Work Text:
Severus looks down at the boy in his lap fondly, an expression he hasn’t worn in… too long, though it has become more frequent recently. Ever since the Brat Who Lived collapsed outside his office, bleeding from the hand and positively reeking of dark magic, begging for help from Snape, of all people. How the young man could possibly trust him - him - enough to become this unaware of his surroundings, Severus doesn’t know or understand. He’ll have to ask the boy when he’s done with this treatment of Murtlap and Dittany, but he’s got to keep the wound submerged for at least another half-hour, so Severus - selfish man that he is - will spend the whole of that time, enjoying the company of a pretty little thing in his lap.
-
Harry can feel Snape’s rhythmic breathing against his back, though it feels more like he is surrounded completely. There is something floating in the air around him, but he can’t find any motivation to figure out what it is. It is warm like a down comforter, but not as heavy. Like a warm hug from your favorite person, who happens to smell a lot like a potions storeroom. A small smile breaks its way onto Harry’s face and he turns his head into a warm neck to get more of that intoxicating smell.
He is floating in a void. He is cocooned in the lushest duvet. He is lying comfortably pressed down by someone’s bodyweight. Harry doesn’t know where he is, or what Sir has done to him, but he is too happy in this place to bother worrying about it. He tries to remember what brought him here and can vaguely remember the sting of something on his hand, the color of pepto-bismol, and… cats? He almost remembers a name - Um- something - when he feels the breaths against his back slow down exaggeratedly and a hand run through his wild mane of hair. Harry barely has the acuity to be surprised there are no knots tugging at his scalp, before the whatever-it-is on the air has cocooned him yet again and a smooth deep voice tells him he’s doing so well, letting himself be taken care of and he’s such a good boy for asking for help and that’s right sweetheart, just float for a bit longer and so Harry does. He lets his eyes slide closed again (when did he open them?), burrows his nose under the line of a sharp jaw, lets his thoughts race through without stopping for a chat, lets himself trust that Sir has his best interests in mind, so Harry doesn’t have to be a real person right now. He loves these moments best.
-
Severus knows as soon as he takes Harry’s hand out of the bowl of Murtlap, he will start coming back to himself and rush off out the door. He runs one hand through the dark curls - oddly more well-behaved now that its being, essentially, brushed night after night - while the other wipes the young man’s hand clean and disposes of the bowl with a quick flick of his wrist. He has learned over the months of this rhythm that Harry must be softly coaxed back to himself, or else he snaps back to reality in a panic that is extremely hard to pull him out of (that was an awful night, he will forever remember the fear in Harry’s green green eyes, and forever regret that he put it there). Severus whispers calming words in Harry’s ear - such a good boy, doing as you’re told and that’s right Harry, you’re safe here and finally welcome back, sweetheart you did so well for me when he recognizes the light in Harry's eyes as consciousness returning. The boy does, however, stay completely lax, sat on Severus’ lap, back to front and nuzzling his throat like a particularly happy kitten, leaning his full - concerningly light - bodyweight against Severus.
“What timzit?” Harry mumbles, face turning away from Severus’ neck and eyes barely cracked open.
Snape just casts tempus (8:07pm), knowing by now that Harry wants to see the time for himself, not just be told. Harry just hums, the vibration rolling down Severus’ spine like warm honey. His hand in Harry’s hair tightens for just a moment before he drags it lightly down the boy’s arm to gently hold his wrist.
“Take your time, sweet boy.” Snape murmurs in Harry’s ear, keeping his voice intentionally gentle and quiet, so he doesn’t shock the boy into a panic again. He grabs a new pain salve he developed to hopefully heal the Dark residue in Harry’s hand and gently rubs it into the mangled skin on the back of Harry’s hand.
Harry snorts and relaxes even farther back into Snape, if at all possible, “No one would ever believe me, if I told them how gentle you are with me. I’d be locked up in the Janus Thickey ward before I could finish the sentence.”
Severus hmms his agreement, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth. He knows that Harry will leave soon - run away, more like - and finds himself reluctant to let him. He hesitates only briefly before murmuring into the young man’s ear, “Why don’t you stay here tonight, sweetheart? I am loath to let you go, and we could both use a bit more calm, yes?” Severus’ heartrate, which had picked up considerably at the vulnerability of the offer, quieted almost immediately as he felt the boy nuzzle into his jawline again and agree. Grateful for the excuse to spend even more time wrapped around Harry, he picked him up and carried them through to his bedroom, planning to hold the boy through the night, and planning to enjoy every second of it.