InsaneJournal

Snarry: Accioslash's birthday drabble.
A little bit of untitled something for accioslash on the occasion of her birthday.
Rating: R.
Word Count: 555.
Prompt: How about Harry starts to worry that Snape will no longer find him attractive now that he's getting older?
AN: Thanks to atypicalsnowman for the once-over.



Harry had taken to wearing a nightshirt.

Severus tried very hard not to let this action bother him, but it was a losing battle. Harry had never worn a nightshirt before. In fact, he’d made fun of Severus’ so incessantly that they’d both slept nude or in their underwear (a concession for when the children were there) for the last twenty-odd years.

Harry made no mention of this change, but faithfully wore his nightshirt every night for a week. He didn’t even take it off the two times they had sex in that week, only scrunched it up around his hips. He’d flipped onto his front and raised his arse for Severus, holding his nightshirt in place with a nervous edge.

Severus was flabbergasted. Harry hadn’t been nervous about having sex with him since the first few times. He had no idea what was wrong, and he shuddered to think that Harry might not want to be with him anymore.

That night when their touches and kisses, initiated entirely by Severus, turned heated, Severus tugged on the nightshirt. “Take it off.”

Harry recoiled. “Oh, no, I… Come on, you always used to think partially-clothed fucking was sexy.”

“That was when we were in the downstairs hallway or a poorly concealed alley!” Severus took a breath and smoothed a hand over Harry’s hair. “Besides, I didn’t want to just fuck you tonight, I wanted to make love to you.”

Usually, sentimental words of any kind were a sure bet to turn Harry into a puddle of compliant, deliciously vocal goo. This time, he leaned away. “My head’s been bothering me a bit today,” he said.

Severus scowled. “If my touch on your body is so sickening, perhaps it – ”

“No!” Harry protested, eyes wide. “It’s not!”

“Then take the blasted thing off!” And, with that, Severus grabbed the hem of Harry’s nightshirt and whipped it off over his head.

As Harry sat there gaping like a fish, Severus took in the purplish smears over his chest and belly with a furrowed brow. “Harry, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“I’s tryin to…” Harry mumbled.

“Speak up. And please look at me.”

“I was trying to cover the grey. There, I said it, are you happy?”

“What are you talking about?”

Harry sighed, deflating. “My chest hair started going grey. I was trying to fix it.”

“To ‘fix’ it? It’s not broken, Harry. You’re just getting older. We both are – hell, every hair on my body is grey! I had no idea it was a problem for you.”

“Not yours!”

“Ah, so once again the great Harry Potter is special.”

“Oh, shut up. I just meant… you always talk about me being younger than you, calling me brat or whatever. I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You are such an idiot.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot.”

“Well, you deserved it! How could you possibly think my love for you depended on anything so… mundane?”

“It was stupid.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As you should be. Now Banish that ridiculous garment and get over here. I told you I want to make love to you tonight, and I still intend to.” Harry scrambled closer and Severus had another thought. “On the other hand, I’ve no desire to be dyed. Come on, brat, let’s have a shower.”