Fic: No Hiding Place book Three: The Cottage (5/28)

[sua_lay]

Title: No Hiding Place: Book Three: The Cottage (5/28)
Author: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Three: -Does being a good guy mean you also have to be a nice guy? Draco is about to find out. Companionable silences and fist fights are a good way to hide deeper emotions.
Warning: This part contains mild violence, explicit sex between men, confusion about sex (not non-con really!) and as you can guess, angst. .

The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.

Part 5

Bathing had indeed made all the teenagers hungry. When Harry and Snape arrived back at the cottage, dinner had already been served. Seeing the bowls full of food made Harry forget about his questions for the moment. It was enough to just eat.

There was a weird silence surrounding them all.

Ron was still bristling with annoyance. He didn't like being left alone in this place with Malfoy. Especially when they were both in the same room.

The Slytherin didn't even have to say anything to irritate him. Somehow just seeing the blond made his skin crawl.

Seeing Harry go after Snape all alone didn't really help. It simply made him worry about his friend while scowling at Malfoy. He didn't trust the Slytherins. Snape might be a teacher, but that didn't really mean a thing here. There could be all kinds of possibilities for an accident. Like drowning. No one would suspect the good spy Snape if something happened to Harry.

He'd been relieved to see Harry walk back into the dining area, even with Snape following him a moment later. He'd thought Harry looked a bit weird, but then again who wouldn't after an ordeal like that?

They ate dinner in silence, concentrating on the food.

"The weekend is coming up. I think we should take a break from the classes for now." Snape placed his napkin on the empty plate. He didn't have much of an appetite right now.

The uncharacteristic words made even Ron stare. Had he heard right? Snape was giving them days off?

"There are chores to be done. Cleaning. Doing laundry. You should also study on your own. I do believe you're ready to take the written exam on Monday."

Even though they had all studied for the Potions exam, Ron, Harry and Draco all gasped at that.

Snape hid the rather evil grin by sipping from his cup, enjoying the heat that spread through him as he swallowed the hot liquid. There was nothing that made him feel better than strong tea and the look of utter panic on the faces of his students.

It was good to slip into the routine he knew well. He enjoyed the certainty it brought, driving away the momentary lapse in his concentration. It also made sure Harry didn't have the time to pester him with intimate questions.

"But... But... Sir, we... " Realizing that he'd just sound like Lavender, stuttering and staring like an idiot, Ron shut his mouth. He looked down at his plate, glad that he'd already finished. The thought of actually eating now that his stomach was clenching with total panic was nauseating.

It seemed Snape was the only one willing to linger with a cup of tea.

Harry was the first to get up. He collected all the dishes on the tray, shaking his head as Ron tried to help him. "No, I'm all right. You go and read or something." He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and didn't mind spending some time in front of a sink while thinking.

"Okay."

Washing the dirty dishes was actually calming. It had always been a sort of a refuge back at Privet Drive. His own way of hiding in plain sight. Harry smiled a bit as Eppy tried to stay awake to supervise his work. She was not really fooling anyone, sitting next to the wall, her head lolling to the side.

The snoring kind of gave her away.

Harry kept his mind occupied by thinking about the Potions exam. He'd been reading for it for weeks now. Unless Snape decided to torment them with the most difficult potions in the books, he would probably pass.

Maybe.

If he spent the next days working hard, and reading every waking moment.

He could do it. Studying would be a good thing. The thick and boring Potions books would be a good distraction, taking his thoughts away from what had just happened.

Not that anything had happened. Not really. Harry rinsed the plate he was holding, trying to convince himself of that. It didn't exactly work. He'd stopped lying to himself about the obvious things some time ago.

He decided not to think about that now. Snape had made it painfully obvious that he wasn't going to talk about the thing with him, so brooding about nonsense was futile.

It was already getting dark outside as he finally stepped into the small living room. It was cozy to sit here with the others, enjoying the fire blazing in the fireplace. The evenings were still chilly, and unlike earlier that day, the heat was pleasurable.

The room was well illuminated by dozens of candles. They had to be magical candles, because their tiny flames didn't flicker as he brushed by a few of them on his way to the couch where Ron was sprawling.

Reading.

Harry smiled a little. He could see Ron was concentrating on what he was reading, barely acknowledging him as he sat down next to him. Pushing Ron's legs out of his way, he took a good position himself, opening one of the books he'd carried with him.

It was actually nice to just sit here and read. Ron wasn't glaring at Malfoy, who was definitely not cringing. Snape was looking a bit relaxed sitting there with a scroll and a quill. Probably writing down the questions that would haunt their nightmares.

A small group of people spending a nice quiet evening studying. Hermione would be so proud of them.

Opening his book, Harry suppressed a sigh, and started reading. With luck, he'd even understand some of the things he read.

There was no real silence in the room, the sound of pages being turned and Snape's quill scraping the parchment surprisingly loud. Fear of flunking even a part of the exam was keeping everyone alert when the mellow atmosphere would have otherwise lulled at least Ron into a stupor.

Draco finished a chapter of memory potions and then closed the book, stretching a little. He didn't really need to read through everything again. Duty and discipline had been drilled into him from early childhood. His father had always told him to do his best in all things.

When he'd gone to Hogwarts, he'd been informed that he should be the top of his class, especially in Charms and Potions. He'd never really wondered why it was so important to excel in Potions until he'd seen the subtle tension between his father and professor Snape.

It had been clear then. No son of Lucius Malfoy would be a disappointment in something that was taught by the Head of the Slytherin House. It was a fortune Draco had actually liked Potions. The small speech Snape had given in the beginning of the first year had really made an impression on him.

Potions meant power. Therefore he would do his best to learn everything.

He didn't feel like reading now, but didn't know what else to do. Chores? Snape would probably tell him to do something. He just wished it would be something simple. How amazing that the most complex potions were easier to understand than the basics of cleaning.

Draco smiled a little. He'd had no idea of how dismal this kind of a life could be. One house elf and the dreaded outhouse were definitely not what he'd used to.

The fire in the fireplace was slowly dying. It took Draco a moment to realize that there wouldn't be any rush of small creatures carrying logs in a hurry. He wasn't ready to go to bed yet, so he'd better do something about the fire.

Before he could actually do anything about it, there was a sound of a scroll being placed on the small table. Snape got to his feet without words and headed to the doorway to get more wood.

Ron raised his gaze from his book, staring at Snape with his mouth slightly open. He nudged at Harry, who barely cast a look at the professor before turning his attention back on the text.

"It will probably rain tonight." Adding more wood to the fire, Snape mused out loud. It was a safe guess, since it had rained almost every day. He stood up, his gaze still on the merrily burning logs. "Close the shutters before going to bed, gentlemen. And Mr. Malfoy. If you've finished with your book, you could go and fetch some more wood."

Since Draco had planned on visiting the outhouse anyway, he nodded immediately. "Of course, sir." As he got up, he could see Ron glare at him.

"Arse-kisser!"

It was muttered barely loud enough for him to hear. He didn't show any signs of hearing it, simply walking out of the room as if nothing had happened.

The visit to the outhouse was brief as always. Draco hated the place, especially when it was dark outside. The small light inside always seemed to draw in all sorts of crawling little creatures. He didn't mind chopping up various insects and arachnids into potions, but having a large multitude of them jump or fly around his head was always a bit disgusting.

Finishing with his business, he hurried to the small wood pile behind the house. He didn't know why they had to bother with the firewood. There was always a small neat pile of logs back here. If someone had bothered to charm them here, why not make them appear right next to the fireplace?

He knew that asking would only get him glares from various people, so he probably shouldn't bother. He didn't mind if it was Snape glaring at him. It was his job after all, now more than ever. But he was quite sure if he saw Ron Weasley make a face at him, he would probably snap and commit murder.

The first drops of rain started to fall down right as Draco shut the door behind him. He was glad he'd actually managed to get inside before the downpour began.

After piling the logs into the basket by the door, he wondered whether to go upstairs, or stay here for a while longer. He noticed Weasley had already gone to bed. Seeing that as a sign, he decided not to go up just yet.

It was nice and quiet here, especially now that no one was glaring at him whenever he dared to make a move. Draco leaned back on the couch, wondering if he should just relax and maybe doze off here.

"May I ask you something, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes widened as he heard Snape's almost-question. Sitting up straight, he nodded instinctively. "Of course, sir." The professor hadn't really talked to him since those first days.

"Do you enjoy playing the role of the redeemed villain, or are you perhaps going through some phase where you need to act as a doormat?" This time it sounded more like a real question.

He was sure he was asleep. Dreaming. Draco could only stare at his professor.

Seeing that the boy had no idea of what he was talking about, Snape added, "You seem to have the notion that you should mope around in silence, brooding about all the evil things you have or might have done in your life. That you deserve every jibe thrown at you. I must admit that it was entertaining in the beginning, but it's getting old very fast."

"I... I... But..." Wondering if he'd heard it correctly, Draco glanced at Potter, who was now sprawled on the other couch. No. Potter seemed as poleaxed as he was. "Excuse me, sir?"

Snape was quiet for a moment, staring at him with a strange expression on his face. Then he said, "This thing you're doing, it doesn't really suit you. You never used to be meek around Gryffindors, especially around Mr. Weasley, and you most certainly didn't use to suffer idiots."

"No, sir." Draco shook his head.

"I understand your decision not to join the Dark Lord, but I don't understand this need for self flagellation." Cruel amusement seeped into Snape's voice. He sounded quite convincing even in his own ears. Bored and mocking. "I do wonder if there were some Hufflepuffs in your ancestry."

He knew where to aim to get the response he wanted. Some things never changed.

Draco couldn't hide the anger in his gaze as he replied, "You know better than that, sir." He noticed the deliberate baiting, but couldn't really keep his mouth shut.

"Good. Then stop acting like an idiot." Snape had watched the new routine long enough. It was time his ward tried to find some kind of a balance. This timid house elf -thing he was doing was just as bad as the haughtiness and the scathing comments about his father and pureblood supremacy had been.

It was a complete shock to Draco. He'd thought this was what was expected of him now. After all, he'd done everything in his power to torment Potter and his little friends. Shouldn't he try not to do anything like that anymore?

He stared at Snape, and suddenly realized it didn't matter what people might expect of him. The thought left him empty inside. All his life, he'd tried to follow the path his father had shown him. He'd been a good son, a good Slytherin. A good carbon copy of Lucius Malfoy.

That was all over now.

Hiding and cowering had been somehow logical. He'd done his best not to be anything like he had been. To be quite honest, wallowing in self-pity had even been enjoyable at moments.

It couldn't continue. He knew that now. It would just make people annoyed, or worse, they would pity him. His pride would never allow that.

"Yes, sir." It was only a whisper.

Snape heard it and nodded. He wasn't sure if it was the right time, but somehow seeing young Malfoy cringe at Weasley's comments was too much for him right now. His arm was tingling as the potion worked, but the pale ghost of unbearable pain was still haunting his mind. It reminded him of all the things he'd failed in. Things this boy could avoid, but only if he was strong enough.

Most of the wizarding world might never accept Draco Malfoy. His father would be hated for a long time after the Dark Lord fell. If he fell. It would affect the way everyone saw him. It was unfair, but it was life.

At least now Malfoy wouldn't simply accept all the sneers and nasty comments he would hear. Wouldn't think he really was inferior somehow because of the things taught to him from early childhood.

Harry didn't even try to hide his staring behind the book. He'd been stunned of Snape's words at first, but then he'd been intrigued to see just exactly how Malfoy would react.

The brief flicker of anger in the grey eyes had reminded him of the arrogant bastard who'd offered him his hand years ago. That Malfoy had been lost ever since he'd laid his wand in front of Snape in the Great Hall. Now it seemed he was coming back. Probably not all at once, considering the thoughtful expression on Malfoy's face.

But he was coming back.

He didn't really know what to think about it. Having the old Malfoy back would definitely be annoying. Especially if he started sprouting his pureblood propaganda. But in a way it would be good to see him answer to Ron's jibes. Harry didn't like the way his friend acted with Malfoy, even though he did have a damn good reason for it.

Having Malfoy fight back would make things lot more equal between those two. It wouldn't really hurt anyone.

Harry turned his gaze to Snape only to see that the man was looking at him with cold amusement plainly on his face. He didn't say anything, but did raise an eyebrow.

Deciding not to comment on that, Harry smiled a little and then returned to his book.

The hard patter of rain against the windows was somehow soothing. Harry tried to concentrate on the Potions text, but found it impossible to actually remember anything he'd read. The steady sound was lulling him into a daze, and eventually he just lay there on the couch, listening to the rain.

After a while, he realized he would probably fall asleep right here if he didn't get up immediately. It was tempting, reminding him of the nights he'd spent in Snape's rooms.

He doubted he'd feel all that refreshed in the morning if he spent the night here. Besides, Snape would go to his own bedroom for the night. Sleeping all alone with only the few portraits as his company didn't sound inviting.

"I'm going to bed." Clambering to his feet, Harry collected his books. He cast a careful look at Snape. "Good night."

The reply was quiet. "Good night, Potter." Snape's voice was calm, toneless.

Harry wished Malfoy was up in his room. Wished he'd insisted on finishing the conversation he and Snape had started at the river instead of hiding from it.

He wanted to talk to Snape and yet at the same time, he had no idea of what to say to him. Maybe all his thoughts would come out as an incoherent ramble. Of course Snape probably wouldn't mind. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like that.

This time, Harry would mind. He didn't want to just babble about things without thinking about them first.

It seemed he was forced to have some time to think about things. Snape was sitting there, his long nose buried into the book he was reading. As if he was hiding from Harry. Showing him he was definitely not going to have any kind of a conversation with him tonight.

Feeling a bit annoyed about leaving Malfoy and Snape in the living room, Harry walked across the hallway and then went upstairs.

Ron was already asleep as he got to their room. He walked around softly, even though he knew from experience nothing short of a minor earthquake would wake his friend up. Placing his books on the table, he started removing his clothes. He even managed not to throw them on the floor, unlike Ron.

Harry pulled the covers to the side. He stared at the sheets for a moment, and then sighed. Apparently Eppy didn't change bedsheets either. And they were getting a bit rancid.

At least there was no one in the corridor as he sneaked out of his room. The last thing he needed was to bump into Malfoy.

The whole trip to the linen closet and then back to his room went without incident. Harry worked quickly, not really bothering to get the corners straight. The sheets would be rumpled in a couple of minutes anyway. He remembered to close the shutters -- since Ron so obviously hadn't -- and got ready for bed.

The sheets were wonderfully clean. They even smelled clean and not like something that had been on a shelf in a small dusty closet for months, like they had probably been.

Harry buried his face in his pillow, inhaling the scent. He liked it. Clean sheets against his clean skin.

On the other side of the room, Ron was snoring slightly. Harry didn't even have to look at him to know that he was lying on his back, his left leg bent into a weird angle. Ron always slept like that when he snored.

It was one of the things Harry just knew. Something seven years of living together had burned into his mind. Unlike real schoolwork, this was something he never had to think about. Never had to question, or struggle to remember. It was constant.

Not many things in his life were. Those with a clear pattern were usually ones that induced nightmares. Hot summer nights spent staring at the ceiling that was covered with spider webs and small cracks that would send a rain of sawdust falling on his face in the morning, if by some chance Dudley would be up before he was. Weekly predictions of doom that always seemed only a little ludicrous when professor Trelawney said them in the well lit but smokey chambers of hers, and worrying in the middle of the night, when Harry was once again thinking about the monster who had killed his parents. Losing everyone who was dear to him.

There were good things too. He couldn't deny it. Hermione's mind, that seemed always as sharp. The friendship that had grown between him and Ron. The love Sirius was never embarrassed about showing to him. All constant things. Things that he never took for granted, even when he knew that maybe he should. Maybe he should stop worrying about it all ending some day.

Ron rolled over to his side, his face squashed against the pillow, and the snoring ended.

The silence made Harry feel slightly uncomfortable. As if there should be other sounds echoing in the room. Deep breathing. Neville talking in sleep. Floorboards creaking as Seamus padded to get a glass of water.

That was what his world had been about. Not exactly a constant thing. Yuletide and summer were different, with him alone in the dormitory or back at Privet Drive. Then there were the short periods of bliss when he was surrounded by creaking old walls and the sound of the ghoul banging around in the attic was simply background noise he didn't even register but would miss if it was gone.

Sensations had always been meaningful to Harry, before he'd found people he could trust. Even now, with friends and something resembling a real family unlike his blood relatives who were a bad joke, he relied in familiar scents and sounds.

Home was not the cold house with a very convenient cupboard under the stairs. Home was the dark silhouette of the old castle painting against the blue sky. It was the sound of people coming and going, the scent of sulfur and chocolate and herbs.

Harry had known that from the beginning. From the first weeks he'd lived in Hogwarts.

His family had nothing to do with blood relatives. Family members shared the dormitory with him. Family was a group of redheads, who seemed to care about him for himself and not because he was supposed to be a hero. It was the strong wiry arms coming around him, the earthy scent of Sirius' hair surrounding him.

It was family and it was love. The kind of love that everyone needed to survive. There was other kind of love as well. The sweet innocent infatuation he'd known when he'd been younger. Hot pulsating desire that could fill his whole being. Lust when seeing the curve of a breast or strong muscles. Or like Ron said, seeing a nice round arse.

Wonderful emotions and sensations, but ones he wouldn't crave too much even when he had to live without. Unlike with the feeling of family.

He missed it. Missed Hogwarts, even with all the pressure he'd felt being surrounded by his classmates and the Order of the Phoenix. Missed Sirius and Hermione. But it was a dull ache, something he could deal with. After all, Ron was here with him; the first person in the whole wide world who'd ever called him a friend.

And Snape was here as well. Not exactly as a reminder of Hogwarts, of home, not acting in Sirius' place as a surrogate parent. Harry smiled a little. Snape was more a friend than anything, no matter how disgusted he'd be of the use of such a word.

There was that weird feeling in his belly again; the one that had fluttered there back in Hogwarts when he'd watched Snape stagger from the shower all exhausted. That had only intensified ever since, almost exploding into heat as he'd stood at the river bank earlier today.

Punching his pillow, Harry rolled over. He didn't want to spend the night thinking about crazy things, like naked Snape. Definitely not naked Snape. He'd already wasted so many evenings contemplating the man. He did know he was a human by now; not a monster, and not just a teacher.

There was no reason to wallow in that anymore. He knew himself, and knew that in no time he'd start to worry about things and then brood on them. Snape was one of the good things in his life. Nothing to brood about.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, trying to empty his head of all weird thoughts.

Still, as he drifted off to sleep, his mind was filled with images of droplets of water running down pale skin

---

Comments

[yura-slash.livejournal.com]

*sigh* so wonderful. think lots of nasty thoughts harry... *rubs hands together with glee*

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

Heh, I just want to slap him and tell him to get on with it! Naked Snape is a good thought, but a naked Snape and a naked Harry in bed together is even better.

*smirk*

[nicholsa.livejournal.com]

Is Harry really that dense? Hmm..It'll be interesting to see Draco 'come back to life.' I can't wait for that to begin!

[sua-lay.livejournal.com]

Oh yes, he's really that dense. He's a Gryffindor!

*snicker*

And yup, Draco will definitely not continue the remorseful routine. He wouldn't be a Malfoy if he did.