Summary: The story behind the memories in the oneshot. Reading the one-shot would be best for understanding the story.
Warnings: SLASH STORY. T for safety, mostly.
http:/ /www. fanfiction .net/s /4565679/ 1/Sunshine (Remove the spaces—it'll take you to the original oneshot.
Dedicated to DeliaDee, for encouraging me to write more.
Chapter One: Love Poems
Harry chewed his lip as he daydreamed. He didn't need to pay attention this year, it was sixth year. No tests. No anything. Well, except the war. But there was always the war.
Long, slender fingers traveled up and down his sides, resting here or there to caress a bruising love bite or tweak a pert, pink nipple. The wandering fingers went lower, and lowe—Harry snapped his head up as Hermione rudely shook his shoulder.
"What?" Harry snapped. Hermione frowned at him.
"Class is over Harry." She said gently. Harry sighed and stood.
"Sorry for snapping at you Hermione." Harry muttered. Hermione patted his shoulder as they walked down the corridor to the Great Hall for dinner.
"It's okay. Were you daydreaming again?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded and blushed. Hermione giggled. She knew all about Harry's dirty little fantasies and daydreams—she had to, since Harry had been ready to all but cry when he'd told her. Cry with frustration, mind you.
"Hermione, if I don't do something about this soon, I'm going to explode." Harry complained. Hermione sat next to him as they took their customary seats at Gryffindor table. Harry cast Snape's muffling spell, ignoring the tingle in his fingers from knowing he was working magic created by him.
"Well…Christmas is coming up. If nothing else, you could start there." Hermione suggested, filling both their plates with food.
"Hermione, I can't wait three and a half weeks! I'll die!" Harry said dramatically. Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes.
"You will not. Stop being stupid and eat." She commanded. Harry sighed and did as he was bid to do.
After a few moments of eating, Hermione swallowed and grinned brightly at Harry.
"What?" He asked.
"Well…you could find a common subject. Like something both of you like." Hermione said. Harry raised an eyebrow, a habit he had picked up from watching Severus Snape.
"Hermione, what the hell do we have in common? He hates me." Harry muttered. Hermione sighed.
"Or…you could write him love letters. Poems, at the very least." Hermione said, smiling again.
Harry sipped his pumpkin juice.
"This one's got promise." He remarked. Hermione nodded.
"But do you write?" She asked. Harry stared at her before she sighed and shook her own head. "Of course not." She murmured. "Well, he's got a few poetry books on his desk." She said. Harry raised an eyebrow again.
"What? I love books! Do you honestly expect me not to pick up on what a person reads or has near them? Really!" Hermione said, pretending to be outraged. Harry laughed.
"All right, all right. But who are they?" He asked.
"Well, as far as I can see, they're all just collections of poems." Hermione said. Harry sighed.
"I got it!" He said joyously, grinning. Hermione eyed him warily.
Harry's voice was softer as he spoke his plan. "I can sneak into his classroom and steal one, or just get a peak. Then I can bring the name back to you and we can look it up in the library!" Harry said. Hermione frowned.
"Harry…he already dislikes you. Stealing form his again is not going to make him feel any better." Hermione said. Harry nodded.
"Yeah, but it's the best we've got. So, tonight then?" He asked. Hermione snorted.
"Sure. I'm not coming along though." She said. Harry nodded and they finished eating in relative silence, minus occasional jokes or jabs.
Long past midnight when everyone was in their beds in Gryffindor, Harry snuck downstairs in his Cloak. Hermione was sleeping on the couch with Crookshanks curled on her lower stomach.
Harry crept out without waking her.
He was glad to see the Fat Lady was still in her portrait; getting back in would have been a problem otherwise.
He snuck down the hall, skillfully (or luckily) avoiding Filch, Mrs. Norris, and Peeves.
He made it to the Potions Room unscathed and excited.
When he entered, he found that the door leading to the office was ajar and a light was spilling through. He held his breath as he tiptoed over to the desk, only to find the books gone.
Half of him wanted to turn around and go back to the dorm and try again the next night. But the other half wanted to see Severus Snape after hours.
The latter, of course, won.
Harry snuck over to the door and peeked inside.
Severus Snape was reading from an old, well loved book bound in dark red leather. He had a glass of some golden liquid next to him.
"Meow." Harry looked down in surprise. A sleek black cat with one blue eye and one yellow eye stared up at him. Harry had never known Severus owned a cat.
"Bastet, come back. There is no one there. There is never anyone there." Severus said, somewhat bitterly. The cat, apparently named Bastet, turned around. When it did so, it bumped the door open just enough for Harry to slip through.
And he did.
The cat sauntered over to Severus and curled itself into his lap. The normally dour man sighed and petted it with affection.
"Oh Bastet. Why do you let me read this garbage? You know I'm horrible when I read it." Severus murmured. Harry crept closer.
He could just see the title of the book in Severus's hands. It was a collaboration of love poetry. But that didn't help him.
"I think its time for more scotch and better reading material." Severus said, either to himself or to the cat Harry didn't know.
Bastet made a small noise of protest when Severus shifted to grab a new book and his glass, but other than that she didn't move.
"Calm down girl." He crooned. Harry stepped closer to the small table, which now held the wanted book.
Bastet jumped up suddenly and onto the table. Harry almost gasped out loud.
"Meow." She said. She batted a few things around before she knocked the book off and under the chair Severus was sitting on. He didn't notice.
For a brief moment Harry and the cat locked eyes—or he believed they did. She meowed again and then went back to Severus.
"Oh Bastet. Christmas is very near. I won't be getting my desired gift though, will I? No, of course not. To even think it would be stupid of me." Severus murmured. Bastet merely mewed.
Harry grabbed the book and dashed out of the room, terrified of what would happen should the man suddenly get up.
He ran all the way back to the Tower and had to knock on the frame of the portrait; its occupant was missing.
After several knocks and minutes, Hermione opened the portrait and Harry came through.
"Got it!" He crowed.
Hermione yawned and nodded.
"We'll look at it tomorrow, okay? We've got a free period first thing…let me sleep." She murmured. Harry nodded and Hermione went upstairs.
Harry too went to his dorm, though when he got in he got in his bed he closed the curtains and performed silencing and disillusion spells before he cast Lumos to see by.
He opened the book carefully, as though it was very old and worth untold sums of money—for all he knew, it was.
He realized right away that some pages were very well worn and marked with tags or bits of string even.
Severus's script was on quite a few pages, and Harry realized they were poems he himself had written.
Harry opened to a bookmarked page that had the margins filled with small script. The light was too dim for him to make out exactly what Severus had written, but be could clearly read the printed poem on the page.
If thou must love
me, let it be for naught
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
"I love her for her smile her look her way
Of speaking gently, for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of ease on such a day"
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee, and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheek dry,
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity.
He read it a few times and gently closed the book afterwards. He'd never thought that Severus Snape, of all men in the world, would be into reading love poems. But then again, he never thought Snape had a cat either. Or drank.
Harry slipped the book under his pillow and shook his head before he lay down. He didn't know Severus Snape, the man of his affections, very well.
"That's going to change." Harry whispered to himself.
A/N well, there you have it. The first installment of SunShine, The Full Story. Or maybe Sunshine: Story behind the Memories. Oh Gods now I sound like Rita Skeeter. Someone put me outa my misery, please?
Anyway, this is more for DeliaDee than anything else.
Poem was: If thou must love me, let it be for nought by Elizabeth Barrett Browning