FIC: The Acolyte's Robe, by Rakina, NC17, 2/2
Headers, etc on Part 1. You're not going straight to part 2 without seeing the disclaimer and warnings, after all...
Later – not that much later but Harry hadn't bothered tracking time because the clock never seemed to move – there came a gentle knocking at the door. Harry looked up and Remus came in carrying a parcel.
"My robe," Remus said, brandishing the parcel. "You have yours."
"Yeah," Harry said, suddenly forgetting the existence of his stomach as he looked sideways at the Madam Malkin's bag, still sealed carefully to protect its precious contents. He was suddenly nervous and his mouth felt dry. "Yeah."
"Well, time to get dressed then," Remus said bracingly. "Did you bathe?"
To his embarrassment, Harry's voice came out all croaky the next time he spoke. "Yeah." He pointed to the small bathroom adjoining his room, giving up on speech while he struggled to regain control.
Remus smiled. "Good. So did I. So let's get dressed." Without further ado, Remus began to pull off his everyday robes in a very matter-of-fact way.
Harry watched; he found he couldn't concentrate on anything but the movements of Remus' fingers unfastening his clothing, pulling off layer after layer of cloth. The man finally stood there in nothing but his boxers. Harry couldn't help but admire Remus' body. It was scarred, excessively so compared to most people, but it was strong and mature. Remus had quite a bit of body hair, and Harry had spent time getting used to it during their kissing sessions. It felt nice, warm and crinkly but quite soft, not wiry. Harry liked it a lot.
Remus pulled the paper off his parcel, revealing a full-length robe in autumn colours. As the older partner in the rite he was to wear it as symbolic of the autumn of life. Although Remus was not that old, his body was suffering like a much older man's because of his curse. The robe was made of random strips of many different colours: tawny brown, darker brown, reddish tan; leaf green, lime green and dark, forest green sewn into a fabric that resembled a woodland tapestry.
"Wow, that's amazing!" Harry gasped. "Did you get that at Madam Malkin's too?"
"Yes. It was made for me. I chose the colours."
"I love it. I hope you'll wear it again sometimes."
"You're looking at my new dress robes," Remus said. "Now, your turn."
Harry picked up his robe bag, unsealed it and looked inside. The robes were pale green, like the newest spring leaves. Well, it was symbolic, and it could be worse. It could have been pink for cherry blossom or some such rot. He smirked and pulled out the robe.
"Er, this is a bit short, isn't it? Did you get my size right?"
"It's an acolyte's robe."
"It looks like a bloody tart's robe," Harry muttered as he stripped down to his underwear and pulled the acolyte's robe over his head. He looked across at the full-length mirror on the front of his wardrobe. "It's a bloody dress!" he squawked.
"It most certainly is not," Remus countered, not quite able to stop a grin which he hid by turning away to stow the robe bags in a cupboard. "It's a traditional acolyte's robe, usually used in spring festival rites but equally appropriate here. As the older man, I'm wearing autumnal robes; you're wearing spring ones."
Harry was still looking in the mirror, aghast. The robes were fitted tight to his upper body, the neckline scooped and the bodice fastened by buttons that he'd not yet done up. Despite the low cut and the pearlised buttons, the upper part wasn't the problem; it was green, yeah, but the colour was bearable. But lower down the waist was tight, and the robes flared out in sudden, full layers. It was a skirt, that's what it was, and it was very short and showed his thighs. "I look like a girl!"
"No you don't. It's traditional, and not at all remarkable in the wizarding world, I assure you. Oh, and you also have to wear this white rose garland," Remus said, pulling it from the bottom of the brown paper parcel. "I picked it up from Daisy's Florist today. It's for purity, and denotes your virginity."
"What?" Harry stared at the circlet of white roses with its trailing white and green ribbons. "You want me to wear that? Where?"
"On your head of course. It will look lovely against your dark hair."
Harry stared at Remus disbelievingly. Surely the man couldn't mean it; this was a prank he'd worked out with Sirius. Remus must have seen something of Harry's thoughts in his expression, so he came forward and placed the garland on Harry's head, soothing the boy by stroking one hand down his arm while he did so. "There. Now you really look like an acolyte."
Harry looked up at his reflection; his stomach had sunk so low it couldn't have rumbled had it tried. "Oh hell, Remus, I look like a ruddy bridesmaid!"
"That's good, that's what we're aiming for. You have to look like what you are: a virgin sacrifice."
"What?" Harry gaped, those words bringing up images of him lying on an altar, having his throat cut. But no, this wasn't like that, was it?
"It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you," Remus soothed, still stroking his arm. "But I have to take your virginity. It's a kind of death of innocence, a definite sacrifice you're making to help me."
Harry looked a bit mollified by this, but he still felt a total arse standing here in a floral garland and a skimpy dress with a short skirt, however much Remus insisted it was an 'acolyte's robe'. He couldn't help wondering if 'acolyte' was just another word for rent boy.
"Please say we're not using an altar, Remus," he moaned. Please, Merlin, he gibbered in his head.
Remus smiled and started doing up the buttons on Harry's robe. He looked as if he was enjoying this far too much, in Harry's opinion. Remus kept looking at Harry's legs as if trying to see if his bum was showing. Well, he was still wearing his underpants, so Remus would just have to be disappointed with that.
"No, a bed will do perfectly," Remus answered, smiling. The reason for the smile became obvious when he added, "Did you put the undergarment on?"
"What?" Harry's voice was wary now. This had to be a piss-take.
"The undergarment. It's a thong, I believe."
Harry spluttered. "I am not wearing a bloody thong under this skirt!"
"It's far more comfortable than anything else you could wear under an acolyte's robe. I assure you. It's that or remain naked while we cast the spells."
Harry's eyes widened. "How, and where, do we do spells? I thought it was just sex magic."
"All sex magic involves spells, and mystic runes and amulets too, as a rule. This one's quite simple, it's just the costumes and the chanting, but you have to crawl to me on your hands and knees and present yourself to me as a supplicant, asking me to remove your virginity. That might be a bit embarrassing without underwear."
Harry was shaking his head.
"Didn't you read the rite, Harry? It went into detail. Hermione was very thorough."
Harry thought there were times Hermione was too bloody thorough, and this was certainly one of them. "No, I only skimmed through it," he said between gritted teeth. "I thought it was just chanting and that. It was bloody boring, what Hermione wrote."
"Well, yes, it is mostly chanting." Remus' tone, in contrast to Harry's, was entirely reasonable. "But your role is quite clearly described. Apart from being submissive to me, there's not a lot else to it for you. But to be properly submissive and supplicating, you do have to crawl, I'm afraid."
"And I have to wear this," Harry waved his hands up and down in front of himself, "and a thong?"
"You do."
"And when we're in bed I can take it off, yeah?"
"No, I'm afraid not. While I'm doing the, er, penetration, you must keep it on. That's why it's cut so short, you see. And the thong is easily removed; there are ties at the side." Remus handed a skimpy piece of silk towards Harry; it was the same pale green as the 'robe'.
"I wear this bloody outfit while you're doing it?" Harry's voice held an edge of panic.
"Yes, I'm afraid it's tradition; I have to keep my robes on too, which is why they do up from head to toe down the middle. All of this follows a very old sex rite, you see. I have to lift up your skirt."
"You see!" Harry shouted, triumphantly, flinging his arms around dramatically. "I told you this was a girl's dress! It's got a skirt."
"Robes have skirts, Harry. 'Skirt' is just the term for the short, flared part below the waist."
Harry stared down at his skinny legs; they looked very long in this outfit, extending right down to his… scruffy trainers. "It looks bloody ridiculous with these shoes."
Remus produced another bag from behind him, one Harry hadn't noticed before. "Here, put these on." He held the bag towards Harry.
"What? You've brought shoes?" Harry sounded a little hopeful. Anything had to be better than the way he looked now. The trainers were so out of place with this dress. He peered into the bag, seeing black leather, and pulled one of the shoes out. "These aren't shoes! They're long boots."
"Oh, no. To the knee only, Harry."
"Only!" Harry's voice had scaled several octaves. He was genuinely at a loss for words to describe how he was feeling, standing there in a green dress with white roses in his hair, holding a silken wisp of a thong in one hand and a knee-high black boot in the other.
Remus took advantage of the silence. "You've got to admit they'll look better than the shoes."
Harry shook his head dazedly.
"Try them on, Harry. You'll see what an improvement they make," Remus cajoled. "But the thong first, for ease."
Harry stared at him.
"Come along, time's getting on," Remus chivvied. "And you seemed so sure you wanted to do this; you've fasted all day."
"I know, I know; and of course I want to do it. It's just…" He waved his arms helplessly, and silk and black leather waved like eccentric pennants.
"There's no one here but you and I, and I like how you look, Harry."
There was a bit of a growl in Remus' voice, and Harry looked up, startled. Remus was looking at him like he was a very tasty morsel set before his inner wolf, and despite his embarrassment, Harry's cock twitched and he felt his skin prickle in excitement. He quickly pulled off his boxers, dropping them to the floor, and began to struggle with the thong. It was tricky, he managed to get it so his cock and balls fit into the silken pouch, but every time he tried to do up the ties the thong would slip and his bits would fall out. After a couple of failed attempts, Remus said, "Let me help."
Harry nodded; he had no option, but he was a little nervous as the man approached. This was Remus, he reminded himself; they'd spent time kissing, stroking and petting. But Remus seemed different now Harry was wearing this dress, and he could feel the power and heat coming off the man. "Okay," he squeaked, alarmed at how young he sounded. Just when he'd have liked his voice to stay low and masculine, it had let him down.
Remus tied the sides of the thong, lifting the apple green skirt to do so. He ran his hands over the layers of silk in the skirt then down Harry's hips; his pupils were so dilated the amber had almost been banished from his eyes. "So silky," Remus moaned as he stroked Harry's hips and around to the tender swell of his buttocks.
Harry wasn't sure if Remus meant the fabric or his skin. Either way, he stepped back, embarrassed. "Thanks," he said, and grabbed the boots from Remus. While he put them on it would give him a little time to recover himself. He'd thought he could cope with this rite, but Remus was going all uncontrolled on him, or threatening to, and Harry was nervous in the face of so much raw desire.
Harry sat on a chair, trying to ignore the way the bouffant skirt puffed up, but it was difficult for the many silken layers got in the way. Eventually he managed to pull on the boots. They were quite loose and easy to slip onto his legs, but once his feet were inside and the leather was pulled up to his knees, they shrank to fit tight. It felt really comfortable, like having a pair of large hands clasping his calves, his ankles and his feet. Once both boots were on, Harry stood up, tottering. "These heels are really high."
"Yes," Remus said, and there was a definite growl in his voice this time. Harry glanced up to see the werewolf leering at him. No other word could describe it; Remus was leering. Harry wondered just what Remus was seeing that was making him so excited, and he hastened over to the mirror to have a look.
As Harry walked toward the mirror he realised he wasn't walking, he was strutting due to the height of the heels. He looked into the reflection and saw Remus behind him, watching hungrily as he moved. Harry couldn't help swaying his hips to see how the skirt moved; it was just so swishy and the heavy silk felt good around his hips.
"You look… very nice." Remus' voice had gone completely croaky now. The werewolf was clearly very affected; the front of his robe was tenting out. "Come here."
In two strides he was on Harry and pulled him close, holding him against his body with his large hands on Harry's buttocks, pressing the heavy silk even closer to Harry's bare globes of skin. Harry could feel the man's erection clearly despite the skirt, for Remus had knelt low and lifted up, his erection lifting the skirt and pressing against Harry's lower belly with only his new dress robe between them. "Can you feel how much I want you?"
Harry nodded. The heat and hardness pressed against him was exciting and his nervousness was quite forgotten under the onslaught as he imagined delights he'd not yet experienced. He glanced sideways into the mirror, showing them standing there. He looked every inch the acolyte, the plaything for the older man who was holding him so intimately. He swallowed. "What do I have to do now?"
Remus stepped back, running his hand appreciatively down Harry's silk-covered back and patting the skirt against his buttocks. If Harry was disappointed by the absence of close contact, he wasn't to remain so for long. "Get down on your hands and knees. Stay there until I ask you to crawl to me."
Harry did as he was told with alacrity, his nerves long gone and his burgeoning arousal urging him on. The full, short skirt flared up, exposing his arse and Harry's cheeks flamed. Remus stood behind, not saying a word. Harry could almost feel the man's eyes on him. Gods, whatever did he look like with the thong up the crack of his arse and his arse cheeks exposed? He dared a glance in the mirror and his eyes widened. The thong was obscene – he might as well not be wearing anything; it certainly didn't cover anything back there. Though it felt rather nice at the front, Harry thought; it was holding his cock and balls in place like a silky hand cupping them to his body. The thought made him squirm a little, and his arse made a circular movement in the mirror. He groaned.
He could see the reflection of Remus standing behind him, staring in rapt attention at Harry's pale, exposed arse, the rounded cheeks thrust skywards. Remus' hand was holding the front of his robe, squeezing his erection. Harry moaned. His cock was getting hard, beginning to stretch the silk at the front of the thong. The silk felt smooth against his hot flesh, it was much nicer than when he got erections in his cotton underpants.
Remus seemed to shake himself, pulling himself together. "This is a ritual; I'd better get on with it. Stay like that, Harry."
Harry realised Remus was quite happy with the situation. He didn't mind either. The carpet was thick and cushioned his hands and knees. Harry watched in the mirror as Remus pulled out his wand. It was made of red wood, perhaps mahogany, and was long and swishy. Remus began to chant a row of spells, none of which Harry recognised. He wasn't really listening to the words anyway; he was watching the movements of Remus' hand, his arm and the wand. The patterns were complex and graceful, Remus' voice had a sing-song quality as he incanted several spells and began to trace a path to the bed. He walked backwards, pointing the wand to make a path for Harry. The spell-light glowed in the air before him.
Remus paused while the light settled. "Crawl, Harry. Crawl along the trail of light towards me. You are my supplicant. You want me to take your virginity."
Harry swallowed, nervous again at those words, but glad of something to do now. He crawled towards the bed, following the silver trail of spell-light.
Remus was standing beside the bed. Harry came to a stop before him, looking down at the werewolf's bare feet. He hadn't noticed Remus' feet were bare until now, and he stared at the long, elegant feet, considering how different they were to his own. Would all of Remus be so different? Remus' hands were large, their backs and his wrists were dusted with sandy hair. Of course the older man would be very different. But Harry remembered something about Remus not having to get naked, and supposed he'd never know, not fully.
"Are you willing to come to my bed?"
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, certain he should show the man respect.
"Then stand."
Remus was being quite commanding, not sparing any soft words. Harry presumed that was part of the rite; perhaps Remus could only say he prescribed words now he'd started the spellwork. Harry wished he'd read Hermione's notes more carefully.
Remus reached out and lifted Harry's skirt, cupping his erection through the silken thong. He smiled, and Harry flushed with pleasure, both physical and mental, at the approbation.
"Then I accept your gift."
Remus untied the sides of the thong. As Harry's erection sprang free he thought it had hardly been worth putting it on, but perhaps the crawling about with his arse in the air was the point of it. These rites didn't have to make any sense anyway; you just had to follow the instructions and they worked. Hopefully.
Remus dropped the scrap of silk and then his hands were on Harry; one large hand clasping Harry's cock, holding tight, while the other cupped his balls, rolling them assessingly.
Harry groaned, he couldn't help it. "Oh, yeah… I'm willing, Remus," he said. He had to tell the man how willing he was; he just had to.
It must have been the right thing to say, because Remus nodded appreciatively. "Then come to my bed," he said, steering Harry up onto the large four-poster.
Harry scrambled onto the bed, which was deep and soft, and he felt momentarily clothed again as he reached up and the skirt fell over his hips to his upper thighs, hiding his erection. It was good for that at least, being so puffy.
Remus got up onto the bed and propped himself beside the pillows, leaning back and looking as if he was in a sitting room. He was still wearing his autumnal robes and would have looked quite businesslike if it were not for the glint in his eyes and their dilated pupils. "Come here." Remus patted the pillows beside him.
Harry had no choice but to crawl; it seemed impossible to do anything else on this soft bed in such a costume. He reached Remus and was immediately pulled into the man's strong arms. Remus smelled of soap and something else beneath… something strong and earthy. Harry didn't have time to ponder, because Remus was kissing him.
Harry hadn't had many kisses before Remus, and those he'd had he could take or leave, but now he'd learned exactly why people were so keen on it. Remus' mouth was gentle at first, but Remus was very much in control, his lips and tongue taking the lead and showing Harry what he wanted in return. Harry opened, and Remus' gentleness disappeared in an onslaught of tongue. Harry's eyes widened, but he didn't want to pull away. It was fascinating, having another man's tongue in his mouth, moving around, seeming to search out every nook and cranny inside his mouth, stroking along his teeth and around his tongue. Harry moved his own tongue in response and Remus' hands tightened on his back, the gesture appreciative.
Harry lost himself for a while. He enjoyed tasting Remus too, and when the man withdrew and encouraged Harry's tongue to enter his mouth, Harry did so happily. It was a real kick of excitement when he felt his tongue slipping inside Remus; now he was doing the penetration. Kissing wasn't scary now he knew how to do it. Harry had learned it wasn't something you had to do in a prescribed way; you did what felt good when it felt good, and everything followed from that. By now Harry was moaning into Remus' mouth as he kissed him.
Eventually the hands on Harry's back moved to his shoulders and Remus pushed him away gently but insistently. Harry was panting, his lips swollen, his tongue wet with Remus' saliva. "Merlin!" he whispered.
Remus smiled. "It's time to move on. You have accepted me; you have come to my bed. So now, my supplicant, it is time to submit."
Remus reached for his wand again and this time Harry heard the quiet spell: "Pateo."
Harry felt first a tingle, then a pressure inside him, down there inside his arse. He'd never felt anything like it and it made him jump a little, but of course he knew he'd be receiving something else in there very soon. His skin prickled; it was excitement, he refused to acknowledge it as fear. "What was that?"
"A little preparation, to make this easier. As a virgin you will need a lot of loosening up. The spell started that and cleaned you as well. It is not too invasive, I hope?"
"No, it's fine. It was just weird."
Remus just smiled faintly. "Turn around and get on your hands and knees, Harry. Your time has come."
Harry turned away from Remus. He was sorry to be turned around, unable to watch what was happening. Then he kicked himself – the mirror! Harry looked sideways and could see Remus kneeling upright behind him; he had a jar in his hand and was unscrewing the lid. Harry was happy to see that. Hopefully the lubricant would make this easy; Harry had heard some types of lube contained numbing agents, but he wasn't sure if he wanted that. Could you feel pleasure if you were numb? Then again, you wouldn't feel pain, and that had to be good.
Then Harry stopped wondering as he felt Remus' slicked fingers at his entrance. He expected an immediate invasion and tried not to tense, but Remus' fingertips just traced around his puckered entrance, tickling and pressing at the hole. It felt good, very good, and Harry let his head fall a little and his eyes close; he was sure his arse was twitching under the clever foreplay. And then Remus slipped the finger inside.
It was weird, no doubt about it; but no way was it painful. The preparatory spell had opened him a little. Remus slid the finger in and out, deeper each time until Harry felt the knuckles of the man's hand pressing against him. Remus then moved the finger, deeply embedded, in a different way. He pressed against the smooth walls of Harry's channel, and Harry felt the fullness now. It was like having something larger than a finger inside, but it still felt okay. This was where he'd have to accept the man's cock inside him; this was where he would be filled.
Remus crooked his finger and Harry gasped as the tip stroked over his prostate. He leaned over Harry's back and whispered: "Let me inside, Harry. Open for me."
Remus' finger slid out and Harry rather nervously wondered if Remus was going to fuck him now, but instead two fingers returned. Those two fingers did wonderful things: first filling him more, widening his passage, then scissoring apart to make it wider still. Finally, Remus stroked his prostate again with both fingers, one after the other in a rippling wave of pleasure. Harry thrust back into them, wanting more, wanting it to go on and on.
"Please…"
"Soon, Harry, very soon. You're doing really well."
Harry could feel the older man close to him. He turned his head to look in the mirror again – he'd almost forgotten it was there under the onslaught of new sensations. It was an amazing sight: Harry's skirt was thrown up over his back, it's pale green silken folds gleaming in the candlelight. Remus' hand was butted up against his backside, fingers buried inside Harry's arse. Harry groaned.
Remus looked across too and their eyes met in the reflection. "You look so hot, Harry. So beautiful in your silken robe. Look how pretty you are."
Harry knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help agreeing with Remus. The sight of him in this dress – bugger it! It was a dress even if it was called an acolyte's robe – in this position, being seen to by an older man – his ex-teacher – who was fully clothed, was definitely hot. Thank Merlin he could say it was all part of a rite, and that he'd never have to admit he liked being dressed like this at his professor's beck and call. He nodded, and then his eyes fluttered shut as Remus slid three fingers inside him.
Harry could only push back now, his body doing so instinctively against the fuller pressure. They began a slight rocking motion as Remus finger-fucked Harry, Harry's hips tilting back and forward, the silken folds of his skirt swaying beneath him. His hard cock was nestled against the material and the feel of the silk moving against it was like a liquid caress. At that thought, Harry imagined the wetness of Remus' mouth around his cock, and groaned again. He'd probably never get to feel that. It wasn't part of the rite, surely he would have noticed it when he skimmed Hermione's pages and pages of notes if it was there. And how had she managed to make this sound so dull? This was the hottest experience Harry could imagine. And he knew he couldn't even have imagined it beforehand, it was past his wildest dreams. He looked into the mirror again as he felt Remus' fingers slide out. Somehow he knew what was coming next.
Remus straightened, kneeling up behind Harry. Harry had spread his legs wide to accommodate his presence. Remus reached for the jar of lube again, and when he parted the front of his robe, right about where it was tented out, Harry saw the stiff column of flesh it had been hiding.
Oh, Merlin! Remus' cock was like his hands: large, thick, and nestled in a thick patch of sandy hair. Remus was slicking it; his slippery, oily fingers shone in the candlelight as he anointed that rigid, red length. Remus looked like he was being really thorough, and Harry couldn't blame him. He bet it felt really good, slipping that lube all over such an aroused cock, twisting his hands around like that.... The cock jutted proudly out of the robes, and it looked so hot to Harry, seeing Remus clothed from head to foot in his new formal robes with just that most intimate column of flesh exposed. "Oh, gods, Remus, that's beautiful!" Harry gasped.
Remus looked across to the mirror and smiled; it was a feral smile, a smile as lustful as the glistening flesh he now positioned at Harry's entrance. "Mine," he said, and pushed.
The blunt pressure insisted on entrance and Harry's body opened to it like a flower. Was it the spell, the arousal, the rite? Harry didn't care; he welcomed that hard heat inside, groaning as he felt every inch of the slide. Remus didn't stop until he was right in, then he paused, looking at Harry in the mirror.
Their eyes met again and Harry, his lips slightly parted, whispered, "Move."
Remus pulled back, then when Harry thought he couldn't bear the loss of fullness, the almost-painful withdrawal, he thrust back in, right inside again. Harry's eyes closed, he couldn't keep looking, it was overwhelming simply to feel. In and out, the thrust and retraction, the slide of their bodies, the shifting of the man's hips. Remus wasn't just doing it straight, he was moving a little differently each time, angling around with swivels of his hips until he found his goal.
Harry moaned aloud, "Yes, there."
Remus had it now, and he stroked his cock over Harry's prostate, slowly at first, then quickening. Harry matched him move for move, instantly discovering and using movements that were as old as time. "Gods…" he moaned, thinking I can't last, this is too much.
When Remus' large hand, still slippery with oil, reached around and rummaged in the silken folds of Harry's skirt until it found Harry's cock, then grasped it in a heated grip and started to pump, Harry was lost.
He came with a shout of such pleasure that the man above him responded in the only way he could. Remus thrust hard and fast, forgetting the boy had been a virgin, beyond anything but need. Harry shot come all over his skirt, soiling his apple green acolyte's robe in proof of completion: it signalled the ending of the rite, and of his innocence. Harry was no longer a virgin. He looked into the mirror in time to see Remus lose it; in time to see the older man's head thrown back and an expression on his face that Harry would never have believed. Remus' eyes were screwed up, his mouth gaping on a strangled cry. His hair was wild, arms tense and hands gripping Harry's silk-covered sides as if he was scared of losing him. Harry felt the pulsing inside and the flood of warmth as Remus shot his release deep into his body.
Harry sighed and lowered his head, eyes closing in acceptance.
When Remus stilled and his hands relaxed, Harry felt the unpleasant sensation as the man pulled out of him. Then Remus, his robes set to rights again, lay alongside Harry and pulled him into his arms, smoothing the silken skirt into some kind of order. The sharp smell of the semen that had soaked into it filled the air. Harry would have been embarrassed before today if Remus had ever found him in such a state, smelling of sex and obviously having just ejaculated. He snuggled against the older man's chest, revelling in scents he'd smelled earlier – scents of soap and Remus, earthy and deep – overlaid with the scent of completion.
Remus planted a kiss on Harry's head. "Brilliant, love," he said.
Harry smiled, shimmied closer, and closed his eyes. Sated, relaxed and happy, they slept.
Harry's eyes shot open as the door flew wide. "What the hell is going on here?"
Remus half-sat up. "Sirius?"
Harry knew it wasn't his godfather though, even though this was his house. That voice was unmistakable. "Snape!"
Snape stormed into the room and stood over them, glowering down at the bed. More specifically, his eyes locked on the boy still lying beside the man. Harry realised his skirt – damn it – had puffed up again and Harry was very aware he was naked beneath. Snape's nostrils, flared in anger, twitched as he sniffed, his eyes fixed on the bouffant silk and what was nestled beneath.
"So! You went ahead with your little ceremony. Dark Arts in a Dark house."
"It's not Dark, Severus."
Remus' voice sounded perfectly calm and reasonable. Harry wondered how on Earth the man managed to do that in such a fraught situation. Harry was as tense as a bowstring, he could never have spoken without shouting. And they hadn't done anything wrong. Harry was old enough for this, and Snape had no business here.
Snape sneered. He looked pretty outraged, Harry thought, and he supposed they must look a bit shocking, but that was not Snape's concern and that made Harry angry. The man had no right to interfere and certainly no right to storm in here.
"Perhaps we should allow Dumbledore to be the judge of that," Snape said angrily.
Harry noticed that two spots of colour tinged Snape's usually colourless face, just along the cheekbones. He sat up, this had gone far enough! "Don't be so daft, Snape."
He swung his legs out of bed and stalked on his high heels – he'd been wearing them throughout the rite, though he'd hardly noticed at the time – over to the man, undulating his hips in a rolling, sexy walk the boots seemed to compel him to use, making his skirt sway. "You've just disturbed us having sex. Remus and I like to dress up. That's hardly a Dark ceremony, is it?"
Harry ran a finger down Snape's cheek. "I understand you're envious, Snape, but running to Dumbledore? Isn't that beneath you?"
"I am not envious," Snape gritted out between clenched teeth, dark eyes glittering at Harry. He was sweating quite visibly, fine drops gathering across his brow.
Harry smirked. "Then good night, Severus."
Snape's eyes widened. He stepped back, aghast. "You will respect me, Potter. Do not use my name."
"Good night, Severus." The insistent repetition came from Remus, who was now standing and looking very proper in his new dress robes.
Snape glared, angered beyond measure but out-manoeuvred. As a Slytherin, he would certainly hate that. "Pervert!" he snapped at Remus, who merely gave a gentle smile in reply. Gathering as much of his dignity as he could, Snape twirled in his voluminous black robe and left, slamming the door shut behind him.
Harry slumped and leaned back against Remus, who put his arms around him. "Phew!"
Remus kissed the top of his head. "That was brilliant! You were great, Harry. Dressing up, indeed!" He chuckled. "You see, I told you the robe would come in useful."
Harry turned and grinned up at his partner. "It certainly seems to affect people. Maybe I could wear it again for you?"
Remus' eyes gleamed. "You should not; this was for the rite, despite what you told Severus."
"This was my first time. I loved it, Remus." Harry kissed him, firmly on the mouth. "But it wasn't just a one-night stand, was it? It meant more than that to me."
Remus tightened his hold on Harry. This was unexpected. He'd thought the boy would just make some painfully embarrassed speech about helping him and leave. "It meant a lot to me too. But it's still wrong. The age difference-"
"Hush, it's done now." Harry put a finger over Remus' lips. "Why bring up morals we've already dismissed as irrelevant?"
"Oh, bugger it," Remus groaned. He was beginning to get used to failure in the face of Harry's certainty. What could he do now? He bent his head and kissed Harry, who was no longer his supplicant, but Remus couldn't take the time to wonder exactly what Harry was now. Remus caressed the silky material along Harry's back and pulled the boy closer, burying his hands in the folds of silk that puffed out over his delectable arse.
Epilogue:
It was Christmas and the trio were sitting in the lounge at Grimmauld Place, much as they had at the summer Order meetings. Order members were chatting in groups around the room, just as they had been before. A huge Christmas tree twinkled in a corner, making the forbidding atmosphere of this house lift a little.
Sirius bustled off down to the kitchen to see what was keeping Kreacher and Dobby. He'd promised everyone sherry and mince pies, but those two could get distracted at times arguing with each other, and Sirius wanted the pies before midnight.
Harry's group consisted of Ron, Hermione, Remus and the now-departed Sirius.
"You look much stronger than you did last summer, Remus," Hermione said. "The strengthening rite must have worked."
Remus smiled, and Harry answered for him: "It went well."
Harry didn't elaborate, and Hermione had to content herself with that. She'd tried asking about it, but Harry had been tight-lipped, and it seemed Remus wasn't going to add to that. It was frustrating, especially as she'd known exactly what the rite entailed and would have liked some feedback.
"Snape looks bloody furious," Ron observed, looking nervously at their professor who was seated nearby, but alone. "What's wrong with him?" Snape was glaring at them, making Ron uneasy. "He won't make trouble, will he?"
Harry looked at Snape, who was indeed glaring quite fiercely from Harry to Remus and back again. Harry smiled over at him, and winked. Snape's face reddened; the spots of colour Harry had seen after the rite now returned to the sallow cheeks. Snape stood abruptly, turned in an impressive swirl of robes and stalked away.
"He's all right. He won't say anything to Dumbledore. He's just jealous, that's all."
Hermione and Ron looked incredulously at Harry, then at each other, while Remus chuckled, watching Snape standing over by the window, no doubt glaring out into the London night.
"Hm… I think you're right, Harry," Remus said in a deep voice, putting his arm around Harry. They were seated side by side on a couch. If Sirius returned he'd think no more of it than Harry being close to his ex-teacher, who'd always been a friend to the boy. "He's jealous. Of both of us," Remus added quietly.
Harry thought about that, his thoughts spinning. So Snape wanted them both, his ex-lover Remus and Harry too… how interesting. There was definitely something darkly attractive about Snape, now he came to think of it, despite the man's forbidding looks. Snape was so intense, so focused. Harry leaned against Remus and smiled at Snape, who'd just turned back to the room, eyes moving inexorably to the couple on the couch. Harry made the smile less smug, more appreciative, and looked up and down the man's body.
He felt a jolt of excitement when he saw Snape's eyes widen in realisation, and the thin lips quirk into a smile.