Secret Snarry Swap: FIC: Home for Christmas Title: Home for Christmas Author:writcraft Rating: R Word count: ~5,400 Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *Romance, holiday-themed schmoop* Prompt: Harry meets the Princes/Snapes and/or Christmas dinner with the Dursleys Summary: Harry and Severus have been skirting around one another for months. Christmas Day finally gives them a chance to let their feelings be known. A/N: I hope you enjoy this little fic, Torino. It was a wonderful treat to write for you and I hope you don’t mind the liberties I have taken with your prompt. I hope I at least captured the element of poignancy and memories of childhood you hoped to see. Thanks to you and Accioslash for keeping the Snarry fire burning over the holiday season.
Home for Christmas
Christmas Eve
Harry manoeuvred his shopping bags into a more comfortable position and frowned when he heard a familiar voice coming from a nearby shop.
“These ingredients are extremely rare and they are not to be tampered with by insufferable little brats who are allowed to run amok without proper supervision. This is not Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes!”
The final sentence was said with such a note of disdain, Harry huffed with laughter and made his way through the crowd.
“Everything okay, Professor?”
“I have told you before, I am not your bloody professor!” Snape seethed and folded his arms tightly against his chest, while a small boy looked up at him with wide eyes and a trembling lip. “And I will not be swayed by that look, Mr Longbottom.”
“He’s just a child.” Neville lifted up the little boy, who buried his face in his arm and let out a loud wail.
“A child who has no business messing around with expensive potions ingredients.”
“Hello, Albie.” Harry rolled his eyes at Snape’s grousing and then reached into his bag to find one of the ice-mice he had purchased for a Christmas Day treat. “Why don’t you say sorry to Professor – Mr Snape?” He dipped his voice into a whisper and winked at Neville. “Your dad and I always used to get told off by him, too; his bark is worse than his bite.” Harry offered Albie the sugary treat and arched his eyebrow at Snape when Albie looked shyly at him and mumbled an apology.
“It is simply-”
“He’s apologised, hasn’t he?” Harry stopped Snape in his tracks and shook his head. “Plus, he’s only little.”
Snape huffed and his cheeks flushed pink. With tremendous effort he finally gave Albie and Neville a curt nod and spoke through gritted teeth. “Apology accepted.”
“Very gracious,” Neville muttered. He ran a hand through Albie’s hair and smiled fondly at him when he began to munch on his sweet. “That sugar’s going to keep you awake all evening. Although I suppose it is the holidays. What do you say to Harry?”
“Thank you, Harry.” Albie bestowed Harry with a beaming smile and Snape snorted.
“Yes, thank you for your intervention, Auror Potter.” With a scowl, Snape went back into his shop and slammed the door.
“I don’t know what’s got up his nose.” Neville frowned at the closed door. “Albie wasn’t causing any trouble, but when Snape saw him looking at the potions ingredients he went berserk.”
“This time of year doesn’t suit everyone.” Harry grinned at Neville. “Besides, he’s not exactly easy-going or child-friendly at the best of times.”
“That’s an understatement,” Neville agreed. He shifted Albie in his arms, giving Harry a curious look. “Although I hear he’s a bit more placid around you these days.”
“Hardly.” Harry’s cheeks heated. “Where did you hear that nonsense from?”
“It’s common knowledge amongst the Hogwarts staff. Minerva says that you’re the only one Snape will work with – apparently you’re the only reason he even helps the Ministry at all.”
“He works with the Aurors from time to time. When there’s a job which requires some expert potions input.” Harry shrugged and tried to ignore his quickening heartbeat. “As far as I’m aware, that hasn’t anything to do with me. We’re not exactly friends.”
“I didn’t say you were friends.” Neville winked at Harry and he nodded to his bags, clearly sensing the need for a change of subject. “Off to the Burrow for Christmas?”
“Not this year. I’m going back to Privet Drive.”
“Well…” Neville trailed off, uncertain.
“It’s okay – I know it’s not going to be a barrel of laughs, but it’s just one Christmas. It might be better than I expect.”
“I hope you’re right.” Neville clapped Harry on the shoulder and let Albie give him a sugary kiss on the cheek. “Have a good one, Harry. Merry Christmas.”
“Thanks, you too.” Harry watched Neville wander off to Hannah, before pushing open the door to Slug & Jiggers and stepping inside.
“I do not appreciate you interfering in my business, Potter.” Snape flicked the door shut behind Harry with a wave of his hand. “But if you must come inside, please do so quickly, before all of the heat leaves the room.”
“I’m being as quick as I can with all of these.” Harry held up his bags to show Snape. He dropped them onto the floor and rubbed his hands, which were numb with the cold, in an effort to get back the circulation. “It’s certainly cold outside.”
“Indeed.” Snape arched an eyebrow at Harry and nodded at the bags. “You intend to stay?”
“Not really, I’ve got to get home and do my wrapping.” Harry thought of the present for Snape that he had so carefully selected and tried to fight back the heat rising in his cheeks. “I just wanted to see how you’re getting on, aside from being agitated by too many small children and streets full of people.”
“I will be glad when this wretched holiday is over.” Snape settled at his desk and began to etch out price tags in fastidiously neat script. “You still intend to spend your day with the Muggles?”
“It’s something I have to do this year. It’s important.”
“Then you should follow your instincts. Blundering into these situations headfirst hasn’t served you poorly in the past.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“You will visit Molly and Arthur when you have finished, I expect?” Snape fixed one of the labels to a small glass phial and didn’t look at Harry.
“I’m not sure yet. Perhaps.” Harry shrugged. “You’re going back to Spinner’s End?”
Snape pressed his lips into a tight line and shook his head. “I will be opening the shop.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “But it’s Christmas Day.”
“It is not a holiday I particularly care for. I will be quite content in my solitude.”
The bell above the shop jangled, interrupting the conversation. The new customer approached the counter with a list long enough to make Snape’s eyes gleam and Harry found himself dismissed with a quick wave of Snape’s hand.
He gathered his things, setting out into the cold. As he wandered through the cobbled streets, Harry’s mind filled with images of Snape behind the counter at Slug & Jiggers on Christmas Day.
* * *
Christmas Day
Harry carefully pocketed his gift – striped socks at least a size too big – and turned his face upwards to the rain. He pulled his coat around his body and cast one last look back at Number Four, Privet Drive. It was hard to believe he used to live in a cupboard under the stairs when the whole house now looked so very small.
Christmas lunch had been a quiet affair. Whenever Harry offered the roast potatoes to Dudley, he flinched as if expecting to be hexed. When he offered to help carve the turkey, Uncle Vernon had spluttered and informed him in no uncertain terms that there would be no magic used on Christmas Day. When Harry picked up the carving knife to assure his uncle he had no intention of using magic, Aunt Petunia had let out a small scream as if Harry planned to wreak bloody murder instead of helping himself to food.
With a sigh, Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to walk. He was fairly certain the net curtains had twitched when he looked back at the house, and it wouldn’t make things any better if he suddenly disappeared from sight in a puff of magic. Despite their tumultuous history and the strained conversation over lunch, Harry had made progress of a sort with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. The relationship was far from perfect, but the Dursleys were the only blood relatives Harry had left. On that basis, he was keen to let bygones be bygones.
He checked his watch and wondered about visiting the Burrow. At nearly five o’clock in the afternoon, the Weasley Christmas would still be in full swing. Ron wouldn’t even have started singing yet, the turkey would still be plump and glazed and the house would be filled with warmth and flickering candlelight. When Harry reached a suitably quiet spot, he paused. Ottery St-Catchpole wasn’t all that far, and he knew Molly would be happy to see him.
After deliberating for a moment longer, Harry shook his head firmly and took his decision to Apparate to London. He already had plans to see in the New Year with Ron and Hermione, followed by the enormous cooked breakfast Molly and Arthur always prepared on New Year’s Day. Being at Privet Drive for the first Christmas since the war had made Harry strangely sad and he didn’t think his mood would be best suited to a hectic Weasley family Christmas.
Harry knew he didn’t owe his aunt and uncle anything, but something about being back in the home he had once longed to escape saddened him. While still plump and flushed red with anger, Uncle Vernon’s face now bore the lines of age. His huff and bluster carried less force than before, and his movements were slower than Harry remembered. Aunt Petunia’s hair was streaked with silvery grey and sometimes her face twisted into a peculiar expression when she looked at Harry. That morning she had pressed a treasured photo of Lily into Harry’s hands when nobody else was looking, and the gesture made Harry’s heart ache for the relationship that might have been.
Dudley seemed happy enough, content with his new wife and settled in a dull sounding Muggle job. Yet even Dudley’s mood was quiet and his behaviour had left Harry unsettled. The way he looked at Harry these days was different to before, and his voice carried a note of awe and deference that reminded Harry of his first meeting with Ron. Unlike Uncle Vernon, Dudley now seemed curious about magic and sought out Harry in quieter moments to ask about this spell or that spell and to press him for details about the Ministry and being an Auror. For someone who had been so used to getting everything he had ever wanted, Harry supposed it must be particularly tough for Dudley to find out about a world full of things he wouldn’t be able to experience. When Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were arguing over the chestnut stuffing, Harry had found himself promising to take Dudley to Honeydukes in the New Year.
Lost in his thoughts, Harry strolled through Diagon Alley and hardly noticed the rain which covered his coat. He liked the sensation of the cool water on his skin and the damp was nothing a swift charm wouldn’t fix. The street lamps in Diagon Alley glowed with the warm orange light of the candles burning inside the clouded glass shells. The cobbled paving stones were slick with the rain and they shone in the last remnants of the last light of Christmas Day. The usually bustling streets were quiet and still, and the only light in the windows was those above the stores, where shopkeepers were doubtless celebrating the holidays with their families. Harry imagined the families gathered around small tables and the laughter of children pulling crackers filled with the kind of magical tricks and treats that had caused Harry such joy when he spent his first Christmas at Hogwarts.
Harry continued his meandering until he found himself outside Slug & Jiggers. He peered curiously at the sign on the door and bit back a laugh.
Open for business.
Come in, if you must.
Unlike the other shops, which kept their doors firmly closed to the general public, this shop had a light flickering in its window. Tentatively, Harry pushed open the door and flicked his wand to dry himself off. He shook his head when a little dust fell in his hair and stomped his feet on the coarse doormat to get rid of the dirt which had gathered on the sole of his boots.
“Please, Potter – do come in.” A familiar voice came from a dark corner of the shop, followed by a soft huff of displeasure.
“Snape?”
Snape stood and loomed over a small tower of precariously stacked books. He eyed Harry and his lips twitched. “You were expecting somebody else? You look a little…bedraggled.”
“It’s chucking it down outside.” Harry ran his hand over a couple of jars on a nearby shelf, stopping when they began to clink together alarmingly. “I saw a light on and thought I’d come and say hello.”
“How good of you.” Snape returned to his book, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
Harry gestured to the door. “I could leave?”
“You have other plans?” Snape continued to peruse his book.
“Nope. No other plans.”
Snape closed his book with a snap. He gestured to a small door leading from the main part of the shop. “I suppose I could offer you a Firewhiskey, as you are clearly desperate for companionship if you have found yourself loitering on my doorstep on Christmas Day.”
“That would be great, thanks.” Harry looked after Snape as he swept out of the room. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” Snape made his way to a small cupboard in the far corner of the living room, extracting two glasses and a bottle filled with rich, amber liquid.
Harry settled himself on the sofa and took a moment to look around. The room was small and homely, with a large fireplace towards the centre of the far wall. The fire appeared to have been recently lit and the logs crackled and shifted under the heat from the flames. Above the fire was a sparsely decorated mantelpiece adorned with a couple of small trinkets and a solitary photograph of a stern-looking man and a slender woman with black hair piled into a neat bun. They stared into the camera without moving, their smiles a little forced.
To Harry’s surprise, there was a little tree in the corner of the room, hurriedly decorated with silver and green decorations which fluttered over the branches. He swallowed when he looked underneath the tree to see the meagre collection of unopened presents.
“You haven’t opened your presents.”
“Very observant, Potter.” Snape handed Harry a Firewhiskey and pulled off his outer robes to reveal black cotton trousers and a white shirt. He placed the robes neatly on a rickety chair next to a table for two which looked as though it hadn’t been used for some time. He unbuttoned his shirt sleeves and rolled up his sleeves, eyeing the gifts. “I have never been one for celebrating the holidays.”
“Your parents are-”
“No longer alive,” Snape finished. His gaze flickered to the photograph on the mantelpiece and he took a slow sip of his Firewhiskey.
“Have you eaten?” Harry took in Snape’s skinny frame and looked back up to find himself being glared at.
“I have had a sandwich, if that’s what you mean. It seems a little wasteful to cook a turkey for myself, don’t you think?”
“Oh.” Harry thought of the full table at the Weasleys’ and the mouth-watering turkey cooked by his Aunt Petunia. “I’m sure Molly and Arthur would have you for lunch next year – after everything you did for me and the Order during the war.”
Snape snorted and he crossed his legs at the ankle, stretching them out in front of him. “Arthur has extended an invitation to me on several occasions. I have no desire take him up on the offer. I do not enjoy celebrating the holidays.” He swirled his drink in his glass and eyed Harry. “And nor do I enjoy being pitied.”
Harry’s cheeks heated and he gave Snape a sheepish smile. “Point taken. I suppose if you don’t enjoy getting presents, you probably won’t be interested in opening your gift from me, either?”
Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry. “You have a present for me?”
“You don’t have to look like I’ve just put Veritaserum in your drink.” Harry glared at Snape and then flicked his wand to Accio the gift from his coat pocket. “You should open it, and the others too.”
“It hardly seems fair for me to sit here merrily unwrapping my presents when you have nothing to open.” Snape cleared his throat and glanced at the slightly crumpled package in his hands. “I’m afraid I did not think…”
“Don’t be daft!” Harry waved his hand quickly, fighting back a wave of embarrassment. “It’s just something small. I don’t expect anything in return.”
“Nevertheless…” Snape tapped his finger to his lips and then flicked his hand to levitate an expensively wrapped gift towards Harry. After letting it hover briefly next to Harry, Snape dropped his hand and the gift fell into Harry’s lap. “Consider this yours.”
Harry looked at the label and laughed. “Lucius Malfoy and family? I couldn’t take this from you.”
“On the contrary.” Snape’s lips curved into a smirk and he gathered the remaining presents into a small pile next to his armchair. “I would rather enjoy seeing you in whatever Lucius has decided to gift me this year. I do believe he imagines me to have a penchant for leather.”
“Leather?” Harry eyed the gift with a hint of trepidation. “I hope you mean gloves.”
“Do you imagine I would allow Lucius Malfoy to dress me in other forms of leather clothing?” Snape arched an eyebrow at Harry.
“That wasn’t quite what I was thinking, although now you come to mention it...” The note of interest in Harry’s voice earned him a scowl of displeasure from Snape, and with a grin he hastened to open the present. Inside the box was a pair of gloves in black Italian leather, just as Snape had predicted. Harry pulled one onto his hand and flexed his fingers, enjoying the comfort of and warmth of the soft felt lining against his skin. He brought the glove to his face and inhaled the scent with a contented sigh. “These are brilliant. But you can’t just give them to me, they must have cost a fortune.”
“They belong to me, I can do whatever I please with them.” Snape settled a bottle of brandy with a garish red ribbon wrapped around the neck on the table beside him. “I still have a perfectly good pair from last year which I have hardly had the occasion to wear. Besides, I imagine they might be useful for flying.”
“They’re perfect.” Harry removed the glove carefully and placed it back into the box. “Thanks.”
Snape merely nodded and continued to open his presents until a small pile of books, some dark chocolate truffles and a pair of woollen socks sat next to the bottle of brandy. All that remained was Harry’s gift, which Snape turned over in his hands.
“I’m afraid I didn’t get the posh wrapping paper. It seems like a waste when it only gets thrown away afterwards. Unless you’re Aunt Petunia, of course. She keeps the paper for next year – or at least she does now Dudley opens his presents a bit more carefully.”
“Very sensible.” Snape raised his eyes from the gift and met Harry’s gaze. “And how was your lunch?”
“Fine.” Harry pulled a face. “Better than expected, I suppose. I’m taking Dudley to Honeydukes in the New Year.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the old Muggle photo of his mum and showed it to Snape. “Aunt Petunia gave me this. It was good of her.”
“I would have been far more impressed had she been honest with you about your mother a long time ago.” Snape sighed and took the photo, looking at it wistfully before handing it back to Harry. “Nevertheless, I am pleased your day was not a complete disaster.”
“Far from it, I’d say.” Harry tipped his glass in Snape’s direction, enjoying the mellow heat from the fire.
Snape returned to his gift and Harry watched him open the present. He took in the way Snape carefully unknotted the string, and treated the plain brown paper wrapping paper as if it was something to be treasured. Harry swallowed, recognising his own careful attention to presents, and looked back at the stern picture of Snape’s parents with their simple clothing and forced smiles. His eyes wandered to the little tree in the corner of the room again, and the neatly placed brush used for sweeping up pine needles – a very Muggle item for one of the most powerful wizards in Britain to keep in his room.
The small tree and the way Snape folded his wrapping paper into neat piles made Harry’s heart ache. He thought of Snape at the counter of the cold shop, eating a plain sandwich with a paper hat placed at a lopsided angle on his head and, despite his wave of sadness, Harry had to bite back a laugh at the idea of Snape wearing any kind of holiday themed attire. He focused on Snape’s long fingers, his heartbeat quickening. A light heat rose in Harry’s cheeks and he crossed his legs when altogether more pleasant images of Snape intruded on his thoughts.
“This is very generous. How on earth did you acquire such a thing?” The sound of Snape’s voice broke Harry’s reverie.
“Through all the right channels.” A warmth flooded Harry’s body at the appreciative note in Snape’s voice. “Although it’s Non-Tradable, the Ministry has a stock of unicorn blood from animals which have died from natural causes. It can’t be sold in the shop of course, but I thought it might come in useful for your private research.”
“Very useful indeed.” Snape held the glass up and the silvery substance glistened in the firelight. “Extraordinary.”
“I cleared it with Shacklebolt and he said you sometimes source Non-Tradable stock from the Ministry. He said you’ve never asked for unicorn blood, though.”
“The ingredients I usually ask for are far more mundane. I would never have presumed to ask for this.” Snape placed the bottle down and looked at Harry, his dark gaze unreadable. “Would you care for another drink?”
“Please.” Harry held out his glass and shifted slightly when Snape’s hand brushed his for a brief moment. After pouring his own drink, Snape moved from the armchair to settle next to Harry on the sofa.
“All that remains is to thank you.” Snape stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and his fingers toyed with the strands of hair which curled at the base of Harry’s neck.
“I don’t need any thanks.” Harry looked at Snape, his heart thudding in his chest. “Unless you’re looking for an excuse.”
“Perhaps.” Snape’s lips twitched into a half smile, and he slid his fingers into Harry’s hair. “Merry Christmas, Potter.”
“Yeah. Merry Christmas.” Harry shifted closer to Snape. Emboldened by the whiskey, he leaned forward to brush their lips together. He pulled back and held his breath as Snape continued to watch him with the same dark stare.
“Are you drunk?”
“Not at all.” Harry considered that for a moment. “Maybe. Perhaps a little. Not as pissed as Ron is right now, I bet. I know what I’m doing, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” In the short space of time it took Harry to answer, Snape moved closer until his lips brushed against a spot on Harry’s neck which sent electricity through his body. Snape moved along Harry’s throat and upwards, before capturing his lips in a dizzying kiss which made Harry very glad he was sitting down.
Harry wrapped his arms around Snape’s neck and pressed close, the demanding pressure of Snape’s lips making him groan. When Snape slid his hand over Harry’s thigh and squeezed, Harry shifted to straddle Snape. He pushed his hands into Snape’s hair and kissed him again, after letting out a sigh of appreciation. “Wanted you for ages.”
“Is that so?” Snape pulled back and nipped at his ear. “You’re very eager, Potter.”
“I am a bit.” Harry grinned and shifted in Snape’s lap to prove a point. “I’m not sure it’s all one-sided.”
“To the contrary.” Snape’s lips twitched and he settled his hands on Harry’s hips to still his movements. “However, I prefer to take my time. Unless you are in any particular rush?”
“I’m not in a rush to leave, if that’s what you mean.” Harry took Snape’s hand and pressed it to the front of his trousers, groaning when Snape rewarded his impudence with a firm squeeze. “I’m not the most patient of blokes when it comes to this, though.”
“Ah, yes. I can well imagine.” Snape unzipped Harry’s jeans and pushed his hand inside to wrap around Harry’s cock. “It is a good job you are young. Perhaps if I assist you with this I will be allowed to take my time with you afterwards.”
“Fuck, yes.” Harry bucked up into Snape’s slick hand, which wrapped around his length. The slide of Snape’s thumb over the slit of his cock and the warm glide of Snape’s hand proved nearly too much. The scent of peppermint wafted towards Harry and he captured Snape’s lips in a deep kiss, rocking into his hand. “Peppermint…I like it.”
“There are some advantages to working with potions every day.” Snape broke the kiss and flicked his hand to relieve Harry of his trousers and pants. “Much better.”
“There are some advantages to being with powerful wizards.” Harry grinned and squeezed his bare thighs around Snape to make his point. His next sentence was lost when Snape twisted the hand around Harry’s cock just so, squeezing Harry’s backside with his free hand.
Snape hummed his agreement and slid his fingers along the crease of Harry’s arse. He applied a light pressure which made Harry’s head spin and he squeezed the base of Harry’s cock, murmuring in his ear.
“You like this, Harry?”
“I…” Harry tried to speak but then Snape moved his hand more quickly over Harry and the ability to form words left him entirely.
“Tell me, Harry.” Snape practically growled against Harry’s neck, twisting his hand and sliding it over Harry’s cock with practiced finesse. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to come. Fuck, I want to come…” Harry’s words came out in a rush and he planted messy kisses on Snape’s cheeks. “Then I want to go to bed. I want you to spank me and fuck me.” He tried to say something else, but Snape’s talented movements left Harry breathless. When Snape sucked on a spot just below his ear, Harry came undone.
Snape groaned against Harry’s skin and slid his hand underneath his t-shirt. “Spanking, Potter? I believe we should move this elsewhere if that’s what you’re after.”
Harry shifted in Snape’s lap and kissed Snape’s neck. He traced the line of the scar from Nagini with his tongue and gripped onto Snape more tightly when he felt Snape react to his explorations.
“I was thinking…” Harry nuzzled Snape’s neck because he seemed to like it and it was a good excuse not to have to look at Snape head-on. “We could always bring the gloves to bed with us?”
Snape stilled underneath Harry and then landed a sharp swat on Harry’s backside, which caused him to yelp before melting against Severus. “We could indeed. Cheeky brat.”
Harry pulled back and grinned at Snape, feeling oddly comfortable despite being naked from the waist down and sticky with come. “Do I get house points for ingenuity, Professor?”
“Most decidedly not.” Snape arched an eyebrow at Harry and nudged him to move. “You should know me well enough by now to realise you have to work a little harder to get those.”
Harry slid from Snape’s lap onto his knees and looked up at him, running his hands over his thighs. “Like this?”
“It’s a start.” Snape slipped his hand into Harry’s hair and urged him closer. “I thought you wanted to be fucked? I am not as young as you, and I’m unlikely to recover quite as quickly.”
“I don’t care.” Harry shrugged and rubbed his cheek against Snape’s thigh, unbuttoning his trousers. “We’re not in any rush, are we?”
“No.” Snape ran his hand through Harry’s hair, his voice rough. “No rush at all.”
* * *
Some considerable time later, Harry and Snape relaxed in a tangle of limbs and sheets on Snape’s small bed. The new leather gloves and various items of clothing littered the floor and the room smelled pleasingly of peppermint and spicy cologne.
“I’m too tired to Apparate.” Harry yawned and pressed close to Snape, breathing in his scent.
“Is that so?” Snape’s voice seemed far away and his hand lingered on Harry’s backside for a moment. “I expect you will want to sleep, in that case.”
“Perhaps…” Harry shifted back towards Snape’s hand with a groan, and a flicker of arousal warmed his satiated body. “You’re not knackered?”
“A little.” Snape’s lips brushed the shell of Harry’s ear, and the sound of his low, rich voice went straight to Harry’s cock. “I am simply testing the assertion that you are too tired to Apparate.”
“Too distracted. I’m too distracted to Apparate,” Harry amended. He opened his eyes to see Snape contemplating him with a smile playing over his lips.
“I am in no rush to return to my Firewhiskey and cheese sandwiches if you wish to stay.” Snape trailed his fingers along the length of Harry’s spine, eliciting a shiver. “You do not have to feign exhaustion in order to spend the night here. In fact, I would rather you didn’t. It spoils my plans.”
“Plans?” His interest piqued, Harry shifted under the duvet and flexed his toes. The bed was just small enough to enable him to snuggle up to Snape under the pretence of a lack of space. He found he rather liked the proximity and the languid manner in which Snape teased the warm heat of arousal from him, with light touches to erogenous zones Harry didn’t even know existed.
“Plans to hear you say my name out loud.” Snape traced a circle on the base of Harry’s spine and stroked a spot behind Harry’s ear with the pad of his thumb. “Plans to make you beg.”
“Oh, Merlin.” Harry groaned and shivered under the touch. “Well, I hope you’ve got more than cheese sandwiches in for breakfast if you plan to keep this up.”
“I trust bacon and eggs will suffice?” Snape smirked against Harry’s skin and pushed him back onto the sheets.
“Perfect.” Harry squirmed when Snape continued his ministrations and the words fell from Harry’s lips before he could stop himself. “I think bacon and eggs on Boxing Day should become our Christmas tradition, don’t you?”
Snape paused and he looked up to meet Harry’s gaze, his eyes dark. He held Harry’s stare for a moment longer before nodding once and returning to Harry’s chest. Snape moved down to Harry’s thighs and up again to brush his lips over his hip.
“Indeed I do.”
Harry sighed and moved his arm over his head, arching up with a moan when the blissful heat of Snape’s mouth circled around his cock.
Harry tangled his hand in Snape’s hair and resolved to tell Snape that this was his favourite Christmas ever, just as soon as he regained the ability to speak.