chiraldream (
lesyeuxverts) wrote2007-07-14 09:20 am
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Entry tags:
As Sharp as Unrelenting Sunlight
Title: As Sharp as Unrelenting Sunlight
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Word Count: 499
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Percy/Severus
Prompt: buttons and glasses
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: First teenyfic, written for
celandineb, because she started it and I say so. No, it wasn't a request, but my muse doesn't always follow the rules.
Percy ran a finger along the buttons, smooth circles under his fingertips, wood and bone and ivory clinking together. He pushed them out of their neat row, rearranging them into lines of marching hieroglyphs, and Snape leaned over with his elbows on Percy's shoulders.
"Ancient Runes was not your best subject," he said, passing Percy a glass of whiskey.
Percy set it down on the coaster, wiping the condensation off his fingers before dipping his hand into the box again. His Grandmother Prewett's button collection was a series of bright eccentricities, ordinary buttons mixed with painted wooden beads and elaborate glass creations - all the fashions of decades past were represented. Antique brass buttons, plastic Muggle buttons, cloth and onyx and glass buttons, Percy fingered rough and smooth edges.
He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head up to look at Snape, all black and severe lines in silhouette against the bright window. He was as sharp as anything in their refuge – as sharp as the unrelenting sunlight, as sharp as the starched sheets on the single bed, as sharp as Grandmother Prewett's bright knitting needles in their corner.
"Ninety two."
"Grandmother had more than that," Percy said.
"Ninety two days spent in this safehouse, Weasley."
Days where the sunlight ran long and short, days full of Snape's voice and the whistle of the wind through the broken window – Percy took a gulp of whiskey and passed the glass back to Snape. "It could be worse, if you were stuck here with one of my brothers."
The runes marched across the table, the buttons animated without Percy's touch to guide them. A pink button with a floral pattern hopped up onto his lapel, dancing there before it fell back to the table.
"Your eldest brother had an exceptionally fine arse."
Glasses and glasses of whiskey between them – morning light, reflected off the looking glass in the bedroom and onto the sharp creases in the expanse of sheets between them – glass buttons glinting in the sunlight – Percy pushed his glasses up his nose and turned to look at Snape. "My eldest brother was straight," he said. "You're drunk."
"Pity."
Ancient Runes had been Percy's best subject, but now the buttons blurred before his gaze – the runes spelled out declarations of undying love, the location of the lost Horcrux, the secret dreams of the Dark Lord or his grandmother's recipe for sugar cookies, it was all the same with the brass and plastic and ivory clinking against the wood table, with Snape's voice ringing in his ears.
Percy reached up to grasp Snape's shoulders. "Don't," he said. "Don't pretend. I've seen you – heard you –"
Percy parted his lips, and Snape pushed him away.
He passed the whiskey back to Percy, leaning across him to adjust the buttons in their marching pattern. "Ninety three," he said before he walked away. "What you think you heard, the games you play with these buttons, your foolish notions – none of it makes any difference."
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Word Count: 499
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Percy/Severus
Prompt: buttons and glasses
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: First teenyfic, written for
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Percy ran a finger along the buttons, smooth circles under his fingertips, wood and bone and ivory clinking together. He pushed them out of their neat row, rearranging them into lines of marching hieroglyphs, and Snape leaned over with his elbows on Percy's shoulders.
"Ancient Runes was not your best subject," he said, passing Percy a glass of whiskey.
Percy set it down on the coaster, wiping the condensation off his fingers before dipping his hand into the box again. His Grandmother Prewett's button collection was a series of bright eccentricities, ordinary buttons mixed with painted wooden beads and elaborate glass creations - all the fashions of decades past were represented. Antique brass buttons, plastic Muggle buttons, cloth and onyx and glass buttons, Percy fingered rough and smooth edges.
He leaned back against the couch, tilting his head up to look at Snape, all black and severe lines in silhouette against the bright window. He was as sharp as anything in their refuge – as sharp as the unrelenting sunlight, as sharp as the starched sheets on the single bed, as sharp as Grandmother Prewett's bright knitting needles in their corner.
"Ninety two."
"Grandmother had more than that," Percy said.
"Ninety two days spent in this safehouse, Weasley."
Days where the sunlight ran long and short, days full of Snape's voice and the whistle of the wind through the broken window – Percy took a gulp of whiskey and passed the glass back to Snape. "It could be worse, if you were stuck here with one of my brothers."
The runes marched across the table, the buttons animated without Percy's touch to guide them. A pink button with a floral pattern hopped up onto his lapel, dancing there before it fell back to the table.
"Your eldest brother had an exceptionally fine arse."
Glasses and glasses of whiskey between them – morning light, reflected off the looking glass in the bedroom and onto the sharp creases in the expanse of sheets between them – glass buttons glinting in the sunlight – Percy pushed his glasses up his nose and turned to look at Snape. "My eldest brother was straight," he said. "You're drunk."
"Pity."
Ancient Runes had been Percy's best subject, but now the buttons blurred before his gaze – the runes spelled out declarations of undying love, the location of the lost Horcrux, the secret dreams of the Dark Lord or his grandmother's recipe for sugar cookies, it was all the same with the brass and plastic and ivory clinking against the wood table, with Snape's voice ringing in his ears.
Percy reached up to grasp Snape's shoulders. "Don't," he said. "Don't pretend. I've seen you – heard you –"
Percy parted his lips, and Snape pushed him away.
He passed the whiskey back to Percy, leaning across him to adjust the buttons in their marching pattern. "Ninety three," he said before he walked away. "What you think you heard, the games you play with these buttons, your foolish notions – none of it makes any difference."