Bottom Harry One Shots

Whatever I Fear

Summary:Harry and Severus want to be together, they just need a little help getting there!

Ship: SeverusSnapexHarryPotter

All credit goes to Cyndassa on Ao3

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"This is nice." Warm arms slid around my waist, settling with a comforting weight around me.

"What?" I smile slightly as warm lips butterfly over my neck

"This. You, me, here."

"Yeah, I would have to agree." I twist around in the arms to face the man behind me. I could get lost in those onyx eyes.

"You know something Harry?" I'm forced to shiver in pleasure as that sinful, richer than chocolate voice flows over, around, and through me.

"Mmm?" That oh so talented mouth leans closer to my ear, close enough for me to feel warm puffs of breath ruffling my hair.

"It's time to get up! It's time to get up! It's time to get up! Up, up, up!" The melodious voice suddenly zings to the upper octaves and turns into a shrill shriek.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" I bolted upright in my bed, thrown mercilessly from the warm confines of my dream.

"Come on! Get out of bed! Up, up, up! Get a move on!" My clock is still shrieking from my bedside table. I grabbed at it and slammed the off button down in a vicious attempt to get back at it for awakening me.

"OW! No need to get violent!" The clock yelped at me before shutting up.

"I'll get bloody violent with you if I damn we want to, you stupid clock." I muttered darkly, knowing full well that it couldn't hear me now that its job had been completed. I stared at its face darkly, trying to make the hands make sense to me in my still half-asleep state.

"6.30. Time to get your lazy arse out of bed." The clock was a gift from Ron when I moved back to Hogwarts to take up the DADA position. "I know you have a hard time getting up in the mornings Harry, so I got this for you." It had seemed like a nice gesture at the time. That's what I get for trusting a Weasley.

"Bloody hell. Will someone please remind me why we have to get up so damned early?" I yawned widely and stretched, then reached down to scratch an itch on my thigh. My hand came back sticky.

Sticky?

I glanced down at my lap. Oh. That might explain a few things. Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed, pulled off my sticky pajama bottoms and ran my hand over the white stain in the front, muttering "Scourge" as I did so. Like I need house elves finding my sleep clothes like that. They may be discreet about some things, but I don't really want to take the chance that they'll start rumors that'll spread like wildfire, especially when that wildfire would burn the ears of a certain headmaster. I really don't need Professor Dumbledore knowing about my wet dreams. The bottoms returned to an immaculately clean state and I tossed them to the foot of my bed before padding naked over to my chair to pull on my Gryffindor red silk robe and pulling it closed with the golden sash. Yes, silk. One of the perks of being 'The God-Damned-Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die' is that I get to indulge in my hedonisms if I want to.

Now slightly more awake, although not by much, I stepped into my bathroom and over to the pure white marble sink. My mirror whistled at me. "Mornin' handsome." Oh yes, the mirror that goes with the clock, courtesy of Fred and George. "We thought you might need something to make you laugh in the mornings--" "Seeing as you're such a great bloody prat until you've had a good laugh or two." Again, another thoughtful gesture, shot to Hell in a hand basket courtesy of my trust. It was after that point that I made it a point never to trust gifts from the three youngest Weasley boys again.