InsaneJournal

What you mean to me. [Drabblefic. 770 words.]
TITLE: What you mean to me
AUTHOR: completely_ensnarryed
GENRE: angst, hurt/comfort, perhaps magical!theory!fic (if you get that far)
PAIRING: hp/ss
SUMMARY: Harry and Severus have a fight. Harry fears it will be the end of them.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry and Snape. XD I also do not own "The Last Unicorn" (which is awesome^^). Nor do I own "Just the Way You Are" (ditto). Nor "Tale As Old As Time (ditto again).
COUNT: 770.



They were fighting again.

It was all Severus’s fault. He never saw reason.

Harry was always wrong, in his opinion, and this fact was irking on Harry. As though he were still my professor and I was his unruly student.

Can’t he see that now he is the unruly one? Harry wondered, frowning at his partner.

Harry hadn’t heard what Severus was yelling about; and now it seemed that Severus was yelling that Harry was not listening.

“I hear just fine,” Harry yelled back with fervor. “I hear that you’ve been screaming at me for the past fifteen minutes!”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, however.

Because Harry saw Severus pale and close his mouth. The next moment, he swiftly turned and went downstairs to his laboratory. No doubt to pick at something disgusting and preserve its remains in one more damned jar. As though Severus did not have enough disgusting collections, he had to add more, Harry thought maliciously.

The door slammed, as Harry also gave in to a bout of childishness.

= = = = = = =

Six days. The house had never been so quiet. They had never gone so long without speaking to each other before. And what was worse: Harry had not seen Severus once in six days; when he tried to go downstairs, he would find that the door to Severus’s work quarters was quite thoroughly closed to him.

= = = = = = =

He had just come down to the kitchen, for yet another solitary breakfast. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t even want to work. He knew that he had to, but of late, Harry saw no meaning in Quidditch practice. He wondered if he could quit, and whether the team would let him if he made them forfeit in the qualifying rounds. All he wanted to do nowadays was sleep.

“I’m going out,” he heard from the foyer. It was Severus!

He came out to the front door, only to see a frown aimed at him from the entryway. No, Severus was still angry at him. He looked even meaner than when they argued.

Harry met Severus’s eyes with his own.

Is this what it’s going to be like for us now? What was the point of all of this, anyway? It hurt too much. If Severus hated him more than ever, wasn’t it better to divorce and save themselves the aggravation? Especially if he never again looked at Harry like before---

“Severus.” A sharp glance.

He must’ve uttered the name, and yet it was so silent, it seemed that only “Sev,” had made it past his lips.

His gaze wavered, and the next moment he knew he was running at Severus faster than after any snitch he had ever caught. (There were thousands.). He saw nothing else.

His eyes hurt, his heart ached, and his arms shook with fear as he clutched them around Severus, closer, closer, closer, because it seemed that however he held onto Severus, he could never get close enough. Someone was sobbing, and he hoped that it was Severus, because he was too busy for it, busy trying to find a way in when all the doors seemed closed to him. His chest hurt worse, and so he pushed it against his partner’s, trying to burrow deeper, and stop existing as one mounting individuality of pain, to merge with something pleasurable, something that was not the pain of his life. Nothing else mattered, because everything else was too painful to contemplate.

I love you.

I want you.

Only you.

No one else.

Nothing matters more to me than you.

Yet he couldn’t say it.

All he could do was press his lips into Severus’s clothed sternum and mutter muffled words that he was sure Severus would never hear.

I am sorry. I am so sorry. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to lose you.

You win, Severus. You win everything. Let’s just not fight. Anymore. Ever again.

And something happened.

Harry felt lips press into his hair, on top of his head, and felt another pair of arms circle just as tightly around him as his own arms holding onto Severus.

And he knew that he wasn’t going anywhere. Complete. Unified.

Nothing else mattered; everything else could disappear. He just wanted this, and he wanted it to never go away. Whatever this feeling was, this wondrous connection to Severus, if they felt nothing except it for the rest of their life, it would be the only feeling Harry wanted to feel.

Lips touched his own.

“I love you, Severus.”

Harry heard a sob in response.