Remus/Sirius Drabble
by Sinope
Title:
Remus/Sirius Drabble
Author: Sinope at (no spam!) gmail dot com
Rating:
R
Pairing:
Snape/Harry
Summary:
Harry can't let go of the Prince's potion book.
Author's notes:
A drabble for Aubrem on the above summary.
Disclaimer: This is an unofficial fan work. No profit was made; no ownership is implied.
Harry's fingers stroked his Potions text that year until the pages grew translucent and gray, but they never found a page that revealed the Prince's identity.
Harry'd gotten so used to Hermione whispering instructions to him in Potions that, when he started taking instructions from the Half-Blood Prince, he couldn't help but imagine him as a mysterious figure at his side, muttering his dryly sarcastic advice into Harry's ear. When Harry got bored, he'd imagine what the Prince would have looked like; usually the figure looked lazily confident, his lanky form sprawled in the chair while his dark eyes take in each detail of his classmates. By the end of the year, Harry'd begun to dream about the Prince, though usually the dreams went no further than odd fantasies of lying next to the other boy, clasping his hand while the Prince explained magical theory in a chocolate-rich whisper.
Then the end of the year came, and the night on the tower. As weeks stretched into months with no sign of Snape or the Horcruxes, Harry found himself encountering signs of Snape practically every day - a potions cauldron, a flicker of lank black hair - and each time he flinched and bit his lip and tried to make his limbs move despite the rage that flooded each muscle. Harry had never believed himself capable of hating someone as much as he hated Snape, and the only thing that kept him from burning the greasy traitor's Advanced Potions book was the vague notion that it might serve as future evidence.
The dreams never stopped, though; the only thing that changed was the Prince's face, which gradually merged with young Snape's image from the Pensieve. The Prince always touched Harry gently in the dreams; one time, Harry woke from a dream in which the Prince had stood behind him, his slender body pressed to Harry's back, while one hand guided Harry's in stirring the cauldron and his lips whispered instructions in Harry's ear. Harry woke and found himself shuddering with arousal and revulsion. "I can't bear this," he said aloud to himself, and from that night on Harry kept a flask of Dreamless Sleep on the nightstand.
Harry's fingers stroked his Potions text that summer until the pages grew translucent and gray, but they never found a page that explained a murder.
finis.
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