A Close Eye (2/2), for bewarethesmirk Title: A Close Eye Author:rakina Giftee:bewarethesmirk Word Count: 14,596 Rating: NC17 Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter Prompts: (chosen from list of kinks): Snape, who is trying to fight his feelings for Harry and ends up faltering in a moment of weakness, ending in hot sex and confessions - all of this surrounded with some plot. Desperate passion and romance. Arguments. Snarky!Snape. Canon!Harry. Dirty talk, ohgodplease. Rimming. Rough sex. Student/teacher. Wartime is nice.
Dear bewarethesmirk: I couldn't squeeze Legilimency in, but I got most of the rest of your kinks, I think. I chose Wartime rather than post-DH, as it included student/teacher. Hope it's not too fluffy for your taste, and Happy Snarry Holidays!!!
Warnings: Chan, Harry is 15. No DH spoilers; this is earlier, in a calmer, possibly kinder version of canon. Author note: To my beta, who is a wonderful help, many thanks. I will thank you properly when I can name you. Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story.
Severus knew he had gone too far. It had started months ago, when he'd first suspected Harry and the Weasley boy of having a physical relationship of some kind. From then the jealousy had begun to eat him up, he'd become obsessed with what they were doing together, what they might be doing. He'd started following Harry, trying to intervene. It had only made Harry's eyes flash brighter, his words become more impudent, but Severus couldn't stop himself. He had to know.
He'd been pretty certain Harry and Weasley hadn't gone very far. But the personal touches - Weasley was one of the only ones who regularly touched Harry, the other being the Granger girl - had seemed more intimate, the whispered conversations more frequent. He'd never considered Granger; Harry was always correct around her, she didn't encourage intimacy, not of any real kind. She was bookish and prim, reminding Severus of Madam Pince. But Weasley was all physical - he loved food, and sport, and any kind of rough and tumble, and Severus knew he would be pushing Harry into physical intimacy. And Severus could not bear it. And finally, he'd cracked. Last night he'd found the two boys prowling the corridors and separated them, and just this afternoon he'd opened his door to find Harry with his arm around Weasley, the other boy sprawled on the floor. Severus didn't care what was happening, didn't care why it was happening, he'd had to act. He'd just managed to restrain himself in class, but he'd let Harry know that things were going to change; he'd stood close to the boy, felt Harry's reactions to his presence, and Harry hadn't been unaffected. When he got Harry alone, that was that; Severus had acted, and now Harry Potter knew how his Potions master regarded him, knew that Severus wanted him.
The boy had left. He'd said he wouldn't go to Dumbledore. Severus should go, right now. He should confess his sins like a Muggle to a father confessor.
Severus stood and looked at the closed door. Harry had said 'goodbye'. He'd sounded wistful, and Severus' heart, starved of any true affection for the longest time, had heard a note of care in that voice. Could it be?
Severus shook his head, gathered up his papers, and headed for his quarters. He could always see Dumbledore later.
Snape hadn't been at breakfast next morning, and although Harry knew that wasn't particularly unusual, it still bothered him. Was it something to do with yesterday? Maybe he'd find out in their second lesson, for it was Potions again.
Harry sat in History of Magic; today he was not just bored but impatient. He wanted to get down to the dungeons again. Ron always moaned that Wednesdays were the worst day of the week, certainly the worst morning, with Binns followed by Snape, but Harry didn't think of it that way any more. He knew Snape would still be his classroom self, that most likely he would still be hateful to him, but now he knew there was another Snape inside the man, and that was enough to make him want to see him again. Binns seemed to talk more monotonously than ever, to get lost in the footnotes of his lecture and lag behind on the subject. So although time was passing, it passed by on leaden feet. Harry kept checking his Muggle watch, convinced it must have stopped working, tapping the face with a finger, holding it against his ear to detect the faint ticking that showed it still functioned, that the minutes were passing unbelievably slowly. He looked across at Ron, who had his head propped on his hand over his textbook; Harry could see Ron's eyes were closed and he was drooling slightly, though to Binns up at the front of the class he'd simply look studious. Harry looked at Hermione, who caught his eye from the other side of Ron, looking exasperated. She frowned at Ron, leaned across and jabbed him with her elbow. Ron snorted and his eyes shot open. When he saw it was Hermione and the lesson had not ended, he glowered. "Leave me alone, Hermione," he hissed.
Harry shuffled in his chair, restless, wanting to be moving, to be walking down the corridor to the Potions rooms. When would this class end?
Eventually, of course, it did; but it had been torture of a particularly long, drawn-out kind - death by boredom. As soon as the bell rang Harry shot out of his chair; his bag was already packed, he'd slipped the world's most boring textbook - The Goblin Wars: An In-depth Analysis by Rufus Mottle - into his bag ten minutes before the end of class. He headed for the exit, the first to leave as he'd been sitting at the back anyway.
"Hang on, Harry!" Ron called. "Where's the fire? It's only Potions next."
Harry didn't slow down, striding along the corridors heading for the dungeons. He could hear Ron puffing after him.
"Why didn't you wait?" Ron asked, catching up. "Hermione's miles behind."
"We'll save her a place," Harry said, tight-lipped.
"Yeah, but why do you want to be early? It's Snape, Harry. You don't want to sit at the front do you? We always sit in the middle, near the back if we can."
Harry couldn't help thinking that Ron sounded whiny. "Snape won't let us sit at the back, you know that."
"Right. But I want to be as far back as possible. Let the Slytherins suck up to him if they want."
Immediately, the images that came to Harry's mind at the mention of sucking were obscene. Maybe that's what would happen next; maybe Snape would expect Harry to suck him now he'd done it to Harry. Harry's body suddenly felt as if it was on fire, his cock and balls felt as if they weighed twice as much as mere moments before. He walked faster, not stopping until he was outside the Potions classroom door, where he came to an abrupt halt, panting slightly.
"Merlin, Harry," Ron moaned. "I know Binns is boring, but that's got to be the fastest exit from his class in the entire history of Hogwarts."
Harry didn't answer. Hermione caught them up and at least she seemed happy to be at the front of the queue again, but rather mystified by Harry's flight. Harry didn't answer her questions either.
In class Harry got no answers to his real questions. While he worked on his potion and genuinely tried to do his best, he kept glancing at Snape. But Snape never spared a glance at Harry. For once the man's dark eyes were trained elsewhere, and while he paced past the benches again, he didn't pause at Harry's. That upset Harry, he'd been hoping for a repeat of last lesson, of that delicious closeness when Snape had come up behind him. But whatever else he was, Snape wasn't predictable. The Slytherins were subdued too, missing the Potter-baiting. In fact, Snape was almost completely quiet this lesson, not bothering Neville either. Neville gave a thumbs-up sign to Harry and his friends when Snape turned and headed for Draco and Pansy's bench instead of pausing by his.
By the end of the lesson every Gryffindor except Harry was happier than they'd been for years in a Potions class. Harry was happy with his work, he'd produced a good potion and he knew it, but Snape hadn't met his eyes once, not even when he handed over his sample. Harry just wanted to look into the man's eyes, to see what Severus was thinking, to let him know it was okay, that he hadn't done anything stupid like going to Dumbledore or told anyone at all about what Snape had done. Maybe the man was acting like this because he had gone to Dumbledore instead. The thought made a cold weight sink through his stomach, settling in his abdomen. As they all filed out of the classroom, dismissed by Snape's curt order, Harry was the only one who wasn't feeling happy.
When Harry got some time to himself again, some thinking time, it was when he was in bed that night. He lay looking up at his four-poster's canopy, and he couldn't make sense of anything. What was happening? First Snape grabs him, kisses him, does all sorts of delicious, wrong things to him - for Harry knew they were wrong, however delightful - and then he ignored him as if Harry had ceased to exist. Why? What was Snape playing at?
It was a long while until Harry fell asleep, and his sleep was troubled by strange, anxious dreams.
Harry wasn't imagining it; Ron was suspicious. He kept looking at Harry, more than usually. He kept asking if he was okay, if everything was okay, and Harry got sick of nodding, or slapping him on the back jovially, or redirecting the conversation. Yesterday's scramble to Potions must have really bothered him. Harry hoped Ron didn't put that together with Snape's odd behaviour and come up with something scary.
As they sat down at breakfast Ron kept looking to see if Harry was eating. Harry understood that, he'd been having nightmares and visions which Ron found almost as scary as Harry did actually experiencing them. Hermione, seeing Ron's concern, raised her eyebrows.
Ron just shrugged, while Harry said for about the tenth time that morning: "It's all right; I'm okay, nothing is wrong."
Hermione smiled back and returned to her food, but she kept looking out of the sides of her eyes checking if Harry was eating too. So Harry took good portions of sausages, bacon and eggs, plus toast and butter, just to show he was truly fine and not off his food. This seemed to work as they all began chatting more normally.
All was fine until Ron nudged Harry, leaned close and hissed, "He's still looking, Harry."
Harry shook his head, not looking up from his plate. "No, he's not."
"He is," Ron insisted. "Look!"
Harry had to look, there was no way of avoiding it without his behaviour looking odd again. He glanced up quickly to the High Table, but he couldn't look away as quickly as he'd wanted to. His eyes had locked with Snape's, and Snape's dark eyes suddenly looked panicked. The Potions master's sallow face paled.
"See," Ron hissed right against Harry's ear. "I told you!"
Harry wrenched his eyes from Snape's, aware how much he'd been staring; worse, aware how much Snape had been staring at him. Snape's panic was making him feel ill; he'd never finish his breakfast like this. Something had to be done.
Harry stood up and walked toward the front of the hall, ignoring Ron's 'what are you doing, Harry?'
Snape was watching him like he was an approaching doom, and Harry knew why he was thinking that; he was thinking Harry was going to talk to Dumbledore. He smiled a little, hoping to show Snape he wasn't doing any such thing. Dumbledore had a slight smile on his face as he watched Harry approach, but apart from giving the headmaster a little nod as he passed along the front, Harry didn't acknowledge him. He stopped in front of Snape's seat.
"Please, Professor Snape, can I have a word with you?"
Snape's eyes widened in genuine surprise.
***
Severus had been watching Harry, just as he always did at breakfast time. The Weasley boy was fussing around him; as if aware he was losing him. Severus hoped that was the case, but the dratted boy wouldn't leave Harry alone, constantly talking to him, leaning close and whispering, looking concerned. Severus could tell Harry was getting annoyed by it, but Weasley didn't seem to realise. The redheaded boy was such a blunt instrument; he had no subtlety at all.
When Harry looked up at him, Severus felt the rush of emotions he'd been trying to ignore, trying to bury beneath his sarcastic persona. Trying, and failing it seemed, because now he felt awash with them. His heart thundered, his nostrils flared, he wanted to rush over and grab Harry, to kiss the boy until he could think of nothing but Severus. And Severus knew he couldn't afford to look like that in front of the entire Great Hall, for someone would notice. He panicked as he felt his stoic mask slipping and he struggled to plaster it on again.
When Harry stood up and started approaching the staff table, Severus knew it was over. Harry had seen him, seen the desire in his eyes, and was coming to tell Dumbledore. The boy had given him a chance, hadn't said anything after the way Severus had assaulted him, no doubt in the hope that Severus would just back off, would drop it as the mistake he'd claimed it was. But now he'd seen the animal lust still blazing in Severus' eyes and he'd given up on him; he was coming to tell Albus.
Snape knew he looked horrified at Harry's approach. He had no doubt Harry saw it, and now the wretched boy was smiling at him, enjoying his triumph. Snape was to be denounced in front of the whole school, the few students who admired him, the many who would love to see his fall, and the colleagues who had occasionally seemed like friends. It couldn't be a worse place to do it - he'd hoped Potter would go privately to Albus - but he knew he deserved this. He put his knife and fork down, preparing for his doom as Potter reached Albus.
But Potter didn't stay and talk to the headmaster; he turned and came to stand in front of Severus' chair. He was going to denounce him to his face, then.
Potter spoke in a surprisingly reasonable tone of voice, not the angry shouting he'd expected. "Please, Professor Snape, can I have a word with you?" And Severus did not seem able to process the words. What could they mean?
"What?" he asked, stupidly.
"Please, sir, I'd like to speak to you later."
Severus shook his head, aware of Potter waiting for some sort of coherent response, of Albus watching them openly, and of the other teachers pausing in their conversations to listen. The boy wanted to talk to him. "Why?"
"I'd rather speak privately, sir, it's rather personal," Harry said, smiling a little.
Severus frowned. Personal? What did he mean…?
"My assignment, sir, and a couple of other things," Harry added helpfully.
Albus was nodding at Harry as if the boy had just said something praiseworthy. Bloody persistent Gryffindors!
"You may come to my office after breakfast, if you have time," Severus said. "I have a free period first lesson."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said. "I'll go and wait for you then."
And so saying, he turned and walked out of the hall, obviously heading for the dungeons. Snape, still frowning, watched him go. He didn't get up to follow; that would look ridiculous, as if he had been summoned by Potter. And besides, his legs didn't feel any too steady after his earlier conviction that his Hogwarts' career was over. He'd never expected plaudits for his contribution to Wizarding education, but nor did he want it to end shamefully.
"I'm pleased to see Harry is getting on better with you these days, Severus," Albus said, looking at him.
To forestall further attempts at conversation from that direction, Snape helped himself to some strawberry yogurt, and filled his mouth to make replying impossible. Albus, the annoying man, just chuckled. Severus told himself that Albus' comments were mere small talk; the old wizard could have no idea of just how well he and Harry were getting along, or Severus would not be sitting here now. He tried to ignore the conviction that even Albus' small talk had purpose, because that was clearly absurd.
Conversation at the staff table started up again, and it seemed everyone had forgotten Harry's request. Severus hadn't, not for a second. He thought about what Harry might say to him, the myriad ways the conversation would go. He wasn't out of the woods, not at all; Potter was merely drawing out the agony. He ate with deliberate control, concentrating on keeping his actions and expressions neutral, because he could feel Albus looking at him, looking into him. Severus could feel the gentle touches of the old wizard's mind, touches someone unskilled in Mind Magic would never detect, and he kept his shields up, but invisible. Albus would not realise his agitation, or its source. So why did he keep thinking the old wizard could do just that, and that Albus knew exactly what Severus' most recent problem was.
Once Severus considered he could leave without it looking like he was following Potter, he rose from his chair as elegantly as always. Albus, of course, watched him go. Severus merely nodded at his colleagues and said 'Headmaster,' to Albus, refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes.
He strode out of the hall and headed for his office, walking quickly but appearing unhurried, an art he'd perfected over his years of teaching. But those years of experience could not have prepared him for what he found when he entered, something he'd never seen before. A student - Harry bloody Potter of course - seated in Snape's chair.
***
"What do you think you are doing?"
"Waiting for you, Severus," Harry was nervous sitting here waiting; he'd had time to get more jittery while Severus finished his breakfast. But this had to be done; he had to know where he stood.
Severus was obviously intent on acting the starchy teacher, and he snapped back, "You will call me sir."
Harry gave him a cheery smile, not the least bit perturbed. Severus wasn't going to go back to that, not in private anyway, because it wouldn't work. Harry knew the man wanted him. "If you like... sir."
Severus, it seemed, very much did like, but yet he appeared uncertain how to proceed. "Well?"
"Well what?" Harry grinned up at his teacher from the depths of the man's own chair. He knew he was being irritating, but he needed to goad Severus into answering him.
"Are you being deliberately obtuse? What are you here for, Potter?"
"Anything you'll give me," Harry smirked happily.
Severus didn't reply. He glowered, but Harry was unabashed; Severus' glares had lost their power because Harry now knew the man underneath the fierce expression and snappy voice. As Snape still wasn't being forthcoming, Harry spoke again, and what he said obviously surprised the older man yet again. "Tell me why you kissed me before."
Snape looked momentarily panicked, and Harry thought he was actually blushing - and how odd it was that it should look sweet to Harry - but Snape swallowed, pulling himself together, and the blush seemed to fade before it could develop properly. "I -" Snape began. But he stopped, again, looking horrified at his mouth's lack of cooperation.
Harry was implacable, determined that he wasn't going to drop the matter. "What made you kiss me? Something set you off that day, didn't it? It must have, or you'd never have done it. What was it?"
Severus cleared his throat. "I saw you with Weasley."
"Who? Do you mean Ron?" Harry was absolutely stunned. What had Ron to do with anything? He'd been with Ron since they were eleven, they did everything together.
Severus nodded, but Harry still looked confused. "You had your arm around him. And earlier, at breakfast, I saw you whispering together. It is apparent what your relationship is."
Harry stared, his mouth agape, completely amazed by Snape's words. "You were jealous… of Ron?" His voice came out weakly, now he was the one who'd temporarily lost the ability to find the right words. Snape was jealous of Ron. His relationship with Ron. And Harry's mystified look cleared as he remembered the words Snape had growled into Harry's ear as he pumped his cock, overwhelming Harry with such sensations that he'd forgotten what Snape had said until now: That fool Weasley has no idea - he's a little boy, an inept, fumbling lackwit. Let me show you what a man knows. And further: I will not let you belong to anyone else. You're mine. Yes, Snape was possessive, he wanted Harry, but he wanted him for himself alone. He obviously thought Harry and Ron were together, and the sight of Harry helping Ron up from the floor with his arm around him had been enough to trigger that amazing reaction. Harry swallowed, blinked, and looked Snape right in the eye.
Snape looked nervous, Harry could tell, and Harry always knew that Snape's best form of defence was attack, so he was unsurprised at the man's next words: "Potter, get out."
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. He stood up and walked up to his teacher, where Severus was standing in front of the desk in the spot where students usually stood. As he got close, Severus stepped back. "You're afraid of me, aren't you? Why?" Harry stepped close again.
"It's wrong," Snape said, retreating another pace.
"No. it can't be. It doesn't feel wrong," Harry insisted.
"You're too young, only fifteen, for Merlin's sake!"
"Only fifteen, yes, you're right," Harry said, stepping forward again. "Yet I was old enough to die in a graveyard when I was fourteen, so why am I too young to have something good? Something I want, something that helps me, that's just for me." Harry slipped his arms around Severus' waist and leaned up and kissed the man before he could retreat again. And as their mouths joined, Severus moaned, and Harry knew he wouldn't run away any more.
Nor did he; Severus took over the kiss, putting his arms around Harry, cradling him close as he poured out his passion into the younger man's mouth. Harry tasted perfect, was perfect for him, and he couldn't hold back. He was already damned by what they'd done before, so there was no point in denial. If Harry still wanted him - and it seemed he did - Severus was going to take what was offered. He'd hardened immediately Harry had touched him, and he could feel Harry's answering excitement as they kissed.
Harry was riding a wave of pleasure. He hadn't planned this, he'd just done it because it felt right, and oh, it felt perfect. Severus had taken over, pulled Harry close with a desperation and purpose that made the boy's legs weak. Harry's heart hammered with excitement as he remembered where this had led before. And then everything changed; Severus broke off the kiss, raising his head to look down at Harry. Harry opened his eyes and saw the black gaze.
"We cannot do this-" Severus began.
"No, don't say that!" Harry cried, desperation in every syllable. "We can… we have… I want this."
"Let me finish, you impatient brat," Severus growled, smirking. "We cannot do this now. Lessons start soon, for you at least, and who knows who might appear in my office; it is hardly a private venue and the door is unwarded."
Harry looked at the man, stunned. "I've only got Care of Magical Creatures," Harry panted, desperate to keep this opportunity. How could he just leave and go to class in this state? "I don't need to go there. Hagrid won't mind… and as for your potential visitors," he grinned up cheekily, "let them wait."
Severus growled, spun Harry around and pointed his wand at the office door. It shut and the air shimmered, the strong wards immediately shielding them from outside interference. "Then come with me," Snape said, taking Harry's hand and leading him towards the corner of the office. There, a stairway led down to a lower level. Harry had never taken much notice of it, but he was about to find out where Snape's quarters were, and he felt very nervous, or else very excited, because he really couldn't tell the difference. Whichever it was, his stomach was jumping about and his legs felt shaky as he followed the tall man down the stone spiral to his rooms.
"We don't have all day," Snape growled as he tugged Harry forwards through a sitting room.
Harry got an impression of clean disarray with the emphasis on comfort before finding himself passing into another room - a bedroom. There heavy, Hogwarts-style furniture provided ample storage for clothes and yet more books, and a large four-poster bed dominated the room. Harry grinned, but had no time to say anything for Snape pushed him down onto the bed and was pulling off his own clothes, looking significantly at Harry to start doing the same. Harry hurried to undo his buttons, haul off his robe, jumper and shirt, and kick off his shoes and socks until he was sitting in just his boxers, feeling uncertain. Harry looked down at his underwear, which was doing little to conceal his arousal, suddenly hesitant about looking at Snape.
Snape climbed onto the bed next to him, and Harry had to look up then, and his shock at seeing a naked, sallow body with a flushed arousal that only looked larger because of its contrast to the taut, pale skin made his mouth gape. Snape took advantage, pulling Harry close and starting a kiss that made Harry pass from a state of surprise to toe-curling delight in a matter of moments. Harry came back to himself and began kissing back enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around the man whose body exuded a sense of tightly constrained power.
Snape's hands were touching him everywhere; Harry could feel his body being stroked, his muscles cupped and held appreciatively, his skin teased by glancing touches from those long fingers that were making him shiver. He could hardly get his breath enough to return the kisses, but he didn't want to pull away, he wanted to do things right back. He moved his hands down Snape's back, feeling the movements of the muscles as they stretched over the bones, feeling the pounding of discordant heartbeats that might be his own, his partner's, or an erratic mixture of both. Harry kissed hungrily now, as unafraid to show his passion as Snape had been.
Just as he felt he'd regained some equilibrium, the kiss ended. Harry felt himself being turned, and his head spun as if he'd slipped sideways from a broom. Harry found himself face down on the satin coverlet, Snape pinning him down with his own, larger body, the man's hot breath puffing against Harry's neck and over his ear. But Snape didn't speak, instead his hands spoke for him, running over Harry's buttocks, parting his arse cheeks, fingertips caressing lightly yet leaving burning trails like heated wand-tips. Harry gasped as the man moved down the bed, positioning himself between Harry's thighs.
Harry had dreamed of having a lover cradled between his legs, but this was different, because he was face-down and helpless. As a hot, wet tongue traced a trail down the cleft of his arse, as that tongue drew a ring around his anus, Harry gave over all vestiges of control and thrust his hips back, his legs parting even wider. He was exposed, vulnerable, his secrets on display, yet he found himself wanting it to be so, giving himself over to the man he was happy to have in command. A corner of his mind jibbered a little at that, at the thought that he'd fought so long to oppose Snape's every wish, but now he was wanting nothing more than to comply with anything the man desired. Harry quickly dismissed the thought, with each swipe of Snape's tongue he was forging ahead towards total submission.
Snape paused, and Harry found he wanted to cry at the loss of sensation. "You like this?" the man's soft, deep voice enquired.
Snape's warm breath was caressing Harry's arse, huffing down towards his balls. Harry couldn't answer, but he thrust his hips toward Snape again, begging that way.
"You give me control, Potter?"
Harry nodded, jerking his hips again.
"Everything I wish for?" Snape clarified.
"Please…" Harry whined. His voice sounded ridiculously needy but he really didn't care about that, he just needed so much.
Severus went back to his delightful teasing, his tongue alternately flicking, tracing or pressing against Harry's hole, until Harry thought he'd die from the conflicted feelings of sensation and emptiness. Then Snape gave him more, slipping his tongue inside Harry's body; it squirmed like a lithe, moist snake at his entrance. Harry was making begging noises again, but no coherent thoughts formed in his mind or on his lips.
Harry had no idea how things changed, how long it took before the tongue was replaced by slick fingers, how many fingers were used or for how long. It didn't matter, because he was looser now, becoming slippery as Snape played with him. Inside… those fingers were inside, and Harry hadn't noticed when that happened but now began to realise that he had been penetrated. As the thought came, as he thrust against the satisfying fullness of having something inside there, the fingers disappeared and Harry felt the intrusion of something blunter, hotter and harder. One single, thick fullness that Harry could work against - work with - to bring him the pleasure his body was now fully intent on finding.
"Yes, Harry, that's good," Snape was saying, pressing inside, pushing deeper. He might have been saying much more, but Harry had not heard him, so intent was he on the signals his body was sending to him. Harry was so full it was almost-pain and at the same time nothing more than the greatest pleasure, for this was the thing his body was seeking, was begging for. He pushed back to meet each insertion and moaned. The fullness sparked jolts of feeling throughout his lower abdomen and his own cock twitched in reply. A hand snaked around grabbing his erection, and Harry cried out at the double intensity of being filled and having his cock pumped at the same time. Snape was working inside and out, was all around him, was everything to him at this moment and Harry wanted to show him that, to let Snape know Harry was his, irrevocably.
"Please, mine…" Harry moaned, not really knowing what he meant, hoping Snape knew what he meant.
Snape was thrusting, working hard, and he seemed to know; at least he understood what to do to make Harry fly towards orgasm, because Harry was suddenly coming, splashing semen over the bed cover and over Snape's fingers. Harry's eyes were screwed shut in reaction, but he could see them, see him and Snape down there on the bed, joined in body and magic, as if Harry was somehow pinned to the ceiling, looking down.
"Yes," Snape growled. His voice was so deep, so much like him and yet it was unlike any way Harry had heard that voice sound before. "Yes… you are. Mine." On the final word Snape gripped Harry's shoulder in his teeth, biting down.
The final, erratic thrusts of Snape's hips accompanied a deep groan as Snape came inside Harry. Harry could feel the pulsing of the man's cock, he could feel the tension in the body that was encompassing him, and he swore he could feel the ripples of the man's magic as Snape rode the tides of his release, holding onto Harry with hands, and teeth, and power.
The image of the pair on the bed faded, and Harry opened his eyes. He was lying beneath Snape, on Snape's bed, and the man was holding him, collapsed over and against him in the after-effects of lovemaking. Harry had never felt this way before, had no idea if this was typical for the aftermath of sex, but it felt wholly exceptional to him.
***
Severus Snape lay in his bed with his arms wrapped around a sticky, sated, drowsy Harry Potter. Reality was filtering back, bringing with it the burden of responsibility. The feeling as it returned was little short of painful, and Severus regretted both its return and the loss of that reality in the first place.
How often had he lost control, forgotten the status quo, gone ahead with something that he knew was unwise? It was rare enough, but in these recent years since Voldemort's return, it was unheard of. And now he would pay, in more ways than one.
The boy was still underage. Admittedly not for much longer, for he would be sixteen at the end of this year, but whether it was a matter of months, or weeks, or mere days, Harry was still underage. And Severus was a responsible adult. As such, he had betrayed him. He held the boy gently, the bitter-sweetness of Harry's presence here, in this place, was both precious and dreadful.
Harry turned in his arms and faced him. "What's the matter?" The boy's voice sounded uncertain now.
"I have done wrong; a great wrong," Severus said, looking straight at him. Potter deserved this much. Severus would not try to hide his culpability.
"Look, Severus, you can't worry about it," Potter replied, looking earnestly up at him and frowning slightly. "I wanted it; I made you do it. You're my protector, Severus. Please-"
Severus shook his head. There was no way Potter could have made him do it; Severus was the more powerful wizard, the adult here. "I should tell Dumbledore."
"No! Please… no. We all need you: the Order, Dumbledore himself, and most of all, me."
Potter's face was open and earnest; he meant what he was saying. It rocked Severus, momentarily robbed him of words. He swallowed and found his tongue. "Really?" He sounded inane.
"Yes." Harry tightened his hold, steadying both of them with the embrace. "Please, Severus. Please remain here for me. What you gave me just now… it was happiness. I hardly know it, and it blew me away."
Potter's eyes were suspiciously bright, and Severus soothed him by stroking his arms. He wanted to kiss the boy again, but gently, not with that all-consuming passion that had brought them here. He could not find his voice now, but needed to assure the boy who was starting to look fearful. He gave a brief nod.
Harry smiled, such a true smile the joy blazed from it, and Severus' heart, despite his conscience's misgivings, lifted. "I'll come back," Harry said, sitting up now. "But right now I must get cleaned up, go to class."
"The bathroom is through there," Severus said, glad his voice had returned and noting that he sounded surprisingly normal.
Harry hurried into Snape's bathroom, and Severus waited his turn. When the boy emerged, Snape told him, "I, too, must hurry. I am late for class."
Harry nodded, pulled him into a brief hug, and hurried out. Severus put himself in order, clothing himself with a teacher's robes and role.
Severus knew he was late. It was inexcusable. He'd never been late for less than Death Eater-related reasons. When he entered the classroom he expected to find brats causing mayhem; instead he found the third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws with their heads bent over their textbooks taking notes. At the front of the class sat Albus Dumbledore and Severus' face tightened even as his bowels threatened to loosen. The game was surely up.
As he neared the teacher's desk, Dumbledore stood. "Ah, there you are, Severus. I was worried you had been taken ill when I heard you hadn't turned up for your class."
"I must apologise, Headmaster," Severus answered stiffly. "I found myself a little…er, flushed."
"Well, perhaps in future you could arrange to be… flushed… at a more convenient time?"
To Severus' horror he felt his sallow face suffusing with colour. He stared at the headmaster, expecting recrimination, but the old coot merely slipped from the teacher's chair, stood up and, flashing Severus a broad smile, left the class in his care.
Severus took his seat at the head of the class, looking out at the studious, bent heads with a blank expression that spoke volumes about his lack of comprehension of what had just happened. Thankfully, none of his charges was rash enough to risk his displeasure by looking up from their work, and Severus got away with it.
***
Harry had paused in the entrance hall. He had to get to Charms, he knew that. The class had no doubt started and he should hurry to minimise the number of points Professor Flitwick might take for his tardiness, yet he could not help pausing here. He was feeling rather overwhelmed and was still trying to get his head around his new relationship with Snape. Because he definitely had a new relationship with Severus Snape.
And as Harry was pausing, standing in the middle of the open area as if he was a visitor unsure which staircase to take, Albus Dumbledore came up the dungeon steps.
"Shouldn't you be in class, Harry?" the old man asked, sounding concerned.
Harry turned his head to find the Headmaster standing behind him. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I got, er, that is, well, I'm late."
"So I see, Harry," Dumbledore replied, smiling gently. "Perhaps your lateness has something to do with your meeting with Professor Snape, and is therefore understandable. I do hope he was not too hard on you."
Harry gaped at Dumbledore; he was amazed the man knew he'd been downstairs with his Potions teacher, and considered that if Dumbledore knew that much, then he probably knew an awful lot about what they'd been doing down there. And yet the headmaster looked happy, which was totally weird. The Wizarding world continued to hold endless surprises, Harry noted. "Oh, no, sir. he was... fine. Really."
Dumbledore's smile widened and he looked genuinely pleased. "I'm glad to hear it, Harry. He really is one of your best defenders, you know."
The old man's eyes were bright with mirth and obvious, if unexpected, approval. "Yes, I know, sir," Harry replied quietly, blushing a little.
"Then you know Professor Snape will support you whenever you need it. He always keeps a close eye on you, as I've instructed him to do."
"Yes sir, I know he does," Harry said, smiling back now at the satisfied headmaster. "And I'm truly glad of it."
Dumbledore gave a little nod at that, and walked off in the direction of his office, his face still wreathed in smiles.