A Harry Potter fic...

Title: The White Door
Author: babygray
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Warnings: Typos. No beta. Pretty long for a ficlet, too. And no real explanation, either (no time, I say).
Disclaimer: This is just fanfiction, non-profit and just for fun.
Notes: Just for fun, I went to TV Tropes, hit the random button, and wrote something based on whatever I got, which ended up being 'cool gate' and 'Go Nagai sideburns'. You should try it, but be warned. TV Tropes have been known to ruin people's lives. It's that addictive.
Word Count: 1067
Summary: Harry opens a door in the middle of the woods.



"Yes," the guide said, raising the torch in his hand to shine light on the carvings on the holly tree. "This is the place."

"Are you sure?" Harry said without thinking, shivering now that the sun was nearing the horizon. He pushed down the scarf covering his face and stared up at the carvings. His breath came out in thick puffs of white.

"Of course I'm sure," the guide huffed. "You think I don't know my own forest?"

Harry blew into his gloved hands and took a step closer. The markings were not fresh, perhaps a few years old at most, carved in a straight line starting at about head height and continuing upwards for about a yard. There were flecks of metal in the carvings that flickered like pale, distant stars in the light. He reached out and touched the lowest-most marking, tracing it with his fingertips. The magic that helped create them still lingered, biting at his skin even through the thick, knitted gloves he wore.

"How long have they been here?" Harry asked, pressing his hand flat against the smooth bark as he tried to make conversation.

"Five years, I think?" the guide said, tilting his head to the side. "We just were patrolling one day and found them. Bothered Christine to no end when she found out. We thought we had a mad occultist wandering about, but..." The guide stared at Harry, unease in his eyes. "You're not a occultist, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "No! Of course not!" he said, perhaps far too quickly. The guide began to grow suspicious, more so now then when he had first run into Harry as he wandered alone through the woods so close to sunset. "I only heard about the markings from a friend that camped out here last year. Said that it was a good bit of inspiration."

"Inspiration?"

"I'm an artist," Harry lied. "I, uh, design book covers."

"Book covers," the guide said, unconvinced.

"Of course," Harry said, beginning to ramble. "It's not like the authors decide what's on their covers or not. That's my job, to make images to go with their stories." He shook his head. "You'd be surprised by the things I have to do to get paid."

The guide said nothing. Harry knew that the man did not believe his story. So long as he did not openly question it, however, everything should be fine. Harry turned back to the markings, craning his neck to see just where they ended.

"We need to get back indoors before the snow really begins to fall," the guide said, dusting off what little snow had already fallen on his clothes. "You're not camping out here, are you?"

"No, I, uh, parked my car over by the hospitality building."

"The hospitality building is pretty far," the guide said, growing more skeptical by the minute.

"That's where my friend parked when she was out here last," Harry said.

The guide frowned, but shook his head. "Come on," he said. "I’ll get Christine to drive you back to your car from the outpost."

"Are you sure?" Harry said. "I don't want to be a bother."

The look the guide gave him was enough to remind Harry that was exactly what the man thought of him, but he wisely held his tongue. "I understand," Harry said, covering the lower half of his face with his scarf once more. He stepped back from the tree. A slight tinge of guilt ran up his arm as he placed his gloved hands in his pockets. "Thank you for showing me," he said as an afterthought.

The guide huffed as he started to walk towards the outpost, no doubt certain that Harry would quickly fall in step behind him. Harry stared at the man's receding back, quietly withdrawing his wand for his pocket before the guide decided to look behind his shoulder.

"Obliviate. Confundo," Harry said, pointing his wand at the guide before casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He watched silently as the guide shook his head for a moment and continued on his way to the outpost alone. Only when the man was completely out of sight did Harry turned all his focus on the markings.

He still remembered the password. He did not think that he would even be able to forget it. He lowered the scarf down past his chin once more and pressed his lips against the bottom-most carving. The bark scraped against his lips has he whispered the password upon the wood.

There was stirring in the air, causing Harry to turn around quickly. A plain, wooden door had appeared, the white wood it was made from faintly shining in the growing twilight. Harry reached for the brass knob quickly, not knowing how long the door would stay visible this time, and opened the door.

There was a quiet field on the other side of the door. A fresh spring breeze blew through the blades of new grass and stirred the branches of the trees in the distance. In the middle of the field was Snape, laying out a blanket as if intending to have a picnic.

Harry stumbled and ran through the door and towards Snape. The man looked up, barely catching Harry as he barreled into him. Harry crushed Snape in his arms and kissed the man full on the mouth, eager and with a little too much desperation. After the cold and the snow, Snape was like a furnace, and Harry pressed himself closer to him.

Snape pulled away from Harry's mouth slowly. “What kept you?” he said, his lips ghosting Harry’s as he spoke.

“Ran into a guide,” Harry said, happily nipping at Snape’s lips.

Snape’s lips moved out of reach. Harry pouted in disapproval. Snape reached up and dragged Harry's cap off his head. "Doesn't look like you've seen a barber in months, Potter," he said, rubbing his free hand into Harry's hair. He buried his nose deep into Harry’s hair before tracing Harry’s eyebrow with his mouth. "And these sideburns are ridiculous."

"I don't know," Harry said, his hands clasping behind Snape's back. His lips brushed against Snape’s jaw. "I think they make me look fierce."

"Yes," Snape rumbled, his eyes looking at Harry's lips. "Fiercely ridiculous."

Harry kissed him again, taking care to silence any more comments on his sideburns in the best, most pleasurable way he knew.