|snarryhols (snarryhols) wrote in snarry_holidays,|
@ 2007-11-19 11:31:00
Harry sighed and blew a stray lock of hair off his forehead, staring at the tree disconsolately. He didn't know why he lied to Draco, Hermione and Ron every year about why he spent Christmas at the school, an incredibly lonely place to be during the holidays when everyone went home, but he couldn't stop himself.
Each year it was some different, stupid, flimsy excuse, and each year, Draco and Ron and especially Hermione believed him less and less.
"Brooding, Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape inquired mildly as he strode into Slytherin dungeons.
Harry just shrugged. Professor Snape's treatment of him had improved last year after the school learned that Harry was a Parselmouth, and now he treated Harry almost as well as he treated Draco.
Still, Professor Snape hadn't come in to Slytherin dungeons during the holiday break but once, and that had been in Harry's first year when Professor Snape had still hated him, to warn Harry that any misbehaviour would result in loss of house points and the longest detention that he, Professor Snape, had ever sentenced.
So it was a bit strange to see him here now.
"Ah, and you've already opened all of your presents, I see. Well, I hope you won't object to one more?"
Harry looked up quickly. "N-no, sir," he said, wincing slightly at his stutter.
Snape thrust a small silver and green package into Harry's hand and took a seat in the sofa across from him.
Harry took a long, deep breath, staring at the paper-wrapped gift reverently.
"Well?" Professor Snape said, amused.
Harry gulped and nodded, pulling at the green ribbon very gently, mindful of tearing it, then slid his fingernail under the flap of paper, releasing the spell that held it closed.
He slid a dark green velvet box from the wrapping and ran his fingers over the cloth before he set it aside to fold the paper.
He hadn't gotten a present from an adult since Hagrid had given him Hedwig, and he wanted to savour the moment.
Paper folded, he turned back to the present itself, opening the box.
Inside was a tiny Gringotts key.
Harry was confused. He had long since gained possession of the Potter family Gringotts key, so this couldn't be to that vault, and Harry couldn't think of any other vault that he might own.
He looked up at Snape.
"It's the key to your mother's vault," he said in reply to Harry's unspoken question. "Due to be given to you on your thirteenth Christmas. Your mother left it with the Headmaster before they went into hiding, and, as your Head of House, it fell to me to give it to you ...."
Professor Snape kept speaking, but Harry found himself unable to listen any longer. His mother's vault... his mother had held this key, and handled everything that would be inside the vault itself.
"C-can we go to Diagon Alley now, sir?"
Professor Snape did not take well to being interrupted, and he leveled a harsh glare on Harry, who winced a bit, but did not stop looking Snape in the eye.
Professor Snape gave a heavy sigh. "I suppose we might arrange to make a short trip into London despite your impertinence -- but mind, Harry, you will do exactly as I say the entire time we are there. Is that clear?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."
Professor Snape nodded curtly, rose, and swept out of Slytherin dungeons.
Once they'd flooed into the Leaky Cauldron the next morning, and stepped through the brick gate behind it, Harry inhaled deeply and looked around, taking in the scents and sights that filled Diagon Alley.
Next to Hogwarts, Harry though that Diagon Alley might be the best place in the world. It was foreign, and fun, and every time he entered it, the smells and colours always surprised him, as they had the first time.
Professor Snape strode ahead of him impatiently and Harry hurried to keep up, tripping over his feet.
He hated being thirteen.
Professor Snape looked back at him crossly. "Can you keep up without assistance, or must I hold your hand?"
Harry gulped at the thought of Professor Snape's strong, capable hands touching him in any way, but only said, "N-no, sir," and looked down at his feet. He could see Professor Snape's black-clad legs from this angle, and he concentrated on following Snape's swift feet. Harry was so intent he didn't even realise they'd entered the bank until Professor Snape stopped short.
"Key, please, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said, turning around and holding out his hand.
Harry shivered slightly as he always did when Professor Snape's black, black eyes were turned on him, and dropped his key in the potion-stained hand, rather reluctantly -- even if he did trust Snape to give it back.
"Master Harry James Potter, to open his mother Mrs. James Potter's vault," Snape said formally, and set the key on the counter before the goblin.
"Very well," murmured the goblin as he sifted through several pages before him. "Nee Evans?" he inquired.
Harry shifted from one foot to the other in his impatience. Snape clapped a firm hand on his shoulder and glared at him. Harry stilled immediately, chastised, and stared up at Snape through his lashes.
Snape blinked and looked away. "Yes," he replied to the goblin.
The goblin nodded curtly and swept the key into his hand. "Come along, Mr. Potter," he said, gesturing to Harry.
Snape nodded down at Harry and crossed his arms over his chest. "Off you go," he said.
Harry blinked. "A-alone?" he said, mortified as his voice squeaked. He was not looking forward to the harrowing ride ahead, especially when Snape decided to remain behind. He'd wanted his Head of House's warm, comforting presence with him - even if Snape wouldn't have done much to comfort him.
But he didn't complain -- complaining was always pointless and -- at least in the case of his uncle -- dangerous -- though he didn't think Snape would box his ears or pull his hair.
So he didn't even sigh as he slid onto the plankboard seat. He just glanced back at Snape's dark, tall form. "All right, sir," he said, and turned away to wrap his fingers around the seat.
He felt Snape's eyes on him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
The goblin set the cart flying. Harry bit back a scream; if he could compare it to anything, it resembled a Muggle rollercoaster the most (he'd ridden one once, when Dudley had dropped a ticket and Uncle Vernon had sent him off to buy drinks). Except the Gringotts carts were ten times faster with ten times the curves and twists in the track. And it didn't come to a slow, comfortable, soothing halt. Instead, it nearly lurched Harry forward onto the track as it stopped short directly in front of his mum's vault.
The goblin, of course, did not even react. He unlocked the door and impatiently gestured Harry inside.
Panting, Harry stumbled into the vault, feeling ill. The goblin nodded curtly and turned his back on Harry, guarding the door from intruders.
With a small sigh, Harry stood in the doorway and looked around, taking in what it held: a low wooden table set in the back of the room; the table had many small drawers. Beside that was an overstuffed, comfortable-looking armchair, curiously free of dust -- his mum must have charmed it. Next to the chair was a table that held a lamp and small metal box.
That was all.
Harry sighed softly and felt his eyes prickling, a drop of wetness on his cheek. Angrily he swiped at the tears and took a seat in the armchair, lifting the metal box from the table.
With a sigh he realised it was a standard Muggle lock box, which meant he couldn't open it here since he wasn't allowed to do magic outside Hogwarts. "C-can I take this with me?" he asked.
"Of course, Mr. Potter. You own it," observed the goblin dryly.
Harry blushed and nodded. For a moment he lay his fingers on the leaf pattern that decorated the top of the box. Then he set the box down on the side table in order to plop himself on the floor in front of the low table, opening tiny drawer after tiny drawer. Each drawer was filled with something; many had herbs and plants and potions under preservation charms, but there were quite a few that contained jewels and trinkets made of gold and silver, and one drawer had a diagram in pretty, swirly writing that listed what was contained in each drawer. According to the diagram, each drawer contained something rare and precious; something only a true Potter could see. Anyone else who looked through the drawers would see nothing inside them.
The herbs were mainly potions ingredients and Harry wondered if they might contain something Professor Snape would want, someday. There was no way he could take the whole table but he could take the list and show it to Snape, someday, and get an idea what they were worth -- and if Snape might want any.
He pocketed the list and picked up the lock box, heading out to the harrowing ride back up to Snape.
When they got back to Hogwarts, though, Snape decided Harry owed him for the trip to London. He set Harry to chopping what seemed like thousands of potions ingredients, wandlessly, and so it wasn't until midnight that he'd been able to settle into his bed that night. He hadn't had a chance all day to look inside the box, and he decided to save it for tomorrow when he wasn't so tired and could concentrate better on what Mum had left for him.
He snuggled into the sheets and sighed softly, feeling sleep come over him... he'd look at the box tomorrow, and maybe play Quidditch afterwards... but his broom badly needed polishing, he'd have to do that first... and where was his broom, anyway? He tried to concentrate. The broom was expensive and Harry couldn't afford another one. Was it in his room? No, he didn't remember seeing it when he was dressing. Had he left it in the Quidditch shed? No, he remembered deciding that wasn't very smart, with Oliver Wood wanting so badly to win the cup this year.
It was in the common room, he suddenly remembered, eyes shooting open. Snape would dock points for that, and if Harry lost Slytherin points over the hols he'd hear about it the rest of the term.
He sat up in bed and looked at the clock. After one, now. Snape would be in soon to do the nightly bed check but it ought to be safe enough to sneak downstairs. He slipped into his sneakers and pulled his invisibility cloak over his head -- he didn't even have to duck for it to cover him, much to his regret; he knew he'd never be tall, but he hated being so short.
Now wasn't the time to think about it, though.
Silently he opened the door to his dormitory and navigated the stairwell, careful to jump over the creaky step just so. Then, feeling triumphant, he headed into the common room with sure, quiet steps, swept the broom into his hand, and hurried back to his dorm, hearing Snape's footsteps not far behind him. He shoved the broom under his bed, feeling the box beside it, and threw the blankets over himself, feigning sleep.
Snape's footsteps paused outside his door and it snicked open softly and then Snape was in his dorm, standing over him.
Harry kept his breathing deep and even.
Snape passed a gentle -- if businesslike -- hand over his forehead, as if checking for a fever.
Harry gave a helpless little moan -- it felt so good, to be touched that way! -- and froze for a moment before butting his head in the gentlest way against Snape's warm, soft hand.
Snape made a little huffing sound and Harry imagined him smirking in the kind way he sometimes had, for Draco, anyway.
He sighed as Snape's hand slid down his face to cup his cheek momentarily, his thumb tracing delicate circles over Harry's cheekbone.
Harry made a confused little noise and Snape pulled his hand away as if burnt, stalking away from his bed in silence.
Harry sat up as Snape's footsteps faded and rubbed at his cheek where Snape had touched him.
Professor Snape had really warm hands.
Harry shivered slightly. How would those hands feel if they'd moved down his chest, or -- Harry shivered and blushed as his cock twitched -- or if they'd moved down further to touch his cock.
He moaned at the thought and slid his hand beneath the waistband of his pyjama pants. Harry wrapped his fingers around his prick, thinking about Snape's potions-stained, efficient, strong hands touching his needy cock, massaging his balls, pressing them up against the base of his prick, scraping his thumb over the slit of Harry's cock to catch the drop of come that was welling up.
Harry whimpered and rubbed his cock harder as he imagined Snape sliding a gentle finger inside his arse, brushing the tip over the small spot he'd felt once, when he'd slicked up his wand and ridden it, pretending it was Snape's cock and oh god Snape's cock please need it now! He moaned and bit his lip to keep from getting louder as he imagined himself under Snape, his knees over Snape's shoulders, Snape's voice rumbling in his ear as he was fucked, fucked hard, telling him he was lovely and naughty and wanted and loved--
Harry came so hard he almost sobbed, rubbing himself frantically and catching the hot strand of come in his hand.
Panting, he slumped back against the pillows, feeling too happy and sated to move at the moment. Seeing nothing else for it, he lifted his hand to his mouth to lick his come from his fingers.
He yawned, feeling boneless, and fell asleep.
When Harry woke the next morning, he didn't dawdle in bed as he usually did of a holiday morning at Hogwarts. Instead he sat right up and reached beneath the bed, pulling the metal box out. He crossed his legs and set the box in front of him. "Alohamora," he murmured.
The box sprang open with a flash of magic. Inside was a folded paper, legal size, and beneath that another, and another and another, four in all.
The first three dealt with the dispensation of his parent's worldly possessions -- apparently they sold half of them (Legal Paper One) and had the funds deposited into the Potter family vault, of which he was the sole heir (Legal Paper Two). He'd also inherited what was left of Godric's Hollow (Legal Paper Three) -- he didn't even know where to find it, though, and Pettigrew certainly wasn't going to help him look! -- and the other half of their possessions, which were scattered between the Potter family vault and his mum's vault.
The last legal paper was the most confusing. It mentioned Severus Snape (Party Number Four), himself (Party Number Three), his mum and dad (Parties One and Two). After that it got buried in wizard legalese, even more foreign to him then muggle legalese.
With a sigh he carefully shut the papers away in the box once more. Professor Dumbledore was out of the castle on holiday -- he'd take it to Professor Snape once he'd got dressed.
An hour later, he was sitting across from Snape, the large wooden desk separating them, which Harry considered lucky because Snape's face got more and more mutinous as he read the document.
After a few moments he looked up at Harry, glaring, suspicious like he'd been when Harry was a first year. "Are you joking, Mr. Potter? You don't know what this document is?"
Harry shook his head. "I really don't know what it is."
Snape sighed. "Mr. Potter, I'm sure either Professor Dumbledore or your relatives informed you of my... agreement... with your parents. There is no need--"
"Agreement?" Harry interrupted, leaning forward. "No one told me about any agreement, sir."
Snape's jaw tightened. "Professor Dumbledore in particular said that he would tell you when he informed you of the prophecy."
Harry licked his lips and gave Snape a curious look. "Prophecy?" he asked interestedly.
Snape growled low in his throat and looked him over carefully. "Prophecy," he repeated, in the stern voice that told Harry that even if he asked questions they wouldn't be answered.
"Yes, sir," he answered with a sigh. Maybe he could ask Professor Dumbledore.
"And you never thought to ask anyone about this document before today, boy?" he inquired, his tone indicating that his patience was rapidly fading.
Harry shivered. Snape hadn't called him "boy" since last year -- it reminded Harry unpleasantly of Uncle Vernon. "It was in the vault, sir," he mumbled. "In the box I brought home-- I mean, back, with me."
Snape stood so suddenly that his chair nearly toppled over, and grabbed a bottle from his shelf swiftly. Angrily he slammed it on his desk, followed by two snifters, quickly filled, one with rather more than the other. He handed the smaller glass to Harry, who sniffed it cautiously.
"It's bloody brandy, Potter," Snape snapped, and quaffed his own in two gulps.
Harry's eyes widened, and took a small sip. It burned its way down his throat and he coughed hard, setting the snifter back on Snape's desk surreptitiously.
Snape poured himself a second glass and Harry felt his suspicions beginning to grow. "What's going on, sir?" he asked.
The older wizard glared and downed the second glass. He started to pour another, but, beyond caring how he got punished now, Harry pulled the bottle away from him. "Tell me what's going on!" he insisted, shocked at his own boldness -- but he needed to know!
Still glaring, Snape rose to tower over Harry, grabbing his collar. "You're mine, Mr. Potter," he growled, nose a few scant centimeters from Harry's.
Harry gulped and shuddered at the closeness. If he just moved a little, Snape would be kissing him now! "Wh-what's my punishment, sir? How many days of detention have I got?" he asked.
Snape let go of his shirt and pushed him backwards, causing Harry to land none-too-gracefully in the chair. "I'm afraid it's much worse than that, boy," he said with a sigh, taking his own seat. He leaned forward and turned the document to Harry, pointing out a short paragraph toward the end.
Harry leaned forward and scanned the paragraph, but it was all a lot of nonsense to him. He sighed. "I don't understand this," he said, bracing himself for a scathing comment about his intelligence.
But Snape only nodded and leaned forward, pointing at the paragraph with a resigned sort of air. "It outlines the details of our marriage." Snape looked pointedly at Harry, his black eyes penetrating.
Harry gulped and struggled to take this in. "Our... what?" he breathed.
"You are, according to an ancient wizarding custom with the force of law, to be gifted to me upon the occasion of your fourteenth birthday," Snape said, sounding as if this should clarify things.
Harry looked up at him and then back at the contract. "W-why?" he asked.
"Because your mother wished to marry your father, who had been betrothed to me when we were small." Snape pointed to another paragraph. "She left the standard out-clause, but it requires that your father be both living and willing to marry me and carry the Snape heir when his son -- you -- came of marriageable age."
Harry was surprised to find himself hyperventilating.
"Once your father was killed, the contract became non-negotiable, although you are of course not as legally valid as your father, being a half-blood." Snape sighed audibly and rose, coming around the desk. He pressed hard on the back of Harry's neck. "Really, Mr. Potter, it isn't as bad as you're making it seem. Head between your knees, now, boy."
Harry shivered, trying to calm down, and was ashamed to feel once again the prickle of tears behind his eyes. The hand on his neck was insistent, and he obeyed it without thinking, bending forward at the waist until his head was between his knees. Married? To Professor Snape? And Snape had known about it all these years?
And he was supposed to have a baby?
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to relax.
"Good boy," Snape murmured, going so far as to pat the back of Harry's neck gently before he moved away, toward his bookshelves. He scanned the titles and pulled an old book from the shelf. He dropped it on Harry's lap and sat at his desk once more. "That book has everything you need to know -- if you can bring yourself to actually study for once, that is."
Harry nodded and stood up, letting the book hang by his side. "Can I -- May I talk to my friends about this, sir?"
"It's a matter of public record, Mr. Potter," Snape replied, not looking up. "I daresay Miss Granger can help with the research you'll no doubt be too lazy to do yourself."
"I am able to do the research myself, sir," Harry said very quietly, looking down at his hands.
"Indeed, Mr. Potter," Snape agreed, causing Harry to look up at him, his face unconsciously needy. Snape's fingers were templed over his chest. "I simply think that it would be best for you to leave no stone unturned in your search for a way out of marrying your ugly old Potions master."
Harry opened his mouth. "I'm not--" he began, but found that he wasn't sure how to reply to that.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Mmm," he murmured. "You're dismissed, Mr. Potter," Snape said, bending over his marking once more.
Harry left without another word.
Later that night, Harry lay in bed, unable to sleep and wishing he could take his broom out for a while, to clear his head.
Did he want to marry Snape?
Well, no, but only, he thought, because he didn't think that he wanted to marry anyone, at fourteen.
And of course he wasn't entirely sanguine about carrying a baby. Women carried babies! Men weren't supposed to be able to! How could he possibly do something his body wasn't built for?
But, then, hadn't his father been betrothed to Snape as a boy? Didn't that mean it was more than just a possibility, here in the wizarding world? Were there potions or charms designed to allow men to give birth?
He sighed softly and added another topic to the list of things he needed to research. Snape was right, he needed Hermione's help with this -- he was hopeless at anything academic and always had been.
Professor Snape was always right.
Well, except maybe for his undying hatred of all Gryffindors but especially Harry's own father. Which was strange as well, the idea of his dad and Snape getting married and having a child together when they hated each other so!
And it really confused Harry, why Snape would want to marry Harry, a -- really -- useless young man, one who, by all accounts, he disliked very much -- even if this was the only way have an heir to the Snape family?
Snape didn't want this, want him, Harry thought with sudden clarity. He'd suggested -- urged Harry to enlist Hermione's help -- but Hermione was Snape's least favourite student after Harry.
If anybody could find a loophole in the law, it would be Hermione.
Everything made sense again. Snape didn't want Harry in his life once he left school -- and who could blame the man? Harry wasn't a very lovable or likable person (not that Snape was, either, come to that). He couldn't expect Snape to want him. This was a business deal for Snape, nothing more. He needed a legitimate heir, and Harry -
-- wasn't even good enough for that. 'Not as legally valid as your father', Snape had said. Harry wasn't even good enough for that.
Harry's eyes stung but he blinked them furiously until they stopped, and made up his mind to do his very best to get out of this marriage.
Over the next few months, Harry, Hermione, Draco, and even Ron scoured the library shelves for any information pertaining to the law. Harry and Draco both made numerous illicit trips to the Restricted Section -- all, it seemed, to no avail at all. No book offered an idea for a loophole, and no matter how many times they read over the law itself, analysing the wording with almost obsessive attention to detail, they could not find a loophole either.
In retrospect it was probably a mistake to let Hermione read the romance novels that referenced it. By May, she was convinced that the best thing to do was just marry Snape. "It won't be that bad, Harry, really!" she insisted. "If you really hate him, you're allowed to divorce him once the child turns seven, you know."
Obviously Hermione didn't understand the problem.
In any case, Harry decided, in the end, to go through with it.
So, on the last day of term, seeing nothing for it, Harry headed down to the dungeons and knocked on Snape's door, trying to stop his hand shaking.
Snape greeted him with a curt, "Didn't find a way out of it, Potter?" and turned away from the door, heading back into his quarters.
Harry hovered at the door. Aunt Petunia had told him he was always to wait for an invitation into someone else's home. "No, sir," he mumbled miserably.
"Get in here, boy, and shut the door behind you," Snape snapped, turning toward his library table and pouring each of them a glass of brandy.
Harry stepped inside, closing the door silently behind him, and stepped forward, moving immediately toward the fire, wanting its warmth on his skin.
"Sit," Snape ordered, handing Harry the glass.
Obediently Harry sat, scooting his chair closer to the cheery fire surreptitiously, watching as Snape sipped the drink -- thankfully he only had the one glass this time although it was quite full. "S-so," Harry began after a few moments.
"So," Snape repeated dryly, smirking at Harry.
Harry hated when Snape looked at him. He always felt like a grubby little boy caught doing something wrong. Blushing, he stared down at his lap. "S-so what's going to happen, sir?"
"Well," Snape began, and Harry could tell he was slipping into teaching mode. "Until the evening before your fourteenth birthday you will live in private quarters here on the grounds. Professor Dumbledore has arranged for them to be beside my rooms. Each evening we will eat dinner together to allow us to get to know each other properly before we are wed. You will spend the day and evening before your birthday moving into my quarters, and on your birthday we'll go to London, where we'll be wed by a member of the Wizengamot."
"The... the Wizengamot?" Harry asked, concerned. "I thought they only handled important legal matters."
"You're the Boy who Lived, Mr. Potter," Snape replied dryly, and polished off the rest of his brandy. "They take an interest in anything that has to do with you."
Harry winced and put his own glass down on the coffee table. "Could you please call me Harry, sir, if we're going to have to have s-sex?"
There was a long pause. "I suppose you'd like to call me Severus," Snape murmured.
Harry shrugged, staring at his hands again. "It'd be nice to be equals, sir. I-I mean, at least treat each other with respect. I know I'm not your equal." He refused to look at Snape as he made this admission.
There was another long pause, and Harry began to feel first embarrassed, then positively mortified at his own boldness. He clenched his fingers in the upholstery and opened his mouth to apologise, to tell Snape to forget it, he was just a stupid boy with stupid notions--
"Very well... Harry," Snape said eventually.
Harry felt his shoulders slump as he relaxed. "Thank you, si- Severus." That felt weird. He bit his lip. "So I need to bring my things down here?"
"I assume you would like access to your possessions without having to move back and forth from Slytherin dungeons to your quarters at all times of day for the next month," Snape smirked.
"Erm, yes," Harry replied, blushing. "Where will I sleep, w-when I move in here?"
Snape shrugged carelessly. "You've very few options. There's my wardrobe," Snape chuckled -- quite cruelly, Harry felt. "There's also the sofa and my bed. I'm afraid the castle will not provide a second bedroom, once we are married."
Snape actually sounded rather regretful about that. Harry shuddered, his eyes slipping closed. Snape thought he was a disgusting little boy. "The... the couch, I suppose," he said. He wouldn't make Snape sleep in the bed with him.
Snape nodded. "Very well." He sat up primly. "However, you'll spend at least part of our wedding night in my bed. We'll need to consummate the marriage."
Harry gulped. "Y-yes. I know. Will, er." He stopped, face flushing again.
"Will what, Harry?" Snape asked, sounding a bit exasperated.
"Will I get p-pregnant right away?" he asked in a small voice.
"Of course not," Snape scoffed. "We'll wait a couple of months until we've settled before we worry about impregnating you."
"Er, right." Harry coughed. Snape sounded as though he felt he was being kind. "This pregnancy, sir- I mean, Severus. Erm, how does it work?"
"Ah, yes," Snape replied. "You will take a potion, prepared by me, approximately twenty-four hours before we 'have sex', as you put it. You will feel mildly nauseous for twelve hours after taking the potion, while your innards rearrange themselves and a uterus is grown. You will spend these twelve hours laying on the bed -- sleeping, if you can, and I won't hear any arguments to the contrary. After another twelve hours passes, we will have intercourse. We will know within the week if you are pregnant, as if you are not, you will expel the uterus. If you are pregnant, you will experience a normal human gestation period of nine months."
Snape delivered this all in his professor-voice, and Harry nodded. "I know all that," he said. "What I wanted to know is... will you be expected to produce a Potter heir, or... or because of this arrangement am I to be the last Potter?"
Snape considered this question for a long moment. "I am not particularly enthused about the idea of having three Potters living in one house, but I suppose the children will also be mine and thus not so very Gryffindor." He smirked. "Especially since you yourself are a Slytherin. I will consent to producing a Potter heir."
Harry nodded, looking at his hands in his lap, and released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you, sir."
"No more questions, then, Pot- Harry?" Snape rose abruptly. "Go fetch your trunk and bring it up to see the Headmaster." He headed back toward what Harry guessed was the bedroom.
"Yes, sir," Harry said, forgetting himself. He scooted out of Snape's quarters and started down the hall to Slytherin dungeons.
The next month and a half were some of the happiest Harry had ever spent, even with the marriage looming over him. He was enjoying himself too much for it to cast much of a shadow over his days. His Quidditch was improving daily and he thought he might even have a shot at being Captain next year, though Draco would give him a run for it.
Of course, Snape made him study every day, as well. He seemed determined that if Harry was going to be his husband, he would not embarrass Severus with a Troll on any of his OWLS year after next. He was a much more interesting teacher than Binns, though, and Harry found himself looking forward to his history for the first time ever. Severus still thought he was complete pants at all his other subjects, including Defense, and he almost always won their practice duels though Harry couldn't help but feel that he might be improving just a little, especially when he started regularly knocking Severus on his arse.
And despite himself, he did like having dinner with Severus and talking. He'd even told Severus about why he was Slytherin: it was because Severus had been the one to take him from the Dursley's that first year, and even though Severus had been cruel, he'd still admired his rescuer because Severus had fed him and helped him and taken care of him for the very first time he could remember, and when Professor McGonagall had put the hat on him, he couldn't think of anywhere he'd rather be but under Severus. He'd blushed as he said it, and after a minute Severus had sneered and told him that the only reason he'd been the one sent was that Hagrid was healing from an acromantula attack, and Harry was foolish to form an attachment just because someone had given him food.
But Harry caught a tiny red flush on Severus' cheeks and thought maybe -- just maybe -- he hadn't made a horrible mistake revealing that after all.
"Si-Severus?" he called tentatively as he entered Severus' quarters, the day before his birthday, trunk and cage hovering behind him. On the sofa as if waiting for him there was a pillow, a set of sheets, and a blanket.
Snape came into the doorway of the bedroom. He eyed Harry's trunk consideringly. "I've cleared a drawer for you," he said, gesturing that Harry should go into the bedroom. Harry did, settling his trunk on the floor before the bureau. Snape indicated the bottom drawer and Harry knelt to open it, shoulders stiff and tense because Snape didn't move, just stood over him, which he hadn't ever done before.
Hands shaking with nerves, Harry opened his trunk and pulled out several robes and his school uniform, then closed his trunk and rose.
The bed was an intimidating three feet away. Harry shivered. Tomorrow night Severus would... would have sex with him there. Harry bit his lip, wondering what it would be like. Would Severus be cruel? Or would he... would he touch Harry with the same kind of gentleness he had that night?
Harry shivered, his eyes sliding closed, his cock hardening in his trousers at the thought of it. Lying in Snape's bed and being wanted, being touched, by those long, slender, capable hands....
Harry had a lot of trouble sleeping that night.
The ceremony went way too fast for Harry's peace of mind. All too soon it was time to go back to the dungeons, back to Snape's quarters and lay in that bed, and find out if Snape would be kind to him, or... or just take him brutally.
Harry blushed to imagine that even though the thought was frightening rather than exciting.
"Get ready for bed, Harry." Snape gestured to the bathroom, beginning to undo the buttons of his robe as he closed the bedroom door.
Gratefully, Harry headed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth for a very long time, and ran the brush through his hair more thoroughly than ever he had before -- although frankly that seemed to make his hair even more messy. Then he brushed his teeth again and washed his face, and dressed in his school pyjamas. Finally he could delay no longer. He ran the brush through his hair once more, then took a fortifying breath and opened the bathroom door, fearing what he'd find.
But it was only Snape, dressed in black cotton pyjama bottoms and nothing else, sitting on the chair with his legs crossed, a book perched on his knees. Harry swallowed hard, eyeing Severus' naked chest apprehensively, and wondered if he'd been meant to leave his top off.
Severus glanced up as Harry entered the room, his eyebrow raised. "Feeling better?" he asked dryly, his voice its normal drawl.
For some reason Snape's nonchalance calmed Harry and he nodded faintly.
Snape set his book aside. "Come over here, then," he prompted, indicating that Harry should stand before him. Harry obeyed without thinking, standing awkwardly in front of him. Snape sighed softly, his well-formed mouth falling open a little, and Harry gulped, nervous once more, as Snape reached out to take his hand. "I'm not going to hurt you, Harry," Snape murmured, curling his fingers around Harry's hand. He tugged lightly. "Come here."
Harry gulped again and allowed himself to be pulled into Snape's arms. This was really rather awkward, sitting sideways on Snape's -- Severus' -- lap. He was really a bit large for it, but his hand settled on Severus' naked chest and Severus' hand settled on his thigh, firmly holding him in place. "All right now," Snape murmured, his hand on Harry's head. "Relax," he murmured into Harry's ear, only of course that request was impossible as Harry soon realised he was sitting on Snape's lap, that his arse and Snape's cock were almost touching. His cock was throbbing in his pants before he realised it -- and the way Snape was stroking his thigh, the strong hand moving up ever closer to Harry's cock, wasn't helping in the least.
"Have you ever done this before, Harry?" Snape asked, sounding like he knew the answer already, but Harry shook his head anyway, although he was mostly concentrating on Snape's hand so near his cock. "Never kissed anyone?"
Harry shook his head, a bit ashamed. He thought every other boy in his year had at least kissed someone.
Snape sighed softly and slid his hand up easily now, to cup Harry's cock through his pyjama pants. "Have you ever done this?" he purred.
Gasping, hips thrusting up helplessly into Snape's hand, Harry managed to nod. "Oh! Oh, Snape!" he cried out. Snape's hand was like a brand on his cock, even through the pyjamas. He was going to come embarrassingly soon, he could feel his balls tightening already. He'd never known it could be like this, it was never this good when he touched himself. He whimpered and buried his face in Snape's neck, hips jerking against the other man's hand.
Snape chuckled as Harry clung to him desperately. "Harder!" Harry begged, cheeks red with arousal, shameless in his need. Snape's hand was tight around his cock as the man complied, the scratchy cotton of his pants rubbing lightly against his balls with every stroke of Snape's hand and oh god Snape was touching him oh god!!
Harry yelped, coming hard into his pants, and clung to Snape, shuddering, panting into Snape's neck, grateful for Snape's arms around him, holding him close.
"You're quite messy," Snape murmured, sounding -- of all things -- affectionate. He lifted Harry with a grunt -- Harry was really too big to be carried and he knew he should drop to his feet, relieve Severus' burden, but before he could move his lax, loose muscles into cooperation Snape had already deposited him on the bed.
Oh god, he was on the bed and Snape was there with him and now warm hands were slipping beneath the elastic of his pants, his bottoms were sliding off his legs and he gulped and squeezed his eyes closed -- Snape could see his cock now, was staring at it, he could feel Snape's gaze heavy on his prick, and he covered himself, ashamed. He'd never looked at the other boys in the shower, and went to extremes to make sure no one else ever saw him naked – Snape was bound to make a cruel remark about size now.
But he only reached for Harry's hands, pushing them aside like so many flies. "Let me see you," he breathed in the velvet voice, and Harry whimpered softly, fingers curling into the sheets, eyes squeezed closed.
Snape bent until Harry could feel the man's breath on his cock, every soft puff of air making him moan softly as it caressed his suddenly very sensitive prick. "Accio flannel," Snape murmured, making Harry's cock twitch, and he heard the flannel fly through the air and land with a soft thump in Snape's hand. Severus slipped the pyjama top off over Harry's head and stroked the warm, wet, nubbly cloth over his belly, then his cock, cleaning his skin of the drying come. His hand came up to pinch Harry's nipples lightly as Severus curled the flannel around Harry's prick, stroking gently.
"Oh!" he cried, his sensitive prick beginning to fill again already. He didn't want to open his eyes; what if Snape really did think he was a disgusting boy? He didn't want to know.
All thought promptly disappeared when Snape murmured, "Oh look, I've gotten your prick quite messy," and began licking his cock. Harry yelped, hips jerking up into Snape's mouth helplessly. "Oh, oh, sir!" he moaned, fingers now clenching in the bedclothes, wrinkling the smooth fabric. He'd never known and oh god Snape's tongue and lips and fuck oh god fuck teeth scraping so lightly at his prick it didn't hurt at all just wet and sharp and so very good and sucking now, Snape's lips around the head of his cock. Harry was panting, every breath a cry as he thrust up into Snape's mouth needily, his cock so hard it hurt, his hips moving of their own accord and then Snape was swallowing around his shaft and oh lord humming 'round his cock and he came hard, screaming so loud his throat hurt.
Harry was still shuddering when he came back to reality, to realise that somehow his fingers were curled in Snape's hair, pulling cruelly. He let go immediately. "S-sorry," he said between panting breaths.
Snape carefully let Harry's cock slide from between his lips with a wet, popping sound that – amazingly – made Harry's cock twitch rather eagerly. He licked his lips and Harry moaned to realise that Snape had swallowed his come.
The dark eyes were staring down at him, full of some emotion Harry didn't recognise. "All right?" came the velvet voice – more rough now, which, impossibly, made it sound even better.
Harry nodded, unable to take his eyes off Snape's, feeling shy and mousy under Snape's heated gaze, but also very drowsy and wonderfully at peace with the world.
Snape bent forward, making Harry gasp, but he only lifted a glass of water from the table. "Sit up," he said softly, urging Harry to obey with one hand on his arm. Harry took the glass gratefully, gulping the water down to soothe his throat. It was fresh and cool and Harry sighed with relief even though Snape's thumb was stroking a small circle on his shoulder.
"Thank you," Harry murmured.
Snape chuckled. "You're welcome, I'm sure," he said dryly, and slid his hand down Harry's arm until the tips of his fingers were just brushing over Harry's palm.
Harry gulped. He wasn't stupid – Snape's eyes were heated and he could see that Snape's pyjama pants had bulged with his arousal. He turned and set the water glass on the night table again, then took a deep breath and scooted closer to him. Cheeks warm, he looked up at Snape. "Do you need…." He trailed off and bit his lip. "D'you want me to… touch it?" he managed, softly, embarrassed.
Snape's eyes fell closed momentarily. "If you please," he replied, voice still very rough.
Harry scooted even closer and took another deep breath, and wondered momentarily what Aunt Petunia would say if she could see him now – she'd smacked him when he'd even barely adjusted himself and now he was going to touch someone else's cock, and maybe – if he tried hard enough – make somebody else come.
Bravely he cupped Snape's cock through the cotton pyjamas and rubbed the hardness in his hand experimentally. It was longer and thicker than his own, and Harry was embarrassed for a moment but he reminded himself that Snape hadn't seemed to mind very much at all. He bit his lip and rubbed harder and Snape moaned, a sound Harry quickly decided he loved deeply.
Snape's cock twitched in his hand and Harry decided suddenly that he wanted to see it, see Snape's cock hard and red like his had been. He lifted his hand – Snape made an inarticulate noise of protest – and curled his fingers beneath the waistband of Snape's pyjamas. They weren't made with easily-stretchable elastic like Harry's had been – they used a standard wizard closure of a long cord, tied at the front. Snape seemed to be holding his breath. He hadn't stopped staring at Harry the whole time.
Harry undid the cord and lifted the cloth carefully, pulling the pants down over Snape's prick, gasping as he realised Snape wasn't wearing any underpants. Snape chuckled from above and Harry flushed and looked up at him shyly. "It's interesting," he whispered.
Snape chuckled again and stroked his hair. "I know," he whispered back.
Harry blushed harder and looked back down at Severus' cock, running his eyes over and over and over it. Huge and dark red and pulsing just the littlest bit, and intimidating just like Severus himself. He took a deep breath and bent over it, curling his fingers around it, stroking firmly and feeling it twitch under his fingers. Severus gave a soft moan from above him and Harry echoed it, sliding closer and stroking harder. "Is this right?" he asked, looking up at Severus with worried eyes and seeing the answer in Severus' face. He whimpered softly and wondered if he looked like that, so needy and eager for Severus' touch. He moaned again, softly, and redoubled his efforts, poking his tongue out and wrapping his other hand around the hard shaft, stroking as hard as he dared.
"Harder, Harry!" Severus snarled, but he was panting and moaning a little too and Harry thought perhaps he might be doing it at least a little right. He slid one hand down to fondle Severus' balls, weighing them and playing with them a little, bouncing them on his palm and pressing them up against Severus' cock as he rubbed him. He looked up at Severus again, standing beside the bed, his eyes closed and throat bared, and moaned softly at the sight of him so undone.
Snape's hand shot out to grasp Harry's in an iron grip, helping him to rub even harder, moans of encouragement spilling from his open, panting mouth. "Yesss," Severus groaned, drawing out the sibilant, thrusting into Harry's hands. "Good boy, yes, that's it, harder!" he gasped, and Harry tightened his fingers and stroked faster, wanting Severus to come so bad he could taste it and wasn't that an idea, tasting it, licking at Severus' cock and tasting that fluid coming from the tip in pearly drops.
Harry moaned and bent down and stroked his tongue over Severus' cock, making a little noise at the bitter, salty taste but it was oddly addictive and Harry couldn't stop, rubbing Severus' cock hard and stroking his tongue over and over and over the head, catching every bit of the precome. He made an incoherent noise of protest as he was yanked away from his prize but then Severus was kissing him, pressing him backwards against the pillows and stroking his tongue into Harry's eager mouth even as he pried Harry's legs apart.
"I'm going to be inside you," he growled, and suddenly a slick finger was pressing at Harry's hole, pressing inside him insistently and needful cries were spilling from Harry's lips, words he'd never uttered before, need and desire and not a few swear words thrown in.
His whole being was centered on Severus' finger thrusting inside him, filling him up in a way he hadn't ever been filled before. Severus was staring down at him, his eyes hot and black and full of need. "Is it good, Harry?" he murmured roughly, and Harry nodded, unable to speak with just how good it was.
He gasped and moaned when Severus thrust a second finger inside him along with the first. "S-Severus!" he whimpered, "Oh god, it's so good, please, need, need more!"
Severus thrust his hand hard and shook his head, licking his lips. "Not yet, little love, don't want to hurt you," he murmured, feeling all inside Harry, fingers exploring him.
Harry whimpered softly and fucked himself roughly on Severus' fingers. "D-don't, don't, I w-want more, more, all of you, please, more!" he begged plaintively, but to no avail.
Severus only chuckled throatily above him and slid a third finger inside, and Harry screamed when they stroked over the little spot inside him, nearly climaxing, but Severus wrapped his other hand around the base of Harry's cock and kept him from coming.
And now Severus was holding him so tightly, in him and around him and ohgod now Severus was on top of him and pressing something inside, his cock, hot and huge and he was kissing Harry hard and Harry sobbed and moaned and wrapped himself around Severus, thrusting his arse against Severus' cock frantically, feeling every inch as Severus thrust inside him.
"Yes, yes!" he screamed. "Oh, ohgod, Sev'rus, gonna come!" he shrieked, and did, spilling himself between them, arse tightening around Severus' cock. He groaned and shuddered through a second tiny orgasm as Severus came too, filling him with liquid heat.
Severus collapsed on top of him, panting, and Harry shivered and buried his face in Severus' throat. "It felt so good!" he whimpered, shivering and snuggling and clinging to Severus, who, oddly, seemed to be clinging right back, pressing kisses to his face so Harry felt almost as if he might be loved.
"I didn't hurt you?" he murmured, pressing a final kiss to Harry's mouth, and Harry shook his head in reply. Severus gently slid his cock from inside Harry, who protested, and moved down between Harry's legs, spreading them further apart, inspecting him for damage. He pressed a soft kiss to Harry's hole after a moment, drawing a little moan from Harry, and slid up to kiss him gently. "I did not mean to take you in quite that way," he murmured apologetically, and Harry shook his head and wrapped himself around Severus again.
"It was brilliant, really," he murmured, and pressed a little kiss to Severus' cheek. "It only hurt a little, and it was good sort of hurt." He nuzzled Severus' throat and gave a shy, sly smile. "You'll have to stay in bed with me for a couple of days while I recover," he ventured hopefully.
Severus leaned up and stared down at him with those black eyes. "You truly wish to be with me again?" he murmured, lifting a shaking hand to stroke Harry's hair.
Harry nodded and caught Severus' hand, threading their fingers together. "It was really nice," he whispered, and Severus pulled him close and kissed him again.
Severus chuckled and squeezed his hand, pulling the covers over them. "I hope your wedding night was all that you were hoping it would be, little love," Severus said, then he swallowed hard, eyes a little bit wide, though of course on Severus it was barely noticeable.
Harry smiled shyly and lifted his hand to Severus' cheek, his palm and fingers small against them, and kissed him sweetly. "It was a lot better, actually," he said, blushing. "It... felt like..." He blushed even deeper and shrugged. "Like bein' home."
"You are home now, Harry," Severus said, and Harry closed his eyes, snuggling close, feeling Severus all around him, warm and big and hard in all the right places.
"Home," he whispered softly, and drifted off to sleep to the feel of gentle fingers in his hair.