Forget Me NotAuthor: writcraftCharacters/Pairings:
Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Draco MalfoyRating:
Cleaning and CollectingOther Warnings/Content:
Anal fingering, anal sex, threesome, blowjobs, handjobs, PTSD, references to detention role play and spankingWord Count:
One cleans, one collects and the other just wants to forget. Somehow, it works.Author's Notes:
I’m posting this slightly late but I think the calendar is clear so hopefully this is okay. Thanks to A for the SPaG check.
The smell of liquor is sharp and there’s a faint scent of cigarette smoke from the beer garden which wafts through the air as the doors open and close with a slam. Harry’s half pissed already. His cheeks are rough with stubble and his shirt is crumpled from a long day at the office. He takes another shot and worries at his hair, wondering if everyone in the Muggle world is this bored and restless. His hand itches to grip the wand he still keeps in his pocket, despite not having used it for months. Latent magic pulses through his fingertips and part of him wants to send the brightest lights skittering across the dark room, pulsing through the crowds in time with the drum beat from the stage. The music is loud and heavy, pulsing through his body with every riff of the guitar. The song curls around him, the singer’s voice gravelly and deep. Harry balls his fingers into a fist and breathes.
He’s not running away, whatever Ron and Hermione say. He’s taking the break Kingsley all but forced on him after one more furious spell gone awry and another stakeout which ended in tears. Harry closes his eyes and lets the music thrum through his veins. His skin is hot, tight and his arms crawl with sparks of magic. He can’t keep this up for much longer. It’s a listless, boring kind of life, watching the arms on a clock that never move quickly enough and waiting for the first cold beer against his lips. He swipes his tongue over his mouth, chapped and rough. He rubs his hand against the scruff on his chin and orders a beer as the music takes a turn from heady rock to a slow ballad which leaves Harry’s heart beating hard and his chest too tight to draw a proper breath.
“Should have gone for whisky,” he mutters.
“Or water,” the person beside him observes. Crisp, dry and unnervingly familiar.
“You’re not real.” Harry doesn’t turn, wishing his heart wouldn’t flutter restlessly with every persistent trick of his imagination.
Harry shakes his head, clenching his fingers around his bottle of beer. He’s been here more times than he cares to count, staring at the stained carpet and cursing under his breath with every last bar of the Muggle songs which speak of the kind of loss Harry aches with. Not even the recollection of those desperate, ill-timed kisses can pull him out of his mood, which is as sombre and bleak as the places he chooses to inhabit during the weekends. Last night he kissed a Muggle up against the walls of another shadowy bar, hoping for some kind of revelation. He was handsome, alright. For a moment, Harry could almost bring himself to leave with him just to feel another torso perspire beneath his fingertips, another cock slide through the firm circle of his fingers and another stuttered whisper of his name from someone else’s lips. He didn’t. He lingered in the shadows with the taste of another man’s lips sour on his tongue and the memory of Draco Malfoy’s pinched, angry face, eyes shining and cheeks flushed occupying his thoughts.I’m not gay. I don’t care what you say, Potter!
Harry closes his eyes. “You were gay though, weren’t you? Just like me.”
“What the fuck are you on about?” Malfoy’s usually gone by now, like the cigarette smoke which wafts in on a blast of cold night air and then disappears without trace. Harry isn’t sure why he’s still hearing Draco’s voice as sharp and clear as if this is anything more than another fleeting memory brought on by too much beer and shot after shot of something sweet and sickly. Funny, how the more he tries to forget the more disparate images of those moments in his past which make his heart ache begin to career through his mind.
“He’s drunk.” Another voice, low and smooth. That, too, is familiar. Harry hunches forward, the loss worming through his chest and stealing his breath from his lungs. He can’t breathe. He can’t do this. He can’t stand upright in the shadows with the whine from the microphones jagged and sharp through his brain as all he can see is a veil, a falling body and his hands covered with blood from a gaping neck wound. He hears too many voices these days and no matter how far he runs he can’t seem to escape the ones that penetrate his mind in the darkest moments. The alcohol seeps through him with sudden, dizzying effect and combined with the way restless magic thrums through his veins and the past assaults every corner of his mind leads to a darkness and a tremble in his legs which he can’t seem to counter.
“Christ, Severus. Just get him, will you. He’s going to fall over if someone doesn’t help him. He can’t Apparate like this, he’ll splinch himself.”
“I’m well aware of that, Draco. Take his arm.”
Harry’s legs fail him but strong arms wrap around him before he falls. They’re warm, slim and the faint scent of coffee and cinnamon mingles with the stale lager on the beer mats. The arms don’t feel like a dream. Neither do the long, thin fingers on his arm or the sharp whisper of his name. Malfoy sounds scared and young, like he did when he kissed Harry as the turrets of Hogwarts stretched all the way up.
“Malfoy?” Just as Harry leans back into the warm circle of once familiar arms, the hand on his arm tightens. “Is it actually you?”
“It’s both of us. We’ve got you, Harry,” Snape murmurs in Harry’s ear just before everything spins away from Harry and there’s only darkness and silence.*
When Harry wakes, he’s in an unfamiliar bed and Malfoy’s face is inches from his own. As ever, Draco looks well-scrubbed and highly polished. His pinched features relax as he raises an elegant eyebrow. He looks a bit cross, sitting back in his seat with his legs crossed as he studies Harry. Harry’s head pounds and he winces as he rubs his fingers against his temple.
“You’re a bloody mess, Potter.”
Harry sits up in the bed and the familiar thrill of sparring with Draco sends a spark of unexpected pleasure through him. He huffs and pulls the duvet up to his chin. “I’m fine.”
Draco rolls his eyes. “Pull the other one. You’re…slovenly.”
“Now, now, Draco.” Another voice joins the conversation, the bed dipping as Snape sits on the other side. “Give Potter a moment.” Snape pushes a small glass vial towards Harry. “Drink this.”
Too tired to argue, Harry necks the potion in one motion. It’s vile, which isn’t really a surprise. Snape’s not really the sort to concern himself with making remedies taste palatable. It would probably interfere with the brewing to add a bit of caramel or chocolate. Harry pulls a face and hands the bottle back to Snape, who sends it somewhere with a flick of his wand. The familiar traces of magic in the room make Harry shiver and he presses his hand against his jeans, relieved to find he’s both fully clothed and still in possession of his wand. Marginally more energised he shifts up until he’s fully seated and stares at Draco and Snape.
“Let me guess. Hermione got in touch?”
Draco and Snape exchange glances. There’s a comfortable familiarity between them which makes Harry’s heart ache. He runs his fingers over his wand, watching them. He’s not sure what to make of it all. He’s not sure what’s going on in his muddled head these days and lying in bed next to the first bloke he ever fucked and the former Professor who occupied more of Harry’s wanking fantasies than he can recall without blushing isn’t exactly where Harry expected to be when he got ready for his Muggle nine-to-five job on Friday morning.
“Miss Granger believed you might be in need of some…assistance.”
Harry snorts and closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch the way Snape and Draco look at one another, intimate and knowing. “Did she? She knows where to find me, why would she send you two?”
“Because apparently you won’t listen to anyone else.” Draco definitely is cross. Harry can tell by the way his voice goes low and clipped.
“What makes you think I’ll listen to you?”
“You’re in my bed, so unless you want to get up and go home I don’t think you’ve got much choice.”
It’s really quite a comfortable bed and Harry’s not sure his legs will carry his weight at the moment. He’s not sure he understands the waves of fatigue which crash over him, combined with night after night of disturbed sleep and hours spent staring at the ceiling searching for something he can’t seem to find. Sleep is elusive at night and it’s only in the afternoon or when the first watery strands of morning sun creep through the curtains that his eyelids droop and he thinks he could sleep for hours.
“I don’t suppose I do.” Harry opens his eyes at last, heat rising in his cheeks as he meets Snape’s intense gaze. “You come as a package, do you?” He tries not to sound bitter, but he’s not sure he manages. A strange heat flashes across Snape’s face and he presses his lips into a thin line.
“Is that so difficult to believe?”
Harry shakes his head slowly. It isn’t, not really. He remembers seeing Draco and Snape whispering together in the corridors all that time ago and he can see it. He really can. He just wishes it didn’t hurt so much to hear it out loud.
“No. It’s not.”
“Severus…” Draco sounds uncertain and they exchange another look. The nod Snape gives Draco is almost imperceptible and before Harry can muster up the momentum to leave the room and the house as far behind as possible, Draco’s next to him, stretched out and pressed lightly against Harry’s side. Slim, cool fingers brush Harry’s hair from his forehead and Draco whispers in Harry’s ear, his voice low and thick. “I never forgot it, you know. I never forgot you.”
Harry swallows, shaking his head. He looks into Draco’s eyes which are as grey and stormy as ever. “Me neither.”
“You look like shit.”
A laugh bursts from Harry’s lips, catching him by surprise. He closes his eyes as it dies away, relaxing into the smooth touch of Draco’s fingers through his hair. He reaches for Draco’s free hand which twines with his own. “I know. I can’t seem to sort myself out anymore. Haven’t done magic in ages. Not shaved for a couple of weeks, either.”
“Good job we found you when we did, then.”
Harry yawns, the heavy-limbed waves of tiredness that come just before sleep washing pleasantly over him. He can’t remember the last time he managed to sleep properly without a couple of glasses of something strong enough to keep the dreams at bay for a while.
“Yeah,” he says. “Good job.”
As he drifts off to sleep, Snape and Draco murmur words he can’t quite catch and another hand settles on top of his and Draco’s, a thumb making slow, soothing circles against Harry’s skin.*
Draco seems fixated on tidying Harry’s scruffy appearance when he wakes. Almost in a daze, Harry settles in a seat and Draco approaches with a razor and a bowl of hot water. The slide of metal against Harry’s chin makes him shiver. Draco’s gaze is piercing but there’s a way he holds Harry’s face steady with unexpected tenderness that leaves a lump in Harry’s throat. He watches Draco, casting a look at Severus who observes the shaving process from the doorway.
“Don’t talk when I’ve got a razor to your throat, Potter! Christ.” Draco rolls his eyes and pulls back momentarily to give Harry the opportunity to ask his question. “Well?”
“I don’t understand why Hermione asked you. She doesn’t even know about…everything.” Harry waves his hand and casts Snape another quick look. As far as he knows Snape
doesn’t know anything about Harry’s childish interest in him and as far as Draco goes, he supposes Snape knows what Draco chose to tell him. Ron and Hermione knew nothing about his stolen moments with Malfoy or the way he would sneak down to the dungeons just for another desperate, searching kiss and a moment of losing himself in something other than memories of war.
Draco returns with the razor, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Severus?” The warmth of the water contrasts with the cool metallic touch of the razor and Harry closes his eyes and tries not to squirm with unexpected pleasure as Draco’s warm breath ghosts over his cheeks. Being this close to Draco after all of this time is disconcerting. He still smells posh and decadent, his cologne crisp and light and his breath lightly scented with coffee and chocolate. Champagne truffles, probably. Harry wonders if Malfoy eats them for breakfast and his chest gets a little tight as he remembers the small packaged parcels from Narcissa Malfoy on Draco’s bed. He’s still got one, somewhere. Uneaten and probably off by now, wrapped in exquisite packaging and stuffed in a worn shoebox with the trinkets he can’t seem to throw away even when he wants to forget the life he used to have; the person he used to be.
“Miss Granger is more astute than I gave her credit for.” There’s a rustle of robes as Severus moves closer. A hand rests on Harry’s shoulder, strong and firm. “She’s not as oblivious to your chequered romantic past as you might believe.”
“It’s not chequered
,” Harry mutters. It earns a low curse from Draco and he clears his throat, trying to stay still. “Sorry.”
“If you end up with your throat cut you’ve only got yourself to blame.” Draco slides the razor over Harry’s neck, the length of it sure and smooth against his skin. Harry holds his breath until Draco’s finished.
“Thanks.” Harry takes the offered towel, blinking into the warm sunlight and looking from Draco to Severus.
“What’s in it for you? Why do you care?”
“Our world lost enough good people during the war. It doesn’t need to lose anymore.” Severus doesn’t look at Harry. Instead he faces the window, his shoulders tight. “Besides, if you choose to behave like a wilful, impudent child, it might be best for you to be around someone who won’t hesitate to treat you like one. Miss Granger seems to believe I’m the man for the job.”
Draco laughs and he gives Harry a wink. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just being Severus.”
Harry looks at himself in the small mirror Draco offers him. He looks more well-rested and he’s a little tidier now he’s clean shaven, but he can still smell cigarettes and last night’s bar on his clothes and his hair is all over the place. He pulls a face at himself. “Don’t suppose I could use the loo?”
Draco gestures to a closed door. “That way. Have a bath. You need it. I’ll bring you something to wear.”
“Why?” Harry stares at Draco, whose cheeks pink.
Draco shrugs. “Why not?”
His head spinning, Harry leaves the room and takes a moment to splash cold water over his face as he tries to organise his thoughts and still his racing heart.*
The bath is enormous and there are products dotted along the edge which smell enticing and strangely familiar. Harry lets the soapy bubbles rise as high as he can before the bath can overflow, then lowers himself into it. The water is warm and soothing and he makes a low sound of pleasure. A knock on the door draws him from his reverie and he makes sure the bubbles cover him thoroughly, before answering.
“Clothes.” Draco pushes open the door, Severus nowhere to be seen. Harry doesn’t miss the way Draco’s eyes spark with interest and he has to fight back the heat which creeps over his chest and warms his cheeks. He clears his throat and sinks lower into the water because he’s definitely getting a bit hard and the last thing he wants is for Draco to see how a couple of suggestive looks make him respond.
“Will they fit?”
“I resized them a bit. The trousers are mine, the jumper belongs to Severus. It’s black.”
“Of course it is.” Harry can’t help but grin and Draco meets his smile with one of his own. Instead of leaving Harry to it, Draco puts down the toilet seat and perches on it, watching Harry.
“I’m sorry about everything. I was a bit of a pillock.”
Harry shakes his head, slipping further into the water. “Doesn’t matter. So was I. I wasn’t ready for anything then, not really.”
Draco’s eyes flash. “And now?”
“Dunno.” Harry shrugs, looking away. He tries to keep the note of jealousy from his voice but he’s not sure he manages. “It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”
Draco makes a non-committal sound. Before Harry can say anything, Draco shifts closer and picks up a sponge. Just as he shaved Harry’s chin and throat he begins the same careful process of washing Harry’s torso, his fingers sliding with the slick soap over Harry’s chest and running through the coarse hair as he travels lower.
“Draco…” God, Harry’s voice is rough and his arousal almost blinding. It’s been so long since he’s had anything more than hard kisses in Muggle pubs from strangers that taste like sweet booze and cigarette smoke. He can’t help but jut up towards Draco’s touch, licking his lips and casting a look at the open door. “What about…Severus?”
“He knows I’m here. Don’t worry so much.” Draco’s voice is low and rough, his hand trembling against Harry’s skin. “I was in love with you, you know,” he says. It’s like he’s talking about rain tomorrow or what Harry wants for lunch. He says it with such casual indifference it almost passes Harry by, but he knows Draco. He knows the too-thin lines of his body. He knows how Draco looks when his face contorts with pleasure and how the snooty indifference bellies a vulnerability and insecurity which always takes Harry by surprise. He knows Draco’s got a small Latin phrase on his hip, that Goyle tattooed in place by some magical means. Something about courage in the face of adversity. It’s poncy as fuck. It also makes Draco stutter and gasp when Harry runs his tongue against it. He knows how Draco’s cock curves a little in his fist and how Draco likes to stretch Harry out and treat him like a buffet of treats, tonguing over every inch and curve of Harry’s hot skin.
“Draco,” Harry says again. He slides a hand into Draco’s hair and urges him closer until their lips connect in a fierce kiss which is too much, too much. It’s heady and when Draco’s hand slips around Harry and strokes with slick, practiced determination, it doesn’t take long for Harry to gasp out Draco’s name into his parted lips and spill all over Draco’s hand. He soaps himself and rinses the suds from his body, before getting out of the bath. Damp and smelling like Draco and Severus, Harry puts a towel around his neck and tugs Draco close. He kisses him again until Draco’s clothes are damp with water. With a groan, Harry pushes a hand into Draco’s trousers to found him hard and leaking at the tip. He rubs his thumb over the slit of Draco’s cock and tugs him slowly, just as he remembers Draco used to enjoy. When Draco comes it’s as breathless and silent as ever, a slight whimper leaving his lips as he bites down on a spot on Harry’s neck and sucks hard enough to leave a mark.
Harry pulls back slowly when the tingle of magic cleans his hand. Draco tucks himself away and he gives Harry a dark, slow look, taking in his nakedness from head to toe. “I’ll let you get changed, then. Severus made sandwiches.”
“Fuck.” Harry wants to keep Draco close and to settle back into those arms – a once familiar space. The reminder of Severus makes his heart clench and he looks towards the doorway which is still empty. “He’s going to hex my bollocks off.”
“I don’t think so.” Draco smirks, thumbing at the corner of his mouth and giving Harry a wink. He gives Harry another long look before muttering a curse under his breath, leaving Harry staring after him, confused, horny and as unsure about the bizarre situation he’s found himself in as he’s ever been about anything.*
“I assume you take your tea with copious amounts of sugar.” Severus nudges the sugar across the table to Harry and mercifully doesn’t seem to want to hex Harry into next Sunday. Instead he gives him a dark, appraising look and his lips twitch almost as if he’s trying to resist a smile.
Feeling rather like a naughty schoolboy caught doing something he shouldn’t, heat floods Harry’s cheeks and he focuses on his tea, nudging his glasses higher on his nose.
“Good, aren’t they?” Draco nudges Harry after he takes a bite of the sandwiches and then another, his stomach growling in protest after days of eating small bits of food and nothing of proper substance.
“Really good.” Harry looks up at Severus clearing his throat when Draco stretches an arm over the back of Harry’s chair. Severus seems unperturbed and Harry gives Draco a look, shifting his chair away a little.
“Potter.” Severus sounds a little amused and also as if he’s explaining something very slowly to a small child. “I was a Death Eater and spy for more years than I care to remember. Do you really imagine I can’t see what’s going on under my nose, in my own home?”
Harry gives Draco a look, but he’s eating his sandwich looking quite nonplussed.
“Our home,” Draco corrects.
“Semantics.” Severus waves his hand.
“I’m…sorry?” Harry isn’t sure what to say with the revelation Severus and Draco live together coursing through him in a hot rush of envy and desire. He wants
it so much. The house with the constant thrum of magic, surrounded by people who know the full horror of war as intimately as he does. He wants Malfoy to touch him again and he imagines the way Severus might push him down onto the bed, taking him in a rush of furious need. He thinks Severus might be a bit like that. The thought makes him warm to the tips of his toes and he studies his sandwiches, feeling awkward and uncertain.
“Don’t be. I’m quite happy for you and Draco to get reacquainted.” The way Severus says reacquainted
makes it sound positively filthy.
Harry looks up, watching Severus. “What about you?”
“Ah.” Severus dabs at his lips with his napkin, his gaze never leaving Harry. “Well, that is rather up to you.”
Draco snorts and leans close to Harry with a mock whisper. “What he means is, I can get him off by talking about you and I’m pretty sure he’d like to fuck you, if you fancy it?”
“That’s not easing him in gently
, you wretched child.” Severus growls at Draco. “I’m quite sure Potter doesn’t desire-”
“Yeah,” Harry interrupts. He looks at Severus and a shiver travels through his body, his voice a little rough. “Yeah, I do actually. Desire. Whatever you want. With you.”
Draco makes a pleased sound and Severus looks momentarily stunned, his gaze sharp and searching.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” Harry manages to make his voice sound less reed thin and he takes another bite of his sandwich, shooting Draco a look. He looks rather pleased with himself, all things considered. “That’s so.”
“Another cup of tea, Severus?” Draco’s voice is light and teasing and even when Severus grumbles something rude under his breath, Harry can’t help but smile, feeling lighter and more content than he has in a long while.*
That night they go to bed separately and Harry can’t help but wonder if Draco and Severus are together in their own room, his cock hardening at the thought of them together. Part of him wants to investigate, very much under the impression they’re waiting for him to make the first move, taking care not to push him. The fear of being rejected or having misunderstood stops him from taking any step to do so and he has a restless few hours staring at the ceiling, before he decides to make a cup of tea in an attempt to slow his restless thoughts somewhat.
He puts the kettle on and looks out at the small garden. He imagines Severus painstakingly tending to the little rows of herbs growing in carefully cordoned off sections, while Draco sips wine or passes comment at gardening being a waste of time. He grins, pushing open the door and breathing in the night air. It’s surprisingly warm outside but Harry wraps his arms around himself nevertheless. The jumper he’s wearing smells like Severus and it’s like steady arms holding him upright all over again. He can’t help but smile as he thinks of the earlier events, feeling truly relaxed. The sound of Severus clearing his throat startles Harry from his thoughts, and he turns.
“Hi.” He feels strangely shy without Draco there as a buffer, not entirely sure where he stands with Severus when it’s just the two of them.
“Hot chocolate.” Severus hands Harry a mug which is piping hot. The chocolate smells delicious and Harry breathes in the scent.
“Thanks. Aren’t you having one?”
Severus raises his eyebrows at Harry and he raises a small cut glass tumbler filled with a splash of amber liquor. “I have brandy.”
“Oh.” Harry nods, filling the silence by blowing on the chocolate to cool it. The fact he’s happier having a hot chocolate than a brandy takes him by surprise. A shiver of anticipation runs down the length of his spine as he imagines what it might be like to kiss Severus and taste the cool heat of the brandy mingled with the warmth of the chocolate. He ducks his head, focusing on nudging a stone on the ground with the toe of his trainer. “Where’s Draco?”
“Sleeping.” Severus snorts softly under his breath. “After scrubbing the bathroom from top to bottom.”
“Oh?” Harry looks at Severus, confused. “He likes to keep things clean?” Now Harry thinks about it the house is absolutely spotless. He’d assumed Draco would be the sort to leave those kind of things to house-elves, but it was Draco who had carefully shaved Harry’s face and Draco who tidied up after Harry’s bath, picking the clothes off the floor and putting them tidily in drawers.
“Ah, yes.” Severus is closer than before, his voice warm and soothing. His arm brushes Harry’s. “His father made him clean the Manor from top to bottom shortly after he discovered his preference for wizards.” Severus’ voice takes on a cold edge. “I’m sure you can imagine the horrors that had been left to rot and fester in the Manor after the war.”
Harry swallows, a wave of nausea making his stomach somersault. “I bet.” He casts a look at Severus, the picture of Draco on his knees and scrubbing at a bloody dungeon floor etched in his mind. “Was it because of me?”
Severus gives Harry a sharp look. “No. It was because Lucius Malfoy is a prick.”
Harry can’t help but laugh at that. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t believe your name was mentioned by Draco himself.” Severus takes a sip of his drink and sighs, looking up at the sky. “Lucius found a diary Draco kept during the war. It was all fantasy then, of course, but it was enough.”
“He told you all of this?” Harry can’t imagine Draco disclosing any kind of fantasy to anyone. He still remembers the push and pull of their first angry kiss, breathless, wanting and furious and the tremulous silences which would follow.
“I have my ways of getting information out of Draco when he’s being particularly churlish.” Severus smirks, his eyes flashing as he looks quickly at Harry. His lips press together again after a moment, any trace of humour gone. “He rarely talks about it, but some nights he can’t sleep and he tells me what he can manage. It appears to help ease whatever thoughts occupy his mind at the time.”
Harry wonders what that might be like. Curled up next to Draco and Severus on one of those nights when sleep won’t come. Distracting himself with luxurious kisses or being able to say the words out loud in the still night that he can’t seem to say to anyone else. He finds the craving for something like the set up Draco and Severus have returning in a powerful rush.
Severus sits on a large outdoor sofa which is covered with cushions and soft blankets, with there being little chance of rain for once. He takes a sip of his brandy, looking out into the darkness of the garden. Harry wants to move closer, but he feels quite nervous and the same shyness from before creeps over him. Eventually, Severus looks up and offers his hand to Harry without a word, his gaze dark and expressive.
“Draco won’t mind?” Harry can’t help but go willingly into Severus’ lap, straddling him and hitching a breath when Severus runs his fingers lightly under Harry’s jumper.
“No. To the contrary. He’s been keen that we should get to know one another as we have a little catching up to do.”
“He has?” A shoot of hope makes Harry’s heart pitter patter more quickly in his chest. “So…this isn’t just a one off, then?”
Severus snorts softly, his fingers settling on Harry’s stomach as he watches him closely. “Did you really believe it was?”
“I hoped…” Harry can’t quite bring himself to say what he hoped and he looks down, where Severus’ fingers are long and slim against his stomach. He shakes his head. “I want it to be more.”
“Well.” Severus tilts Harry’s chin, until their eyes meet again. “You can rest assured neither I nor Draco have any desire to see you back in Muggle bars by yourself at any point in the near future.”
“Oh.” Harry lurches forward, a bit unsteadily and kisses Severus. It’s messy and uncoordinated and Severus lets out an umph
of surprise. Harry pulls back, staring at Severus whose lips twitch into a half smile.
“Reckless Gryffindor twit.” Severus sighs, brushing Harry’s hair from his face. His voice is low and smooth. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
Before Harry can respond, Severus pulls him into a practiced, searching kiss which sends pleasure through Harry’s body. He can’t help the low, desperate whine of pleasure the kiss pulls from his lips and he grinds against Severus, wrapping his arms around him and pouring years of fantasy and want into the moment. With sure hands, Severus grips Harry’s hips and pulls him closer, one hand sliding down to Harry’s backside.
“Please…” Harry can’t believe he’s actually trembling in Severus’ arms, so hard and wanting. “Please…”
“What do you want, Harry?” Severus brushes his lips against the shell of Harry’s ear, squeezing his backside with one of his large hands.
“T-that…” Harry finds himself naked with a murmur of magic which leaves his skin hot and tingling. He murmurs an experimental Accio blanket
and the magic which has been pent up for so long floods through his veins as every blanket from the sofa and a couple from other parts of the house land on Severus with a thump.
With a huff, Severus shakes himself free of the blankets and arches an eyebrow at Harry. “Perhaps you could refrain from using magic when you’re intimately situated on my person until you’ve managed to settle it a little?”
“Sorry,” Harry says, sheepishly. The magic felt good
and he dives in for another searching kiss before pulling back slowly, a little dizzy. “Where were we?”
“Right here, I believe.” Severus rubs his fingers along the crease of Harry’s backside and he sucks in a sharp breath when Harry moans, low in his throat. “I never thought…Draco told me how much you enjoy…being taken.”
“Yeah.” Heat floods Harry’s cheeks and he bites the inside of his mouth. “I do.” He cocks a head to one side, a thought occurring to him. “Don’t you?”
Severus nods, slowly. “On occasion. Draco and I both have a preference for being on top, however.”
The thought of Draco and
Severus filling Harry, taking him and doing all manner of filthy things to him makes Harry’s cock twitch where it’s hard and slick against his belly.
“Maybe you both could, then. At the same time.” Harry’s cheeks are definitely hot red now, but Severus doesn’t seem to mind if the groan that leaves his lips is any indication.
.” He sounds a little rough and ragged, his fingers still teasing between Harry’s cheeks and the dry pads of his fingers rubbing over Harry until he murmurs another spell which leaves his hands slick enough to ease the passage of his fingers. He nips at Harry’s ear and he murmurs, low in his throat. “I am quite content with things which won’t
“I don’t think I’d mind being hurt from time to time,” Harry whispers. His voice is low and shakes around the edges. “If it’s a good sort of pain, I mean. Like that or like…other stuff.”
“I see.” Severus’ eyes really are quite dark now, his fingers so slick and tempting as one finally breaches Harry’s body, sliding inside. With a shiver, Harry presses back into the touch and he grinds a little helplessly.
“He’s good at that, isn’t he?” Draco’s familiar voice comes from behind Harry and the thought of Draco watching him so clearly desperate for the intimate touch makes Harry groan. He nods, his forehead perspiring a little as Severus works in a second finger.
“What’s this about pain?” Draco’s voice is quiet and there’s a rustle as he kneels behind Harry, his breath warm against Harry’s buttocks. “Have you been having fantasies about Severus spanking you or something?”
.” Harry pants out a breath at the thought which coincides with a steady press of Severus’ fingers against his prostate. He can hardly talk and he loses capacity for speech altogether when Draco’s damp tongue meets Severus’ fingers, sliding against Harry while Severus slowly with tortuous brilliance fingers Harry open.
“Draco.” Severus’ voice is low and rough.
“I know.” Draco finally moves just when Harry’s about to spin out of control. He settles on the sofa next to them, leaning in to kiss Severus. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Severus’ lips twitch when he pulls back and he slides his fingers slowly from Harry.
Harry watches them both and Draco leans in to capture Harry’s lips in a slow, warm kiss. “Hi to you too, Potter.”
“Nngh.” Is about all Harry can manage, but he’s sure his smile is so wide Severus and Draco must be quite entertained by his obvious pleasure.
“Why don’t you ride Severus, Harry? Just here, in his lap. Let him fuck you and I’ll suck you off.” Draco shouldn’t be allowed to say such filthy things in his posh, crisp voice with his lips close to the spot on Harry’s neck that makes him shiver with anticipation.
“Well, then.” Severus nudges Harry up momentarily before whispering another spell which leaves both he and Draco naked. Draco lets out a huff of laughter.
“Why am I naked?”
“Because I rather like the view.” Severus smirks and he gives Harry a look. “I imagine Potter does, too.”
The warmth at being included in their easy discussion makes Harry grin again and the nods, reaching out to run his fingers along Draco’s collarbone. He’s so sharp in so many places. There’s the wording in Latin still dark and fierce on his pale skin and his stomach bears the scars of their past. Harry swallows and he takes in every glorious inch of Draco, unable to believe he gets to have this – both of them. He tears his gaze away to look at Severus, slender and wiry with a gorgeous, long cock, thick and hard. His body shudders with need and he runs his tongue over his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.
“Yeah. I like the view.”
He settles himself over Severus, whose cock is slick from another murmured spell which sends strong, dark magic thrumming across Harry’s skin. It’s powerful but there’s a warmth to it, something which lingers behind Severus’ dark contemplation, a fondness and desire which makes Harry feel impossibly warm. With a gasp he lowers himself over Severus, holding him steady until he’s fully seated. The pleasure of being filled makes his head spin and when Draco ducks down to suck Harry’s cock deep into his throat, he begins to squirm in place. He clutches onto Severus, burying his head in the crook of his neck, grinding and moving up and down.
Severus steadies Harry and fucks slowly into him, each movement sending fissures of pleasure through Harry’s body. The sensation of four hands on his body and the warm heat of Draco’s mouth is almost unbearably good. It’s like no part of his skin remains untouched or unkissed and Severus seems to be particularly adept at finding those nerves inside Harry and the parts of his neck and the spot just behind his left ear that leaves him trembling.
Harry is so close – too close – when Severus comes inside him with a thrust and a low groan. He’s almost about to teeter over the edge when Severus nudges Draco off Harry’s cock and wraps a hand around the base of it, squeezing and holding back Harry’s orgasm until the burning need dissipates somewhat and Harry bites back a groan.
“No, I want to…please…”
“You will.” Severus nips at Harry’s earlobe, squeezing him again, before nudging Harry out of his lap. In one swift motion, Harry’s lying back and Draco enters him with one, hard thrust. The motion makes them both cry out and Harry can see where Severus is behind Draco, notices the slide back and forth of his arm as he fingers Draco while Draco fucks into Harry.
“You feel so good, Harry. So fucking good.” Draco bites down on Harry’s neck, his voice jagged and breathy. “God, I want to ruin
“Yes, yes….” Harry’s words are garbled and incoherent, drawn out syllables forming Draco’s name and Severus’ name and possibly even a Professor
which slides from his lips when Severus studies him particularly intensely.
“You like that, don’t you?” Draco’s voice is amused but his breathlessness gives away how close he is to coming. “Thinking about him putting you in detention. Would you like that? Slytherin Prefect and Potions Master, having our wicked way with you?”
.” The images spiralling through Harry’s mind are too much and he comes over his own fist as he tugs his cock, spilling between he and Draco. Not long after, Draco follows with Harry’s name on his tongue.
The three form a messy tangle of limbs on the broad sofa and Harry finds a spot where he can nestle close to Severus and Draco.
“I think he likes it in the middle,” Draco sounds amused. His long fingers card slowly through Harry’s hair.
“I believe so.” Severus runs his fingers along the knobs of Harry’s spine and it makes him arch into the touch, his cock twitching feebly.
“Just need a quick nap then we can go again?” Harry offers, hopefully.
Severus snorts and Draco laughs, while Harry’s eyes flutter closed.
“You have rather overestimated my abilities.”
“You can give us instructions if you like. Tell me what to do to him.”
Harry can feel the dull warmth of arousal curl in his belly and he groans at Draco’s words.
Severus runs his fingers along Harry’s spine again. “Sleep, Potter. We’ll still be here in the morning.”
So Harry does, the warm night air and the soothing stroke of hands against his skin lulling him into a peaceful sleep.*
When he wakes, Harry’s in the middle of a large bed. Draco’s curled against his back and Harry’s managed to arrange himself so he’s resting on Severus’ chest. It’s hot, but pleasantly so and he feels as warm and content as he has in month. With a wince, he shifts, his body still slightly stiff from the previous night. He smells clean and soapy as if someone washed his skin before they settled in bed and he thinks of Draco’s need to keep things tidy, cursing Lucius Malfoy.
“Morning.” Harry shifts to look at Draco who’s blinking at him, waking slowly. “We’re in bed.”
“The neighbours get up early. We didn’t think they’d thank us for giving them an eyeful. They already think Severus is some kind of creepy vampire.”
“Thank you for that, Draco.” Severus’ voice is warm and Harry’s reminded of those arms wrapped around him and holding him steady.
“I should go. I need clothes and things. I’m supposed to be at work.” Harry struggles to sit, but Draco keeps him in place.
“I’m not sure Muggle insurance needs you today. Or ever again, really. Work on your magic, speak to Kingsley.”
A warm tendril of hope makes Harry a little breathless. He murmurs a quiet, simple spell which makes the pillow in his hand shrink then grow back to its original size. It ends up double the size it should be and leaves him spluttering a bit as a few feathers burst from the seams, but the magic settles in his veins, hot and familiar.
“I’ve told you before, no magic when we’re naked.” Severus doesn’t sound too cross, though. He’s a bit stern but he softens his word with a kiss to the nape of Harry’s neck and a swift slide of his hand through Harry’s unruly hair.
“Sorry.” Harry squirms back into the bed. It’s nice, feeling Severus and Draco so close. “What about my clothes?”
“Unnecessary for the moment,” Severus says.
“Fuck the clothes. I’m keeping you naked for at least a week,” is Draco’s offering.
Harry laughs and the sound is an unfamiliar, light, bright thing which leaves his body relaxed and warm. “I should thank Hermione. Go and see her and Ron, maybe have some lasagne. Ron makes brilliant lasagne.”
“I’ve let Miss Granger know you’re well on the road to recovery and you’ll be over in due course.” Severus shifts closer to Harry. “I hope you don’t mine my taking the liberty of insisting we have a couple of days to ourselves, first.”
“No.” Harry doesn’t mind a bit. He’s not quite right still, he knows. Perhaps he never will be. At the moment though, he’s warmer and happier than he’s been in a while. Even though it’s far too soon for any of that he almost feels loved and he has no desire to leave the comfortable house and the pleasures of Draco and Severus touching his heated skin. “I don’t mind if we stay here for a while.”
A moment later, Harry’s stretched out with Severus’ tongue and mouth doing wicked things to his cock. Draco’s straddling Harry’s chest and Harry opens his mouth to take the weight of Draco between his lips, gripping his backside and pulling him in closer. When Severus slides his fingers inside Harry, the orgasm takes him by surprise and he comes with a loud shout.
He really doesn’t mind staying at all. *
“Twice anti-clockwise, he said.” Harry gives the potion a stir with some trepidation. It’s become a routine, helping Severus with his potions as he tries to steady his magic properly. He’s not allowed to do much, of course. Severus still looks unsure when he sends Harry off to do a bit of chopping or stirring, repeating his instructions at least three times and turning a bit green when Harry repeats them back at him, incorrectly. He thinks Severus knows he’s joking. Harry gives the potion a sniff, pulling a face at the acrid smell which catches in his nostrils.
He moves away from the potion in case he actually sneezes in it or blows something up, and looks at Severus’ desk. It’s almost like being back in Hogwarts or in one of his dreams, the spidery hand on the gathered parchment so familiar. He’s still not entirely sure where he stands with Severus, but he’s working on it. He just can’t help but shake the feeling that Severus wants Draco and having Harry as part of their relationship has far more to do with Severus’ interest in Draco than Harry.
With a sigh, Harry opens a little box on the table. Inside, there are several items which make his heart clench. There are pictures from The Prophet taken after the war which Harry can hardly remember. His fingers tremble as he looks at the wild-eyed boy in the photograph, staring down the lens of a camera as if it’s the barrel of a gun. He looks exhausted, with dark stubble on his face and circles under his eyes. He keeps shaking his head and raising his hand, the motion on a loop which never seems to stop. He drops the photograph, trying to remember how to breathe properly and then Draco’s behind him, murmuring in his ear.
“Relax. Harry, relax. It’s okay.”
“I have to look.”
“Stubborn idiot.” Draco squeezes Harry, nevertheless. “Of course you do.”
Harry takes another breath with a shudder and goes through the items in the box. There are scribbled notes for potions which Harry recognises and countless clippings of his post-war breakdown. There’s a picture of Harry’s mum too, smiling and waving at the camera and notes about Horcruxes, with wax on the parchment, smudged ink and the repeated scrawl of a lightning bolt in the margin. It’s almost as if Severus was trying to fit those pieces together years ago, working out protective charms and plans to keep Harry safe. Feeling as if he’s looked at too much, Harry closes the lid with a snap. He looks up to find dark eyes meeting his own. He begins to apologise, his words tripping out of his mouth before Severus holds up a hand.
“I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked.”
Severus makes a frustrated sound before moving around the desk and tugging Harry close. He kisses him soundly until Harry’s legs feel like jelly and Draco makes an irritated sound, half laughter and half annoyance.
“Little twit.” Severus thumbs at Harry’s cheek and gives him a look which is so fond it makes Harry feel warm all over.
“Severus can’t actually articulate any feelings like a normal human so you need to look in boxes to work out what he’s actually thinking.” Draco rolls his eyes and then presses close to Severus. “Don’t I get a kiss?”
“Obviously.” Severus rolls his eyes but indulges Draco until Harry is breathless just watching them both. They look so good together, with Draco’s slim, sharp features and Severus’ dark hair and larger hands on Draco’s hips. It’s unbelievably hot. Harry wonders if maybe one day they’ll put on a show for him because he’s quite sure it would be miles better than the Muggle porn he resorted to watching on occasion.
“All that time?” Harry says, when they break apart.
Pink spots bloom in Severus’ cheeks and he inclines his head. “You had a wilful tendency to place yourself in as much danger as possible. It was the least I could do to keep you safe for the sake of the wizarding world at large.”
“For the sake of the wizarding world.” Harry nods, a smile playing on his lips. “I see.”
“I told you he’s been daft about you for as long as I can remember.” Draco shrugs and then he perches on the edge of the desk, a glint in his eye. “Still, it was
rather naughty of you to poke around through Professor Snape’s things. Don’t you think, Severus?”
“Oh, yes.” Snape gives Harry a dark look, his tongue sliding quickly over his lips. “I’m almost inclined to take house points.”
Harry laughs and then he pushes his glasses up onto his nose and rakes a hand through his hair. He steps closer to Draco and Severus, running his fingers along Draco’s thigh and keeping his eyes on Severus.
“I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to change your mind? I’d hate to let Gryffindor down.”
“I imagine there are a few things.” Severus leans close, his breath warm on Harry’s ear. “Mister
It’s almost enough to make Harry come on the spot, but he doesn’t. He’s got a feeling he’s got a long afternoon ahead and, really, he couldn’t be happier about it.~Fin~