Work Text:
Harry straightened his tie. Again. He wiped his palms on his trouser pockets and took a deep breath.
He cast a tempus.
Still seven minutes early. He didn’t know if that was rude or eager or inconsiderate, so he hid around the corner till it was time.
He patted his chest pocket, making sure that the envelope was still there. He hoped Severus liked it.
Three more minutes. That’d be okay. He stepped out of the shadows.
“Se—uh, Mr Fortescue?” He called as he stepped in under the bell.
“Harry?” A voice called from the kitchen. “Merlin’s balls.” He heard the mutter under Severus’ breath, and his heart cracked.
Severus, in his Fortescue glamour, walked out of the back, wearing an apron over black jeans and a button down shirt, sleeves rolled up, with what looked like powdered sugar in his hair and a stain of either egg yolk or cream smeared over the apron.
“We don’t have to—“ Harry didn’t know what he wanted to say, but it was clear that Severus had forgotten his invitation for Monday afternoon.
“You don’t want to?” Severus asked.
“Um, you just, you—“ Harry gestured helplessly to his hair and apron.
“Oh, bollocks.” Severus ripped the apron off and cast a spell at his hair. “There’s been an accident in the kitchen.” He explained. “I thought I could fix it in time.”
“Oh.” Harry’s shoulders fell slightly, but he’d been a Gryffindor. He’d never backed away from a challenge, and he’d wanted this date for a long time. He gathered his courage. “Do you want any help?”
“Do you know anything about muggle baking? My former assistant let off one of the Weasleys’ creations, and it combined poorly with the baking spells. The entire area is a magical null.”
Harry smiled. “A bit, yes. Let’s see what I can do.”
Harry discovered that his Potions Professor, while a prodigy with brewing, couldn’t manage basic muggle baking at all. He slipped an apron over his head, taking control of the kitchen.
Severus complained over everything he did, from taste testing the recipes in progress to imprecise measurements.
“It’s had a cup and a half. That’s the required amount.”
“Well, it needs more.”
Severus pursed his lips but added more mixed berries.
Harry tried not to smile. He really did. But, Severus, well, he was cute when he was flustered.
Fortunately, he knew better than to tell him so.
“The ice cream you’re working on could use a pinch of salt.”
“It’s ice cream, Potter.” Severus blew his hair out of his eyes. He had removed the glamour, and most of it was held back in a knot, but wisps fell around his face. “It’s supposed to be sweet.”
“Add a pinch of salt and see what happens.” Harry raised an eyebrow and pointed at the bowl.
“Fine.” Clearly frustrated, Severus nevertheless did as he was told.
“Now, taste it.” Harry handed him a clean spoon. He was rolling the still soft cones around forms. Once they cooled, they’d crisp up.
“Pott—Harry!” The spoon still hung from his mouth, but he was smiling around it. “This is better than Fortescue’s!”
Harry stepped close, pulled the spoon from Severus’ mouth, and kissed him, hard, right on the lips. One hand reached up and threaded through Severus’ hair, the other tossed the spoon into the sink.
“Mmm.” Severus’ arms wrapped around him. He stumbled forward, pressing Severus up against the cupboard door, his lips trailing hot kisses down Severus’ neck.
“Want you.” Harry murmured.
“Me too.”
Later, with their clothing strewn around the kitchen, both of them sticky with melted ice cream, whipped cream, strawberries, hot fudge, and semen, Harry rolled over, knowing he looked smug, and not really caring.
He’d just lost his virginity, and the sex had been really good—if he did say so himself.
He bent his elbow, resting his head in his hand, and wrapped the other arm around Severus’ torso.
“That was brilliant.”
Severus lifted a hand to brush Harry’s hair out of his eyes. He succeeded in getting caramel in it instead. “Hmm. Agreed.”
Harry grinned. “That was only my first time! Imagine how much better we’ll get with practice.” He shimmied his hips against Severus, a tingle of pleasure running up his spine.
“Gryffindor enthusiasm,” Severus muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a teenager, Harry.”
“Hm, I suppose you’re right.” Harry put a thoughtful expression on his face before winking. “Does that mean we get a second date?”
“Brat.” Severus wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and turned them both. Harry lay back, gazing up at Severus, and felt something twist in his heart.
He loved the man. He didn’t think this was the moment to declare it—there was no way Severus would believe him now—but he’d fallen, completely and helplessly in love. He beamed up at Severus.
“What’s that look for?”
“Hmm?” Harry felt floaty and happy—not a care in the world.
“You look disgustingly pleased with yourself.”
Harry laughed. “Maybe I am.” He summoned the envelope from his coat pocket and handed it over.
“What’s this?”
“An envelope.”
“Smart arse.” Severus leaned down for a kiss before tearing it open. “You—you got me—Harry?”
“An ice cream truck, yes.” Harry nodded. “Vintage VW bus, actually, but I painted it and set it up, charmed the cupboards for preservation and chilling myself, so they should last. You don’t have to actually drive it around. Although I did ask Arthur about flying charms.” He winked, and they both chuckled.
“I thought you could park the thing in Hogsmeade. Set out a folding table or two on nice days.” He shrugged. “Students would love an option that isn’t Madam Puddifoot’s. Honeydukes has sweets, but not ice cream.”
“That’s, actually,” Severus paused. “Yes, that would work.” He leaned down and kissed Harry again, this time more deeply. “Thank you.” He kissed him again. “Thank you.” Another kiss.
Harry giggled and kissed him back each time.