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Nibblin' on sponge cake
Watchin' the sun bake
All of those tourists covered with oil
Severus Snape was entering his sixth week at the Margaritaville Resort in Key West, Florida, and he once again considered the option of simply never returning home. What was left for him there, anyway? His tumbledown, filthy house had hopefully rotted away completely in his absence, and it had nothing on the cool, crisp linens on the king size bed and air conditioned suite available to him here. He had been fired from his job, which he had hated for the last twenty years anyway, so good riddance. His latest paramour had finally got fed up with him and left him. Good riddance to her too.
So he’d packed a bag, drained a large chunk of savings, booked himself an all inclusive vacation, and set sail to a tropical island.
The changes in latitude had certainly caused a change in attitude, too, because the miserable, scowling old man draped in black he had been two short months ago had transformed into a sun baked, oiled up tourist, currently lounging on a beach chair by the pool, frozen margarita in hand, his sunglass covered eyes watching the bartender with interest. Harry had returned.
Harry was a charming, friendly young man with tanned skin and an attractive mess of curly black hair that Severus had idly imagined running his fingers through more times than he could count in these past few weeks. He had captivating unearthly green eyes and the kind of smile that made Severus feel as dizzy and warm as he did after his third sex on the beach–the beverage, unfortunately, not the sandy activity itself. There hadn’t been any of that on his trip so far, or in a few months preceding it either. Perhaps that was making the pretty young thing currently tossing a shaker in the air and catching it behind him seem like such an Adonis.
Strummin' my six-string
On my front porch swing
Smell those shrimp, they're beginnin' to boil
The sunny afternoon was slowly slipping into a warm and balmy evening, wind whispering through the palm trees and wisps of violet tinged clouds obscuring bits of the sun as it lowered towards the horizon. The band was getting ready to perform their same opening song every evening, about how things got hotter as the sun goes down, followed by medley after medley pontificating on relaxing, booze soaked days in paradise.
Would it be so wrong to listen to that siren Jimmy Buffett and maroon himself here forever? America in general hadn’t held any particular interest for him before, but from what he knew and seen of Florida he thought this place was its own country, or perhaps an entirely different planet.
The seafood here was excellent as well, he’d never realized there were so many different ways one could prepare the humble shrimp. He’d had enough coconut shrimp so far on this trip that he imagined he was now more shrimp than man. He should probably start to cut back on that though. He’d been rail thin before and though he didn't mind putting on a bit to look less ghastly, he should probably throw a few vegetables back into his diet. And not just the celery that accompanied his morning Bloody Mary.
Wastin' away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt
But it was time for a refill, or at least an opportunity to make conversation with Harry again. The bartender had been out of town the past couple of weeks, and either the man had got even handsomer or Severus was more drunk and hard up for it than he’d thought. Possibly both. Definitely the latter.
“Severus!” he exclaimed with surprise, and that dazzling smile. “You decided not to leave?”
When Harry had mentioned he’d be gone on a trip back home to Orlando two weeks ago, Severus had said something about how he should probably be getting back to England too, but the possibly imagined shadow of disappointment across Harry’s lovely face was enough to stay his hand. He knew he was crazy to think the charming, popular, attractive man nearly half his age was possibly interested in an ugly, old tourist, but. A man could dream.
Severus shrugged. “Couldn’t find a good enough reason to go. And there are too many reasons to stay.”
Harry smiled. “Well. You wouldn’t be the first to fall in love with it here,” he said, handing over Severus’ fresh margarita.
The tiki torches were lit now, and the stars were coming out. Harry buzzed about taking orders, making drinks, tossing glasses back and forth with the other bartender, Luna, but he always wound his way back to Severus.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame
But I know, it's nobody's fault
Bella had only been the latest in a long list of ex lovers, dotted through with gaping stretches of no one in his life. He’d been with several men and women, he couldn’t afford to be choosy, and not one of them had ever felt right;. At least not in the way he believed he was supposed to feel about all of that.
He imagined if he’d been really in love with her, it would have explained why her cheating on him and leaving with only a note would drive a man to pack up his life and hide out in a resort thousands of miles away from home. But he hadn’t been. It was more relief, than anything.
No, it was nobody’s fault he was here. It was just a place he ended up.
Don't know the reason
Stayed here all season
Nothing to show but this brand-new tattoo
But it's a real beauty
A Mexican cutie
How it got here, I haven't a clue
Severus ran his fingertips along the inked skin of his forearm. He’d found a local tattoo shop, determined to do something about the foolish skull and serpent he’d been convinced to get as a teenager. Harry had idly commented on it soon after he’d first arrived, but had picked up on Severus’ obvious discomfort and didn’t prod any further.
It wasn’t a terribly interesting story, just that he’d fallen for a charming, older arsehole that liked seeing his designs on Severus’ body more than he’d ever liked Severus himself. He’d thought of getting it removed or covered up before, but it never seemed worth the effort, and it was usually hidden by clothing anyway. But here he was embracing short sleeves and suntan lotion, and it bothered him more lately than it had ever seemed to before.
The artist he’d happened upon in town was a giant of a man, with long dark hair and a longer beard. He’d had a hearty, bellowing laugh and wore a wild mismatch of patterned clothing.
He specialized in animal designs, with photographs and sketches of his artwork all over the shop. Before Severus had even been able to ponder what he might want for a cover up, the artist had taken one look at the splotch of ink on his forearm and declared it was the perfect size and shape for a, quote, “sick ass panther”.
Severus smiled. He loved it. She was graceful, and powerful, and a much more enjoyable sight than that pretentious jerk’s snake had ever been.
Wastin' away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt
“Nice!” Harry said when the rush had died down and it was easier to chat. “That has to be Hagrid’s work.”
“You know him?” Severus asked, curious. His mind flitted to thoughts of Harry’s body, as it often did, and what and where his tattoos might be.
“He’s the best. Helped me out so much when I first moved here. He did this,” Harry said, pulling down the front of his tank top to show off the design on his left pectoral.
Severus had to overcome the brief shock of the golden, sweat glistened skin on Harry’s chest before being able to focus on the delicate image of an owl in flight.
“That’s beautiful,” he said. He was proud of himself for not accidentally saying “you’re beautiful”.
“I always wanted an owl when I was a kid, but I hear they make terrible pets.”
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame
Now I think, hell, it could be my fault
They fell quickly into an easy routine. It was a slow night, and Luna was more than capable of running things while Harry stayed hovering over Severus’ corner. He caught the knowing glances she was throwing his way and was just intoxicated enough to not be completely embarrassed she seemed to see right through him.
Harry’s sister had gotten her doctorate, and celebrating that was the purpose of his trip north, but Harry was delighted to announce it was a surprise wedding as well.
“Hermione is ever the practical one,” he laughed. “She said her friends and family were all together anyway, for the graduation, so she might as well hit two birds with one stone. She did tell me right beforehand, but it was very fun to see the look on our parents’ faces.”
Severus didn’t ever have any funny or interesting family stories to share, but Harry always had plenty, and he enjoyed listening to the tales of the cast of characters that made up Harry’s family and friends.
Severus had long thought that happy, kind people can only come from happy, kind families, and he was doomed to be as miserable as his parents were. But Harry had shared in a few brief comments that showed there was more to his story. He had been adopted by the Granger’s at age eleven, and there were hints of a sadder past before that. It made Severus wonder if perhaps he hadn’t needed to be so miserable for so long after all. Maybe he wasn’t doomed by his past either.
Starting fresh was looking more like a possibility every day.
I blew out my flip-flop
Stepped on a pop top
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home
But there's booze in the blender
And soon it will render
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on
Harry and Severus talked for hours, off and on until the music stopped and the bar closed. Severus had nowhere to be but at the bar, and nowhere he’d rather be than chatting with Harry. He hoped that it wasn’t just Harry’s skill as a bartender that made Severus feel as though Harry was truly enjoying his company. But even a drunk old fool like him knew he’d had ample opportunities this evening to avoid him and send Luna to cover the left side of the bar, and continued to choose not to.
It was Luna who waved Harry off, insisting she could finish the remainder of closing duties herself and encouraged Harry to “enjoy the rest of his night”.
“Well”, Harry said gently, coming around to the outside where Severus was sat. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
“Where are you off to?”
Harry shrugged, then seemed to hesitate. “The moon is so bright tonight. Want to walk along the beach?”
The last time Severus had walked along the beach, he’d stumbled and cut his heel on a shard of rock half hidden in the sand, necessitating hobbling back in sight of an employee who assisted him to a medic to clean him up and send him back to his room. And that had been during the day. But he was more sure of his footing now, and didn’t intend to embarrass himself.
“I’d very much enjoy that,” he said, and fell in an easy step with Harry, strolling along the moonlit beach.
Wastin' away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt
The gentle roar of the ocean was a lullaby, the sky was full of starlight, and there was a comfortable rhythm to their walk, despite its silence. It was more than enough to simply be in a beautiful place, a little drunk and a lot infatuated.
Suddenly, he knew he was here for a reason. He hadn’t come here for a permanent vacation, or to waste away in Margaritaville. He’d come here to embrace a new possibility, a new life for himself.
And, did he dare? --a new chance at love.
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame
But I know, it's my own damn fault
“Harry,” he said, much more confidently than he’d ever approached this question before. “I’d very much like to take you to dinner sometime.”
That smile Severus loved so much broke out across the young man's lovely features into a grin. “Severus,” he said, in an exasperated voice. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“That isn’t an answer,” Severus said, but he couldn’t help the joy that crept into his voice.
“I’d love to,” Harry said, and kissed him.
Yes, and some people claim
That there's a woman to blame
And I know, it's my own damn fault