SNARRY SWAP: Gift for: gatewaygirl, "A Firm and Constant Reminder" Title: A Firm and Constant Reminder Author:eeyore9990 Gift Recipient:gatewaygirl Other pairings/threesome: N/A Rating: NC-17 Word count: ~5,400 Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *Rope/bondage kink (shibari), AU post-DH EWE (ignores Snape's death).* Prompt: Harry and Snape have teamed up to track down a group that is doing something awful. (As P.I.s? During a non-canon war scenario?) While watching a suspect or target, they see something that turns one of them on -- a lot. The other notices and is intrigued. Summary: There was something about the way Snape stared at the rope that had Harry bound and determined to unravel him. A/N: Massive thanks to the mods for their patience and to leela_cat and r_grayjoy for the beta. gatewaygirl, I hope you enjoy your gift!
And a very special thank you to all whose valuable insight helped to shape this fic.
A Firm and Constant Reminder
The ground was still firm, though the rain that afternoon had left the top layer a muddy mess, which was why, when the twig snapped under his foot, it sounded like nothing so much as the pop of a joint being dislocated. And Harry had had enough experience with torture to be intimately familiar with that sound.
Though the noise had been mostly muffled by Harry's foot and the thick mud, he still froze, breathing slowly through his nose and holding his wand in a too-tight grip. Shaking his arm, he consciously relaxed his wrist to better facilitate spellcasting, should the need arise.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and Harry started violently even though he knew—he knew—that if he'd been caught by one of them, he'd not be given the courtesy of a warning.
"Snape," he whispered, so softly that the sound could have been mistaken for the rustle of the trees or the wind that occasionally whipped around him. It was a cold night, enough so that their breath fogged the air, but the order had come down for no unnecessary magic due to the volatile nature of the illegal potions that may or may not be inside. As a result, they were left to wander through the damp forest surrounding the hidden cottage without as much as a warming charm.
"Watch your step." A shiver went through Harry when Snape breathed those words into his ear, though he stubbornly attributed it to the way the whisper sent warm air gusting against his ear and neck. He'd always been sensitive there; it wasn't as if Snape could be responsible for his body's involuntary reactions.
A light flickered to life inside the cottage, and Harry squinted against the brightness until his sight adjusted. Snape's hold on Harry's shoulder tightened briefly before his hand slipped down Harry's back and away.
"Stay close. Guard my back."
Harry nodded, though Snape was already moving silently away from him. Bastard. He could have at least waited for Harry to approve his plan, whatever it might be. And then Harry swore under his breath when he realised that Snape had moved too far away for Harry to be able to guard him.
Dammit.
Hurrying forward with his wand drawn, Harry sent up a silent prayer that he wasn't making too much noise and didn't bother to avoid any of the twigs that lay between him and Snape. When he finally caught up with Snape, who was leaning with his back to a tree some five metres from the cottage, Harry wasn't at all surprised to hear Snape whisper, "Were you attempting to impersonate a herd of Erumpents or was that a happy coincidence?"
"Shut it," Harry said, glancing around the tree as the light wavered oddly. "They're coming out."
A muffled cry split the silence surrounding the cottage as they watched a hooded figure push a young girl through the doorway. If not for the porch posts, she would have fallen down the stone steps, so roughly was she pushed. Harry lurched forward, instinctively trying to reach out and steady her despite the distance separating them.
"Be still," Snape hissed, his arm shooting out to hold Harry in place. "You'll give away our position."
Harry scowled, but he knew Snape was right. After five years as a Hit Wizard, he knew better, but he'd nearly blown their cover and all for nothing. The girl had caught herself, though the force of her stumble had twisted her sideways around the post before she'd done so, leaving her back to them. Harry winced in sympathy, seeing the way the ropes they'd used to bind her cut into her flesh.
Surprisingly, even Snape seemed affected by her plight, if his sudden inhalation of breath was any indication.
"Where are they?" Harry asked, eyes straining to see into the darkness beyond the reach of the light.
"We can only hope they show themselves tonight." Snape's voice was rougher than Harry had ever heard it, prompting Harry to reach out and awkwardly pat his back.
"We'll get them." What the words lacked in reassurance, they made up for in determination. Harry would move heaven and hell to get these bastards; he'd seen too many vacant, glazed-eyed victims of their illicit potions and interviewed too many weeping mothers of the girls they kidnapped to sell into sex slavery.
Apparently the teetering economy had even forced criminals to find new—and far worse—ways to turn a profit.
Harry's thoughts quieted when he saw movement at the edge of the wood surrounding the cottage. The way Snape stiffened, Harry knew he'd seen it too. A slow exhale to steady his nerves and a renewed grip on his wand readied Harry for the fight he knew was coming.
The man in the doorway stepped forward, barking out something—a name, perhaps—and the newcomer strode forward.
Harry tensed. At any moment the signal would come, and he'd need to be ready. They couldn't lose this group now. Not after so many long months of work.
Money was exchanged through the clasping of hands, then all hell broke loose. Red sparks shot out of the forest from where the lead group was stationed, and Harry and Snape rushed forward, Snape with a muttered oath about fools and magic.
The fight was absurdly brief. Harry was almost sickened by the way the man from the cottage dropped to the ground, his hands raised as he pleaded for his life and his freedom. A freedom he'd been all too willing to strip from the three girls he'd been keeping prisoner in the cottage.
Taking the men into custody was easy enough, but the girls were taking longer to calm than Harry had expected. After bringing the girls back into the cottage to keep them warm, it had been all Harry could do to get them to trust him, and still he'd only succeeded in part. One of them screamed and pulled away every time anyone got too close to her, making it impossible to remove her bonds.
With a sigh, Harry looked up at the lead Hit Wizard, a man named Wilcox, from where he was crouched on the floor. "This is going to take me a bit longer than I'd planned. Get those bastards out of here; maybe that'll help calm her?"
"Whatever you say, Potter."
Harry just rolled his eyes and went back to murmuring soothingly to the young girl until Snape's voice interrupted him.
"Hanson, get me a hammer." Turning to Snape, Harry was about to ask why Snape needed one when he said, "We're supposed to be avoiding the use of magic, Wilcox, or didn't you get the memo? Until I know for sure that these bastards haven't hidden them in the walls, no magic. Unless you want to kill us all."
Bemused, and still uncertain what Snape was planning, Harry watched as Hanson's quick search turned up the necessary hammer, which he tossed across the room. Snape caught it easily, and began beating holes into the plaster walls, obviously looking for hidden potions caches.
Hanson and Wilcox made quick work of binding the two criminals, while Harry finally calmed the girl and released her, getting her ready for her upcoming transportation to St Mungos for evaluation.
"Fuck! They've moved them," Snape said, stomping back into the room and glowering dangerously at the trussed up criminals. Jerking one of them upright, Snape leaned down and said, "If you don't tell me where you've hidden the potions, it will go very… badly… for you."
Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn't help grinning when Snape allowed the cuff of his left sleeve to slide down his arm, showing a hint of his faded Dark Mark. Able to use magic again now that Snape himself had deemed the house clear of potions, Harry quickly placed everything in sight, including the ropes used to bind the girls, under Evidence Containment Charms.
"We didn't 'ave no potions 'ere!" Snape's prisoner yelled, drawing Harry's attention again, though the fear in the man's eyes gave truth to his lie.
Snape pulled the man to his feet and turned to Wilcox with a feral smile. "I'm taking this one back with me to… interrogation." As the man began shouting his innocence, Snape spun him around, checking to make sure that the ropes he'd been bound with were still tight. Snape lingered over the knots, his fingers sliding over them several times and testing their give. Harry was about to say something when Snape looked up, his eyes dark and snapping.
It had to be a trick of the light or a flicker of shadow or something to do with the night itself, but Harry could almost swear he saw the tip of Snape's tongue swipe at his bottom lip before he Apparated away with the prisoners.
Harry walked into the Hit Wizard office, still reeling from everything he'd learned at St Mungos while interviewing the girls who'd been held prisoner. Disgusted with his fellow man, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out two lengths of rope, one fresh and the other from the house they'd hit that had a faint trace of potion staining the end of it.
Sitting at his own desk several yards away, Snape appeared to ignore Harry as he conferred with John Dawlish, the Auror in charge of the investigation. Harry watched them for a few minutes before he began readying the rope for testing. Idly winding the first rope around his hand in preparation for putting it away, he stopped when something changed in the atmosphere around him.
Glancing up, he saw that Snape was still talking to Dawlish. Brow furrowing, Harry stared from Snape to Dawlish and back again as he continued to wrap the rope around itself in anticipation of running an analysis on it. But it wasn't Dawlish who'd caused the hair on the back of Harry's neck to stand up. For a moment he wondered what it was that had triggered his senses, but then he saw it.
Snape's hands were clenched tightly around the arms of his chair and his posture—always straight—was rigid with tension. Harry turned back to Dawlish, focusing more clearly on their conversation. If the man was harassing Snape in any way…
But he wasn't. Dawlish's posture was relaxed under the cardinal red robes, his expression open and his head cocked toward Snape in avid interest. Confused, Harry pulled the end of the rope taut between his hands until it made a dull sound, frustration eating at him.
And then Snape shifted in his chair, the smallest finger on his right hand twitching as a muscle leapt in his jaw. Harry looked down at the rope, puzzling over what significance it could possibly hold for Snape. There wasn't anything particularly unusual about it; it was just a standard length of coarsely braided rope. Harry knew that because he'd stopped at a Muggle store on the way back from St Mungos to purchase it himself.
But there was no doubt in Harry's mind that it was the rope itself that was causing this abnormal reaction in Snape.
Harry pursed his lips and waited until Dawlish left before he pushed with his feet, sending his wheeled chair spinning across the room until he was close enough to have a semi-private conversation with Snape. "So," he said, always the eloquent one.
Snape lifted an eyebrow, his eyes only flicking to the rope in Harry's hands once. "Potter. What brings you to my corner of the room?"
Grinning, Harry held up his hands, his hold on the rope as casual as possible. "I have a gift for you." If he hadn't been watching Snape as closely as he was, Harry would never have seen the flicker of Snape's eyes to the rope in his hand.
"Oh?"
"A potions sample from the house we hit tonight."
Satisfaction gleamed darkly in Snape's eyes and curved his mouth. "Potter, you just became my favourite person. If I didn't detest you so much, I'd kiss you."
Harry swallowed down the flutter of excitement that had risen at Snape's off-hand remark and only said, "I knew you'd eventually come around. Hey, we should probably get together after work." At Snape's incredulous look, Harry shrugged nonchalantly and said, "You know, so we can line up our reports and whatnot."
"And why," Snape asked, his eyes staring hard into Harry's, "would I want to line my report up with yours?"
"I was your partner on this operation."
"My partners change frequently. A fact of which our superiors are aware. It is, after all, the nature of my specialty to only go into the field on cases involving potions or the procurement thereof."
Harry sighed, slumping in his seat and inadvertently sending it rolling backward before he caught himself and pressed forward. In more ways than one. It was a dangerous game he was about to play, but he'd never shied away from danger and he wasn't about to start now.
Watching Snape from the corner of his eyes, Harry began to play with the rope in his hands, pulling it through his fingers and winding it around them. When that elicited only the smallest twinge from Snape, Harry changed tactics. Looping the length into a circle, Harry began to nonchalantly—he hoped—tie the rope into knots.
That did the trick. Snape was staring openly at his hands now, so much so that Harry was able to look up into Snape's face without him even realising.
"You know," Harry said, keeping his tone light and conversational, "I've heard about people who like to be tied up. I've never tried it myself, but I've often wondered… what does it feel like? I mean, I can imagine it from the point of view of the person doing the tying, but not the one being bound." Tilting his head, Harry wrapped one end of the rope around his wrist and pulled it tight. Making a face, he released the rope and muttered, "Seems like it'd chafe more than anything."
For the first time Harry understood the meaning of being speared by a look; Snape's eyes were that intense when he glanced up at Harry. Reaching out, he gripped one end of the rope, pulling it taut across Harry's wrist and said, "It's the steady pressure, the firm, constant reminder that it's there. Being held down, having choices taken away from you by your own will. It's being absolved of any responsibility for your own pleasure, for the pleasure of others. Feeling everything, touching nothing. That is why people like to be tied up. Among other reasons." Snape tugged on the rope, and Harry blinked, barely holding back a gasp as the rope snaked around his wrist before slipping free, leaving behind a slight burning sensation that was echoed in his chest when Snape stood and walked away.
Taking the rope with him.
Snape's words haunted Harry, whispered through him at odd hours, made sleeping impossible. He felt like a teenager again, waking once more in drying puddles of his own come. Harry knew, logically, that it couldn't go on—it was already starting to affect his work—but he had no idea how to make it stop.
Because the only solution to his particular problem was to plead with Snape, to get him to agree to allow Harry to tie him up, but the last time Harry had checked the weather, snow had not been in the forecast for Hell.
Sighing, Harry slumped forward in his chair, elbows banging onto the top of his desk as he pulled his hands down his face, stretching the skin of his cheeks. What a right mess. As if he hadn't already been too aware of Snape, he had to go and add this to the mix. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that rope against his skin, but in his mind's eye, it wasn't his skin, it was Snape's. And it was Harry's hand on the reins, so to speak.
"Fuck." The whispered invective came out on a rush of air as Harry's eyes darted over the top of his desk where piles of paperwork threatened to spill onto the floor.
"Problems, Potter?"
Goosebumps broke out on Harry's arms at the sound of Snape's voice—feeling everything, touching nothing—but he managed to remain outwardly calm when he glanced up. "Too much paperwork. I swear I'm going to drown in it."
Snape tapped a finger against the top of his perfectly tidy and mostly paper-free desk. "Perhaps you'd find yourself less frustrated if you took care of it immediately."
Harry's lips parted, surprise zinging through him. Something about the way Snape had said that seemed to indicate that he meant… something else entirely. Clearing his throat, Harry frantically searched for a response that wouldn't embarrass him too badly if he was wrong about Snape's intentions. "I hate feeling like I'm … tied to my desk." Oh God, that was horrible. "I mean," he said, floundering for a way to save the moment, "I prefer to be out there, doing things. I, um…" Harry sat forward, impatient with himself, and his elbow knocked into a stack of paperwork, sending it to the floor.
Photos of the girls they'd rescued, their arms still bound with rope, slid out a folder and scattered across the tiles between Harry and Snape.
"Subtle, Potter."
Harry dropped his head to his desk, beating it a few times for good measure. "Kill me now."
"The idea has merit, I assure you." Snape stood up from his chair and crossed the room, pausing to pick up the photos off the floor—though Harry noticed he left the paperwork where it lay. Dropping the photos onto Harry's desk, Snape leaned against it and crossed his arms.
Harry's mouth lost every bit of moisture in that moment as his eyes were drawn to the place where Snape's wrists were suddenly exposed. The skin was reddened, slightly abraded, and it was all Harry could do to keep from coming in his pants right where he sat. Pure lust overwhelmed him at the sight of Snape's wrists and wiped every other thought from his mind. At least, it must have done, because that was his only possible excuse for reaching out and trailing his finger over those marks.
Snape hissed and jerked away, but the paperwork littering the floor was his downfall. Literally. As he stepped backward, his foot landed on a piece of paper which slipped across the highly polished marble floors and sent him crashing to one knee.
Before Snape could recover, Harry launched himself out of his chair and bowled Snape over onto his back. Capturing Snape's wrists in his hands, Harry pressed his fingers against the rope burns, glorying in them. Even out of his mind as he was though, Harry couldn't ignore Snape's wince of pain, which snapped him out of his nearly crazed state.
"Oh God, I'm sorry," he said in a rush. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Which would be," Snape said through gritted teeth, his face contorting slightly as he shifted under Harry enough to straighten out the leg that was bent under their combined weight, "the only reason you're still able to count yourself among the living. Now, release me." Snape flexed his wrists within Harry's grasp, one eyebrow arching pointedly.
The bony protrusions on the outside of Snape's wrists pressed into the calluses on Harry's fingers, and instinct made Harry tighten his grip. He felt the shudder that ran through Snape then, and his mind started to slide away again.
"I want to tie you up," he whispered, encouraged by the fact that Snape wasn't actively trying to escape his hold. "It's all I can think about, all I've been thinking about."
"Then it's no wonder your performance lately has been abysmal." In the blink of an eye, Snape reversed their positions, straddling Harry as he pulled his wrists free. "And if you think I'm willing to put myself at your mercy when you haven't the first idea how to tie a decent knot, you're out of your mind."
Desperation took hold of Harry at the dismissal he could plainly hear in Snape's tone. Reaching up, he tangled his fist in the front of Snape's shirt to keep him from moving away. "I can learn. Give me a week and I'll learn enough to—"
"Impossible. You've never shown a knack for learning, especially not in such a short time frame." Snape shifted away and stood, nearly dragging Harry with him as he hadn't yet released Snape's shirt. As soon as he realised that, he loosened his grip, though not before one of Snape's buttons ripped free, bouncing away under a desk.
Pushing to his feet, Harry felt his desperation turn into determination. Going after Snape, he swung him around by his shoulder and said, "That's a miserable excuse, and you know it. If it's just me, if you don't want me, that's one thing. But you bloody well know that when I set my mind to something, there's no force in heaven or on earth that can stop me. And if that's what scares you, you really are a—"
"Complete that sentence and I'll walk out that door for good." The snarl on Snape's face was warning enough to Harry that he'd almost gone too far. Eyes snapping dangerously, Snape jerked free of Harry's hold—again—and walked toward the door. Without turning around he said, "You have one week."
The secret to binding Snape with rope was not to think about it as binding Snape with rope. Harry had to learn to turn his mind and body off when he was twisting the ropes, winding them in and out of one another, securing them with knots.
Which was truly the only thing that kept him from coming all over Snape when he finally got him to agree to this.
Looking down, Harry swallowed heavily. It had actually taken several days to find someone to train him in the art of shibari and then three weeks of near constant teaching to perfect even one of the techniques. But it was all worth it in the end. Because the sight of Snape's pale skin criss-crossed with the thin black cords he'd selected for this night was nearly Harry's undoing.
They created an intricate pattern over Snape's chest, wound around his arms, knotted his wrists together above his head and then connected with a thicker rope to six places on the bedframe to insure he wouldn't be able to move them even a fraction of an inch.
But Snape's securely tied body was no match for the beauty of his face. The more ropes Harry bound him with, the more relaxed he became. The pinched expression Harry had become so used to was gone; Snape's lips were slightly parted, his eyelids gently closed. His breathing was deep and even, and Harry could have almost believed Snape was asleep except for the amazing hardness of his cock where it jutted from his groin.
What really made Harry's blood rush through his body and occasionally froze his breath, was the ultimate trust that Snape's relaxation suggested. Trust. For Snape, of all people, to allow Harry to have him at such mercy meant that Snape trusted him to do this. It must. Because from the moment Harry had first touched rope to skin, Snape had gone quiet and simply let him work, allowing Harry to move his body, twist his arms, head, torso. With not a word to question his next move or snarky comment about the tightness of the cords.
And it was that trust which gave Harry the strength to see this through to the end without stopping to take care of his own body's nearly overwhelming needs.
Taking up another length of cord, Harry knotted one end to the spider web of rope binding Snape's chest and ran it lengthwise down Snape's abdomen, between his thighs, and looped it around to bring it back up across his belly to the other side of Snape's chest, making sure the rope nestled enticingly against the protrusion of Snape's hipbone. Another knot held the rope exactly where Harry wanted it and he tilted his head, attempting to decide on his next move.
Knotting the end of one cord to the rope that crossed over inside Snape's thigh, Harry sat back on his heels as uncertainty threaded through him. He'd reserved a shorter length of cord for this part, but was beginning to doubt himself. Steadying his nerves with a deep, cleansing breath, Harry drew his wand and made some adjustments to the shorter cord. He then drew it through his fingers, testing it to ensure that the changes were sufficient.
A shudder ran through Harry at how very different this new cord was from the one he had used on the rest of Snape's body. Mouth dry, he let the end of the material lick across the head of Snape's cock until he heard Snape's calm breaths break and become ragged. Unable to continue to tease Snape—because to do so was merely prolonging his own agony—Harry began to loop and wind the material over and around Snape's cock and bollocks.
Tight but not too tight, Harry checked the feel of the cord and was pleased with the almost downy-softness of it. His breath caught as he imagined how the difference in the texture would focus Snape's attention on his own genitals. Harry was unable to stop himself from running the tip of one finger over the cord, its thinness enough that skin touched skin.
A minute change in Snape's breathing made Harry glance up to check Snape's comfort, but he was caught himself when he saw that Snape's eyes were open, his eyes glinting with the arousal that brought colour to his cheeks. Harry's wandering finger traced the line of cord that separated Snape's bollocks and then left the cord completely to caress a path down Snape's perineum and circle his entrance.
Snape's tongue made a brief appearance, wetting his lips before he said, his voice husky, "Finish it." The order was underscored by such need that it shook Harry to his core.
Aching with desire, Harry closed his eyes against the sight of Snape, forcing his body under control once more before he felt steady enough to continue. His breathing was ragged as he picked up the trailing end of cord that he'd abandoned earlier and pulled it through a small loop he'd woven into the cage of cord surrounding Snape's cock. Entranced by the drop of pearlescent fluid that clung to the tip of Snape's cock, Harry wrapped Snape's right thigh without looking or thinking about what he was doing, his fingers working of their own accord to tie and loop and check the tautness of the ropes and knots.
Another knot connected the twining mass of cord around Snape's right thigh with the intricate web around his abdomen and the process was repeated on the left until Snape was bound from the tips of his fingers to the tops of his feet. And then Harry was finally able to simply sit back and look his fill.
Harry had known that the sight of Snape bound in rope would affect him deeply, but he had no idea that he would react this strongly. Glimpsing a bit of abrasion around Snape's wrists could in no way compare to the beauty of him laid out like this, his pale skin and lean musculature showcased to greatest advantage against the startling contrast of the black cord that snaked along his body. Harry's stomach tightening with the need to come, he pressed the heel of his hand against his cock, almost hyperventilating as he forced his orgasm back.
But he couldn't wait any longer to touch, to taste. Looking was simply not enough to satisfy him.
Leaning down, Harry crawled up and over Snape's body, dragging his tongue across the cord, weaving it in and out, sucking at the flesh that was left bare through small diamond-shaped patterns and intricately woven circles. He'd left enough room around Snape's nipples to allow his teeth access and he used that freedom to its greatest advantage, nipping and biting and licking until he could hear Snape's groans through the buzzing of his own ears.
Harry surged forward, capturing those sounds with his mouth even as he held his body off Snape's, straddling him, some part of him intensely aware of how much pressure Snape's wrists and ankles could take in his position. Pulling back only enough to speak, Harry said, "I want you."
"I believe…" Snape muttered, frustration etched in every line of his face as he arched toward Harry as much as his bindings would allow, "you have me… at your disposal."
Dropping his head to Snape's neck and placing a sucking love-bite there, Harry attempted to gather the ragged ends of his composure before he moved down the bed and, without warning, took Snape's cock fully into his mouth. Shouts and curses flew freely from Snape as Harry sucked, dug his tongue into the underside and drew it all the way up to delve into the slit, bumping over the knots and cords.
The alien quality of the cords was enough to impress upon Harry how very different this blow job was than any other he'd ever given. He couldn't stop himself from allowing his teeth and tongue to play with the knots even as Snape's cock pressed into the back of his throat, his precome flavouring the entire experience. The texture of the knots against his tongue battered down Harry's self-imposed restraint and all the emotion and need he'd held in check for so long overwhelmed him.
He dropped between Snape's wide-spread legs, careful not to land on them, secured as they were to the bedposts. His hips jerked against the mattress even as he slid his fingers under Snape's hips, digging them into the knots and ropes that bisected the warm flesh.
All inhibition seemed to abandon Snape then, and he began to shout encouragement to Harry, urging him along… and heightening Harry's arousal until, as he felt Snape stiffen beneath him, his own orgasm crashed through him, staining the front of the trousers that he'd not allowed himself to remove. Harry's moans of completion were interrupted only by the need to swallow as Snape's come filled his mouth, traces of it dribbling from the corners of his lips.
Exhausted though he was, Harry managed to move to the side of the wide bed, lining his body alongside Snape's without putting any pressure on it. His fingers played with the knots and ropes idly as his mind spun. He couldn't even be arsed to take care of the mess he'd made of himself when Snape was still on display like this.
"Can I keep you like this forever?" Harry asked softly, grinning a bit to himself at the thought.
"Intriguing as the thought may be," Snape said, his voice showing the effects of the previous hour, "I'm not certain my shoulders could take the strain."
Brow furrowing with concern, Harry sat up and went to loosen the ropes before Snape stopped him. "It has not yet become an issue. You may continue to… indulge in the afterglow." When Harry hesitated, Snape growled, "Potter, I swear by all that's holy, if you touch those beautiful knots, I'll string you up by your entrails."
Dragging his fingers from Snape's bonds to his lips, Harry smiled and said, "I guess I did manage to learn something then, eh?"
Something that sounded suspiciously like a snort erupted from Snape, forcing warm, moist breath over Harry's fingers. "I'm merely preventing you from unravelling what must have been a complete fluke."
"That sounds a bit like a challenge. One I'm rather certain I need to accept." Harry smiled and settled down, curling around Snape. His hands moved restlessly over the ropes, stroking them and the soft skin between them, marvelling at how Snape had relaxed into him, at how Snape had trusted him. There was no way he could give this up. He'd simply have to make sure he earned that trust, knot by knot.