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《(HP同人)wispers of intent（英文版）》作者：【美】tira nog
Whispers of Intent
Author: Tira Nog
Written for Snarry Olympics, Team Romance
Prompt: Things Left Unsaid
Rating: NC 17, please read only if you are of legal age.
Warnings: Adult sexual content
Spoilers: Through HBP
Harry Potter took a deep breath as he stepped through the pub door. Whispers wasn't your typical Wizarding pub. It was one of the few places in the Wizarding World where wizards of certain predilections could meet other like-minded wizards. Unlike the similar establishments on Knockturn Alley, Whispers had a certain air of – if not respectability, then at least safety. A man could come into Whispers and know he'd still be alive come morning. That couldn't be said about some of the other places Harry had frequented in his younger days.
As an Auror, he knew that he probably shouldn't be here at all. Prejudice against same-sex relationships was still rampant. Were he any Auror other than Harry Potter, there was every chance he would lose his job for being spotted in a place like this. But he was Harry Potter. He figured after all the grief his celebrity status had brought him, it was only fair that he be allowed to trade on it on occasion.
The inside of the pub wasn't much brighter than the midnight street outside had been, but it was warmer. The heat and smoke of a wood fire embraced him as Harry shook off the cold inside the doorway. A spell had kept the incessant rain off him, but there wasn't a spell in the world that could keep the damp from penetrating.
Wiping the moisture from his glasses, which he'd once again forgotten to spell, Harry peered owlishly around the low-lit pub. The music was a little too slow for his tastes, more a waltz than anything, but his gaze moved appreciatively over the wizards who were pressed tight together, slow-dancing on the dance floor.
He knew he was a sentimental fool, but whenever he saw a scene like that, he always imagined that the wizards embracing and slowly swaying to the music were long-term lovers rather than the far more likely one-night-stands that they were. There was a time he'd wished for something like that, a partner he could hold close and cherish, but reality had taught him a harsh lesson about what the Boy Who Lived could and couldn't have.
His celebrity status was simply too huge an obstacle. The wizards it attracted wanted him for all the wrong reasons, and the wizards Harry found himself drawn to were always too worried about the publicity to risk more than a one-night-stand. He'd been bitter about it for years, but now at thirty-three, he was resigned to his fate.
He came to Whispers when he couldn't hold out any longer, but mostly, he went it alone. Life hadn't turned out as he'd thought it would, but then, whose had? Certainly no one Harry knew.
Tearing his eyes away from the hypnotically shifting couples, Harry made his way to the bar. Though he'd been certain to make sure his bangs were concealing the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, he heard the excited susurration that passed through the clientele as he was recognized.
Harry used to hate that, but these days, he used it to his advantage. Once word on who he was spread through the place, he usually had his pick of partners. It made it easier, if seedier. When he was younger, he used to talk to potential lovers to try to establish some kind of connection with them. These days he just picked out who looked hottest and fucked them. He hated it, but need always outweighed his morals.
"Firewhiskey," Harry told the chubby blond bartender when he finally reached him. The Friday night crowd was pretty thick.
Harry was taking his first sip of the harsh liquor when someone called his name.
"Harry?"
He turned, because normally it was 'Are you Harry Potter?' or 'I've read so much about you,' not just his first name, said so familiarly.
The face was very familiar. It took him a minute to place the name of the dark-haired, good-looking wizard who'd sidled up to the bar beside him. Sixteen years had passed since he'd left Hogwarts, and he hadn't seen the other man since. With difficulty, Harry pulled the wizard's name out of the thousands of names he'd accumulated over the years.
"It is you! I never would have expected to see you in a place like this. I didn't even know you were gay!" Justin Finch-Fletchley exclaimed, patting Harry on the shoulder as if they'd been best of friends.
That was another thing his celebrity status encouraged. People who'd barely given him the time of day when young now tended to over-exaggerate the closeness of their prior association.
Since Justin had never been really awful to him, Harry pasted a smile on his face and tried to look happy about the chance encounter. "Hello, Justin. How are you?"
Justin's peaches-and-cream cheeks turned bright pink. He was obviously delighted that Harry had recognized him.
"Fine, Harry. I'm fine," Justin nervously stammered. "I guess I don't have to ask how you're doing. I read about your adventures in the papers every day. You've done quite well for yourself."
For a man who had no hope of ever forming a satisfying relationship, he supposed that was true. The comment, however, put Justin immediately out of the running for tonight's flavour of the month. Suppressing a grimace, Harry shrugged and said, "You know how the papers exaggerate."
"Yes, but still . . . you've got quite the life, haven't you? They say that you're so good an Auror that even Mad Eye Moody's record dulls in comparison," Justin enthused.
Desperately trying to change the subject, Harry asked, "So what are you doing these days?"
Justin gave a self-deprecating smile and answered, "I'm a mediwiz at St. Mungo's," sounding like saving lives on a daily basis wasn't something that could possibly compare to being an Auror.
"Hey, that's great," Harry said.
"I suppose. It's nothing like what you do, though." The awkward pause that always came when people who'd barely known him tried to make contact set in. Justin broke it with the question Harry had been dreading. "So, how are Hermione and Ron these days?"
Telling himself that it wasn't mature to grit his teeth, Harry fielded the inquiry as best he could. "Fine, last time I saw them."
Harry didn't add that the stretch between when he'd last seen Ron was only a few years shorter than when he'd last seen Justin. Breaking your best friend's kid sister's heart wasn't conducive to endearing yourself to a family. It had been more than thirteen years since he'd seen any of the Weasleys, other than Percy, whom he occasionally passed at the Ministry office. As for Hermione, well, he saw Hermione, but the rift between Ron and him had all but destroyed their closeness as well. They tried, but it was painful to them both.
Justin didn't need to hear any of that, however.
"Oh, that's wonderful," Justin answered, his awkwardness growing by the minute.
Harry hoped that Justin wasn't working up his courage to proposition him. This fawning was hard enough to take from strangers, let alone from people who'd actually known him and should have known better.
A bubble of uncomfortable silence seemed to isolate them from the noisy, busy bar for a moment.
Visibly searching for conversational gambits, Justin nervously offered, "You'll never believe who's here."
Wincing at the prospect of yet another of these god awful reunions, Harry wondered if he should just forget about getting laid tonight and head home. Still, his manners wouldn't allow him to simply ignore Justin's attempt, so he gamely asked, "Who?"
"Snape," Justin said, with his first real grin.
It was amazing, really, the level of emotion that simple name could inspire in him. He'd once hated Snape more than Voldemort. He hadn't seen the man since the trials sixteen years ago.
"No way," Harry denied. But he could see no trace of joking in that attractive face.
"Really," Justin said and pointed off to the shadows at their right. "He's at a table over in the corner there. It shocked the hell out of me the first time I saw him here. I come here pretty regularly. Snape shows up a couple of times a month."
"Did you ever – " Harry found himself voicing a totally inappropriate question, because the idea of his old nemesis frequenting a gay Wizarding bar was so beyond his capacity to comprehend that he temporarily lost control of his mouth.
Justin appeared scandalized by the suggestion. "Are you insane? He mightn't be my potions teacher anymore, but Snape is still the greasy, ugly bastard he was back in school. It's a wonder he gets laid at all."
"Does he get laid?" Once again, Harry's question escaped without benefit of forethought.
