculous things you’re imagining right now, I can assure you, none of that is going to happen. There will be a pillow between us.”
“Oh, alright…” Harry muttered, still blushing at the thought of sleeping with Snape as he climbed under the covers. Snape put a pillow between them, separating the bed in two, before putting out all the lights with a wave of his hand.
“Goodnight, professor,”
Snape was woken up in the middle of the night by Harry tossing and turning fitfully beside him. He turned on a small bedside lamp and was about to tell him off when he saw that Harry was sweating and whimpering in his sleep, his hands twitching as if trying to grab something. Remembering the time Harry had a nightmare in the hospital wing, Snape took away the middle pillow, lay down, and started stroking and petting Harry’s head softly. Harry grabbed his hand unconsciously and leaned into it, letting out a soft sob.
Desperate to comfort the boy from whatever nightmare he was experiencing, Snape wrapped his arm around Harry and pulled him close. Harry snuggled into him, still whimpering as Snape continued to pet his head gently. Soon Harry’s breathing slowed and Snape felt his eyelids getting heavier by the second.
Then he drifted off with Harry still in his arms.

TBC
Yay I'm back! Thankyou for being patient with me. I wonder if I did a good job portraying Snape's feelings in this chapter 😶 This will be a long summer in Hogwarts hehe.
Thankyou for the reviews! I hope this hug makes up for the 'hug' in the last chapter XD
Please review! :D
-Strosevae
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Lilies