Title : A Winters' Kiss

Author : Lady Alabaster

Rating : M (mature themes and objectionable language)

Pairing : SS/HP

Summary : Harry's been patiently waiting for far too long. Time to push a little further.

Warning : Slash, AU.

(An: wrote this a while ago and finally edited and posted. Had a lot of problems with the past and present tense, but thanks to the great KATELYN it's all sorted out. So I dedicate this to her, for reading my slash fics even though she doesn't like them. Yeah right!)


The rain has diminished to a light drizzle that you could only feel when you looked into the turmoil of clouds above. It was the kind of day that you put on your warm winter jacket, mittens and a scarf and went outside for a walk with your 'true love'.

He didn't have mittens. Or a scarf. Only a light black jacket that trailed on the ground and collected dirt and rain off the pavement. I smiled. Only he would do something as silly as that.

"Trying to conquer the cold, Severus?" I asked, walking up to him. I was wearing a red and gold plaid jacket, and my old Gryffindor scarf. He turned around to look at me and gave me the patented raised eyebrow that I usually got from him. I just laughed.

"Mr. Potter, why do you feel the need to constantly irritate me?" he said, looking back out over the grounds. His tone did not match the remark, though. I suspect he had long ago given up on trying to push me way. After all, we were both adults now; he couldn't give me detention for being a bad boy.

I looked up at his face. Fourty-one years old, and he still looked the same as when I had first seen him: hair as black as night, dark eyes like haunting tunnels, and an alabaster pale complexion. Although ever since he became the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor his hair had lost its greasy unkept look and changed into more silky locks. But the job did a lot more than change Severus Snape's physical appearance; those who knew him well realized that Severus had somewhat relinquished control over his students. Not as strict as before, yet still difficult to deal with. He was now not the most hated teacher, but the most respected.

I knew that the war had impacted him almost as much as it had me. He, like me, was imprisoned by fate, destiny, and a tyrant master who liked little more than to test him to his limits. It's a wonder he hadn't just broken down by now.

We stood there for what seemed like an eternity, watching Hagrid walk across the grounds, doing his usual duties. I just couldn't stand it anymore. I walked up beside him and slipped my hand into his.

Freezing cold. I don't know how does do that. Just stand in the rain and not move a muscle… slowly crystallizing to death. Maybe that was the idea.

He turned to me slowly, my hand in his. I knew what he was going to say. The same thing he said to me every time. 'Harry, we can't…' 'Harry, I can't do this right now…'

'Can't or won't?' I always asked. He just gives me a pleading look. I know, I know, I won't do a thing until you want me to. But I was sick of waiting for him. I wanted this, I needed this, and so did he.

Today, though, he surprises me. He holds up my hand in his, my fingers slowly going numb from his frozen hand and looks at me. Not the passing glance I see him give me at the dinner table, a real look. The kind that feels like someone is swimming in your soul and fishing for the truth.

He slowly raises my hand to his mouth and breathes on them. They prickle as the feeling goes back to my fingers; all the while, he's looking into my eyes. I try to give him what he wants, but the problem is, I don't know what he wants.

After a second he takes my hand in his and walks me to the castle. Oh, what the students would say, if they saw Severus Snape walking me to the castle doors, his hand in mine and me with a stupid grin on my face. But the students aren't here; they're still away, happily frolicking with their friends and families, enjoying what's left of the Christmas Break.

I don't know where he is leading me; I am too dazed to even think straight. I can feel my pulse in my hand and hear the slush slush of my wet jeans as I walk across the floor of the Great Hall, but nothing else registers in my head.

We're in the dungeons. After three years he still can't bring himself to leave the home he had made for himself there. We walk into the room that had become so familiar to me over the years. His living room.

An empty fireplace is against the far wall, and the one lonely armchair is facing it. There is a small kitchen with only a small sink and a refrigerator-like device against the wall. The rest of the room just branches into the bedroom and the bathroom. The only other things in the room are the bookshelves. You can't see the walls, only the spines of hundreds of books, collected over time by Severus himself.

He leads me over to the armchair, and sits me down. I just watch him as he goes to the kitchen and gets out some milk and a box of cookies from the cupboards. He pours two glasses and gives me one. I smile at the food. Milk and cookies, not something that I have ever seen Severus eat.

It takes me a second to realize that he has no where to sit. I get up hastily and manage not to spill the drink. I quickly put it down by the armchair, so as not to risk spilling it again. He just looks at me and opened his mouth to say something. But then re-thinking it, he just shakes his head and pulls me to him. I was inches away from his lips. I so desperately want to close that distance, but fear holds me in place. I will not fuck this up at the last second, I will not rush him.

He just gives me a wicked little smile, like he knows this is torturing me and he holds back just to tease me a little more.

Bastard.

I kiss him.

It's a slow, measured kiss. First, a brush of lips, slight hesitation on his part, but I'm not letting him go this easy, I reach up and run one hand through his hair, resting it on his neck, holding him in place. He's obviously surprised by my advance, but, going with it, runs one hand down my spine, resting it on my lower back, the other trailing up, to rest at the nape of my neck.

I smile. Finally.

He looks down and smirks. I know I wasn't getting away with stealing the kiss. He bends down and licks my lower lip. I tremble and close my eyes, my mouth opens on its own accord. This is it; I have absolutely no control of my body. Just one movement and he has me under his spell.

He uses this to his advantage, kissing me and slipping his tongue into my mouth. Searching out every inch of me. I slowly re-gain control of my body and started to kiss back, our tongues fighting for dominance. We move backwards, Severus slowly pushing me down, I trust him enough to not let me fall, letting him lead me to the armchair.

The kiss brakes, we both needed air. I'm standing with the back of my knees pressing against the side of the armchair, willingly trapped between it and Severus. His arms are around my waist, his body pressing against the length of mine.

I let out one long trembling breath, letting my forehead lean against Severus's chest. He rests his chin on the top of my head, the both of us still trying to inhale the oxygen that we need.

He uses his hands on my waist to turn me around, so that my back is pressing against the length of his, he then uses that momentum to turn us both so that he is sitting in the armchair with me in his lap.

I laugh and squirm until I'm sitting sideways to see him. I lean back and rain kisses on his cheek and down his jawline to his neck. He laughs that very masculine laugh that I've ached to hear for so long. He trails his fingers up my arms - which are supporting me so I could kiss him - and wraps his fingers around my wrists. He moves his hand, leaving me defenseless and completely dependant on him to stay upright and not fall to the ground in a graceless heap. I am leaning on him heavily and he uses this to his advantage, leading me to where he wants me. Down to his mouth, so he can kiss me again. I move so that I am straddling his waist in the chair, his hands still around my wrists. He smiles and kisses me again, moving from my mouth to my neck and then making his way down.

He lets go of my hands, letting me get a good grip on the chair to hold me up, and starts to undo the loose belt on my jacket, giving him more access to my neck and upper chest.

I moan his name, which encourages him to go on, a small chuckle coming from his lips.

"No, Severus, wait." I manage to stammer out.

He stops and looks up at me. He's sitting in the armchair with me on top of him, one knee on either side, panting and looking down.

"Yes?" he asks.

"We can't." I look into his eyes. This is what I want, isn't it? Why am I saying stop?

"Harry…" my name comes out as a whisper, a sigh that the air absorbs into itself.

"I'm sorry…" I can't explain. I want this, but I also want more. I want Severus, all of him, not just a fuck for a night. I've been infatuated for so long that I couldn't just be swept away under the rug when this was over.

He is the only reason I stay here, and I won't let him have me, and then leave me here, to hurt. When McGonagall asked me if I would help part time with the Quiddich coaching and teaching, the only thing that made me say yes was Severus. I needed him as much as he needed me.

He looks at me, his gaze sweeping over the features of my face, as if trying to memorize me forever.

"Severus, I love you." I don't know where the words came from. It's the only thing I can say that makes sense.

He is completely silent as he looks into my eyes. Looking for truth? I hope I can give it to him.

Finally he looks away, thinking. He thinks too much, I want to yell, stop, look at me and never let me go, but it's too late.

He looks back, having made up his mind. I close my eyes, is this it? Is this all I get for my careful patient waiting?

"Harry," My eyes fly open. "I believe you."

I smile. He can never say it with words, but he is saying it with his eyes. He loves me too.

I kiss him, savoring the taste of him, knowing that I will never have to give him up again.

(oTo)

The fire is lit. It fills the room with a heat so thick you could taste it on your tongue. It smells like dried herbs and cinnamon, or maybe that's the smell of the man that I am currently curled up with by the fire.

"Severus, do you remember last year, on this exact day, was the first time that I told you that I loved you?" I asked. It feels like yesterday when I think about it, but it's obvious that a year has gone by.

The one lonely chair in the living room has a girlfriend, a nice plaid vintage squishy armchair, the bookshelves have been moved to Severus's office, and the walls, a former off-white gray are painted a deep forest green, to satisfy Severus's inner Slytherin. The hall leading to the bedroom and bathroom is covered with framed photographs of people that they love, and a giant oil painting of a lion. The kitchen is completely refurbished. The lighting fixed and the wall next to the fireplace is now occupied with my wizard wireless stereo and a collection of both muggle and wizard CD's. It'surrently playing some soft jazzy music to suit the mood of the room.

This is the happiest that I've been in a long time. The winter holidays are half done, and the stress of Christmas is finally over. All the family breakfasts, brunches, dinners, and of course the famous Weasly Christmas Party have taken a toll on both of us. But now it's all over and I'm in my favorite place in the world. Sitting in Severus's lap, in front of the fire, just listening to him breathe.

"Has it really been that long?" Severus asks, with a small smile. He's gotten better at smiling while around the younger boy.

"Yup." I say, then wait a while, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"What?" Severus asked.

"You always looked into my eyes. You were looking for something. Did you find it?"

"No."

Silence.

"I found something better."


Fin.

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