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Fic repost: The Librarian of Strahov; HP, NC-17, Percy/Snape
The ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
percy_ficathon has had the masterlist up for a while, so it's been a bit since I was allowed to own up to this one. I was distracted, that's all ;)
Originally posted here
Title: The librarian of Strahov
For:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jamiebluesq
From:sarka
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Percy/Snape, mention of Percy/Marcus Flint and Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 8.346 words.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling and her publishers, as well as Warner Bros. The following story is for my own and other's entertainment; no money is being made.
Percy immediately recognizes the man who sits in the seat next to him, but is not as sure that he himself has been recognized in turn.
He knows he's changed. The hair which used to be the trademark Weasley Carrot has darkened over the years and turned almost auburn. The freckles are not as prominent on his sallow skin, and the lankiness of his teenage years has long since been replaced with something he's told falls under the general heading of ‘lean.'
The man beside him, however... he might be seeing him in a Pensieve. There are some differences, but Percy is tempted to chalk them up to having been a passionate teenager with ideals the last time he laid eyes on him.
Sometimes, it's good to know that things don't change. Even if they're Severus Snape.
The location, however. The location is a surprise.
Percy is used to seeing spectres from his past. Prague, after all, is one of the larger hubs of Wizarding life in Europe. Since he came here, he's seen old colleagues, old comrades-in-arms, and former acquaintances; usually they're just passing through, though Hermione showed up at the library almost five years ago for research.
However, those spectres had always sort of made sense. Hermione in a library could hardly be considered a surprise, and seeing faces he vaguely recognized sight-seeing on the ancient Wizard bridge and shopping at the Magical Market should also be expected.
But Snape. At the National Theatre? Attending a Muggle Opera? That's new.
They're sitting practically in the rafters of the lavishly gilt opera house. Percy can't afford better seats – even this ticket makes a dent in his measly librarian's pay – but he can't help but think that Snape's must have been a late buy. Perhaps the last seat in the house?
Darting quick glances to his side during the performance, he notices that at least Snape is not there by complete coincidence – the man is riveted on the tableau in front of him, which, Percy has to admit, is splendid. But then again, he expected nothing less.
It is when they break for intermission that Percy's hopes of not being recognized are dashed.
"A Weasley in the cheapest seat in the house. Why am I not surprised?" his ex-Potions Master drawls.
His ex-Potions Master could stand to learn a few things about baiting from Fred and George.
"It is good to know that some things never change. Even if it's you," Percy replies mildly.
There is a very long, very uncomfortable silence, in which Snape waits expectantly for Percy to say something about stones and glass houses and look who's sitting beside him, and Percy fixes his gaze on the slogan above the stage and pointedly ignores him.
Finally, Snape turns toward the stage, and eventually breaks the silence which has become a bit less strained. "What does that mean?" he asks softly.
"‘Národ sobě?'" Percy asks. "It means ‘A nation unto itself.' The National Theatre was originally built largely with contributions from the general public."
Snape makes an ‘Ah' sound. That is the last of their conversation and eventually, the Opera starts again.
+++
Percy isn't too surprised when Snape shows up at the front desk of the library the next morning. He can hear the conversation with Miss Kloboučkova through the open door of his office – Snape is using a translation charm which has the characteristic stilted-ness of a spell-caster with no basic knowledge of the language.
Miss Kloboučkova, bless her heart, is a sixty year old witch who insists on cooking traditional Czech dinners for Percy every Tuesday. Her greying hair has been dyed a bright shade of violet and she likes chunky pearl necklaces. Percy also knows that today she's wearing her favourite red and green jumper, and he can barely restrain himself from peeking around the doorframe to take a look at the face Snape must be sporting in reaction to this colourful lady who is making him fill out a veritable mountain of documents.
He's in no doubt about the documents either; while the library is certainly one of the finest in Europe and is in possession of some extraordinarily valuable texts and manuscripts, a wizard like Snape has to be here for the Department of Memories, and to get in there, a great deal of forms are required.
Percy is rather curious to see what Professor Snape wants to look at. Something in the alchemy section, without doubt. They do have the complete memories of John Dee.
"He's in the office. I will immediately call him," says Miss Kloboučkova from the front desk and a heartbeat later he hears his name ring through the offices.
"Pane Veselý!"
He'd adopted the name shortly after he'd arrived, simply because that was how people understood him every time he introduced himself as Weasley. It had been a few weeks until he came to terms enough with the language to realize that the word ‘Veselý' actually meant ‘fun' – a fact Percy still finds rather amusing.
As he steps out of his office, he reflects that Snape must not have expected to see him again so soon, as his is a picture of shock.
+++
Percy had relocated to Prague for one reason only: to leave British Wizarding society. When Hermione had shown up in the library he'd been less than pleased, certain that the girl he'd known would betray his secret to his family.
In the five years since she'd been there, however, he's realized that Hermione Granger had changed – not just because she kept his secret, but also because she became his one and only link to the world he'd left behind.
Having the ability to contact one of the highest ranking administrators in the Post-War Ministry had its perks and after spending the better part of his afternoon helping Professor Snape fill in forms and trying to figure out whether or not to let him into the Department, Percy figures that it's past time he checked up with Hermione.
She nearly lets out a shriek when his head pops into her fireplace before she recovers and casts a locking spell on the door to ensure their privacy.
"Merlin, Percy, give me a heart attack! It's exactly what I need!" she says crossly before coming to kneel at the fireplace.
"Sorry," he says, knowing he doesn't sound it at all. "Hard to warn for this though. Am I catching you at a bad time?"
She huffs and looks at her watch. "You've got fifteen minutes. You all right? Hasn't it been rather a short time since we spoke last? Is something wrong?" He can just imagine the wheels turning in her head, working out how many days it's been since his last Firecall, listing possible reasons – she's probably covered everything from sore throat to being held at wandpoint by Vampires.
She hasn't come up with the reason he's calling, though, judging by the surprise on her face when he asks "What's the official ruling on Professor Snape?"
"I think it's one of those ‘if you feel like it' things, let me just check..." She summons a file from a cupboard somewhere and flicks through it. "Yeah, it's like I thought; ‘Sought for inquiry.' It's more of a matter that we'd like to talk to him if he has the time. We wouldn't even arrest him if we saw him on the street. Though I can't promise... with things being as they are…" She drops the file and rubs her neck absently, and for the first time Percy notices that she looks tired – no, exhausted.
"Hermione," he asks softly, "what's going on?"
He stays for much longer than the fifteen minutes they'd agreed on, kneeling on the floor of his balcony, listening to her describe a situation spiralling out of control. She tells him that sometimes she's not sure why they won the war. She tells him that in Britain, things are falling apart faster than she can put them together. She tells him about arguments, about failures, and about utter fiascos, and she leaves nothing out. "Maybe you had the right idea," she says finally. "Even if it seemed pretty useless at the time."
+++
The enormous keys to the Ontology Hall hang on an old fashioned key-ring, which makes clanging noises as Percy strides down the corridor towards the heart of the Strahov library. Snape is walking next to him, black robes swishing in the same way he remembers from his childhood.
The door at the end of the corridor is so grand that the keyhole is level with Percy's eyes, and he has to reach above his head to turn the handle. Percy still has to fight not to let out a gasp of amazement at the sight that greets them when he opens the door. The painted dome, the enormous shelves covering the walls and the shivering silver light from the crystal vials of memories sitting on them are a breathtaking sight every time.
Percy waits a moment to let Snape take it all in, before explaining the layout of the Hall and giving him a reminder of the rules, ending with the classical statement that an attempt to remove an object which belongs in the Hall will set off some extensive wards.
Snape lifts an eyebrow. "What happens if I try to remove something?"
Percy shrugs. "I have been told that you are transported, sans the artefact of course, to a randomly selected location anywhere in the world. Nobody's tried while I've been Head Librarian, but back when I was in Cataloguing there was a Ukrainian wizard who made an attempt. I'm told he remains unfound, but there was a man before him who was discovered when they tore down a house somewhere in America. He had been transported into its foundation, apparently."
Snape glares at him – an expression that Percy remembers very well from his schooldays. "Are you attempting to impress me, Mr. Weasley?"
"No, Professor Snape. I was the best Potions student in my year for seven years and I never succeeded in impressing you back then. By now I've given it up as a bad job."
He turns around and is aware of the eyes of his old Professor boring into the back of his skull as he walks out the door, before he closes it with a flick of his wand.
+++
Percy thinks a lot about how some things just never change over the next few days, and yet his ruminations about the subject have lead him to noticing a lot of subtle changes that he didn't see until he really looked.
Snape comes in every morning, checks in with Miss Kloboučkova and then follows Percy to the Ontology Hall, where he apparently stays, sometimes until they douse the lights at eight. He seems not to take breaks, and since food is absolutely forbidden inside the Hall, he can only presume that Professor Snape goes without.
While he notices that Professor Snape is as surly and ill-tempered around him as he has always been, he has also noticed that Snape seems to handle Miss Kloboučkova with distant politeness, as he does the rest of the library staff. In addition, whenever Percy sees Snape in the Hall, the latter seems to be immersed in his research to the point of oblivion to all else. There is an afternoon where Percy sees him emerge from a memory, eyes gleaming with triumph, a lingering smile on his face, his whole stance somehow easier. He feels a little guilty for letting his eyes linger, but he can't help noticing that the expression on Snape's face seems to take years off his shoulders.
He wonders what it would take to make that expression stay.
He also notices other things, though when he notices that he's noticed them, he berates himself for lack of self-control. There are dark circles under Snape's eyes and his skin looks like it's the thickness and colour of parchment. Percy would hardly have considered it possible but it's also noticeable that the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves of his robes are too wide. The only improvement in Snape's appearance is his hair. Percy remembers it as a lank, greasy mop that Snape often used to hide his expression. Now, however, it has grown past the man's shoulders, and rather than keeping it loose Snape constantly has it tied back, which leaves his face looking oddly vulnerable. Percy rather thinks it suits him, somehow, but Percy also thinks that might be his hormones talking.
Then his new favourite hobby of Snape-watching is interrupted by two days when the Professor doesn't come to the library. By evening on the second day he starts to get anxious. It is entirely possible that Snape has finished his research and left, of course, but somehow Percy doesn't think so. Worried, he makes his way to the Ontology Hall and checks the nook where Professor Snape has half taken up residence.
The writing desk is overflowing with parchment and the shelves above it are laden with books. Everything bears signs of an ongoing research project, not an abandoned one, and Percy frowns as he stands there, trying to resist the temptation to creep closer and take a look at what Snape is doing – knowing the suspicious bugger he's probably warded the whole thing, anyway. Then he makes a decision and strides towards his impeccably kept Records Room.
+++
Looking up Snape's address information had been a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, his address is for a flat in Žížkov, which is one of those Prague neighbourhoods where Percy almost never goes, making Apparition impossible.
He takes the rattling tram down there instead and uses a Locator spell to find Snape's building. Once he realizes which one it is he grimaces slightly; there is hardly a worse place to live in all of Prague. It is perched in the shadow of the railway overpass, the entire place grimy with soot and engine oil.
Snape is listed on the fifth floor, though there is no doorbell for his apartment. Percy doesn't realize until he's let himself inside and is almost all the way up the stairs that there's a reason; it's not an apartment, it's the attic.
He feels a little bit foolish as he climbs up the last ladder and knocks on the trapdoor above him, calling softly, "Professor Snape? It's Percy Weasley." He knocks a few more times without receiving an answer and is just standing there in the middle of the ladder, wondering what to do, when there is a barely heard moan from above.
Hoping that he isn't about to make a fool of himself, he unlocks the trapdoor and looks inside. It is even bleaker than he had imagined. The walls are bare and crumbling and the roof is full of holes. There is some mismatched furniture and an ancient-looking stove, but what draws his attention is the makeshift pallet in the corner where Snape is shivering under a ratty blanket. Fifteen minutes later he's got a good blaze going in the stove, he's managed to patch the worst sources of draft, conjured two more blankets and has Firecalled Miss Kloboučkova to request some soup.
Snape is as pale as chalk, beads of sweat running down his temples. When Percy puts his wrist to his forehead he is shocked at the fever the man seems to be running. He directs a towel from the bathroom to douse itself in cold water and lays it gingerly over Snape's forehead. Then he arranges himself more comfortably on the floor and does the only thing possible; he waits.
+++
Two days later Snape's fever finally breaks and Percy wakes up from an uncomfortable nap to find two black eyes staring at him.
"Weasley," his former professor says threateningly, "what in the seven hells are you doing here?" His hair is matted to his skull and his face is twisted into a familiar expression of displeasure. For a moment he looks so much like the old Potions Master that Percy used to know that he almost expects to get a Detention when he replies, "I'm keeping the place warm and you fed. Welcome back to the land of the living, Professor. By the way, it's Saturday." He darts a glance to the side to see Snape's eyes widen almost comically in shock.
"Saturday?" Snape whispers, still staring at him.
"I got worried when you left all your things in the library but didn't return so I came checking. I got here on Thursday; I've been here since for the most part. You hungry?"
Snape nods mutely, apparently still not quite able to process the loss of four days from his memory.
Percy passes him a bowl. "Say a nice ‘thank you' for the soup to Miss Kloboučkova on Monday, will you?"
+++
He informs Snape the next morning that he fixed his water heater and put a self-refilling charm on it, and is rather gratified to distinctly hear the other man say; "Oh, thank Merlin!" just before the bathroom door closes.
Snape is not as grateful when he comes out again – a full hour later – to discover that Percy has used the time in his absence to launder his sheets and re-make his bed.
"You are not my mother, Mr. Weasley. Or your mother, for that matter. You don't need to treat me like an invalid; I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am grateful for your assistance but I no longer need it."
Snape is almost shouting but he is also swaying on the spot. His hair is still wet from the shower and the water is staining the shoulders of his robes. He looks like a man who has stepped out of the grave rather than someone who's suffered from a bad case of head cold.
So Percy just lifts his eyebrow, crosses his arms across his chest and says quite evenly, "With all due respect, Professor Snape, shut up. And dry your hair before I come over there and do it. You've been sick for five days; show some sense."
For a moment Percy thinks he's managed to shock Snape into submission, but the glare the man sends him after he flicks his wand to dry his hair disabuses him of that notion.
"So," Snape growls, the growl that used to terrify Seventh years and make First years wet themselves, "you're determined to turn me into one of those Weasley-family charity projects? Which one of your esteemed clan are you planning to tell of your good nature?"
Percy's spine goes cold and rigid and he knows that his face has gone flat and emotionless. There's anger welling in his stomach and he has to fight to keep his voice neutral, though he can't help that it's gone low.
"I have not spoken to my family in ten years," he says. "They do not know where I am any more than they know where you are. I did this for your benefit, Professor Snape. You can build elaborate paranoia theories about why I did, and frankly, you're as likely to be right as I am at this point, because at the moment I have no idea why I bothered. I've changed my mind. Fend for yourself."
+++
Percy has figured out that surprising Severus Snape is an awfully fun pastime. Snape is sitting across from him in the restaurant, eating like a man who hasn't had food in several days.
He'd taken an hour to calm down and think and eventually admitted to himself that by now he ought to be able to hear his family mentioned without losing his temper, which was why he'd gone back and marched Snape out to dinner.
Snape, obviously, does not know what to make of a Weasley who backs down from a fight. Percy can see the wheels turning in Snape's mind, trying to figure him out.
The entire meal is rather remarkably silent, but it only lasts until their plates are taken away and Snape does something so uncharacteristic that Percy realizes he's not the only one who's changed in the past ten years: he apologizes.
"Thank you for this, Weasley. And thank you for helping me while I was sick. What I said earlier was unforgivable – please accept my apology." He looks like he means it and Percy is so surprised he almost forgets to reply.
"Apology accepted, Professor."
"That title hardly applies any more – I haven't taught children in a decade, thank Merlin. Please call me Snape. Or Severus."
Percy leans back in his seat and wonders if this will be a night of great surprises. "Well, if that's the case, please don't call me Weasley. It makes me feel like you're talking to anyone but me."
Snape raises his glass to him. "Agreed. So tell me, Percy; what are you doing in Prague?"
Percy considers the question for a moment before deciding he might as well answer it. "I left my family because I didn't share their opinions and they didn't like it. I didn't agree with them that the Order of the Phoenix should be allowed to take over the Ministry. Or, at least I thought they shouldn't be able to stay there forever."
"Don't tell me you supported those Ministry whingers who wanted the Order to work with Magical Law Enforcement?" Snape says, smirking.
Percy looks at him with a raised eyebrow and crosses his arms. "You misjudge me, Prof… Severus. I was one of those Ministry whingers. So what about you? What are you doing here?"
Snape seems suddenly very interested in his beer. "Well, I'm obviously here to work on a research project."
Percy makes his voice very, very dry, as he replies, "And when you asked me what I was doing here, note how I did not say I was working in a library."
To his surprise, Snape laughs. "It's a bit of a tough project. It's a restorative."
"A restorative?" Percy repeats.
"I'm working on a cure for the victims of Cruciatus."
This time Percy doesn't even try to hide his surprise. The St. Mungos ward that had been started in emergency after the first reign of Voldemort had seen an influx of new patients in the last stages of the war. Some well-known people were resting there, waiting for a cure to be found. And here was Snape, possibly the most unpopular wizard in England, telling Percy he is looking for a cure.
"Do you… do you think that's possible?"
Snape evidently hears the tremor in his voice because he looks up from his beer. "Your sister?" he asks softly.
Percy nods, more at the table than at Snape, desperately trying not to remember Ginny's glassy eyes and tangled hair, the way she'd been the last time he saw her.
+++
Things go back to relative normalcy on Monday – or as normal as they could ever be, now that Percy knows what Snape is working on, only a few doors down the hall.
A few days pass, as days are wont to do, and one night when Percy looks up from his statistics, Snape is standing in his doorway, blushing. He tries to reconcile the idea of Snape with the concept of blushing before asking; "Was there something you wanted, Severus?"
Snape's cheeks turn a deeper red and Percy is just about wondering whether he is running a fever again when the man answers, "I need someone to discuss some ideas with to get a different point of view. Would you… accompany me to dinner?"
The offer sounds less like an invitation for dinner and more like a proposal for a date but Percy knows that he's going to say yes almost before Snape has finished asking.
Which is how he finds himself in a restaurant with a surprisingly friendly Snape, discussing Potions and advanced Healing theory – and a great number of other things besides.
Somehow they get onto the topic of money, and in a moment of rash impetuousness, Percy asks how much Snape is paying for the attic.
Snape – who Percy realizes belatedly might have taken offence – quotes an amount that makes Percy inhale half a cup of coffee. Once he's finished spluttering he tells Snape he's being had.
And then – he doesn't quite know whether to blame it on the wine they had with dinner or the companionable atmosphere between them – he tells Snape that he's always free to stay in the spare room of his apartment.
The next morning, Percy reflects that if he really wanted Snape as a flatmate, he couldn't have picked a better night to ask. He enjoys the walk to the tram stop all the more due to the layer of snow and resolutely tells the little voice at the back of his head, which is rejoicing at his improved chances to spend more time with his ex-Potions Master, to shut the hell up.
+++
Percy wasn't sure whether it was the bitter cold during the night or something else, but Snape simply appeared at the library that morning with a small valise which he'd stashed in Percy's office until closing time.
They have to take the tram for the first time, and on the way Percy manages to get progressively more worried about having invited someone into his meagre space. He shouldn't have worried, though – Snape looks around his apartment with interest, inspecting Percy's overloaded bookcases curiously before going to unpack in the spare room.
They have dinner and afterwards Percy shows Snape the magically-expanded balcony of his eleventh floor flat, telling him that if he needs it, he's welcome to set up a cauldron there.
They settle into domesticity with alarming speed. Percy felt sure that with two such strong willed individuals in one household, there would be some disputes, but so far nothing has needed settlement except for Snape's sheer determination to pay his fair share of the household costs.
Percy has to confess to himself that he's forgotten how good it feels to have company. He's always been a loner, but these past years he's been closer to being a hermit. Having someone else around to talk to feels marvellous and Percy tries to remind himself not to get too used to the feeling – Snape is not going to be there forever, after all.
It is nice, though, to talk to someone over dinner rather than read the newspaper or listen to the Wireless. They usually stick to the relatively safe topics of Snape's research, Percy's work or world events, but every now and then a conversation will lead to a more unsafe topic of discussion.
There is a night where Snape comes back from the store annoyed at the locals and Percy ends up describing their history as "more fraught with betrayal than your average Death Eater gathering."
Which obviously makes Snape raise his eyebrows almost to his hairline and Percy, who's never yet passed up an opportunity to surprise the man, says innocently; "Oh, don't tell me you didn't know I went to one of those?"
Two minutes later, when they've cleared away the shards of Snape's wine glass which he'd dropped to the floor at Percy's statement, he gives him a glare reminiscent of his old teacher and demands: "Explain!"
"There wasn't anything to it – I just went to the one, with Marcus. It wasn't something I wanted to repeat," Percy shrugs.
"You let Marcus Flint take you somewhere?"
It is on the tip of Percy's tongue to tell Snape that he let Marcus Flint take him a lot of places, most of them dark and private and smelling of sex once they'd left, but he's fairly certain the man would not appreciate dropping his glass for the second time in the evening, so he just smiles instead and says, "He was a friend."
He isn't surprised when Snape changes the topic, but he's getting wildly curious about the other man, more so the better he gets to know him. He wishes he could find out more about him but his burgeoning attraction makes him too nervous to ask.
+++
One day, not long after Percy looks up at the calendar and realizes that Snape has been living with him for three months, Snape bursts into his office in the middle of the day with an air of quiet intensity.
"I found it. I found it, Percy. It was right there in front of my eyes." He turns around in a swirl of robes and looks Percy in the eye. "I have to go back to England. I need to start brewing."
He says the last part hesitantly, which makes Percy feel a little better about taking a moment to swallow the lump in his throat and remind himself that he wanted this to happen. Then he shakes his head and reasons that he might as well say what he's thinking. "I'm not sure how to answer that, Severus. That's… wow. When will you need to leave?"
There's a short silence in which they avoid each other's eyes, before Snape murmurs, "It would be best for me to leave in the morning. I – There are a lot of things I need to do."
Percy makes a show of nodding and smiling and invites Snape out for a celebratory last dinner.
The next morning Percy walks Snape to the nearest public Portkey station and shakes his hand solemnly as they wait for Snape's trip to be organized. He's already turning away when Snape clears his throat and says, "Percy – thank you. Very much. And if you should ever need a return of the favour…"
Percy turns back around and gives Snape one of the hardest smiles of his life. "Thank you, Severus. I'll keep that in mind. Have a good journey, and good luck."
Then the Portkey is activated and the image of Snape winks out like the flame of a candle.
+++
The last days of February are terribly dark and depressing, the cloudy sky seeming to press down on the city below. The gloom is hitting Percy harder this year than he's accustomed to. He's chalked it up to the absence of lively conversation at dinner, which, despite himself, he had grown rather fond of. He tries very hard not to think about all the other things he misses, and spends more time working to forget his uneasiness.
And then one day he comes home to find Hermione in his apartment, sitting sideways in his easychair, stockinged legs dangling over the armrest, his good bottle of red wine almost empty on the floor next to her and a glass dangling from her fingers. She's made rather a mess of his living room, as she seems to have reorganized his bookshelf, made herself lunch out of whatever she found in the fridge, and covered every available surface with shredded bits of newspaper. It's been a while since he heard from her – though he did buy a copy of the Daily Prophet a few days ago and knows her life hasn't been easy lately.
Her head whips around when she hears him enter, but she seems to be having some trouble focusing on him. "Percy! I hope you don't mind I let myself in! Good to see you!"
Her words are slightly slurred and Percy stares in astonishment as she idly picks up a large bit of newspaper and tears it in two before letting it flutter to the ground. "Hermione… Why are you here?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? I've retired from politics." She beams at him, still unfocused, and Percy is slightly amused as she picks up more pieces of newspaper and shreds them absently between her fingers.
"What happened?"
"Oooh, they were mean to me. Scrimgeour and… Fudge and Moody. Really mean. I told them to go to hell with the Ministry. I'm… finisssshheed." She giggles and takes another long sip of wine.
She's too drunk to get anything out of her, so he points his wand at the mangled newsprint instead and whispers a repairing charm. As he half-expected, the front page is splashed with a scandalous headline. Corruption at the Ministry, disappearing funds, disorganization, all sorts of accusations jump out at him – and in the last few paragraphs Hermione Granger is rather harshly criticised for her unorthodox methods.
Hermione is still humming to herself, and Percy decides to let her get on with it. They end up having two bottles of white wine with dinner and Hermione passes out on his sofa while he does the dishes. He covers her with a blanket before going to sleep and wonders when the Wizarding World will learn that running someone like Hermione off will only land them in deeper trouble.
The Wizarding World seems to agree with him the next morning; before breakfast four owls have delivered messages and a gadget in her bag has made an unearthly amount of noise. She sleeps until Percy starts cooking breakfast – then she wakes up and makes a beeline for the bathroom. Ten minutes later she's sitting across the table from him looking rather sheepish but healthy – though Percy expects nothing less from a Snape-brewed hangover potion.
She's looked through the messages and frowned at each one, done a double take over the little gadget, and they're eating breakfast in relative peace when a loud and very familiar voice rings from the balcony.
"Hermione! Hermione, are you there? For Merlin's sake, Hermione, answer me!"
"Locating someone like that and firecalling to the nearest Floo is hardly legal," Percy comments dryly as Hermione's eyes widen and she jumps out of her chair.
"Yeah, well, your brother never cared much for rules," she grinds out before heading towards the balcony fireplace, and Percy smirks.
There is mingled shouting from the balcony and Percy goes and closes himself off in the bathroom, hoping that after a nice, long bath they will have stopped shouting across the Continent, but doubting it all the same.
+++
When he finally leaves the bathroom, Hermione is pacing. She looks furious and is speaking in low tones in the general direction of his grate, which probably means she's not speaking to Ron anymore.
Out of habit more than desire he puts the kettle on, and when Hermione finally stomps into his living room he's glad to have the conversational opener of offering her a cup.
"So, are you really retired from politics?" he asks when she's settled down.
"No" she sighs. "I'm not even fired."
"Aah," Percy offers noncommittally as he locates the sugar and pours a generous teaspoonful into his own tea.
"Actually, I'm going back later today, and after all the excitement yesterday it seems like people are generally more inclined to listen to me. Looks like growing a backbone was a good thing to do, even if I used it to tell everybody to go stuff themselves. They've pretty much given me a carte blanche to try to fix the problems." She shakes her head and smiles into her teacup. "And Harry may have pulled some strings."
"So what are you looking troubled about? Looks like everything is going to straighten itself out."
"Ah, yes, it probably is. It's just that… this morning, I had this really fantastic idea. And now all I need to do is to try to convince this guy I know isn't going to like my idea that it'd really be worth trying. I think he's probably the only person I know who has any idea about what needs to happen. God knows I'm running blind."
"So who's this guy?" Percy asks.
Hermione looks up at him with a strange smile on her face and says softly, "You."
+++
This is a really bad idea, Percy thinks as he shakes off the disorientation of a cross-continental Portkey hop. Hermione, next to him, is already talking a mile a minute but he's hardly listening. Instead, he's wondering how much it would cost him to take the next Portkey home.
She catches him looking longingly at the bookings desk and gives him a stern look. "Look, just give it a week. You promised you'd give it a week."
"I know, I know," Percy sighs and sets out towards the exit.
"You sure you're okay for someplace to sleep? The Burrow is always…"
"I'm not going to the Burrow, Hermione, and yes, I've made arrangements for a place to sleep," he bites out through gritted teeth.
He Apparates to Severus' row house in Knutsford instead. Snape answers the door on the first knock and Percy can't help but wonder if he'd been waiting. The smiles they exchange are a bit strained, though, and he hopes that it won't take them very long to get used to each other again.
The next morning Percy takes the Floo to the Ministry and spends his entire day in meetings with various officials, listening to Hermione utilize her newly-developed backbone by expressing her opinions loudly and decidedly.
It takes him a week before he's seen enough of the Ministry to have any idea what he wants to do with it, and another week of strategy planning with Hermione as they try to figure out where to start, but at the beginning of the third week, he's already determined that he's the most unpopular person in the building.
He doesn't care; he's used to keeping to himself and working hard, and the Ministry of Magic is no different. Most of the time he eats lunch at his desk and goes back to Knutsford just in time for dinner. If it wasn't for Snape, he doubts he'd do that much, but by now they are enjoying the same sort of friendship they'd shared in Prague, and Percy's attraction grows every day. Their quiet dinnertime conversations don't even begin to satisfy Percy's interest in Snape and at the same time he has no idea how to even express that he might be up for something more.
He wonders how the other man can be so astute and so obtuse at the same time. Snape either doesn't notice or deliberately ignores the small signs of interest that Percy has tried to send him.
He does, however, notice that Percy avoids the subject of his family altogether.
"You should take the first step," he tells him, one night after dinner. "There is no longer anything they can ask you to apologize for, Percy. You defended your position, which is more than most would have dared, and if the articles in the Daily Prophet are to be believed, the Ministry is finally doing what you told them to do all along and it's working. If there is anybody owed an apology, it's you, not them."
Percy sighs and shakes his head. "It's not just that, Severus. I've never felt I belonged there, either."
"You won't know if that's changed unless you give them a chance."
"Why do you care so much?" he asks, knowing he's being rude, but feeling rather gratified to watch Severus go on the defensive.
"They're your family, that's all. It's a shame to neglect your family, even if you don't get along with them."
"Now you're just being sentimental. Look, I already know how it would go. Mum would treat me like a child and tell me I'm too thin. Ron would be snide, and Dad would be too jovial and friendly to really mean it. The twins would make me eat something to turn my hair green, and in the end my mother would offer to fix me up with a nice witch so I can make her some grandchildren. Then she'd probably send me home with Shepherd's Pie. The whole performance would then be repeated for every Sunday lunch for the rest of my life and mother would get more and more heartbroken every time I turn down her offer. I'm sorry if I don't think the prospect is appealing."
"You never know what's going to happen," Severus says dryly. "They might welcome you with open arms, and you might end up making your mother happy."
"That's never going to happen, Severus. Don't push me."
"And how do you know that you just haven't met the witch of your dreams yet?"
Percy knows he shouldn't respond to that, but he's on the verge of losing his temper and can't help it when he bursts out, "Because I prefer wizards, Severus."
They sit in mortified silence for a moment before Percy stands up in a flurry of embarrassment, trying to mutter something about being tired through the lump in his throat. He almost has his hand on the doorknob when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around, not knowing what to expect, bracing himself for the worst.
Severus' eyes are the only thing betraying his thoughts – a thin veneer of his usual placid expression is there, but something vulnerable lurks beneath it. Hesitantly, he lets go of Percy's shoulder and brings a hand up to trail fingers across his cheekbone.
Percy feels his breath catch in his throat. Of all the possible results from his confession, this was not one he'd been expecting. He hardly dares to breathe but tilts his cheek slightly into the caress.
In the next instant, Severus' lips are on Percy's and their bodies are pressed together against the door frame. He can feel the hard wood of the door at his back, but his focus is on the feel of Severus in his arms, and he melts into the kiss without a second thought, bringing his hands up to tangle in Severus' hair.
At Percy's response, Severus loses all inhibition. His lips press hard against Percy's, betraying a hunger stifled for too long, and their mouths open to the taste of each other. He kisses like a man who might have something long-desired taken away from him and wants to make sure he enjoys it all to the fullest while he has a chance.
Percy isn't going to fight that – he allows himself to be thoroughly kissed until he's out of breath and panting, knowing he's probably making embarrassing noises. He lets his hands roam, first through Severus' hair and then down to his shoulders and back, and lower still, until they settle on his arse.
At Percy's touch, Severus surges forward, grinding their hips together and it seems that once his usual reserve is discarded he's rather uninhibited. Their erections press together through layers of robes and trousers and he makes a raw, hungry sound that goes straight to Percy's cock.
Percy gasps and presses back eagerly. He kisses his way down to Severus' throat and slides his hands up the man's body to start unfastening his buttons – of which there are far too many, in Percy's opinion. A moment later he gives in to his own impatience and buttons go flying as he simply grabs the lapels of Severus' robe and yanks them apart.
Severus pulls back in shock, a slight glower crossing his features for a moment which is quickly replaced with a smirk as his long fingers repeat the action on Percy's robes. After a moment of hesitation, both of them looking at flesh so long covered, Severus surges forward again, pressing their skin together. His hands brush down Percy's chest and stomach, bringing life and warmth to skin so long neglected. As their lips meet again and again, kisses bleeding into each other, Severus' hands roam lower and find the buttons of his trousers. After a moment of hesitation in which Percy clearly does not push him away, he unfastens them. Without even bothering to push them down or out of the way, he reaches in and wraps his long fingers around Percy's straining cock. Percy moans, almost light headed with pleasure, and lets his head fall back against the door with a thud.
At his response Severus sets a rapid pace, thrusting his own erection against Percy's hip. Percy's knees go weak and if it wasn't for the door at his back he wouldn't have been able to stay on his feet. His world narrows down to the pleasure uncoiling in his belly and Snape kissing his throat, licking and biting his way up towards Percy's earlobe.
It is fast becoming too much pleasure to handle all at once, and Percy can't do anything but close his eyes and hold on as Snape's hand on his cock takes him over the edge.
When he finally opens his eyes again, Severus is looking at him with a closed expression. Percy feels his chest tighten as he looks back, wondering what he'll say.
"You were going to bed. I should let you..." he trails off, and Percy leans forward and captures Severus' lips in a kiss.
Several breathless minutes later he leans back, looking Severus straight in the eye. "You were saying something about going to bed- yours or mine?"
+++
While Percy has been using the name P. Veselý to sign the documents at work, by the time he's been in England for three months he knows his family must have found out about his return. Not only is he the least popular person in the Ministry but his picture has been in the Daily Prophet twice. He knows that sooner or later one of them will come knocking on his door to see what he's doing there.
So he's relatively unsurprised when Ron shows up on a Friday afternoon. What is surprising is the fact that Ron drags him out to the Leaky Cauldron "for a pint" and a friendly talk, which is completely different from the hostility Percy had expected. When Percy asks about this, in a fit of bluntness he must've picked up from Severus, Ron looks at him with a mixture of regret and irritation on his face.
"Because," he says, "I lost one brother to this war already and my sister is barely a shell of her old self. I'm not losing any more family members if I can help it, you prat."
Then he asks Percy whether he's been to see Ginny, and Percy takes a big gulp of his beer, wondering how to tell Ron that he went with Severus once and sat with her for a whole night until she fell asleep.
At the end of the night they're both rather drunk – mostly from their continued use of beer as a diversion tactic while wondering how to phrase an answer to a tough question.
"Hermione is going to kill me," Ron moans into the table. "I'm going to have a hell of a time of it in the morning."
And Percy, without really thinking about it, promises to give him a hangover potion, if Ron will only Floo to the house in Knutsford to pick it up before going on home.
This is how he finds himself rooting around the kitchen cupboards in the dark, Ron looking around curiously. He's just opened his mouth to say something when the staircase creaks loudly and Severus' voice drifts into the kitchen.
"Percy, is that you? Are you coming to bed?"
Ron looks puzzled and then goes very pale, which is how Percy knows that Severus has appeared in the door behind him and doesn't jump in surprise when he's wrapped in an embrace from behind.
"Looking for something?" Severus asks.
"Hangover potion," he replies and Severus wordlessly reaches around him and finds the bottle.
"Thanks. Here you go," he says, handing it to Ron, "it's guaranteed to work."
"Um. Thanks," Ron says simply, and then asks, as if he's hoping his eyes are deceiving him, "Professor Snape?"
"Yes?"
"Er. Nothing. Percy, I... Professor Snape?"
Percy shrugs and leans back into Severus' arms. "Well, you know what they say about men with large noses. You should get going, you're starting to look rather green. Give my best to Hermione."
"So what do they say about men with large noses?" Severus asks, as Ron scurries out of the kitchen and into the living room to use the Floo.
"Oh," Percy laughs, "the myth is that the size of the nose indicates the size of another part of the anatomy, you know."
"So that is why you stay around? Because of my enormous... nose?" He can hear the smirk in Severus' voice.
"No, love," he says and turns in the circle of Severus' arms so that he can embrace him back. "I stay because of your fame and fortune."
Severus lets out a huff of laughter and leans down to catch Percy's lips in a kiss. "Good to know you've got your priorities straight," he says when they break apart. "Wouldn't want you to stay out of misplaced sentimentality."
"I'm hardly a sentimental man," Percy replies smiling.
"I'll keep that in mind for later, then."
"Later?" Percy asks as Severus breaks their embrace and starts steering him towards the stairs.
"Oh, you know. When you shout things like ‘Severus, fuck me' and ‘Oh my god, I love you' it's fortunate that I know it's not just for effect."
Percy feels his pulse pick up speed in arousal and the hand Severus is holding become the only part of his body which matters to him right then. "Well," he manages to choke out, "I wouldn't want you to think I'm not being honest with you, so I have a confession to make."
Snape's smile turns predatory and he rounds on Percy, pushing him against the wall next to their bedroom door. "Do tell," he says, and presses their hips together, leaving both of them breathless and panting with desire.
"Actually," Percy breathes, "the size of the nose doesn't hurt."
Severus lets out a shout of laughter and pulls both of them into their bedroom, where he goes on to prove Percy's later statement quite conclusively.
percy_ficathon has had the masterlist up for a while, so it's been a bit since I was allowed to own up to this one. I was distracted, that's all ;)Originally posted here
Title: The librarian of Strahov
For:
jamiebluesqFrom:
sarkaRating: NC-17
Pairing: Percy/Snape, mention of Percy/Marcus Flint and Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 8.346 words.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling and her publishers, as well as Warner Bros. The following story is for my own and other's entertainment; no money is being made.
Percy immediately recognizes the man who sits in the seat next to him, but is not as sure that he himself has been recognized in turn.
He knows he's changed. The hair which used to be the trademark Weasley Carrot has darkened over the years and turned almost auburn. The freckles are not as prominent on his sallow skin, and the lankiness of his teenage years has long since been replaced with something he's told falls under the general heading of ‘lean.'
The man beside him, however... he might be seeing him in a Pensieve. There are some differences, but Percy is tempted to chalk them up to having been a passionate teenager with ideals the last time he laid eyes on him.
Sometimes, it's good to know that things don't change. Even if they're Severus Snape.
The location, however. The location is a surprise.
Percy is used to seeing spectres from his past. Prague, after all, is one of the larger hubs of Wizarding life in Europe. Since he came here, he's seen old colleagues, old comrades-in-arms, and former acquaintances; usually they're just passing through, though Hermione showed up at the library almost five years ago for research.
However, those spectres had always sort of made sense. Hermione in a library could hardly be considered a surprise, and seeing faces he vaguely recognized sight-seeing on the ancient Wizard bridge and shopping at the Magical Market should also be expected.
But Snape. At the National Theatre? Attending a Muggle Opera? That's new.
They're sitting practically in the rafters of the lavishly gilt opera house. Percy can't afford better seats – even this ticket makes a dent in his measly librarian's pay – but he can't help but think that Snape's must have been a late buy. Perhaps the last seat in the house?
Darting quick glances to his side during the performance, he notices that at least Snape is not there by complete coincidence – the man is riveted on the tableau in front of him, which, Percy has to admit, is splendid. But then again, he expected nothing less.
It is when they break for intermission that Percy's hopes of not being recognized are dashed.
"A Weasley in the cheapest seat in the house. Why am I not surprised?" his ex-Potions Master drawls.
His ex-Potions Master could stand to learn a few things about baiting from Fred and George.
"It is good to know that some things never change. Even if it's you," Percy replies mildly.
There is a very long, very uncomfortable silence, in which Snape waits expectantly for Percy to say something about stones and glass houses and look who's sitting beside him, and Percy fixes his gaze on the slogan above the stage and pointedly ignores him.
Finally, Snape turns toward the stage, and eventually breaks the silence which has become a bit less strained. "What does that mean?" he asks softly.
"‘Národ sobě?'" Percy asks. "It means ‘A nation unto itself.' The National Theatre was originally built largely with contributions from the general public."
Snape makes an ‘Ah' sound. That is the last of their conversation and eventually, the Opera starts again.
+++
Percy isn't too surprised when Snape shows up at the front desk of the library the next morning. He can hear the conversation with Miss Kloboučkova through the open door of his office – Snape is using a translation charm which has the characteristic stilted-ness of a spell-caster with no basic knowledge of the language.
Miss Kloboučkova, bless her heart, is a sixty year old witch who insists on cooking traditional Czech dinners for Percy every Tuesday. Her greying hair has been dyed a bright shade of violet and she likes chunky pearl necklaces. Percy also knows that today she's wearing her favourite red and green jumper, and he can barely restrain himself from peeking around the doorframe to take a look at the face Snape must be sporting in reaction to this colourful lady who is making him fill out a veritable mountain of documents.
He's in no doubt about the documents either; while the library is certainly one of the finest in Europe and is in possession of some extraordinarily valuable texts and manuscripts, a wizard like Snape has to be here for the Department of Memories, and to get in there, a great deal of forms are required.
Percy is rather curious to see what Professor Snape wants to look at. Something in the alchemy section, without doubt. They do have the complete memories of John Dee.
"He's in the office. I will immediately call him," says Miss Kloboučkova from the front desk and a heartbeat later he hears his name ring through the offices.
"Pane Veselý!"
He'd adopted the name shortly after he'd arrived, simply because that was how people understood him every time he introduced himself as Weasley. It had been a few weeks until he came to terms enough with the language to realize that the word ‘Veselý' actually meant ‘fun' – a fact Percy still finds rather amusing.
As he steps out of his office, he reflects that Snape must not have expected to see him again so soon, as his is a picture of shock.
+++
Percy had relocated to Prague for one reason only: to leave British Wizarding society. When Hermione had shown up in the library he'd been less than pleased, certain that the girl he'd known would betray his secret to his family.
In the five years since she'd been there, however, he's realized that Hermione Granger had changed – not just because she kept his secret, but also because she became his one and only link to the world he'd left behind.
Having the ability to contact one of the highest ranking administrators in the Post-War Ministry had its perks and after spending the better part of his afternoon helping Professor Snape fill in forms and trying to figure out whether or not to let him into the Department, Percy figures that it's past time he checked up with Hermione.
She nearly lets out a shriek when his head pops into her fireplace before she recovers and casts a locking spell on the door to ensure their privacy.
"Merlin, Percy, give me a heart attack! It's exactly what I need!" she says crossly before coming to kneel at the fireplace.
"Sorry," he says, knowing he doesn't sound it at all. "Hard to warn for this though. Am I catching you at a bad time?"
She huffs and looks at her watch. "You've got fifteen minutes. You all right? Hasn't it been rather a short time since we spoke last? Is something wrong?" He can just imagine the wheels turning in her head, working out how many days it's been since his last Firecall, listing possible reasons – she's probably covered everything from sore throat to being held at wandpoint by Vampires.
She hasn't come up with the reason he's calling, though, judging by the surprise on her face when he asks "What's the official ruling on Professor Snape?"
"I think it's one of those ‘if you feel like it' things, let me just check..." She summons a file from a cupboard somewhere and flicks through it. "Yeah, it's like I thought; ‘Sought for inquiry.' It's more of a matter that we'd like to talk to him if he has the time. We wouldn't even arrest him if we saw him on the street. Though I can't promise... with things being as they are…" She drops the file and rubs her neck absently, and for the first time Percy notices that she looks tired – no, exhausted.
"Hermione," he asks softly, "what's going on?"
He stays for much longer than the fifteen minutes they'd agreed on, kneeling on the floor of his balcony, listening to her describe a situation spiralling out of control. She tells him that sometimes she's not sure why they won the war. She tells him that in Britain, things are falling apart faster than she can put them together. She tells him about arguments, about failures, and about utter fiascos, and she leaves nothing out. "Maybe you had the right idea," she says finally. "Even if it seemed pretty useless at the time."
+++
The enormous keys to the Ontology Hall hang on an old fashioned key-ring, which makes clanging noises as Percy strides down the corridor towards the heart of the Strahov library. Snape is walking next to him, black robes swishing in the same way he remembers from his childhood.
The door at the end of the corridor is so grand that the keyhole is level with Percy's eyes, and he has to reach above his head to turn the handle. Percy still has to fight not to let out a gasp of amazement at the sight that greets them when he opens the door. The painted dome, the enormous shelves covering the walls and the shivering silver light from the crystal vials of memories sitting on them are a breathtaking sight every time.
Percy waits a moment to let Snape take it all in, before explaining the layout of the Hall and giving him a reminder of the rules, ending with the classical statement that an attempt to remove an object which belongs in the Hall will set off some extensive wards.
Snape lifts an eyebrow. "What happens if I try to remove something?"
Percy shrugs. "I have been told that you are transported, sans the artefact of course, to a randomly selected location anywhere in the world. Nobody's tried while I've been Head Librarian, but back when I was in Cataloguing there was a Ukrainian wizard who made an attempt. I'm told he remains unfound, but there was a man before him who was discovered when they tore down a house somewhere in America. He had been transported into its foundation, apparently."
Snape glares at him – an expression that Percy remembers very well from his schooldays. "Are you attempting to impress me, Mr. Weasley?"
"No, Professor Snape. I was the best Potions student in my year for seven years and I never succeeded in impressing you back then. By now I've given it up as a bad job."
He turns around and is aware of the eyes of his old Professor boring into the back of his skull as he walks out the door, before he closes it with a flick of his wand.
+++
Percy thinks a lot about how some things just never change over the next few days, and yet his ruminations about the subject have lead him to noticing a lot of subtle changes that he didn't see until he really looked.
Snape comes in every morning, checks in with Miss Kloboučkova and then follows Percy to the Ontology Hall, where he apparently stays, sometimes until they douse the lights at eight. He seems not to take breaks, and since food is absolutely forbidden inside the Hall, he can only presume that Professor Snape goes without.
While he notices that Professor Snape is as surly and ill-tempered around him as he has always been, he has also noticed that Snape seems to handle Miss Kloboučkova with distant politeness, as he does the rest of the library staff. In addition, whenever Percy sees Snape in the Hall, the latter seems to be immersed in his research to the point of oblivion to all else. There is an afternoon where Percy sees him emerge from a memory, eyes gleaming with triumph, a lingering smile on his face, his whole stance somehow easier. He feels a little guilty for letting his eyes linger, but he can't help noticing that the expression on Snape's face seems to take years off his shoulders.
He wonders what it would take to make that expression stay.
He also notices other things, though when he notices that he's noticed them, he berates himself for lack of self-control. There are dark circles under Snape's eyes and his skin looks like it's the thickness and colour of parchment. Percy would hardly have considered it possible but it's also noticeable that the collar and the cuffs of the sleeves of his robes are too wide. The only improvement in Snape's appearance is his hair. Percy remembers it as a lank, greasy mop that Snape often used to hide his expression. Now, however, it has grown past the man's shoulders, and rather than keeping it loose Snape constantly has it tied back, which leaves his face looking oddly vulnerable. Percy rather thinks it suits him, somehow, but Percy also thinks that might be his hormones talking.
Then his new favourite hobby of Snape-watching is interrupted by two days when the Professor doesn't come to the library. By evening on the second day he starts to get anxious. It is entirely possible that Snape has finished his research and left, of course, but somehow Percy doesn't think so. Worried, he makes his way to the Ontology Hall and checks the nook where Professor Snape has half taken up residence.
The writing desk is overflowing with parchment and the shelves above it are laden with books. Everything bears signs of an ongoing research project, not an abandoned one, and Percy frowns as he stands there, trying to resist the temptation to creep closer and take a look at what Snape is doing – knowing the suspicious bugger he's probably warded the whole thing, anyway. Then he makes a decision and strides towards his impeccably kept Records Room.
+++
Looking up Snape's address information had been a matter of minutes. Unfortunately, his address is for a flat in Žížkov, which is one of those Prague neighbourhoods where Percy almost never goes, making Apparition impossible.
He takes the rattling tram down there instead and uses a Locator spell to find Snape's building. Once he realizes which one it is he grimaces slightly; there is hardly a worse place to live in all of Prague. It is perched in the shadow of the railway overpass, the entire place grimy with soot and engine oil.
Snape is listed on the fifth floor, though there is no doorbell for his apartment. Percy doesn't realize until he's let himself inside and is almost all the way up the stairs that there's a reason; it's not an apartment, it's the attic.
He feels a little bit foolish as he climbs up the last ladder and knocks on the trapdoor above him, calling softly, "Professor Snape? It's Percy Weasley." He knocks a few more times without receiving an answer and is just standing there in the middle of the ladder, wondering what to do, when there is a barely heard moan from above.
Hoping that he isn't about to make a fool of himself, he unlocks the trapdoor and looks inside. It is even bleaker than he had imagined. The walls are bare and crumbling and the roof is full of holes. There is some mismatched furniture and an ancient-looking stove, but what draws his attention is the makeshift pallet in the corner where Snape is shivering under a ratty blanket. Fifteen minutes later he's got a good blaze going in the stove, he's managed to patch the worst sources of draft, conjured two more blankets and has Firecalled Miss Kloboučkova to request some soup.
Snape is as pale as chalk, beads of sweat running down his temples. When Percy puts his wrist to his forehead he is shocked at the fever the man seems to be running. He directs a towel from the bathroom to douse itself in cold water and lays it gingerly over Snape's forehead. Then he arranges himself more comfortably on the floor and does the only thing possible; he waits.
+++
Two days later Snape's fever finally breaks and Percy wakes up from an uncomfortable nap to find two black eyes staring at him.
"Weasley," his former professor says threateningly, "what in the seven hells are you doing here?" His hair is matted to his skull and his face is twisted into a familiar expression of displeasure. For a moment he looks so much like the old Potions Master that Percy used to know that he almost expects to get a Detention when he replies, "I'm keeping the place warm and you fed. Welcome back to the land of the living, Professor. By the way, it's Saturday." He darts a glance to the side to see Snape's eyes widen almost comically in shock.
"Saturday?" Snape whispers, still staring at him.
"I got worried when you left all your things in the library but didn't return so I came checking. I got here on Thursday; I've been here since for the most part. You hungry?"
Snape nods mutely, apparently still not quite able to process the loss of four days from his memory.
Percy passes him a bowl. "Say a nice ‘thank you' for the soup to Miss Kloboučkova on Monday, will you?"
+++
He informs Snape the next morning that he fixed his water heater and put a self-refilling charm on it, and is rather gratified to distinctly hear the other man say; "Oh, thank Merlin!" just before the bathroom door closes.
Snape is not as grateful when he comes out again – a full hour later – to discover that Percy has used the time in his absence to launder his sheets and re-make his bed.
"You are not my mother, Mr. Weasley. Or your mother, for that matter. You don't need to treat me like an invalid; I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am grateful for your assistance but I no longer need it."
Snape is almost shouting but he is also swaying on the spot. His hair is still wet from the shower and the water is staining the shoulders of his robes. He looks like a man who has stepped out of the grave rather than someone who's suffered from a bad case of head cold.
So Percy just lifts his eyebrow, crosses his arms across his chest and says quite evenly, "With all due respect, Professor Snape, shut up. And dry your hair before I come over there and do it. You've been sick for five days; show some sense."
For a moment Percy thinks he's managed to shock Snape into submission, but the glare the man sends him after he flicks his wand to dry his hair disabuses him of that notion.
"So," Snape growls, the growl that used to terrify Seventh years and make First years wet themselves, "you're determined to turn me into one of those Weasley-family charity projects? Which one of your esteemed clan are you planning to tell of your good nature?"
Percy's spine goes cold and rigid and he knows that his face has gone flat and emotionless. There's anger welling in his stomach and he has to fight to keep his voice neutral, though he can't help that it's gone low.
"I have not spoken to my family in ten years," he says. "They do not know where I am any more than they know where you are. I did this for your benefit, Professor Snape. You can build elaborate paranoia theories about why I did, and frankly, you're as likely to be right as I am at this point, because at the moment I have no idea why I bothered. I've changed my mind. Fend for yourself."
+++
Percy has figured out that surprising Severus Snape is an awfully fun pastime. Snape is sitting across from him in the restaurant, eating like a man who hasn't had food in several days.
He'd taken an hour to calm down and think and eventually admitted to himself that by now he ought to be able to hear his family mentioned without losing his temper, which was why he'd gone back and marched Snape out to dinner.
Snape, obviously, does not know what to make of a Weasley who backs down from a fight. Percy can see the wheels turning in Snape's mind, trying to figure him out.
The entire meal is rather remarkably silent, but it only lasts until their plates are taken away and Snape does something so uncharacteristic that Percy realizes he's not the only one who's changed in the past ten years: he apologizes.
"Thank you for this, Weasley. And thank you for helping me while I was sick. What I said earlier was unforgivable – please accept my apology." He looks like he means it and Percy is so surprised he almost forgets to reply.
"Apology accepted, Professor."
"That title hardly applies any more – I haven't taught children in a decade, thank Merlin. Please call me Snape. Or Severus."
Percy leans back in his seat and wonders if this will be a night of great surprises. "Well, if that's the case, please don't call me Weasley. It makes me feel like you're talking to anyone but me."
Snape raises his glass to him. "Agreed. So tell me, Percy; what are you doing in Prague?"
Percy considers the question for a moment before deciding he might as well answer it. "I left my family because I didn't share their opinions and they didn't like it. I didn't agree with them that the Order of the Phoenix should be allowed to take over the Ministry. Or, at least I thought they shouldn't be able to stay there forever."
"Don't tell me you supported those Ministry whingers who wanted the Order to work with Magical Law Enforcement?" Snape says, smirking.
Percy looks at him with a raised eyebrow and crosses his arms. "You misjudge me, Prof… Severus. I was one of those Ministry whingers. So what about you? What are you doing here?"
Snape seems suddenly very interested in his beer. "Well, I'm obviously here to work on a research project."
Percy makes his voice very, very dry, as he replies, "And when you asked me what I was doing here, note how I did not say I was working in a library."
To his surprise, Snape laughs. "It's a bit of a tough project. It's a restorative."
"A restorative?" Percy repeats.
"I'm working on a cure for the victims of Cruciatus."
This time Percy doesn't even try to hide his surprise. The St. Mungos ward that had been started in emergency after the first reign of Voldemort had seen an influx of new patients in the last stages of the war. Some well-known people were resting there, waiting for a cure to be found. And here was Snape, possibly the most unpopular wizard in England, telling Percy he is looking for a cure.
"Do you… do you think that's possible?"
Snape evidently hears the tremor in his voice because he looks up from his beer. "Your sister?" he asks softly.
Percy nods, more at the table than at Snape, desperately trying not to remember Ginny's glassy eyes and tangled hair, the way she'd been the last time he saw her.
+++
Things go back to relative normalcy on Monday – or as normal as they could ever be, now that Percy knows what Snape is working on, only a few doors down the hall.
A few days pass, as days are wont to do, and one night when Percy looks up from his statistics, Snape is standing in his doorway, blushing. He tries to reconcile the idea of Snape with the concept of blushing before asking; "Was there something you wanted, Severus?"
Snape's cheeks turn a deeper red and Percy is just about wondering whether he is running a fever again when the man answers, "I need someone to discuss some ideas with to get a different point of view. Would you… accompany me to dinner?"
The offer sounds less like an invitation for dinner and more like a proposal for a date but Percy knows that he's going to say yes almost before Snape has finished asking.
Which is how he finds himself in a restaurant with a surprisingly friendly Snape, discussing Potions and advanced Healing theory – and a great number of other things besides.
Somehow they get onto the topic of money, and in a moment of rash impetuousness, Percy asks how much Snape is paying for the attic.
Snape – who Percy realizes belatedly might have taken offence – quotes an amount that makes Percy inhale half a cup of coffee. Once he's finished spluttering he tells Snape he's being had.
And then – he doesn't quite know whether to blame it on the wine they had with dinner or the companionable atmosphere between them – he tells Snape that he's always free to stay in the spare room of his apartment.
The next morning, Percy reflects that if he really wanted Snape as a flatmate, he couldn't have picked a better night to ask. He enjoys the walk to the tram stop all the more due to the layer of snow and resolutely tells the little voice at the back of his head, which is rejoicing at his improved chances to spend more time with his ex-Potions Master, to shut the hell up.
+++
Percy wasn't sure whether it was the bitter cold during the night or something else, but Snape simply appeared at the library that morning with a small valise which he'd stashed in Percy's office until closing time.
They have to take the tram for the first time, and on the way Percy manages to get progressively more worried about having invited someone into his meagre space. He shouldn't have worried, though – Snape looks around his apartment with interest, inspecting Percy's overloaded bookcases curiously before going to unpack in the spare room.
They have dinner and afterwards Percy shows Snape the magically-expanded balcony of his eleventh floor flat, telling him that if he needs it, he's welcome to set up a cauldron there.
They settle into domesticity with alarming speed. Percy felt sure that with two such strong willed individuals in one household, there would be some disputes, but so far nothing has needed settlement except for Snape's sheer determination to pay his fair share of the household costs.
Percy has to confess to himself that he's forgotten how good it feels to have company. He's always been a loner, but these past years he's been closer to being a hermit. Having someone else around to talk to feels marvellous and Percy tries to remind himself not to get too used to the feeling – Snape is not going to be there forever, after all.
It is nice, though, to talk to someone over dinner rather than read the newspaper or listen to the Wireless. They usually stick to the relatively safe topics of Snape's research, Percy's work or world events, but every now and then a conversation will lead to a more unsafe topic of discussion.
There is a night where Snape comes back from the store annoyed at the locals and Percy ends up describing their history as "more fraught with betrayal than your average Death Eater gathering."
Which obviously makes Snape raise his eyebrows almost to his hairline and Percy, who's never yet passed up an opportunity to surprise the man, says innocently; "Oh, don't tell me you didn't know I went to one of those?"
Two minutes later, when they've cleared away the shards of Snape's wine glass which he'd dropped to the floor at Percy's statement, he gives him a glare reminiscent of his old teacher and demands: "Explain!"
"There wasn't anything to it – I just went to the one, with Marcus. It wasn't something I wanted to repeat," Percy shrugs.
"You let Marcus Flint take you somewhere?"
It is on the tip of Percy's tongue to tell Snape that he let Marcus Flint take him a lot of places, most of them dark and private and smelling of sex once they'd left, but he's fairly certain the man would not appreciate dropping his glass for the second time in the evening, so he just smiles instead and says, "He was a friend."
He isn't surprised when Snape changes the topic, but he's getting wildly curious about the other man, more so the better he gets to know him. He wishes he could find out more about him but his burgeoning attraction makes him too nervous to ask.
+++
One day, not long after Percy looks up at the calendar and realizes that Snape has been living with him for three months, Snape bursts into his office in the middle of the day with an air of quiet intensity.
"I found it. I found it, Percy. It was right there in front of my eyes." He turns around in a swirl of robes and looks Percy in the eye. "I have to go back to England. I need to start brewing."
He says the last part hesitantly, which makes Percy feel a little better about taking a moment to swallow the lump in his throat and remind himself that he wanted this to happen. Then he shakes his head and reasons that he might as well say what he's thinking. "I'm not sure how to answer that, Severus. That's… wow. When will you need to leave?"
There's a short silence in which they avoid each other's eyes, before Snape murmurs, "It would be best for me to leave in the morning. I – There are a lot of things I need to do."
Percy makes a show of nodding and smiling and invites Snape out for a celebratory last dinner.
The next morning Percy walks Snape to the nearest public Portkey station and shakes his hand solemnly as they wait for Snape's trip to be organized. He's already turning away when Snape clears his throat and says, "Percy – thank you. Very much. And if you should ever need a return of the favour…"
Percy turns back around and gives Snape one of the hardest smiles of his life. "Thank you, Severus. I'll keep that in mind. Have a good journey, and good luck."
Then the Portkey is activated and the image of Snape winks out like the flame of a candle.
+++
The last days of February are terribly dark and depressing, the cloudy sky seeming to press down on the city below. The gloom is hitting Percy harder this year than he's accustomed to. He's chalked it up to the absence of lively conversation at dinner, which, despite himself, he had grown rather fond of. He tries very hard not to think about all the other things he misses, and spends more time working to forget his uneasiness.
And then one day he comes home to find Hermione in his apartment, sitting sideways in his easychair, stockinged legs dangling over the armrest, his good bottle of red wine almost empty on the floor next to her and a glass dangling from her fingers. She's made rather a mess of his living room, as she seems to have reorganized his bookshelf, made herself lunch out of whatever she found in the fridge, and covered every available surface with shredded bits of newspaper. It's been a while since he heard from her – though he did buy a copy of the Daily Prophet a few days ago and knows her life hasn't been easy lately.
Her head whips around when she hears him enter, but she seems to be having some trouble focusing on him. "Percy! I hope you don't mind I let myself in! Good to see you!"
Her words are slightly slurred and Percy stares in astonishment as she idly picks up a large bit of newspaper and tears it in two before letting it flutter to the ground. "Hermione… Why are you here?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? I've retired from politics." She beams at him, still unfocused, and Percy is slightly amused as she picks up more pieces of newspaper and shreds them absently between her fingers.
"What happened?"
"Oooh, they were mean to me. Scrimgeour and… Fudge and Moody. Really mean. I told them to go to hell with the Ministry. I'm… finisssshheed." She giggles and takes another long sip of wine.
She's too drunk to get anything out of her, so he points his wand at the mangled newsprint instead and whispers a repairing charm. As he half-expected, the front page is splashed with a scandalous headline. Corruption at the Ministry, disappearing funds, disorganization, all sorts of accusations jump out at him – and in the last few paragraphs Hermione Granger is rather harshly criticised for her unorthodox methods.
Hermione is still humming to herself, and Percy decides to let her get on with it. They end up having two bottles of white wine with dinner and Hermione passes out on his sofa while he does the dishes. He covers her with a blanket before going to sleep and wonders when the Wizarding World will learn that running someone like Hermione off will only land them in deeper trouble.
The Wizarding World seems to agree with him the next morning; before breakfast four owls have delivered messages and a gadget in her bag has made an unearthly amount of noise. She sleeps until Percy starts cooking breakfast – then she wakes up and makes a beeline for the bathroom. Ten minutes later she's sitting across the table from him looking rather sheepish but healthy – though Percy expects nothing less from a Snape-brewed hangover potion.
She's looked through the messages and frowned at each one, done a double take over the little gadget, and they're eating breakfast in relative peace when a loud and very familiar voice rings from the balcony.
"Hermione! Hermione, are you there? For Merlin's sake, Hermione, answer me!"
"Locating someone like that and firecalling to the nearest Floo is hardly legal," Percy comments dryly as Hermione's eyes widen and she jumps out of her chair.
"Yeah, well, your brother never cared much for rules," she grinds out before heading towards the balcony fireplace, and Percy smirks.
There is mingled shouting from the balcony and Percy goes and closes himself off in the bathroom, hoping that after a nice, long bath they will have stopped shouting across the Continent, but doubting it all the same.
+++
When he finally leaves the bathroom, Hermione is pacing. She looks furious and is speaking in low tones in the general direction of his grate, which probably means she's not speaking to Ron anymore.
Out of habit more than desire he puts the kettle on, and when Hermione finally stomps into his living room he's glad to have the conversational opener of offering her a cup.
"So, are you really retired from politics?" he asks when she's settled down.
"No" she sighs. "I'm not even fired."
"Aah," Percy offers noncommittally as he locates the sugar and pours a generous teaspoonful into his own tea.
"Actually, I'm going back later today, and after all the excitement yesterday it seems like people are generally more inclined to listen to me. Looks like growing a backbone was a good thing to do, even if I used it to tell everybody to go stuff themselves. They've pretty much given me a carte blanche to try to fix the problems." She shakes her head and smiles into her teacup. "And Harry may have pulled some strings."
"So what are you looking troubled about? Looks like everything is going to straighten itself out."
"Ah, yes, it probably is. It's just that… this morning, I had this really fantastic idea. And now all I need to do is to try to convince this guy I know isn't going to like my idea that it'd really be worth trying. I think he's probably the only person I know who has any idea about what needs to happen. God knows I'm running blind."
"So who's this guy?" Percy asks.
Hermione looks up at him with a strange smile on her face and says softly, "You."
+++
This is a really bad idea, Percy thinks as he shakes off the disorientation of a cross-continental Portkey hop. Hermione, next to him, is already talking a mile a minute but he's hardly listening. Instead, he's wondering how much it would cost him to take the next Portkey home.
She catches him looking longingly at the bookings desk and gives him a stern look. "Look, just give it a week. You promised you'd give it a week."
"I know, I know," Percy sighs and sets out towards the exit.
"You sure you're okay for someplace to sleep? The Burrow is always…"
"I'm not going to the Burrow, Hermione, and yes, I've made arrangements for a place to sleep," he bites out through gritted teeth.
He Apparates to Severus' row house in Knutsford instead. Snape answers the door on the first knock and Percy can't help but wonder if he'd been waiting. The smiles they exchange are a bit strained, though, and he hopes that it won't take them very long to get used to each other again.
The next morning Percy takes the Floo to the Ministry and spends his entire day in meetings with various officials, listening to Hermione utilize her newly-developed backbone by expressing her opinions loudly and decidedly.
It takes him a week before he's seen enough of the Ministry to have any idea what he wants to do with it, and another week of strategy planning with Hermione as they try to figure out where to start, but at the beginning of the third week, he's already determined that he's the most unpopular person in the building.
He doesn't care; he's used to keeping to himself and working hard, and the Ministry of Magic is no different. Most of the time he eats lunch at his desk and goes back to Knutsford just in time for dinner. If it wasn't for Snape, he doubts he'd do that much, but by now they are enjoying the same sort of friendship they'd shared in Prague, and Percy's attraction grows every day. Their quiet dinnertime conversations don't even begin to satisfy Percy's interest in Snape and at the same time he has no idea how to even express that he might be up for something more.
He wonders how the other man can be so astute and so obtuse at the same time. Snape either doesn't notice or deliberately ignores the small signs of interest that Percy has tried to send him.
He does, however, notice that Percy avoids the subject of his family altogether.
"You should take the first step," he tells him, one night after dinner. "There is no longer anything they can ask you to apologize for, Percy. You defended your position, which is more than most would have dared, and if the articles in the Daily Prophet are to be believed, the Ministry is finally doing what you told them to do all along and it's working. If there is anybody owed an apology, it's you, not them."
Percy sighs and shakes his head. "It's not just that, Severus. I've never felt I belonged there, either."
"You won't know if that's changed unless you give them a chance."
"Why do you care so much?" he asks, knowing he's being rude, but feeling rather gratified to watch Severus go on the defensive.
"They're your family, that's all. It's a shame to neglect your family, even if you don't get along with them."
"Now you're just being sentimental. Look, I already know how it would go. Mum would treat me like a child and tell me I'm too thin. Ron would be snide, and Dad would be too jovial and friendly to really mean it. The twins would make me eat something to turn my hair green, and in the end my mother would offer to fix me up with a nice witch so I can make her some grandchildren. Then she'd probably send me home with Shepherd's Pie. The whole performance would then be repeated for every Sunday lunch for the rest of my life and mother would get more and more heartbroken every time I turn down her offer. I'm sorry if I don't think the prospect is appealing."
"You never know what's going to happen," Severus says dryly. "They might welcome you with open arms, and you might end up making your mother happy."
"That's never going to happen, Severus. Don't push me."
"And how do you know that you just haven't met the witch of your dreams yet?"
Percy knows he shouldn't respond to that, but he's on the verge of losing his temper and can't help it when he bursts out, "Because I prefer wizards, Severus."
They sit in mortified silence for a moment before Percy stands up in a flurry of embarrassment, trying to mutter something about being tired through the lump in his throat. He almost has his hand on the doorknob when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around, not knowing what to expect, bracing himself for the worst.
Severus' eyes are the only thing betraying his thoughts – a thin veneer of his usual placid expression is there, but something vulnerable lurks beneath it. Hesitantly, he lets go of Percy's shoulder and brings a hand up to trail fingers across his cheekbone.
Percy feels his breath catch in his throat. Of all the possible results from his confession, this was not one he'd been expecting. He hardly dares to breathe but tilts his cheek slightly into the caress.
In the next instant, Severus' lips are on Percy's and their bodies are pressed together against the door frame. He can feel the hard wood of the door at his back, but his focus is on the feel of Severus in his arms, and he melts into the kiss without a second thought, bringing his hands up to tangle in Severus' hair.
At Percy's response, Severus loses all inhibition. His lips press hard against Percy's, betraying a hunger stifled for too long, and their mouths open to the taste of each other. He kisses like a man who might have something long-desired taken away from him and wants to make sure he enjoys it all to the fullest while he has a chance.
Percy isn't going to fight that – he allows himself to be thoroughly kissed until he's out of breath and panting, knowing he's probably making embarrassing noises. He lets his hands roam, first through Severus' hair and then down to his shoulders and back, and lower still, until they settle on his arse.
At Percy's touch, Severus surges forward, grinding their hips together and it seems that once his usual reserve is discarded he's rather uninhibited. Their erections press together through layers of robes and trousers and he makes a raw, hungry sound that goes straight to Percy's cock.
Percy gasps and presses back eagerly. He kisses his way down to Severus' throat and slides his hands up the man's body to start unfastening his buttons – of which there are far too many, in Percy's opinion. A moment later he gives in to his own impatience and buttons go flying as he simply grabs the lapels of Severus' robe and yanks them apart.
Severus pulls back in shock, a slight glower crossing his features for a moment which is quickly replaced with a smirk as his long fingers repeat the action on Percy's robes. After a moment of hesitation, both of them looking at flesh so long covered, Severus surges forward again, pressing their skin together. His hands brush down Percy's chest and stomach, bringing life and warmth to skin so long neglected. As their lips meet again and again, kisses bleeding into each other, Severus' hands roam lower and find the buttons of his trousers. After a moment of hesitation in which Percy clearly does not push him away, he unfastens them. Without even bothering to push them down or out of the way, he reaches in and wraps his long fingers around Percy's straining cock. Percy moans, almost light headed with pleasure, and lets his head fall back against the door with a thud.
At his response Severus sets a rapid pace, thrusting his own erection against Percy's hip. Percy's knees go weak and if it wasn't for the door at his back he wouldn't have been able to stay on his feet. His world narrows down to the pleasure uncoiling in his belly and Snape kissing his throat, licking and biting his way up towards Percy's earlobe.
It is fast becoming too much pleasure to handle all at once, and Percy can't do anything but close his eyes and hold on as Snape's hand on his cock takes him over the edge.
When he finally opens his eyes again, Severus is looking at him with a closed expression. Percy feels his chest tighten as he looks back, wondering what he'll say.
"You were going to bed. I should let you..." he trails off, and Percy leans forward and captures Severus' lips in a kiss.
Several breathless minutes later he leans back, looking Severus straight in the eye. "You were saying something about going to bed- yours or mine?"
+++
While Percy has been using the name P. Veselý to sign the documents at work, by the time he's been in England for three months he knows his family must have found out about his return. Not only is he the least popular person in the Ministry but his picture has been in the Daily Prophet twice. He knows that sooner or later one of them will come knocking on his door to see what he's doing there.
So he's relatively unsurprised when Ron shows up on a Friday afternoon. What is surprising is the fact that Ron drags him out to the Leaky Cauldron "for a pint" and a friendly talk, which is completely different from the hostility Percy had expected. When Percy asks about this, in a fit of bluntness he must've picked up from Severus, Ron looks at him with a mixture of regret and irritation on his face.
"Because," he says, "I lost one brother to this war already and my sister is barely a shell of her old self. I'm not losing any more family members if I can help it, you prat."
Then he asks Percy whether he's been to see Ginny, and Percy takes a big gulp of his beer, wondering how to tell Ron that he went with Severus once and sat with her for a whole night until she fell asleep.
At the end of the night they're both rather drunk – mostly from their continued use of beer as a diversion tactic while wondering how to phrase an answer to a tough question.
"Hermione is going to kill me," Ron moans into the table. "I'm going to have a hell of a time of it in the morning."
And Percy, without really thinking about it, promises to give him a hangover potion, if Ron will only Floo to the house in Knutsford to pick it up before going on home.
This is how he finds himself rooting around the kitchen cupboards in the dark, Ron looking around curiously. He's just opened his mouth to say something when the staircase creaks loudly and Severus' voice drifts into the kitchen.
"Percy, is that you? Are you coming to bed?"
Ron looks puzzled and then goes very pale, which is how Percy knows that Severus has appeared in the door behind him and doesn't jump in surprise when he's wrapped in an embrace from behind.
"Looking for something?" Severus asks.
"Hangover potion," he replies and Severus wordlessly reaches around him and finds the bottle.
"Thanks. Here you go," he says, handing it to Ron, "it's guaranteed to work."
"Um. Thanks," Ron says simply, and then asks, as if he's hoping his eyes are deceiving him, "Professor Snape?"
"Yes?"
"Er. Nothing. Percy, I... Professor Snape?"
Percy shrugs and leans back into Severus' arms. "Well, you know what they say about men with large noses. You should get going, you're starting to look rather green. Give my best to Hermione."
"So what do they say about men with large noses?" Severus asks, as Ron scurries out of the kitchen and into the living room to use the Floo.
"Oh," Percy laughs, "the myth is that the size of the nose indicates the size of another part of the anatomy, you know."
"So that is why you stay around? Because of my enormous... nose?" He can hear the smirk in Severus' voice.
"No, love," he says and turns in the circle of Severus' arms so that he can embrace him back. "I stay because of your fame and fortune."
Severus lets out a huff of laughter and leans down to catch Percy's lips in a kiss. "Good to know you've got your priorities straight," he says when they break apart. "Wouldn't want you to stay out of misplaced sentimentality."
"I'm hardly a sentimental man," Percy replies smiling.
"I'll keep that in mind for later, then."
"Later?" Percy asks as Severus breaks their embrace and starts steering him towards the stairs.
"Oh, you know. When you shout things like ‘Severus, fuck me' and ‘Oh my god, I love you' it's fortunate that I know it's not just for effect."
Percy feels his pulse pick up speed in arousal and the hand Severus is holding become the only part of his body which matters to him right then. "Well," he manages to choke out, "I wouldn't want you to think I'm not being honest with you, so I have a confession to make."
Snape's smile turns predatory and he rounds on Percy, pushing him against the wall next to their bedroom door. "Do tell," he says, and presses their hips together, leaving both of them breathless and panting with desire.
"Actually," Percy breathes, "the size of the nose doesn't hurt."
Severus lets out a shout of laughter and pulls both of them into their bedroom, where he goes on to prove Percy's later statement quite conclusively.
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And I think I just found a new ship.
-hunts for more snape/percy stories-
Do you have any recs?
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Thanks for yet another wonderful read.
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Also, it made me reread the story, which helped, because I'm writing for the Percy Ficathon again and having precisely the same trouble with that story as I had with this one. I'm glad you like it enough to re-read it, that really makes me happy :)
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Nowadays I like Percy more and more, and it's nice to see him happy. he deserves it.
And they would make a nice couple with Snape :D
I also liked the slow pace of the storytelling, you made me more curious with every little bit you showed about them.
very well written :D
also thank you for not making a complete git out of Ron <3 :D (yeah, I like him a lot)
Riri :)
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