Title: In the Still of the Night
By: JayKay
Rating: PG
Pairing: S/H
Category: Romantic fluff
Summary: Harry indulges in some midnight confessions.
Disclaimers: All Harry Potter related characters and concepts are copyrighted by JKR and Warner Brothers; this is for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.
Notes: This is an informal continuation of the "Too Wise to Woo Peaceably" timeline. I had an image pop in my head, and this is the ficlet that got built around it.

*~*~*

"Severus, are you awake?"

Harry listened for any changes in his partner's breathing, but it remained slow and even, and he propped himself up on his elbow, staring at Severus' back. Moonlight streamed through the window of Severus' bedroom, something Harry had had to adjust to after the pitch blackness of Severus' bedroom at Hogwarts, which had no window. But his private home was another matter entirely.

Severus had invited Harry to join him there for a few weeks after graduation, before he began job hunting in earnest. Upon arriving, Harry had been stunned to learn that what Severus had off-handedly called a "modest house" on a "bit of land" had turned out to be a nice-sized estate. It wasn't a mansion -- not quite, anyway -- but it was considerably larger than Harry had envisioned from Severus' description.

But the bedroom had windows, and he was all in favor of that, since it allowed him to enjoy looking at his lover without said lover snapping his brows together in a disagreeable little frown, and demanding, "What are you staring at?"

Severus' sleeping form was limned with silver, and the sheets were pooled around his waist, giving Harry an unobstructed view of his torso. From the back, anyway, since Severus was on his side, facing away from Harry at the moment. That would probably change during the night; it usually did. It seemed as if Harry woke up in a delicious tangle of limbs every morning -- not that he was complaining at all!

He had no idea what time it was; after midnight, probably, but it didn't matter. They were both on holiday, Severus for the rest of the summer, and Harry for another three days, before he traveled to London to see about getting a job. Until then, however, he intended to make the most of his time with his lover -- even when his lover didn't realize it. Harry had made a habit of letting Severus fall asleep first, then talking to him, telling him things he felt he couldn't say when they were both awake, because Severus would find them too soppy. Lucky for him, Severus was a sound sleeper.

"You're too much of a pragmatist," he whispered, smiling. "That's your problem. But you'd probably say I'm too much of an idealist, and, if you ever woke up and heard me, too much of a romantic as well, I'd wager."

Reaching out, Harry caressed Severus' bare arm, running his hand from shoulder to elbow as it lay partially draped along Severus' side. The moonlight bleached his sallow skin, giving it the illusion of being more like pale, cool marble.

"You're very striking, did you know that?" he asked his oblivious bedpartner softly. "Not handsome, by any means, but very striking. Maybe it's your nose. It's very... patrician. You thought I was going to say hawkish, didn't you. It's that, too, but that sounds so undignified. And I like your nose," he added as he scooted closer and dropped a kiss on the curve of Severus' shoulder.

A few stray tendrils of hair had fallen across Severus' face, and Harry brushed them back tenderly, sifting his fingers through the silken strands. Severus had been grumbling about needing a haircut for the better part of a week; he didn't like to let it get much below shoulderlength, but Harry liked it long. He enjoyed running his fingers through it, and stroking it, especially while they made love.

"Or maybe it's the way you carry yourself. So proud, so reserved, so dignified. Sometimes, I want to do something to make you lose that dignity. I want to... I don't know... tickle you until you're helpless with laughter just to see what that would look like. Actually, I wouldn't mind just seeing you laugh at all. I haven't yet. Do you ever laugh, or have you forgotten how? Is there any chance I can help you remember?"

He buried his nose at the nape of Severus' neck, breathing deeply, gently nuzzling the delicate expanse of skin hidden beneath all that ink-black hair.

"Oh, love, I only want you to be happy," he murmured. "I know you don't like to talk about your past, but I can tell you've had little enough to be happy about, but things are different now. Voldemort's gone. The Death Eaters are gone. You've even made a truce with Sirius... Well, sort of," he amended with a knowing grin. "All that anger and bitterness you've kept bottled up all these years can dissipate now, can't it?"

He wrapped one arm around Severus' chest and gave him a gentle squeeze.

"I love your sarcasm, and your quick wit, and your sharp tongue. You keep me guessing and thinking, and I love the challenge. I love you. But I guess what I'm trying to say is I want you to be your usual snide, snarky self, only without all the old pain. Is that even possible? What can I do? How can I help you be happy?"

Harry fell silent, his words running out at last, and he nestled as close to Severus' back as he could as he let himself drift off at last.

Just before he dropped off the edge of wakefulness into sleep, he felt long fingers close around his hand, felt it lifted and pressed against soft, warm lips. Out of the silent darkness came a quiet response.

"Simply be."

-End-