Chapter Text
“Harry.”
A low grumble resonated from under the duvet.
“Harry,” Snape groped around for the closest body part, which ended up being an elbow.
“Mm.”
“It’s nearly six,” he leaned over and murmured into the messy hair.
“Shh, Sev’rus. ‘M tired.”
Snape sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, peering down in the darkness to study the silhouette of his lover. He ghosted his fingers over the naked back and was rewarded with a sigh of sleepy contentment. It always seemed like a good idea for Harry to spend the night until it was the next morning and he was as churlish as a troll.
How the man could be so indifferent about the clock was beyond Severus; it seemed like now more than ever he felt himself being ruled by time. Even dismissing the high importance that punctuality held in his life, each passing moment was a reminder of whatever time he had left. How long before he would no longer be in control of his mental faculties? How long would he be permitted to remain on this mortal coil? How much time would he have with the man lying serenely next to him--the only person who loved him deeply enough to overlook his shortcomings?
Severus shook his head, scowling at himself in the darkness. Such ridiculous maudlin thoughts clearly were the effect of having not yet had his coffee. And all this because of the lone silver hair that he caught in his reflection the previous day. Absurd. He was still considered young by wizarding standards; he was only 56, for Merlin’s sake.
Deciding that he ought to get started on his day regardless of the comatose lump next to him, Snape carded his fingers through the tousled mane and pressed a kiss to the stubbled jaw. Begrudgingly, he slid out from under the warm duvet to begin his morning ablutions.
But first, coffee.