Flower in the Sun
Aug. 2nd, 2007 08:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lesyeuxvertsTitle: Flower in the Sun
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Word Count: 478
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snarry
Prompt: gardens
Warnings: DH spoilers (ignores the epilogue)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: For![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
sassy_cissa
Severus eradicates the dandelions with a look, the thistle with a scorching spell. The flowers yield to him, the weeds wilt before he sets foot in front of them.
The gardens are his province, his rest away from weariness. Potter, with all his prattle, all his indignation, all his potential, he has never ventured here.
Training the roses against the white lattice, Severus stops to take a drink in the midday sun. The water is cool against his throat, and he takes a deep drink before he swallows.
Potter looms over him, casting a shadow over his fingers. Severus brushes him away, spells him out of the garden with a flick of his fingers and a sneer.
The garden is his sanctuary, but Potter intrudes, kneeling next to him in the dirt. "Severus?"
"Leave, Potter." Battle after battle, the toil weighs on Severus, lead in his limbs and char in his lungs. There's no energy left to berate Potter, no energy left to avoid him – the peace and toil of his garden is all that remains for Severus, all that he wants.
"You came back," Potter says. "They told me that you'd returned. You let us all think that you were dead, you left us for years, but now you're back. Why is that?"
"That can be of no importance to you, Mr. Potter."
Potter puts the dahlias in shade, kneeling next to Severus and pressing two fingers to his neck, tracing the edges of his scar.
Severus's heartbeat comes to the surface, fluttering just under Potter's fingertips.
Like his garden, Severus had been prepared for winter, for the sting of rough wind and the slow creeping frost. He had not been ready to flower again – the garden bursts with summer, the bright-headed flowers bobbing in competition, making graceful curtseys to Potter, but Severus is not ready to put off his winter. He pushes Potter's hand away, shrugging off his touch.
"I missed you," Potter said. "I've been waiting for you."
He leans close, close enough for Severus to see that his eyes are ringed with faint wrinkles, that his hair has gained the first dust of silver. He leans closer, brushing his lips against Severus's cheekbones, one after the other, and then moving lower to kiss him on the lips.
Gardens break from winter to spring without fanfare, with the first green shoots appearing early in a hazy morning. Severus had tended this garden for long years, had learned the pattern and the rhythm of this transformation – he leans in to meet Potter's kiss, returning it.
Severus claims Potter, as he'd always known that he would, when he returned. He's returned for this, he's kept the garden alive for this. He presses Potter back into the warm earth, learning his mouth and the quiet moans that he makes.
Potter yields to him, his lips opening like a flower in the sun.
Author: lesyeuxverts00
Word Count: 478
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snarry
Prompt: gardens
Warnings: DH spoilers (ignores the epilogue)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: For
sassy_cissaSeverus eradicates the dandelions with a look, the thistle with a scorching spell. The flowers yield to him, the weeds wilt before he sets foot in front of them.
The gardens are his province, his rest away from weariness. Potter, with all his prattle, all his indignation, all his potential, he has never ventured here.
Training the roses against the white lattice, Severus stops to take a drink in the midday sun. The water is cool against his throat, and he takes a deep drink before he swallows.
Potter looms over him, casting a shadow over his fingers. Severus brushes him away, spells him out of the garden with a flick of his fingers and a sneer.
The garden is his sanctuary, but Potter intrudes, kneeling next to him in the dirt. "Severus?"
"Leave, Potter." Battle after battle, the toil weighs on Severus, lead in his limbs and char in his lungs. There's no energy left to berate Potter, no energy left to avoid him – the peace and toil of his garden is all that remains for Severus, all that he wants.
"You came back," Potter says. "They told me that you'd returned. You let us all think that you were dead, you left us for years, but now you're back. Why is that?"
"That can be of no importance to you, Mr. Potter."
Potter puts the dahlias in shade, kneeling next to Severus and pressing two fingers to his neck, tracing the edges of his scar.
Severus's heartbeat comes to the surface, fluttering just under Potter's fingertips.
Like his garden, Severus had been prepared for winter, for the sting of rough wind and the slow creeping frost. He had not been ready to flower again – the garden bursts with summer, the bright-headed flowers bobbing in competition, making graceful curtseys to Potter, but Severus is not ready to put off his winter. He pushes Potter's hand away, shrugging off his touch.
"I missed you," Potter said. "I've been waiting for you."
He leans close, close enough for Severus to see that his eyes are ringed with faint wrinkles, that his hair has gained the first dust of silver. He leans closer, brushing his lips against Severus's cheekbones, one after the other, and then moving lower to kiss him on the lips.
Gardens break from winter to spring without fanfare, with the first green shoots appearing early in a hazy morning. Severus had tended this garden for long years, had learned the pattern and the rhythm of this transformation – he leans in to meet Potter's kiss, returning it.
Severus claims Potter, as he'd always known that he would, when he returned. He's returned for this, he's kept the garden alive for this. He presses Potter back into the warm earth, learning his mouth and the quiet moans that he makes.
Potter yields to him, his lips opening like a flower in the sun.
