veiledndarkness (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
veiledndarkness) wrote2007-03-04 11:14 am
veiledndarkness) wrote2007-03-04 11:14 am
Entry tags:
Mounted Empire's 'Ain't Love A Bitch?' Fic Challenge.
Title: The Significance of Flowers
Author: veiledndarkness
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus/Harry
Summary: Not every first time is storybook perfect.
Scenario: Bad First Time
Disclaimer: I don't own these two characters. They belong to each other and if you want to get real technical, they belong to J.K. Rowling.
*
Harry leaned against the bathroom wall, his hands crammed against his mouth, his chest heaving. He slowly slid down the wall, hitting the ground, his legs trembling. He hissed when his naked skin made contact with the cool tiles on the floor. Harry’s shoulders shook as he stared unblinkingly at the mirror in front of him.
His eyes followed the faint red marks, fingerprints that trailed over his chest. A strangled sob escaped his lips. On the verge of hyperventilating, Harry closed his eyes. He let his head thud against the wall, blinking rapidly as hot tears gathered and burned under his eyelids.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he whispered brokenly.
*
Severus rolled over in his sleep, blinking sleepily as he moved. He patted the empty space beside him, frowning as he sat up. He glanced around the room, his eyes narrowing as he saw light spilling from the bathroom, the door open slightly.
He slid off the bed, and moved towards the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, arms loosely folded over his chest. “Potter,” he said evenly. “I suppose there’s a reason that you’re crouched on the floor.”
Harry jumped at the sound of Snape’s voice, his eyes wide. “Uh, I…” he stammered nervously. He despised how tongue tied he still got around the man after so many years.
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Come back to bed,” he said quietly, his words a demand rather than a request.
Harry shivered, nodding. He stood up slowly, his bottom stinging fiercely. He walked stiffly towards the bed, gritting his teeth as he moved. Severus watched him walk, a deep frown on his face.
“Is something the matter?” he asked, studying Harry’s face.
Harry shook his head, unsure of what to say. “I…I’m sore,” he mumbled, blushing faintly.
Severus looked down at Harry’s chest for the first time, his face paling slightly. He eyed the marks, the way Harry was holding himself tightly. A rush of dawning realization slid over him.
“You…” Severus turned to the side, his eyes landing on the rumpled sheets on the bed, the blood vividly red, accusingly bright against the white sheets.
“You never told me this was your first time,” he said, his voice cold and hard.
Harry flinched. “It never came up,” he murmured. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, acutely aware of his nakedness. Severus scowled, making Harry more uncomfortable.
“I’m going to go now,” he said softly, gathering his clothes. He bit his lip, grimacing as he pulled his clothes on. Severus nodded; his eyes still on the bloodied sheets. He knew without looking that Harry’s thighs would also be bloody.
Harry grabbed his wand off the night table and hesitated by the bedroom door. He looked at Snape, wondering what, if anything, he should say. Snape glanced at him, his eyes blank.
He nodded again. Harry sighed, and left the room, the silence thick between them, echoing in his ears, choking him.
*
Harry moved about his flat, his every step irritating his skin. He ran a bath, his hands mechanically turning the knobs; letting the hot water fill the tub. He undressed slowly and stepped into the steaming water, wincing as the scalding hot water rushed around him.
He leaned back in the bathtub, his head throbbing. He wanted to cry, to scream at himself, at Snape, at his own foolishly romantic beliefs. Harry scooped some water up and splashed his face. He watched the water around him turn obscenely pink, traces of blood clinging to his thighs. Harry reached with one shaking hand for the bar of soap and lathered his hands up, washing away the blood, unwilling to look at it a moment more.
With his bath finished, Harry wrapped himself in his robe, curling up in his bed, his teeth clacking slightly in the still, cold room. He slept fitfully for some time until he heard an owl tapping furiously at his window with its beak.
Harry opened the window, allowing the dark bird into his room. The owl landed on his desk, a large brown bag clasped precariously in its claws. Harry approached him warily.
"For me?" he asked quietly. The bird stared at him, its yellow eyes gleaming in the light.
The owl released the long, oddly shaped bag on the desk. It ruffled its wings at him, hooting softly. Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, eyeing the package. The owl hooted once more before flying out the window.
Long after the owl had left, Harry moved from the bed. He broke the seal on the bag and lifted out a bouquet of flowers, charmed to stay fresh and bright. Against his will, Harry read the card that was attached with ribbon to one of the long stems, the flowing script familiar to him.
Forgiveness, I ask for. Trust, not easily given. My deepest apologies are yours.
He sighed, running a finger over the light purple blossoms of the hyacinth flowers, tracing the muted reds, and yellows of the freesia blooms. "Forgiveness and trust," he murmured to himself.
Harry placed them on the desk, his hands shaking once more. He sat down on the bed, rubbing his forehead, his head aching. He could scarcely believe that Snape was apologizing, much less by using flowers.
He stared at the bouquet, thinking about the man he thought he knew.
*
Earlier
Severus lifted the stirring spoon from his cauldron and rested it on the table beside him. He glanced at the reddish colored liquid, his thoughts turning to Harry once more. He closed his eyes, the faintest tremor of guilt over his actions hitting him.
He crossed the room angrily, collecting various bottles. In the hours after Harry had left, Severus had told himself that he did not care if he was hurt, that comfort was not something that he could or want to offer.
His scowl deepened as he carefully ladled out portions into the glass bottles. "Of all the ridiculous notions..." he muttered to himself, capping each bottle with a stopper.
Love, he sneered to himself. A foolish belief.
He sat down at his desk, placing his stack of papers to be graded and dipped his quill in the pot of ink. He began to grade the tests, the blood red ink scratching furiously over the words. Severus was halfway through the stack of tests, when he stopped, startled by the ink that dripped from his quill. He watched as the drop resting on the tip grew heavy, falling moments later and splattering against the pale parchment.
The splotch of ink gleamed in the dim room, the redness startling Severus. He watched the second drop fall, a sense of understanding sweeping over him. He could lie and say that he was not concerned, that he didn't care. That Harry's comfort mattered little to him.
"No," he breathed furiously. "I don't, I can't."
He tightened his grip on his feather, dimly hearing the snap echo in the room as it broke into two pieces in his hand. He stared at the ink again, his fingers numb.
"I lied," he said softly to himself.
*
Harry stood in front of the door, flowers clutched tightly in his hand. He breathed shallowly, summoning up his courage to knock on the door. Before his courage could flee and his common sense send him running, Harry knocked firmly on the door, holding his breath, though unaware of doing so.
"Enter," Snape said. His voice sounded hard, cold. Harry closed his eyes briefly, clearing his face and thoughts. He stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Severus looked up quickly from his desk as Harry came into view. "Mr. Potter," he said, forcing more harshness than was necessary into his words.
Harry nodded, stopping in front of the wooden desk. "Snape," he said quietly.
All the words that he had planned to say left his mouth that moment. He thrust the bouquet of flowers that he'd brought, handing them to Snape, his eyes on the ground, unable to think of what he should say.
Severus stared at Harry, then at the flowers that he now held. He brought them closer, examining them carefully. The bouquet was an assortment of white daisies, pink camellias, and white heather flowers. He placed them gently on his desk, thankful that his fingers did not tremble noticeably.
"Mr. Potter..." Severus began to say. Harry looked up at him, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
"Harry," he said softly.
Severus blinked. Harry stared back at him. "After last night, the least you could do is call me Harry," he said.
"For once, you are correct it seems," Severus said. "Harry."
He let one hand trail over the daisies, his finger smoothing the petals. "How familiar are you with the meanings of flowers?" he asked after another prolonged silence between them.
Harry shifted from one foot to another. "More than you'd imagine," he said. At Snape's questioning look, he sighed. "Hermione's gifts consist of books on every imaginable topic," he said with a rueful grin.
Severus nodded. "I see," he muttered. "Then you are aware of the symbolic words behind these particular flowers?"
Harry smiled slightly. "I am," he said. "After the bouquet I received, I thought that you might appreciate a likewise gesture."
Severus stood then, feeling completely off guard. "Harry, I must apologize," he said. "My...actions last night were inexcusable."
Harry swallowed slightly. "It's not an apology that I'm looking for," he mumbled. He ran one hand through his messy hair. "It's just...I had thought it would be something more, something special."
"A grand romantic event, complete with candles, sappy music and besotted words of love?" Severus snapped, regretting the words as soon as he had spoken them.
Harry flinched as though slapped. He curled one fist angrily, his face crumpling.
"Never mind," he said through clenched teeth. "I had expected a little more from you, I guess."
"You guessed wrong," Severus said, guilt swarming him. He pushed the thoughts away, his stomach knotted painfully at the look on Harry's face.
Harry laughed softly, a dry, scraping sound. "Wouldn't be the first time," he said.
He turned to leave, feeling his eyes burn fiercely.
"Sit down Harry," Severus said loudly. Harry's shoulders shook for a moment before he turned back around and sat heavily in the chair by the desk.
He glared at Severus, blinking rapidly. Severus moved closer to Harry, as close as he could without losing his restraint. He folded his arms, searching for the right words.
"I am not a romantic person, Harry," he said finally. "I've not the faintest clue as to the ways of romance, of the type of love that young people crave."
Harry shook his head. "I never said that I wanted that," he said crossly. "I don't know about romance and all the things that go with it. I just wanted to believe that you cared, cared enough to love me, just as I am. No hearts, no sappy gestures, just me, just Harry."
He bit his lip, having said more than he intended to say. "I..."
Severus hesitated a moment. "I...I'm not a young man," he said softly. "I fear that I can't give you all that you might need."
"You don't know what I need," Harry said, his voice low. "If all I need is you, how can it be so hard?"
Severus rubbed his thumb with his index finger. He moved a step closer to Harry, his hand hanging loosely by his side. Harry reached for it, placing his warm hand in his.
Severus felt the smaller hand fit in his just right. He looked down at their joined hands.
"I regret the previous night, only in that I hurt you," he said quietly.
Harry nodded. "I'll live," he said, his lips quirking in a small smirk. "Don't I always?"
Severus startled him by laughing softly. "That, you do," he agreed. He lifted Harry's hand, encouraging him to stand. He stroked his thumb over Harry's warm skin, a small smile on his lips.
Harry leaned up on his tip toes and kissed Severus then, carefully, gently. Severus let go of Harry's hand, bringing both of his up to cup Harry's face, his mouth softening, and opening under the heated kiss.
Harry licked his lip as they parted, his lips tingling. "Was that so bad?" he asked.
"Terrible," Severus said, kissing him again, harder this time. Harry smiled then.
"Love is what you make of it," he murmured against Severus's mouth. "Always."
*
Harry's Bouquet: Purple Hyacinth – Forgive Me, Freesia – Trust
Severus's Bouquet: White Daisies – Loyal Love, Pink Camellia – Longing, White Heather – Protection
Items: Bathroom Wall, Candles
*
Author: veiledndarkness
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus/Harry
Summary: Not every first time is storybook perfect.
Scenario: Bad First Time
Disclaimer: I don't own these two characters. They belong to each other and if you want to get real technical, they belong to J.K. Rowling.
*
Harry leaned against the bathroom wall, his hands crammed against his mouth, his chest heaving. He slowly slid down the wall, hitting the ground, his legs trembling. He hissed when his naked skin made contact with the cool tiles on the floor. Harry’s shoulders shook as he stared unblinkingly at the mirror in front of him.
His eyes followed the faint red marks, fingerprints that trailed over his chest. A strangled sob escaped his lips. On the verge of hyperventilating, Harry closed his eyes. He let his head thud against the wall, blinking rapidly as hot tears gathered and burned under his eyelids.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he whispered brokenly.
*
Severus rolled over in his sleep, blinking sleepily as he moved. He patted the empty space beside him, frowning as he sat up. He glanced around the room, his eyes narrowing as he saw light spilling from the bathroom, the door open slightly.
He slid off the bed, and moved towards the bathroom. He stood in the doorway, arms loosely folded over his chest. “Potter,” he said evenly. “I suppose there’s a reason that you’re crouched on the floor.”
Harry jumped at the sound of Snape’s voice, his eyes wide. “Uh, I…” he stammered nervously. He despised how tongue tied he still got around the man after so many years.
Severus raised an eyebrow. “Come back to bed,” he said quietly, his words a demand rather than a request.
Harry shivered, nodding. He stood up slowly, his bottom stinging fiercely. He walked stiffly towards the bed, gritting his teeth as he moved. Severus watched him walk, a deep frown on his face.
“Is something the matter?” he asked, studying Harry’s face.
Harry shook his head, unsure of what to say. “I…I’m sore,” he mumbled, blushing faintly.
Severus looked down at Harry’s chest for the first time, his face paling slightly. He eyed the marks, the way Harry was holding himself tightly. A rush of dawning realization slid over him.
“You…” Severus turned to the side, his eyes landing on the rumpled sheets on the bed, the blood vividly red, accusingly bright against the white sheets.
“You never told me this was your first time,” he said, his voice cold and hard.
Harry flinched. “It never came up,” he murmured. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, acutely aware of his nakedness. Severus scowled, making Harry more uncomfortable.
“I’m going to go now,” he said softly, gathering his clothes. He bit his lip, grimacing as he pulled his clothes on. Severus nodded; his eyes still on the bloodied sheets. He knew without looking that Harry’s thighs would also be bloody.
Harry grabbed his wand off the night table and hesitated by the bedroom door. He looked at Snape, wondering what, if anything, he should say. Snape glanced at him, his eyes blank.
He nodded again. Harry sighed, and left the room, the silence thick between them, echoing in his ears, choking him.
*
Harry moved about his flat, his every step irritating his skin. He ran a bath, his hands mechanically turning the knobs; letting the hot water fill the tub. He undressed slowly and stepped into the steaming water, wincing as the scalding hot water rushed around him.
He leaned back in the bathtub, his head throbbing. He wanted to cry, to scream at himself, at Snape, at his own foolishly romantic beliefs. Harry scooped some water up and splashed his face. He watched the water around him turn obscenely pink, traces of blood clinging to his thighs. Harry reached with one shaking hand for the bar of soap and lathered his hands up, washing away the blood, unwilling to look at it a moment more.
With his bath finished, Harry wrapped himself in his robe, curling up in his bed, his teeth clacking slightly in the still, cold room. He slept fitfully for some time until he heard an owl tapping furiously at his window with its beak.
Harry opened the window, allowing the dark bird into his room. The owl landed on his desk, a large brown bag clasped precariously in its claws. Harry approached him warily.
"For me?" he asked quietly. The bird stared at him, its yellow eyes gleaming in the light.
The owl released the long, oddly shaped bag on the desk. It ruffled its wings at him, hooting softly. Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, eyeing the package. The owl hooted once more before flying out the window.
Long after the owl had left, Harry moved from the bed. He broke the seal on the bag and lifted out a bouquet of flowers, charmed to stay fresh and bright. Against his will, Harry read the card that was attached with ribbon to one of the long stems, the flowing script familiar to him.
Forgiveness, I ask for. Trust, not easily given. My deepest apologies are yours.
He sighed, running a finger over the light purple blossoms of the hyacinth flowers, tracing the muted reds, and yellows of the freesia blooms. "Forgiveness and trust," he murmured to himself.
Harry placed them on the desk, his hands shaking once more. He sat down on the bed, rubbing his forehead, his head aching. He could scarcely believe that Snape was apologizing, much less by using flowers.
He stared at the bouquet, thinking about the man he thought he knew.
*
Earlier
Severus lifted the stirring spoon from his cauldron and rested it on the table beside him. He glanced at the reddish colored liquid, his thoughts turning to Harry once more. He closed his eyes, the faintest tremor of guilt over his actions hitting him.
He crossed the room angrily, collecting various bottles. In the hours after Harry had left, Severus had told himself that he did not care if he was hurt, that comfort was not something that he could or want to offer.
His scowl deepened as he carefully ladled out portions into the glass bottles. "Of all the ridiculous notions..." he muttered to himself, capping each bottle with a stopper.
Love, he sneered to himself. A foolish belief.
He sat down at his desk, placing his stack of papers to be graded and dipped his quill in the pot of ink. He began to grade the tests, the blood red ink scratching furiously over the words. Severus was halfway through the stack of tests, when he stopped, startled by the ink that dripped from his quill. He watched as the drop resting on the tip grew heavy, falling moments later and splattering against the pale parchment.
The splotch of ink gleamed in the dim room, the redness startling Severus. He watched the second drop fall, a sense of understanding sweeping over him. He could lie and say that he was not concerned, that he didn't care. That Harry's comfort mattered little to him.
"No," he breathed furiously. "I don't, I can't."
He tightened his grip on his feather, dimly hearing the snap echo in the room as it broke into two pieces in his hand. He stared at the ink again, his fingers numb.
"I lied," he said softly to himself.
*
Harry stood in front of the door, flowers clutched tightly in his hand. He breathed shallowly, summoning up his courage to knock on the door. Before his courage could flee and his common sense send him running, Harry knocked firmly on the door, holding his breath, though unaware of doing so.
"Enter," Snape said. His voice sounded hard, cold. Harry closed his eyes briefly, clearing his face and thoughts. He stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind him.
Severus looked up quickly from his desk as Harry came into view. "Mr. Potter," he said, forcing more harshness than was necessary into his words.
Harry nodded, stopping in front of the wooden desk. "Snape," he said quietly.
All the words that he had planned to say left his mouth that moment. He thrust the bouquet of flowers that he'd brought, handing them to Snape, his eyes on the ground, unable to think of what he should say.
Severus stared at Harry, then at the flowers that he now held. He brought them closer, examining them carefully. The bouquet was an assortment of white daisies, pink camellias, and white heather flowers. He placed them gently on his desk, thankful that his fingers did not tremble noticeably.
"Mr. Potter..." Severus began to say. Harry looked up at him, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
"Harry," he said softly.
Severus blinked. Harry stared back at him. "After last night, the least you could do is call me Harry," he said.
"For once, you are correct it seems," Severus said. "Harry."
He let one hand trail over the daisies, his finger smoothing the petals. "How familiar are you with the meanings of flowers?" he asked after another prolonged silence between them.
Harry shifted from one foot to another. "More than you'd imagine," he said. At Snape's questioning look, he sighed. "Hermione's gifts consist of books on every imaginable topic," he said with a rueful grin.
Severus nodded. "I see," he muttered. "Then you are aware of the symbolic words behind these particular flowers?"
Harry smiled slightly. "I am," he said. "After the bouquet I received, I thought that you might appreciate a likewise gesture."
Severus stood then, feeling completely off guard. "Harry, I must apologize," he said. "My...actions last night were inexcusable."
Harry swallowed slightly. "It's not an apology that I'm looking for," he mumbled. He ran one hand through his messy hair. "It's just...I had thought it would be something more, something special."
"A grand romantic event, complete with candles, sappy music and besotted words of love?" Severus snapped, regretting the words as soon as he had spoken them.
Harry flinched as though slapped. He curled one fist angrily, his face crumpling.
"Never mind," he said through clenched teeth. "I had expected a little more from you, I guess."
"You guessed wrong," Severus said, guilt swarming him. He pushed the thoughts away, his stomach knotted painfully at the look on Harry's face.
Harry laughed softly, a dry, scraping sound. "Wouldn't be the first time," he said.
He turned to leave, feeling his eyes burn fiercely.
"Sit down Harry," Severus said loudly. Harry's shoulders shook for a moment before he turned back around and sat heavily in the chair by the desk.
He glared at Severus, blinking rapidly. Severus moved closer to Harry, as close as he could without losing his restraint. He folded his arms, searching for the right words.
"I am not a romantic person, Harry," he said finally. "I've not the faintest clue as to the ways of romance, of the type of love that young people crave."
Harry shook his head. "I never said that I wanted that," he said crossly. "I don't know about romance and all the things that go with it. I just wanted to believe that you cared, cared enough to love me, just as I am. No hearts, no sappy gestures, just me, just Harry."
He bit his lip, having said more than he intended to say. "I..."
Severus hesitated a moment. "I...I'm not a young man," he said softly. "I fear that I can't give you all that you might need."
"You don't know what I need," Harry said, his voice low. "If all I need is you, how can it be so hard?"
Severus rubbed his thumb with his index finger. He moved a step closer to Harry, his hand hanging loosely by his side. Harry reached for it, placing his warm hand in his.
Severus felt the smaller hand fit in his just right. He looked down at their joined hands.
"I regret the previous night, only in that I hurt you," he said quietly.
Harry nodded. "I'll live," he said, his lips quirking in a small smirk. "Don't I always?"
Severus startled him by laughing softly. "That, you do," he agreed. He lifted Harry's hand, encouraging him to stand. He stroked his thumb over Harry's warm skin, a small smile on his lips.
Harry leaned up on his tip toes and kissed Severus then, carefully, gently. Severus let go of Harry's hand, bringing both of his up to cup Harry's face, his mouth softening, and opening under the heated kiss.
Harry licked his lip as they parted, his lips tingling. "Was that so bad?" he asked.
"Terrible," Severus said, kissing him again, harder this time. Harry smiled then.
"Love is what you make of it," he murmured against Severus's mouth. "Always."
*
Harry's Bouquet: Purple Hyacinth – Forgive Me, Freesia – Trust
Severus's Bouquet: White Daisies – Loyal Love, Pink Camellia – Longing, White Heather – Protection
Items: Bathroom Wall, Candles
*