Drunken Domesticity

Drunken Domesticity

by Icarus

Harry's mouth felt like it had been used to store Floo powder, and the room was uncomfortably bright. He coughed and turned over, surprised to find some scratchy material in his face. The bed felt oddly empty. He reached for Severus, only to discover he was on a couch. Ron's couch. Oh, shit.

The night came rushing back. He'd made a pass at Ron. Fuck. Though Ron would likely never mention it.

Harry sat up, instantly regretted it and slumped back the pillow, hands over his head, moaning. Moving at all was a mistake. His eyes felt hot and sticky, and the world truly was a horrible, horrible place if anyone could ever feel this bad. The color of the couch was an assault. Harry shut his eyes.

"G'morning," Ron said brightly, on his way to the kitchen.

Ron, Harry decided, was truly the most evil, sadistic bastard that ever lived. Shouting first thing in the morning... and how could he be happy when clearly the world had come to an end? Or would soon. Harry wished it would get on with it. He couldn't decide which hurt worse, his stomach, his head or his eyes. He settled on his eyes, which had to deal with the misery of the outside world and throbbed in time with his head.

Ron stood in the kitchen doorway, without his robe, making an abominable clinking noise with his teaspoon in his cup.

"Still alive?' Ron asked cheerfully. Harry planned to kill him if he ever had the chance.

"No..." Harry moaned. Fortunately for Ron, Harry was going to die first, it was clear.

Ron shrugged, and began throwing pans around the kitchen. Or at least, that's what it sounded like.

Harry groaned again.

At the oily smell of frying eggs, Harry lurched from the couch, stumbled to the tiny bathroom and heaved into the toilet, the slick tile cold on his knees. Ron was really lucky Harry felt guilty about last night. And too sick to hex anyone. Though Harry had only a vague recollection of where his wand was anyway.

Harry scrabbled for the Pepper-Up Potion, handily located in the shower caddy - a testament to Ron's own drinking habits. Harry felt vindicated. As the smoke poured out of his ears, and Harry was left with a sour stomach, weak knees and a vile taste in his mouth. But the pounding, at least, had stopped.

Eggs. Gah. Ron knew better than that.

A familiar harsh rap at the front door sent Harry's heart into his throat. He came here?

"Harry?" Ron's voice quizzed the living room on the other side of the door. "It's for you -- damn it, where'd you go? I'm not dressed!" Harry heard the heavy sigh, and the front door squeaked open.

Harry nudged the bathroom door open a crack.

Severus stood, black and imposing, on the doorstep, his dark elegance clashing horribly with the cheerful shambles of Ron's apartment.

Severus never came here. Harry didn't know if he was flattered or angry, but his pulse raced. He was really glad he'd already taken the Pepper-Up. Severus was a bit much with a hangover.

Severus' eyes swept Ron's mess of used and repaired furniture disdainfully, reminding Harry that he lived in an elegant little nest, furnished with Severus' antiques... and the damned Cursed Artifacts. But Harry liked Ron's place: it was homey.

For a moment it seemed Severus was going to just sweep in, like a teacher entering the Gryffindor common room. But Ron blocked the entryway with folded arms and one word:

"Snape."

Ron's nod was respectful, though not an invitation. Severus seemed to recall that they were, none of them, at school any more.

"May I come in." It wasn't quite a question. His smoky voice made Harry sweat and his heart gave a painful lurch.

Severus' eyes searched the living room for him; worry in the gesture. Harry could imagine the familiar little crease in his forehead.

Harry stepped out of the bathroom, shut the door and leaned his back against it.

Severus' eyes met Harry's, and there was a world of regret in them, all hell and worry. The eyes hit the floor in that subtle language of Severus Snape: I'm sorry, the glance said.

Harry was unable to hide his own answer, the pained slump of his shoulder. What Severus had said last night had hurt. But he held Severus' eyes steadily anyway, with steadfast acceptance. Severus was a difficult man. Harry knew that. Harry wouldn't change him, not a hair. Kill him, sure. And when Harry felt better he planned to get started on that right away... the impossible, arrogant, inconsiderate, selfish, sarcastic, snobbish...! Harry's eyes blazed at Severus, and were met with a slight thin-lipped smile of relief.

Don't you dare find me funny! Harry struggled to hold onto the fury with which he'd slammed the door to their flat very satisfyingly last night. Harry hoped whatever he broke was a priceless family heirloom. You really deserved it this time.

But the righteous anger slipped away, and all Harry could do was run his hands through his hair and say, "Damn it. What you put me through...."

Ron stood aside and let Severus in, glancing between them in mild confusion. The exchange had only lasted a moment Harry realised.

Harry was also suddenly aware that he and Ron were standing there in boxers and T-shirts, and he looked like hell no doubt. From the feel of his hair, he'd slept with it wet. Meanwhile, Severus was as neat as a pin. Of course. Severus didn't drink himself stupid after their fight. Nope, Severus would have turned up his music - ignoring the neighbors' complaints - and stared into the fire all night, chewing over cutting remarks he wished he'd said. So who was more pathetic?

No doubt he meant to come here to deliver his best-honed specimens, but on seeing Harry he had 'changed his mind.' Harry knew him. They could dissect his better cuts over dinner tonight. But the Cursed Artifacts still had to go.

Ron finally broke in, cleared his throat. "Why don't you wash up, Harry? And don't forget..." Ron said over his shoulder. "...the hot water's marked cold, and the cold water's marked hot." Ron threw his poverty in Severus' face. He'd seen the earlier disdain. "Oh, and the knobs don't match either. Bet you'd hate that." Ron gestured to the kitchen, "I'll get some tea on, and I'll be dressed in a minute."

Severus declined comment and filed into the kitchen behind Ron.

Ron was right of course. Everything matched at their place. Harry envied the new broom rack Ron had bolted to the wall, but Severus said they were 'ghastly' and wouldn't give in. Harry turned away to take his second shower of the day, and hoped Severus could keep his mouth shut, just this once.

"Perhaps the Ministry owes you a raise..." Harry heard, as the bathroom door shut. Harry winced.

It was too much to hope. Severus was truly awful with people.

That was, believe it or not, a compliment, delivered in that measured tone. A sincere observation of Ron's value to the Ministry, and a hint at a possible recommendation even. He'd do it too, as repayment for taking care of Harry.

But not many other than Dumbledore spoke 'Snape,' or read his subtle shifts of body language and intonation. Harry decided they needed a Translator Spell, to rephrase whatever Severus said in a way that didn't leave people bleeding from the ears.

Harry pulled off the borrowed T-shirt and stepped into Ron's wonderful claw-foot tub. Complicated man. It was as much fun figuring Severus out as it was explaining him.

Harry didn't realise they already had a translation spell - two in fact. Himself, and Dumbledore.

~*~*~

Not long after, Harry shut off the water and shoved the curtain aside with a loud rasp. He felt almost human again. A bit of conversation from the kitchen drifted through the door. Conversation? Those two -? Uh-oh.

"You're too bloody hard on him - he really deserves better." It was Ron's voice. Harry had only left them alone twenty minutes! There was no answer. Of course, Ron didn't know this meant Severus agreed. "It's not fair! You drive him crazy, then I get the blowback!"

Harry wrapped a towel around wet hair, looked for a robe and found... pink satin? There was a bra swinging from the hook underneath it. Harry smirked. Ron was definitely due for some teasing.

"You're his friend... it's your choice."

It was a reasonable response, and for Severus, astoundingly polite. It was also guaranteed to set Ron off like one of Neville's cauldrons. Harry hurried. He skipped through the living room and popped the kitchen door open with his foot.

"Hel-lo... did I miss anything?" He looked sharply at the two of them as he toweled his hair.

Neither man responded. Ron's neck was red; Severus sat with crossed legs at Ron's rickety table, gazing at Ron over a cup of tea with a look of utmost loathing. If it came to a duel Harry would still put his money on Severus, but he'd rather not put it to the test.

Harry's robe was barely tied. Suddenly, he didn't regret his hurry, or the clingy pink satin: the appraising look Severus shot him, the tongue that ran across his teeth, promised spectacular make-up sex later. Harry grinned.

Severus wiped his mouth and smirked, "Pink's not your colour."

Ron had caught the look that had passed between them, and rolled his eyes.

"I give up. You're both crazy," he sighed into his hands with long-suffering disgust, and got up to leave them alone. "Talk. Kiss and make up. I wash my hands of the consequences. But if I find you fucking on the counters when I get back -- I will Curse first and ask questions later!" Ron added, "And it won't be a Jelly-Legs Curse. Not legs, anyway."

He stalked out. But the door shut quietly, so he wasn't that irritated.

The kitchen was the nicest room in Ron's place, colourful and cheery. Ron had made up for lack of cupboard space by hanging all his pots and pans on the wall. There were mason jars filled with colourful dried fruits and preserves along the open shelves: Ron's mum kept the whole family supplied.

Harry calmly pulled out the remaining battered chair and poured himself a cup of tea, giving Severus an apologetic look on Ron's behalf.

"He really is going to be a very good Auror," Harry offered, taking a sip.

Severus nodded in grudging agreement.

"You should follow through with that recommendation, by the way."

Severus snorted. "I intend to..." Then he smirked at the robe. "Shall I carry you home?"

"I think Ron wants his robe back."

"Is that a promise?" Severus leered.

Harry blushed furiously. "You're terrible...."

There was a long moment of comfortable silence. Their fights were strangely satisfying the following day; they almost had an afterglow of their own. The kitchen was pleasantly warm and cluttered. Ron liked to cook although he wasn't very good at it. Harry knew the refrigerator was filled with various dishes that only Ron found edible. Cooking was probably the only thing Ron and Severus had in common. Besides himself.

"Don't believe Ron, though - you do deserve me," Harry said more seriously. "Or, well - I mean..."

"Perhaps I will have served my penance by the end of this life," Severus snorted.

"I - that came out wrong...." Harry stammered. But Severus' eyes shot Harry a brief, fierce look of gratitude. Sometimes Ron was no more sensitive than Severus. Ron didn't know Severus, really, or his feelings about having been a Death Eater. Though that was something Harry was not going to translate for Ron.

There was a discreet knock at the kitchen door. "Are you decent?"

"No," was Severus' blunt answer.

"Oh shut up -- Yes, we are...."

Ron entered, looking them up and down, clearly relieved to see their clothes still on, hair unmussed.

Severus scanned Harry's robe and muttered, "You've a strange idea of decent...."

Harry winced again. Severus enjoyed making Ron uncomfortable.

Ron pretended he didn't hear it. "Harry, you can borrow a set of my robes -- you'll look like a two-year-old, but just roll up the sleeves -- And don't trip." Ron shook his head. "Yours are in the wash, but I say: burn 'em."

"Thanks, Ron, if I could borrow your wand too for a minute, I'll take care of the Floo." Harry blushed. "eh... I'm not exactly sure where mine is."

Normally Ron would have joked the 'wand' was in Harry's trousers -- for a change! -- but Ron didn't make crude jokes around Severus, more's the pity. It might break the ice.

"I have it."

Severus extracted the slender wood from a breast pocket. "Never do magic drunk." His sly smile as he handed Harry the wand spoke volumes about his experience in the matter.

Harry cuffed Ron on the shoulder as he left them alone for a second time, giving Severus an admonishing glare to be civilised. Please.

Ron leaned tiredly against the doorjamb. A Wipe-Away! dishrag brushed along the counter of its own accord with a soft swishing sound. Severus sipped his tea thoughtfully, watching Ron over the rim of the cup. A fly buzzed airily around the kitchen. A faucet dripped.

Then Severus spoke.

"I wonder..."

Ron looked up cautiously, startled.

"I wonder... just how many hapless souls have wandered through your doors to be patched up? At least, thus far this week?" Severus took a long, knowing sip of his tea, his eyes sharp over its rim.

Ron blinked. Then he finally answered, "Too many," and shrugged.

Severus snorted and nodded. He considered Ron a moment, before saying with a sigh:

"It's your brother Percy who is holding up your raise. Something about 'appearances' and 'avoiding favouritism.' "

"The bastard! Politics are more important -!?" Ron fumed.

"I wouldn't worry about it. If you were listening to me just now, you would have realised the Snape's must still have some pull at the Ministry." Severus set down the cup with a clink. "But spare me the trouble for next time, and make friends with Percy's boss. Take him on one of your famous drunken binges I've heard so much about. If our 'Head Boy' must kiss some arse, it might as well be yours."

Ron stared at him, then shut his mouth, realising it was open. However, anything he might have said was interrupted by Harry's cheery voice from the living room.

"Hey, Severus -- ready to go?"

Severus unfolded himself from the chair. Ron was slightly taller, but somehow Severus always managed to be intimidating anyway. Ron caught the man by the arm, something he would never have dared as a student. Severus' eyes narrowed at the hand.

"Snape..." Ron began, and stopped. Then he shook his head. "Just... take care of him."

Severus said silkily, "Or you will?"

"Count on it." Ron ignored the implication that Snape guessed what had happened -- or almost happened -- the night before. "And make him get a job, will you? I don't know if you realise it, but he's only picking fights with you 'cause he's bored."

A light of understanding went on in Severus' eyes. Then he snorted. "I've tried."

"Yeah. 'Bet you have," Ron chuckled. And they both relaxed somewhat in mutual amusement over their Harry Potter. Ron let go of Snape's arm.

"Cut him off. Really. He won't leave you! Honest. Money means nothing to him."

"Why are you interested?" Severus folded his arms tilted his head curiously. But he never got his answer.

Harry poked his head in. "What's the body count? Two still standing, that's a good sign. Any day now Severus... Ron, one Floo, good as new, cleaner than it's been in months... and..." Harry grinned and added warmly, "...thanks, Ron."

"Harry, you're a rotten guest, but a wonderful maid. You're hired," Ron said.

Severus laid a hand on Harry's back and guided him out the door, "Perhaps we've found your new calling in life... your career...." He and Ron exchanged smirks over the top of Harry's head. "You can start by sweeping up the vase you broke... I left it for you."

"Vase? Not the one by the door?" Harry asked plaintively. Severus didn't answer. "Oh, shit. I liked that one...."

As Harry made to leave, Ron caught something... so fleeting, it almost seemed Ron imagined it. But as Snape held the door for Harry, he glanced back at Ron. In his eyes there seemed to be a brief flash of gratitude.

Ron reheated his breakfast and put away the cups, replaying that glimpse in his mind. After careful thought, Ron decided he was sure that's what he saw.

Perhaps Ron could learn to speak Snape after all.

Finis.

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