SNARRY-A-THON12: FIC and ART: Seeking Familiar Approval Title: Seeking Familiar Approval Author: Laverne suitesamba Artist: Shirley veridari Rating: R Word count: 5,594 Content/Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *Humor, romance, acts of animal aggression* Prompt: Technically a wild card, but the story was inspired by a plot bunny and a drawing the artist (Shirley) made a couple years ago, dusted off and shared with the writer (Laverne). Schlemiel, schlemazel, Hasenfeffer Incorporated! Summary: Harry has a new boyfriend but Harry’s Familiar isn’t too fond of him. To what lengths will Severus go as he seeks Familiar approval? A/N: Thanks to L, who agreed to beta this at the last minute. Hugs, kisses and manly back slaps to the magnificent moderators, the talented proofreader and especially to Hedwig, who, of course, did not die after all but flew away from the chaos back to Hogwarts where she was waiting for Harry when he returned the next May.
Seeking Familiar Approval
“Merlin…hurry!”
Severus’ voice was low, rumbling against Harry’s ear as he fumbled with the key that opened the door of his third-floor London flat. Snape’s hands rested on either side of the doorframe, and his body pressed in against Harry’s.
“Christ, Severus. I can’t see…there!”
The lock clicked and Harry turned the knob with shaking hands, pushing the door open as Severus entered behind him, stepped around Harry and kicked the door closed. He was on Harry in a flash, pressing him against the door as Harry grabbed at his neck and pulled his head down, desperately shoving a leg between Severus’ thighs.
“Come here,” breathed Harry as he met Severus’ lips, groaning as his new lover kissed him. He tasted of firewhisky and smelled of the pipe smoke that had filled the pub. His cheeks and chin were rough and stubbled, and Harry worked his hands up into Severus’ hair, pulling him closer, rubbing his own cheek against Severus’….
“What the….? Hey!”
Severus pulled away, flailing his arms around his head as if fighting off an unseen attacker. They hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights when they’d stumbled in, horny and slightly tipsy after a late evening at the Three Broomsticks, and Severus connected squarely with Harry’s stomach as he swung his arms around.
“Oooof!” Harry dropped back against the wall, cradling his middle.
“Harry! I’m sorry—…ow!”
“Oooohhhh….”
“Lumos!”
As Severus’ wand finally illuminated the entryway, a Snowy owl-turned-attack dog settled heavily on Harry’s shoulder with a flutter of great wings, then tucked them in, turned quickly around and leaned its body against Harry’s tousled hair protectively. Harry was doubled over in pain, hands still clutching his midsection, and Severus immediately stepped forward and reached toward him.
Mistake.
Hedwig darted forward and pecked at his hand, biting him in the sensitive crook between thumb and index finger. Hard. Hard enough to draw blood. Severus pulled back quickly, cursing and cradling his hand against his chest.
“Hedwig—no!” Harry gasped out.
“Is she like this with everyone?” gasped Severus. He had scooted back and was studying the wound on his hand. It was deep and ugly and bleeding heavily. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly bandaged it.
“No! No—she’s not. She must have thought…thought you were attacking me.” Harry was getting his breath back and struggled upright. “Stay there—I’m going to put her up.” He sidled around Severus, with the owl on his shoulder eying the man maliciously, and disappeared down a passage to their left. A door opened, then closed, and a moment later Harry was back. He turned on a table lamp and reached for Severus’ hand, unwrapping it and holding it beneath the light. He sighed.
“That owl is a menace,” groused Severus, wincing as Harry used his wand to disinfect, then heal, the bite.
“It was a fluke,” said Harry, smiling wanly as he led Severus by the other hand down the corridor. “She thought you were hurting me.” He pushed open a door and turned to wrap his arms around Severus’ neck. “She’s my familiar. She’ll get used to you.”
“Of course she will,” said Severus, rolling his eyes. But he soon forgot all about Harry’s familiar and instead concentrated on getting familiar…with Harry.
~*~
The second time Severus came up to Harry’s flat, it was a sunny Saturday afternoon and he hadn’t had a drink all week. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen Harry all week either, and thus he spent the entire climb up the forty-eight stairs reminding himself to get off on the right foot with the owl. No sudden lunges at Harry, no tackling him to the couch and ripping his clothes off—at least not in front of the familiar.
He allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. A month ago, before that first, almost accidental, meet-up with Harry at the Three Broomsticks after the Alumni Quidditch tournament, he’d never have imagined having the opportunity to rip off those sweaty Quidditch robes, much less the tight black Y-fronts underneath. But now, getting Harry naked wasn’t only the stuff of fantasies during boring continuing-education presentations during Hogwarts faculty meetings. No, now getting Harry naked was his job. And better yet, only his.
Harry opened the door wearing a pair of red athletic shorts, a form-fitting t-shirt and a smile. No owl. Severus scanned what he could see of the flat as he walked in. Still no owl. Harry closed the door behind him and, without a word of greeting, wrapped his arms around Severus, molded his body against him and nuzzled his neck, kissing him just below his ear.
“I’ve missed you.”
“I wasn’t the one who ran off to Florence for a week,” said Severus, nudging Harry’s chin up and kissing him.
Harry returned the kiss, and for a long moment the flat was silent, save the slightly breathy exhalations of the Headmaster and the Quidditch referee.
“Come with me next time, then,” said Harry as he trailed a hand down the buttons on Severus’ chest. Even when he forewent his robes in Muggle London, Severus wore his waistcoat over a collared button-down.
“Headmaster duties,” said Severus, trying for haughty and managing to sound somewhat breathy as Harry rocked into him, pressing groin to groin.
“Right…oh fuck!”
A screech interrupted them, just ahead of a flurry of white.
“Hedwig!”
Severus quickly lowered his head and covered it with his hands, having learned the hard way the damage the owl could inflict. Hedwig, however, did not give up. She landed on top of his head and soon had her talons so tangled in Severus’ hair that Harry had to shoot a Petrificus Totalis at her to prevent her from effectively scalping him.
“I don’t understand,” Harry said as he carefully untangled Hedwig’s right foot, smoothing his hand over his lover’s hair and along his cheek as he did so. He freed the owl with some difficulty then set her carefully aside as he parted Severus’ hair and examined his scalp, rubbing soothing circles on Severus’ back as he did so.
Some time later, as they lay tangled together atop the quilt on Harry’s bed, Severus said, “Your owl…your familiar…dislikes me.”
“I think she’s just jealous,” said Harry. He stroked over Severus’ head cautiously, avoiding the recently healed talon scratches.
“You think?” replied Severus. “She has treated your other boyfriends similarly?”
“Boyfriends,” said Harry with a grin. “So you’re my boyfriend now?”
“I dislike the word,” muttered Severus, though he smirked as he spoke and rolled over on top of Harry. “I believe I prefer ‘lover.’”
“Lover is good,” laughed Harry, smiling up at Severus. He tucked a lock of fine black hair behind Severus’ ear. “Though, since I’m the Boy Who Lived and all, you could be my consort.”
Severus shook his head, still smirking, as he lowered his arms and lay atop Harry. “Perhaps that ruddy owl would like me more if I agreed to be your consort.”
“Maybe you need to win her over,” suggested Harry, shifting and wrapping his arms around Severus’ back. “You’ve only been here twice—she’s still not used to you.”
“You never answered me about previous boyfriends—did she attack all the men you brought here?” Severus bit down on Harry’s shoulder blade lightly.
“You act like I’ve had a parade of paramours dancing through here….”
“’Parade of paramours?’ Did you really just say ‘parade of paramours’?” Severus laughed, throaty and low.
“Made you forget your question,” teased Harry.
“It did not,” answered Severus. He pushed himself up on his elbows again and looked sternly down at Harry. Harry thought he looked much younger here like this than he did upright and in his Headmaster robes. “I’m the only one she’s done this to, aren’t I?”
Harry sighed. “Alright—yes. But first of all, I haven’t had that many men up here. And second, I’m not even sure she met them all…I mean, both of them.”
“Both of them? As in two?” Severus settled his unclothed midsection down onto Harry’s similarly unclad torso and swiveled his hips.
“Sure. Two. Maybe three. Ohhh…yes…right there…” He thrust up against Severus.
“And how many, exactly, of these two…or three…did Hedwig attack?”
“Exactly?” groaned Harry. “It’s really hard to say....ugh. Alright. Alright. None. You’re the first!”
“I thought so,” said Severus. He ground down into Harry again. His cock was taking definite interest in the proceedings, despite the fact that he’d just had a magnificent orgasm a half hour ago.
“Hedwig likes mice,” offered Harry through a delightful moan. “Fat ones. You could…mmmm…could bring her one.”
“A fat mouse,” said Severus. He rotated his hips again and Harry groaned. “Any specific color?”
“You’re going to bring her one, aren’t you?” asked Harry. “You must really like me.” Harry smiled as he closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip.
Severus lifted up his body and swept his gaze over his young lover, eyes coming to rest on the lovely, prominent cock rising up from the nests of smooth curls before he answered.
“You’re growing on me.”
~*~
“I can heal that—here, let me.”
Harry pulled Severus’ hand out from under the running water.
“Oh—that’s bad. Listen, Severus—I’m sorry. I really don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s always totally ignored everyone else I’ve brought home—even my friends. She just sits on her roost and closes her eyes and looks bored.”
“At least she took the ruddy mouse,” said Severus. He did not sound happy.
Harry muttered the cleaning and disinfecting spell, then reached into the cabinet for the dittany. “I think we’d best use this—or perhaps you could ask Madam Pomfrey…?”
“Dittany is fine.”
Severus held perfectly still while Harry applied the liquid, watching his skin close and heal. Harry carefully cleaned off the remaining blood.
“If she keeps this up, I won’t have any original parts left,” warned Severus.
“At least I don’t let her in the bedroom,” said Harry, pressing a kiss to the now healed finger.
Severus grimaced. “Your perfectly normal familiar ignored all of your previous lovers….”
“Both of them,” corrected Harry.
Severus rolled his eyes. “Yet has now thrice attacked me, drawing blood each time.”
“I think she was just over eager tonight,” explained Harry. “That mouse you brought was especially fat.”
“Hmph.” Severus answered, wavering. “Perhaps. I did choose a particularly plump one.”
“And she hadn’t eaten since she went hunting last night,” said Harry. “I wanted her to be good and hungry when you got here.”
“You starved her?” Severus looked out the door, squinting. Hedwig was on her roost, at least twenty feet away in the living room, the mouse already consumed. He imagined she was eying him suspiciously.
“We are going to my place tonight,” he announced. “She is not going to accept me.”
“She is going to accept you…I’ve accepted you,” insisted Harry. “And your place is Hogwarts,” he reminded him. “Though really, I’d be happy to spend tonight in your quarters—just send your Patronus to Minerva and ask her to open the Floo connection to her office….”
Severus glared at Harry, then looked away, eyes not meeting Harry’s as he spoke.
“Minerva doesn’t know about…us.”
Severus looked up and Harry met his eyes with a curious, searching look then gave a small smile. “Well, she’ll be surprised, then. But happy, don’t you think? Her favorite Slytherin and her favorite Gryffindor?”
“Surprised is hardly the word. She doesn’t know—well, let’s just say ‘no’ to that suggestion.”
“Doesn’t know what? That you’re an incurable romantic? That you date former students?”
“Student,” corrected Severus. He couldn’t quite keep a satisfied smile off his face. “You are the first.”
“Is that the problem, then? That I was your student? Because you haven’t been my teacher for what—ten years?”
“Haven’t I?” Severus smiled at Harry, though the smile was more a suggestive leer. “I think I’ve taught you a few…things…over the past weeks.”
“Ahh. Things like this?” Harry dropped down to his knees in front of Severus, onto the tile floor, and began unbuttoning Severus’ fly.
“You didn’t know how to do that before?” said Severus, wiggling his narrow hips so Harry could more easily pull down his trousers.
Harry grinned.
“Not like this. Who knew you could learn to suppress the gag reflex?”
Severus sighed as Harry’s mouth came down over him. Warm, moist, wet heat surrounded him, tight lips and skilled mouth creating just the right suction, the perfect pressure.
“Ummm…apparently I’m a skilled instructor.” He clenched his arse, driving slowly into Harry’s mouth. Resting his hands back on the vanity top, he closed his eyes and let himself sink into mindless enjoyment of the magnificent blowjob.
Later, when they’d sorted themselves out after the owl had come swooping down the passageway at them, going directly (as Severus saw it) for his jugular, he was thankful that Harry’s new talent for deep throating had protected his really important parts.
~*~
“I think…I think she thinks I’m her mate,” Harry admitted several days later. He had just finished refereeing a game between the Chudley Cannons and the Holyhead Harpies and had Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron afterward. He and Severus met on the London side and walked together to a pub two blocks down, half-way to Harry’s flat.
“Her mate?” Severus placed his pint glass down on the table and stared at Harry. “Her mate?” he repeated when Harry just stared at him.
“Not a very good one either, I’m afraid,” Harry said. “Hermione suggested it, actually. When I told her what Hedwig was doing with you.”
“You told your friends you are seeing me?” asked Severus, narrowing his eyes with disapproval.
“What is it with you, anyway?” asked Harry. “And no, I just mentioned that Hedwig keeps attacking my new boyfriend. She’s so distracted with the new baby she didn’t even ask who it was this time.”
“This time?” Severus narrowed his eyes even more.
“Yeah—this time. Both other times she’s grilled me up and down about my choice of companion.”
“So what did Miss Granger….”
“Mrs. Weasley.”
Severus sighed. “Fine. So what did Mrs. Weasley…”
“You know, she actually hyphenates her name. It’s Hermione Granger-Weasley.” Harry hid a smile as Severus huffed then glared at him.
“So what did Mrs. Granger-Weasley have to say about your owl?”
Harry perked up. “Only that owls are territorial. They have courtship rituals too, and the male is supposed to use a specific call to attract her and then offer her food. They’ll viciously attack intruders. Hermione said people have lost eyes to owls when they’ve gotten too close to a breeding pair or a nest site.”
Severus stared at Harry. “You do realize you’re not an owl, don’t you?”
Harry laughed. “Sure. It’s just that Hedwig is confused. She doesn’t live with other owls, and probably doesn’t come upon any when she’s out hunting. So she’s decided that I’m her mate. And I’m not doing the right things—preening her, calling to her, offering her food. But you are. Well, you’re kind of hitting on both of us, I guess. You preen me—at least that’s what she’s thinking, I bet. And then you offered her food. She took it, but Hermione thinks she did it just to make me jealous. That’s why she took a piece of your finger with it.”
Severus picked up his pint and drained it then lifted his slightly-scarred finger toward the barkeep to order another. He regarded his empty glass sadly, then looked up at Harry.
“Has Miss Granger—Mrs. Granger-Weasley—has she proposed a solution to this problem?”
He knew she had. He could not imagine a single scenario, in fact, where she would not have done so.
“Hedwig needs a more suitable mate,” said Harry. “Preferably, another Snowy owl. They don’t cross-breed.”
“You don’t look like a Snowy owl to me,” retorted Severus, pulling the fresh pint the waitress had placed on the table toward him.
“And we haven’t bred—not yet, anyway,” answered Harry with a meaningful wink.
Severus rolled his eyes. “So the answer is for me to find a male Snowy owl, preferably one attracted to erratic, aggressive females, bring it to your flat, introduce it to Hedwig and hope she compares my offering to you and realizes it has all the right parts.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my parts,” said Harry, a emphasizing the word “parts” with a suggestive roll of his hips.
“No, no there’s not,” agreed Severus. “You have quite a nice bum, in fact. It would warm up a clutch of eggs nicely.”
Harry looked up from his pint glass and smiled.
“You like my bum?”
~*~
“I am not an ornithologist. How was I to know the bird was a fake?” Severus peered maliciously into the owl cage with the eye that was not currently swollen nearly shut.
“It’s puny, Severus, not even close to Hedwig in size. And it’s pure white—Snowy Owls aren’t all white, are they?”
“This one is,” said Severus, rather grumpily.
“Because it’s not a Snowy Owl,” said Harry, rolling his eyes. “It’s a Tawny Owl, spelled white.”
“Apparently, Snowy Owls are rare in Scotland,” said Severus. “The shop’s proprietor claimed he didn’t have one and didn’t expect to. But when I explained that money was no object, he suddenly remembered a recent shipment.”
“And you fell for that?” asked Harry. He had dropped a handful of owl treats into the cage and watched from above as the imposter gobbled them up.
“Let’s just say I very much wanted to believe it was a Snowy Owl,” Severus answered. He used two fingers to gently touch the gash at the corner of his eye—neither he nor Harry knew which owl had inflicted the damage this time. There had been such a flurry of feathers when Severus had opened the cage that he hadn’t even had time to cover his eyes before the blood was running down his face.
“I’m not even sure this one is a male,” said Harry, cocking his head to the side and studying the owl. It had hopped up onto the roost and tucked its head behind its wing.
“And how would you know?” asked Severus.
Harry shrugged. “Does it look like a male to you?”
“I told you I’m not an ornithologist. Where are an owl’s parts?”
“Parts?” Harry grinned as he slipped an arm around Severus’ back and squeezed his bum. He turned into Severus’ arms and worked a hand around his neck. “What kind of parts, hmmm?”
“Boy parts,” murmured Severus.
“Like these?” Harry dropped his hand from Severus’ arse and moved it around to cup his bulge.
“I should hope not,” answered Severus dryly, pressing against Harry’s hand instinctively. “The owl would be decidedly off-balance with parts like that. He’d hardly be able to fly. They’d brush against all manner of things and get stuck on tree branches.”
Harry smothered a laugh against Severus’ shoulder. “You’re going to have to try again with Hedwig, you know,” he said.
Severus sighed. “What’s left to do?” he asked. “We might just need to accept that your familiar and I will never get along. I do not think I’ve endeared her any more to me with this last blunder.”
Harry pulled Severus down into a kiss. “We’ll think of something,” he whispered against Severus’ lips. “I’ll just ask Hermione.”
~*~
“You’re early.”
Severus quickly slipped inside Harry’s flat. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“I really don’t think this will work. How do you know owls can perceive color?”
“I don’t,” Harry admitted, giving Severus a quick once-over. He was wearing crisply pressed blue jeans (who ironed blue jeans?) and a collared shirt with wide yellow and red vertical stripes. “Did you kill a Gryffindor on the way over?”
“Ha ha.” Severus shifted uncomfortably. “You said to wear something colorful. This is the most colorful shirt I own.”
“You don’t own that shirt,” said Harry. “You borrowed it from Arthur Weasley.”
“How did you know?” asked Severus, looking up in surprise.
“It’s too big for you,” answered Harry. He reached out and smoothed the fabric down along Severus’ sides, caressing softly as he went. “And the sleeves are too short.” He turned Severus’ hand over, exposing the bare wrist, and pressed a kiss to Severus’ pulse point.
“And that told you it was Arthur’s?” asked Severus. He frowned. “I hate this shirt, by the way.”
“Really?” Harry was eying the crease in the dark blue denims now. He looked up at Severus. “Because I gave Arthur that shirt for Christmas a couple years ago.”
“And a very fine shirt it is indeed,” corrected Severus, pursing his lips as if suppressing a smirk.
Harry rolled his eyes. “You need more color than that. Hold on.” He opened the coat cupboard and sorted through the coats and cloaks until he found what he was looking for. “Here.” He smiled as he wrapped the bright red and gold Gryffindor scarf around Severus’ neck. “If it doesn’t work, at least your throat will be protected.”
“I’d rather have my jugular ripped out than wear this,” muttered Severus as Harry went back to the closet and returned with a pair of Quidditch gloves.
“Put these on too,” he said, handing the gloves to Severus. Severus sniffed them suspiciously but pulled them on without verbal protest.
“I still don’t see how changing my appearance will affect the bird’s behavior,” he said as he followed Harry down the passage to the spare bedroom. Hedwig’s roost had been relocated to this room when Severus had begun spending so much time at Harry’s flat.
“It’s just a theory,” explained Harry. “Hermione reminded me that owls have incredibly good night vision. She said your light-colored face stands out starkly against the black clothing. Hedwig might perceive you as prey—thus the attacks.”
Severus had stopped and was staring at Harry, arms folded over his chest. “That makes absolutely no sense,” he stated.
“I admit it’s a long shot,” said Harry, breaking into a smile after they stared at each other for a drawn-out moment.
“Wait. How did Miss Granger…Weasley…know…? You told her you are dating me?”
“What makes you think that?” asked Harry, playing the innocent.
“How would she know I wear all black?”
Harry sighed. “Alright. I might have slipped and used your name. She didn’t blink an eye.”
“She suspected, then?”
“That we’re together?”
“No.” Severus looked at Harry blankly, not understanding Harry’s confusion. “That I am—that I prefer my own gender.”
Harry’s mouth dropped open, and he stared at Severus. “So that’s what this is all about? You haven’t told anyone that you’re gay!”
“It is a private matter to me.”
“It’s not a crime, Severus.” He stepped in and pressed a kiss to Severus’ mouth, sighing into it as he tasted the strong tea Severus had undoubtedly had just before coming here. “And really, no one will be surprised,” he added in a whisper.
Severus sighed resignedly and straightened up, facing the door.
“If the owl kills me, please remove this ridiculous garb from my body before you call my next of kin,” said Severus, hand on the doorknob.
“Your next of kin? Who would that be?” asked Harry, intrigued. He put his hand on Severus’ to stop him from going inside just yet.
“My great-aunt Severella Prince.” Severus shook off Harry’s hand and bravely opened the door.
“Severella? Are you….Hedwig! Noooo!!!!”
~*~
Two weeks passed before Severus once again braved Harry’s flat.
It had been a long two weeks. Harry had been in Austria, refereeing the Quidditch World Cup semi-finals, and Severus had stayed at Hogwarts, growing increasingly testy from less-than-satisfying romantic encounters with his own hand and the “Randy Referees” edition of Quidditch Weekly. However, he had a very instructional and helpful visit from Hermione Granger-Weasley, who left him with one final, unconventional trick to try in the war to win Hedwig’s affection.
And now, feeling quite ridiculous really, dressed in his traditional black save a flash of white in a quite unexpected place, he stood in front of Harry’s third-floor flat door and knocked sharply with his left hand.
He could have just opened the door with an Alohomora, but Harry was quite insistent that he appear to be a normal Muggle to his neighbors, not one whose guests brandished magic wands, wore flowing robes, or mysteriously appeared and disappeared in the corridor.
“Severus!” Harry stood in the doorway, smiling broadly, but his smile turned into a puzzled frown as his eyes took in Severus—all of Severus.
“What in Merlin’s name is that?” He reached out toward Severus’ right hand. Severus drew it away quickly.
“It is a hand puppet,” answered Severus. He held the hand—and puppet—in question to his side and made a hacking sound, moving the puppet’s mouth as he did so.
“That’s Hedwig!” exclaimed Harry. “How did you know that Snowy Owls don’t have a traditional hoot?” He beamed at Severus then, as if suddenly remembering something, frowned. “But why do you have a Snowy Owl hand puppet?”
“I am going to win over your familiar,” stated Severus. He brushed past Harry into the flat, his body resolutely not trembling when he felt Harry’s hard warmth, and strode purposefully down the corridor toward the spare bedroom.
“Um…do you think that’s a good idea?” Harry was following him, still staring at the puppet incongruously attached to Severus’ right hand.
“I think it’s my only idea,” answered Severus, pausing at the door. “And it wasn’t my idea at all. It is Mrs. Granger-Weasley’s idea, and she has promised me a rare volume I’ve been wanting on Mongolian fungi if this doesn’t work. Frankly, I’m hoping it doesn’t. I have been wanting to get my hands on that book for some time now.”
“I’ll get you that book….” Harry stood in the doorway and watched Severus slowly approach Hedwig’s roost, Snowy Owl hand puppet held up and in front of him.
Hedwig stretched her wings and looked suspicious, but did not attack.
Harry took a single step inside.
Severus made that disgusting hacking sound again, then let out a sound that reminded Harry of a muffled bark.
Hedwig scooted over on her roost, sharp eyes locked on the puppet, apparently making room to her left.
“Oh my….” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.
Severus took a few more cautious steps toward Hedwig. She preened, ruffled her feathers, then chirped.
Severus moved forward and hugged her.
Or, more accurately put, the hand puppet hopped onto the roost beside Hedwig and buried its beak into the short feathers on the side of her head.
Hedwig sighed and closed her eyes, fluttering her eyelashes. Wait? Did owls sigh? And since when did they have eyelashes?
“This is utterly ridiculous,” said Severus softly.
“And totally unbelievable,” added Harry.
“Embarrassing.”
“Touching.”
Harry braved approaching Severus.
Hedwig ignored them, continuing to coo and cuddle with the puppet owl. The puppet owl was a bit smaller than Hedwig, as male owls often are, and was more markedly white, with grayish bars on the tail feathers only. Its body was a soft plush specked with real feathers. It had marbles for eyes and was decidedly unromantic. Hedwig didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Time for some cuddling of our own, don’t you think?” Harry stood behind Severus, arms wrapped around his middle. “I’ve missed you.”
“Shhh…we’re bonding,” cautioned Severus.
“Oh, just leave the bloody puppet here with her,” said Harry, sliding his hands down under the snug waistband of Severus’ perfectly pressed denims. “Charm it to sit there and look sexy.”
“I thought you wanted us to be friends,” said Severus, groaning and pressing back into Harry even as he cuddled Hedwig with the puppet.
“Friends with benefits,” breathed Harry, beginning to rut against Severus.
“You want me to be friends with benefits with the owl?” Severus whirled around. Harry yelped as his hands were wrenched out of Severus’ jeans. Forgetting Hedwig, Severus waved his arms—puppet and all—in the air in frustration. Hedwig quickly flew to Harry’s shoulder, eying her flailing mate worriedly.
“You’re impossible,” Harry said fondly, shaking his head at Severus. “Come. You’ve made progress with Hedwig. Let’s go to bed.”
~*~
“Do you have to wear that thing in bed?” Harry groaned as something soft stroked lightly over his turgid cock while one of Severus’ hands carded through his hair and the other pinched his right nipple sharply. He arched up into the touch, moaning.
Wait….
“Severus, you are wearing the hand puppet, aren’t you?”
Severus answered by squeezing Harry’s cock with the hand wearing the puppet.
“Too kinky for you?” he asked, continuing to rub up and down the lovely cock.
“Ohhhhh….” The fingers on his nipple pinched again. It was just on this side of pain, evoking a jolt of pleasure, pulling deliciously at his core.
Severus’ hand in his hair caressed the back of his head, moved lightly over his left ear.
Harry’s foggy mind was suddenly quite sure that Severus only had two hands. One in his hair. One on his cock. Then what…what was pinching his nipple?
“Severus?”
“Hmmm?” A hand caressed his hair, his left ear, another ran up and down his cock as his right nipple was tweaked again. Hard.
Holy shit! There was something soft, feathery, against his cock—yes—but also against his chest. Something that was not Severus. Not the blasted, perverted puppet….
“Severus, where’s Hedwig?”
~*~
Harry reached out his hand and touched Severus’ fingers.
“Surprised to see me here, aren’t you?”
“In the middle of a school day? Frankly, yes.” His eyes moved to the white owl riding on Harry’s shoulder. Hedwig closed her eyes as if in greeting and ruffled her feathers. Severus reached out and rubbed the side of her head beneath her tufted ear in greeting. “You brought Hedwig.”
“Hagrid’s doing a unit on owls for the second-years and asked if he could borrow Hedwig. Apparently there aren’t any other Snowys at Hogwarts.”
“You could have simply sent her off with a letter for him, you realize,” said Severus. He’d stepped out into the corridor from the faculty lounge where Harry had found him.
“What? And miss seeing you in the middle of the week?”
Severus glanced back into the lounge. Poppy, Pomona and Filius were all staring at him with obvious interest. He frowned while Harry leaned around him and waved to his former professors.
They walked together down the corridor toward his office. The students who passed all exclaimed over Hedwig, reaching out to pet the owl. She cooed with approval. If any students thought it odd to see their Headmaster strolling through the corridors with the Boy Who Lived, they kept their comments to themselves.
“I noticed she didn’t peck any of their eyes out,” Severus said as they rode the spiral stairway up to his office.
“Of course not. Why would she do that?” Harry answered, discreetly taking Severus’ hand as they ascended. He held on to it as they reached the top and walked to Severus’ office door, and bent in to steal a kiss as Severus pushed the door open and pulled Harry inside, pressing him up against the office door and deepening the kiss.
“Severus! What…? Harry?”
“Minerva! What are you doing in here?” Severus jumped away from Harry as Hedwig took flight and headed for Fawke’s old perch and Harry waved over Severus’ shoulder at his former Head of House.
“Waiting for you,” she said, a satisfied sort of smile on her face. She stood and gathered her belongings. “I had hoped to speak with you about your distraction of late, Severus, but now that I understand its probable cause, perhaps I should speak with Harry about not keeping you out so late on school nights.” She stood and made her way out of the room, stopping to accept a quick kiss on the cheek from Harry, then turned back at the door.
“Hedwig’s looking quite well, Harry.”
“Oh, she has a new boyfriend,” commented Harry, glancing down at Severus’ hand.
“Really?” she answered, looking at Severus instead of Harry. “At her age? Imagine that. Probably a handsome young thing, eh?”
Harry stared at her, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“Actually, he’s a bit of a stuffed shirt,” he answered. “But she loves him anyway.”