[ficlet] Glorious Sundays
Sep. 21st, 2009 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
babygrayA Harry Potter fic...
Title: Glorious Sundays
Author:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
babygray
Pairing: Snarry
Warnings: Typos. No beta.
Disclaimer: This is just fanfiction, non-profit and just for fun.
Notes: Was bored. Here's something totally familiar: Snarry in the library.
Word Count: 564
Summary: Harry thought he saw Snape wandering through the stacks. Bored? Curious? He gives chase.
The thirteen inches due to Professor McGonagall tomorrow were not finished. The parchment was rolled out in front of Harry. The quill was sticking out of the inkpot on the table. The book Hermione 'suggested' they should use was open and at his elbow. Instead of doing the 'suggested' reading, Harry instead leaned on that elbow and stared drowsily at the words he had written so far.
Ron said he was joining him. Once he rolled out of bed, he just might. For the moment, however, Harry was on his own, forced to stay awake and do his own research. It was hard, feeling the warm sun on his back. The first sunny day in weeks, and he was stuck indoors, studying.
Someone was moving through the stacks. The hard stomp of the person's boots roused Harry from his stupor. He looked up, catching a glimpse of black fabric as the unknown person disappeared behind row of geography books. Snape, he thought, lifting his head up for a better look. He tilted to the side, hoping for a confirming glance without getting out of his seat.
He was not there any more. Harry stared at the spot Snape had been for a long moment before returning his attention to his paper for McGonagall. He sighed.
A flutter of black moved just out of the corner of his eye. Harry jerked his head, certain he had just seen Snape move just out of sight. He rose from his seat and cautiously made his way to the stacks. He moved through the Cosmic Arithmacy section and crossed over to the Micromancy books, searching for another glance at Snape's robes. He heard Snape's steps in the distance and moved towards them, only to be sidetracked by a particularly shrill book on Diatoric spellwork.
Harry backpedaled, going instead through the more melodic grimoires, as he listened for that tell-tale stomp. There, just past the Magical and Mundane Creatures Omnipedia. He walked briskly towards the bit of black that was disappearing around a corner, hoping to finally reach the elusive professor. He turned the corner, certain Snape was on the other side, only to find a dead end.
Harry stared at the veritable wall of books blocking his way, confused. Could have sworn Snape went this way, he thought, the words printed on the spines of the books blurry and undecipherable.
A hand reached up over Harry's shoulder for one of the books. Harry stared at the black sleeve and the long, white fingers. He turned his head back, following the line of the sleeve to the shoulder and up to the collar. Heat rushed through him.
Snape, he thought as Snape dipped his head down towards Harry's mouth. He kissed Snape, his lips moving against his professor's. Snape's lips were hard and dry. Harry tried to draw them open, but they refused. And then they were gone.
Harry stared at the wall of books, unable to focus on anything beyond the phantom taste of Snape's lips and the rush of arousal coursing through him. The book Snape had reached out for was gone; Harry could not remember what it was, nor did he honestly care.
He touched his lips and made his way back to his study table. McGonagall's essay was still waiting, but there was little chance of it being finished soon.
Title: Glorious Sundays
Author:
babygrayPairing: Snarry
Warnings: Typos. No beta.
Disclaimer: This is just fanfiction, non-profit and just for fun.
Notes: Was bored. Here's something totally familiar: Snarry in the library.
Word Count: 564
Summary: Harry thought he saw Snape wandering through the stacks. Bored? Curious? He gives chase.
The thirteen inches due to Professor McGonagall tomorrow were not finished. The parchment was rolled out in front of Harry. The quill was sticking out of the inkpot on the table. The book Hermione 'suggested' they should use was open and at his elbow. Instead of doing the 'suggested' reading, Harry instead leaned on that elbow and stared drowsily at the words he had written so far.
Ron said he was joining him. Once he rolled out of bed, he just might. For the moment, however, Harry was on his own, forced to stay awake and do his own research. It was hard, feeling the warm sun on his back. The first sunny day in weeks, and he was stuck indoors, studying.
Someone was moving through the stacks. The hard stomp of the person's boots roused Harry from his stupor. He looked up, catching a glimpse of black fabric as the unknown person disappeared behind row of geography books. Snape, he thought, lifting his head up for a better look. He tilted to the side, hoping for a confirming glance without getting out of his seat.
He was not there any more. Harry stared at the spot Snape had been for a long moment before returning his attention to his paper for McGonagall. He sighed.
A flutter of black moved just out of the corner of his eye. Harry jerked his head, certain he had just seen Snape move just out of sight. He rose from his seat and cautiously made his way to the stacks. He moved through the Cosmic Arithmacy section and crossed over to the Micromancy books, searching for another glance at Snape's robes. He heard Snape's steps in the distance and moved towards them, only to be sidetracked by a particularly shrill book on Diatoric spellwork.
Harry backpedaled, going instead through the more melodic grimoires, as he listened for that tell-tale stomp. There, just past the Magical and Mundane Creatures Omnipedia. He walked briskly towards the bit of black that was disappearing around a corner, hoping to finally reach the elusive professor. He turned the corner, certain Snape was on the other side, only to find a dead end.
Harry stared at the veritable wall of books blocking his way, confused. Could have sworn Snape went this way, he thought, the words printed on the spines of the books blurry and undecipherable.
A hand reached up over Harry's shoulder for one of the books. Harry stared at the black sleeve and the long, white fingers. He turned his head back, following the line of the sleeve to the shoulder and up to the collar. Heat rushed through him.
Snape, he thought as Snape dipped his head down towards Harry's mouth. He kissed Snape, his lips moving against his professor's. Snape's lips were hard and dry. Harry tried to draw them open, but they refused. And then they were gone.
Harry stared at the wall of books, unable to focus on anything beyond the phantom taste of Snape's lips and the rush of arousal coursing through him. The book Snape had reached out for was gone; Harry could not remember what it was, nor did he honestly care.
He touched his lips and made his way back to his study table. McGonagall's essay was still waiting, but there was little chance of it being finished soon.
