|snarryhols (snarryhols) wrote in snarry_holidays,|
@ 2007-12-14 19:11:00
|Entry tags:||fic, post-dh: ewe, rated: nc-17|
Red Windmill, for cnary_crem_dght
Title: Red Windmill
Word Count: 3,875
Warnings: Slash, bottom!Snape, Prostitution, elements of DH, basically PWP
Disclaimer: If I owned it, Harry and Snape would have killed Voldemort, enslaved Dumbledore, and had many, many black-haired babies (no redheads in sight).
Summary: Six years after the final battle, Harry can't get Snape out of his mind. Hearing a tip about a man that fits Severus's description, he leaves behind his friends to find what he's missed all along.
Author’s Notes: Written for snarry_holidays fic exchange. Many thanks to the two ladies—M and J—who helped me get this fic in ship shape. I don’t know what I would have done without you two!
Happy Holidays, cnary_crem_dght! I hope you enjoy the story.
Harry asked himself—not for the first time—what he was doing. He was almost twenty-four years old, the youngest head of the Investigative Auror division, the Wizarding world's most eligible bachelor, and completely miserable. He hated his life, hated living up to people's expectations.
He'd never asked to be the Savior of the Wizarding world, but surviving the killing curse as a baby meant saving those who were too afraid to help themselves. After battling Voldemort and his minions, he didn't particularly care for being an Auror, but it was what the public expected of him. Harry was never really a combative person, and the stress of the danger and fighting was wearing him down.
Harry had also never wanted to be married, to a witch at least. As a child, when the nights were darkest, he'd huddle under his too-thin blanket in the cupboard under the stairs and dream of the life he'd have as an adult. He'd have a family of his own—people who loved him and whom he loved. He'd take care of them and never be alone again.
As Harry grew, he realized that the stereotypical family was not for him. Girls were too emotional and soft. He craved hardness and strength, needing a strong person to stand with him and help him navigate the treacherous waters of fame. Harry had spent so much time fighting for himself and others that he felt too far removed from most people—especially women—to live with them. The idea of sharing his life with another person was foreign to him.
Ginny hadn't understood. She thought he was rejecting her because he wanted to be with someone else, but nothing could be further from the truth. He did love her; he just didn't know if what he felt for her warranted a life-long commitment. There was no one else in his life, but she wouldn't believe him. They had a huge argument, culminating in her giving him an ultimatum: marry her or the relationship was over. He didn't want to get married, but he didn't want to lose her. He tried to explain how unfair she was being, telling her that they were too young (and at only nineteen and twenty, he did think they were too young), but she would hear none of it. That night, his relationship with Ginny ended.
Ron was not pleased to find out that Harry had broken his little sister's heart. He confronted Harry the next day, spouting accusations and threatening to beat Harry for his "disgraceful" treatment of Ginny. Harry, still upset about Ginny, laid into the redhead. He told Ron that no one had the right to force him to do anything, and that if he didn't feel ready to marry her, then he wouldn't. The two had a screaming row, and only the timely arrival of Hermione prevented them from coming to blows. The bright witch stepped between the two and managed to calm the hot-tempered redhead before he could say something that would either end his friendship with Harry or cause the green-eyed man to hex him. Even still, three years later, Ron and Harry's friendship wasn't quite the same. Ron apologized, but Harry couldn't forget the hateful things his supposed best mate had said during the heat of the moment.
For the last three years, Harry had spent his life alone, living in Grimmauld Place with Kreacher and going to work. It was a lonely existence, but one of his choosing. Unfortunately, the solitude left him much time to think, and Harry found he didn't want to acknowledge the true cause of his situation: Severus Snape.
Ever since the man had given him his memories as he lay dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, Harry couldn't forget him. He played the scene over and over in his head, wondering if he could have saved the man. He cherished the memories of his mother and a younger Severus Snape, even when they were at odds.
And he felt jealous. Harry was envious of his mother because she had the love that he so desperately craved himself.
Harry didn't know when he realized that he wanted Snape to love him, but he did. The man had spent years protecting him—however unwillingly—because of his mother. He'd given Harry the feelings he needed to defeat Voldemort. He'd died; all to ensure that Harry achieved his goal of killing the Dark Lord.
Hermione knew of Harry's obsession with Snape. He bristled at the term, but he had to admit she was right. She correctly pointed out that it was the downfall of his relationship with Ginny and that it was unhealthy to remain so fixated on a dead person. He'd not had a steady relationship with anyone since Ginny although he had several one-offs. Harry couldn't connect with anyone on more than a physical level, so he enjoyed his conquests' charms and moved on.
Tonight, however, was about business. A contact had informed him of a man matching Snape's description at a dive in the Wizarding district of Paris. If he wasn't obsessed, he didn't know how else to explain why he was in a seedy club across from the Moulin Rouge in Paris at the first hint of a Snape sighting. Harry shook his head in disgust and looked around the room.
Men and women of all ages were dressed in dark colors with black masks shielding their faces. Veela women played stringed instruments and sang, their seductive voices creating a sensual atmosphere. Strangers ground against each other on the dance floor, their bodies moving in sinuous time with the music. He watched waiters dressed in silver move around the room swaying their hips to the beat.
"You're pathetic, Potter," he said to himself as looked down at his drink.
Just as Harry had made up his mind to leave the club, a flash of silver captured his attention.
Across the room, a mysterious man clad in skintight black leather pants and a black silk shirt with silver bangles around his wrists and arms glided onto the floor. Harry had heard about him. The bartender and several of his contacts had called this man The Serpent. He was the most sought after prostitute at the Red Windmill, and he got his nickname from his snakelike contortion ability. One night with him, they had said, and even the straightest of men would never look at a woman again.
The young Auror stole a glance at the man—he didn't want to be too obvious. He was tall and wiry, his thin frame belying the strength of his muscles. His face, obscured by a silver mask, was pale and angular. The man's cheekbones were severe and his nose was prominent, but that didn't deter the many admirers who vied for his attention. His long, black hair flowed past his straight shoulders, giving him a regal air.
Harry couldn't help staring. The man wasn't handsome; no, he'd never be accused of that. He wasn't even homely, but something about him made Harry pay attention. He cut a striking image walking toward the bar, the dancers unconsciously moving out of his way. Harry was entranced.
With a flash, Harry realized that this man was none other than Severus Snape.
Chuckling, Harry muttered under his breath, "How high the mighty have fallen. Who would ever believe me if I told them that Severus Snape was nothing more than a common whore?"
As he said the words, however, Harry's traitorous cock twitched at the thought of Severus Snape, bane of his existence and childhood nemesis, writhing under him in total abandon. The hair that he once thought was greasy would fan across the pillows as the mouth that had once spewed venom would beg and plead for Harry to complete him. Harry wanted to dominate him, to have him, to possess him. He wanted to be possessed, owned, loved.
So lost was Harry in his daydream that he didn't notice The Serpent come and sit next to him.
"What brings you here, Stranger?" Serpent purred in lightly accented English.
Harry was confused. He knew that Snape had recognized him—he hadn't worn a glamour to disguise his eyes and had only applied Muggle make up to hide his scar—yet, Severus Snape was flirting with him. Not that he didn't like it, of course (that deadly voice was downright sexy with its slight French accent), but it was odd.
"Er, how do you know I'm a stranger?" Harry squeaked.
"I have not seen you here before," Serpent commented, "and you look out of place. Can I buy you a drink?"
Harry could only nod.
"A shot of gin on the rocks for my friend and a dry martini," the masked man ordered.
"Thank you," Harry said.
"You are most welcome," Serpent replied, running his hands down Harry's face.
The young man could only shiver. He had never, ever felt anything so electrifying in his life. With one touch, this man had lit a fire inside of him that felt as if it would never be quenched. He wanted to throw the man down and take him right there, but he knew if he appeared overeager, the man would leave and never look back.
Instead, Harry grabbed The Serpent's hand and kissed it, "The pleasure's all mine."
"Hmm, cocky are we?" the man said, raising an eyebrow.
"No, just confident," Harry smirked, sucking the Serpent's thumb into his mouth.
He was rewarded with a gasp. Harry continued his ministrations, sucking each finger into his mouth. The Serpent stifled a moan before recovering his composure and yanking his hand away.
"You are being very forward," the older man said.
"Only when I know what I want," Harry's eyes were serious.
"And you want me?" the man scoffed.
It was time to end this game, "I've wanted you for years…Severus."
"Idiot!" Severus snarled. "Keep it down. I don't want anyone knowing who I am."
Severus yanked Harry out of his seat and pushed him forward.
"Shut up and don't speak until I say you can," Severus warned him.
The two men made their way across the dance floor and into the back of the brothel. There was a maze of hallways leading to various rooms. Harry wouldn't have been able to find his way out of the place if he'd tried, but the feel of Severus's hand on the small of his back had sent all of his blood southward. After several twists and turns, Severus brought them to a large wooden door. Snape performed a series of complicated spells before unlocking the door with a key and shoving Harry inside.
As soon as the room was secured, Snape whirled around and shouted at Harry, "What in the Hell are you doing here?"
Harry, with his mind on sex, couldn't come up with an answer.
"Have you come to take me back? Make me 'pay' for all of my crimes? Want to kill me yourself?" he asked, wand pointed at Harry.
"No!" Harry jumped up. "I don't want to do any of that. Anyway, you're not even a criminal. The Ministry awarded you a posthumous Order of Merlin, First Class. You're a hero."
Severus snorted, "I don't believe you, Potter."
"It's true. I testified for you and everything…" Harry started.
"Of course," Severus interrupted. "St. Potter couldn't bear to be wrong so he had to go out of his way to show that he was still better than poor, pitiful Professor Snape, the Greasy Git of Hogwarts."
"It wasn't like that!" Harry raged. "I love you, you git!"
Severus was so shocked that he lowered his wand. Harry was mortified. He couldn't believe that he had confessed his seemingly childish feelings in such a manner. Unable to face rejection, he lowered his eyes to the floor. Had waited a little longer, he would have seen the rage cross Severus's face.
"Is this your idea of a joke?" Severus yelled.
"No!" Harry protested weakly.
"You must be insane then," Severus continued, unable to believe that Harry Potter, Gryffindor Golden God, was in love with him.
"I must be," the young man laughed ruefully. "I've spent the better part of the last six years mourning you, wishing you were still alive. I broke it off with Ginny because I couldn't stand to touch her and not you. I quit the Auror corps because I knew you would think I was wasting my life being a Ministry lapdog and it didn't allow me enough time to search for you."
"You're serious…" Snape said with not a small amount of wonder.
"Yeah, I am," Harry told him. "I've wanted to find you since that night in the Shrieking Shack. At first I thought it was just gratitude I felt toward you, then I realized it was longing. I wanted you to love me the way you loved my mother."
"Are you sure that's what you want, Potter?" Severus asked, somewhat perplexed.
"Yes," replied Harry. "You've loved her ever since you were kids. You protected me because of her. I wanted something that intense for myself."
Severus laughed. It had an odd ring to it, coming from Severus Snape. It burbled and cracked out of his throat, as if it didn't know how it was supposed to sound until it became rich and roaring. Harry would have thought it a wonderful laugh if he weren't so thoroughly dejected about Snape laughing at him.
"You didn't have to laugh at me," Harry mumbled.
"What did you think, Potter? Did you expect me to confess my undying love for you and swear that I never hated you?" Snape asked after regaining his composure.
"I don't know," he couldn't remember ever being this miserable.
Snape got up and circled Harry, looking him up and down.
"Well, you are not bad looking," he mentioned. "You're a little on the scrawny side, your hair is a mess, and your knees are knobby, but you are definitely not the worst customer I've had."
"Huh?" Harry couldn't keep up with all the changes in Snape's attitude.
"You've come all this way and spent all this time to find me. The least I can do is make you a man."
"I'm already a man!" Harry raged, indignant.
The smirk on Severus's face told him he'd stepped right into a trap, "Well then, prove it."
That was all the invitation he needed.
Harry fell upon Severus like a man possessed. His lips ran a trail from Severus's neck, up his chin and to his mouth. The younger man hungrily latched on to Snape's mouth, kissing him ferociously. He pressed his lips against Severus's, forcing his tongue into the older man's mouth. At first, Severus was shocked, but he soon began returning the kiss with equal abandon. Neither man moved for quite some time; both of them locked in their fierce embrace.
Harry pulled away first, panting and grinning at Severus.
"Strip," he commanded the older man.
"I beg your pardon?" said Snape.
"If you don't take off your clothes, I'll do it for you," Harry informed him.
"Go right ahead," Severus replied.
Harry pulled his wand from his back trouser pocket. With a few quick flicks, Harry had Severus undressed and tied to the bed. Snape went to protest his imprisonment, but Harry quieted him.
"I want to enjoy you. Let me have my fun," he purred; Severus obliged.
Without a thought, Harry jumped onto the bed and fell on top of Severus. They resumed kissing, their tongues battling for supremacy. Severus was quite talented with his tongue and could do several tricks with it that stole Harry's breath, but the younger man was determined to outlast his lover.
Whenever he found himself particularly breathless, Harry would snake his hand between their writhing bodies and fondle Severus's rock hard erection. Severus would whimper and draw back from his kisses, allowing Harry control once more.
Once Harry had Severus frantically pulling against his bonds, he released the older man's mouth and licked his way down Snape's chest to his pelvis. He relished the shocked gasp that Snape gave as his nipples were teased to hardness, straining for more friction. Harry loved the moans Severus released as the younger man licked and sucked his navel. When he finally reached Snape's groin, he ignored the weeping erection in favor of the tasty treat of Severus's inner thighs.
Harry attacked his lover's legs, licking and sucking the tender skin of the inner thigh. Severus almost came off the bed when Harry nibbled such a sensitive area.
"Please, Potter," Snape begged. "I need…"
Harry grinned, "Harry, not Potter. And you can't come just yet. I'm not done having my fun."
"Harry," Severus keened. "Oh gods, Harry."
Harry continued torturing the older man until Severus almost passed out from pleasure. Finally, the young man took pity on his lover and turned his attention to Severus's neglected arousal. Starting at the tip, he licked Snape's cock from top to bottom, suckling on the older man's sacs before completely engulfing him.
Severus arched his back so hard that he almost bent in two. His young lover was very talented with his mouth and tongue and knew all the things to do that would drive him crazy. Harry set his pace—slow and steady—moving his tongue in circles as he rose, but it was not enough for Severus. He pulled at his invisible bindings, desperate to touch Harry, to show him what he needed most. Severus snarled, his frustration mounting.
"Untie me," he commanded Harry.
"No," Potter grinned. "This is your punishment for allowing me to think you were dead all these years."
"I didn't know you cared that much," Snape gasped as Harry sucked the head of his cock.
"Well now you do," Harry said. "You won't come until I allow it."
Licking his lips, Harry once again moved his attention to his lover's thighs. He trailed his hand to his mate's erection—for that is how he thought of Severus—and started stroking him. Moving his tongue lower, Harry found Snape's entrance. He inhaled deeply of his lover's scent, savoring the unique aroma of pine and patchouli that was all Snape. Harry licked all around Severus's entrance, twisting and dipping his tongue into the tight ring.
Severus moaned in agony, silently begging for release, but Harry was having none of that. He moved his hands over Snape's erection while stabbing his tongue into the older man. His hands and tongue worked in tandem together, driving Severus to new heights. As the older man bucked and moved on the bed, Harry could see how he got his nickname. Severus Snape had to be the most flexible person he had ever met. His body moved and contorted in ways that Harry had never imagined but was desperate to try. Harry drove Severus on and on toward ecstasy, building a firestorm within his lover and causing his own cock to harden to the point of pain. Just before the two reached their climax, Severus broke his bonds and took control.
"Never tease a serpent," he whispered before attacking Harry.
Severus pushed Harry down onto the mattress, grinding his erection in his lover's thigh. He rubbed his hands over Harry's nipples, scratching the buds with his fingernails until they were red and swollen. Smirking at the younger man, Snape sensuously sucked on his left index and middle fingers until they were nice and wet. He trailed his slick hand down his chest, around his cock, over his balls, and to his entrance. Grinning devilishly at Harry, Severus began to prepare himself. He inserted first one finger then another into his entrance, riding his hand and grinding himself against his lover. Harry could only gasp and move his body in time with his lover's undulations.
"Severus," Potter whispered.
Snape took the hint and impaled himself upon Harry's cock.
"Dear Merlin!" Harry screamed.
The Serpent took over as Severus undulated around Harry's cock. He tightened and relaxed muscles as necessary, torturing Harry the way Harry had teased him. Sometimes he moved hard and fast; other times, he moved slowly. Harry could never quite take control of the situation and could only go with the flow as Severus rode him into oblivion.
When Harry finally returned to his senses, Severus was staring at him, his black eyes boring into Harry's soul.
"I assume you will be returning to London," Snape said unemotionally.
"If you think I'm leaving you after such mind-blowing sex, you've lost your mind," Harry told him.
"Do you truly intend to stay in a brothel with a prostitute?" Severus asked.
"No," Harry responded. "I intend to live in a flat in Paris with my lover. If he'll have me."
Severus took in the bashful look on Potter's face and the sincerity in his voice and shook his head. He was quite sure that Potter would get bored with him once he realized Severus was flesh and blood and not the hero he thought he was, but he was willing to take the chance. After all, he hadn't given Harry those specific memories, left all those hints and fed information to all those informants for nothing.
If Dumbledore knew what he was doing right now, he would roll over in his grave. Snape smirked at the image. Albus was always worried about his darkness tainting the boy, but he was no longer alive to protect him from Severus. He'd charged Severus with caring for the boy, and Snape planned on doing just that. If Albus didn't want it to turn out this way, maybe he should have rethought that whole self-sacrificing murder plan.
Severus shook his head. It would do no good to dwell on the problems of the past, especially since the young man who was staring at him with such a hopeful expression had cleared most of them.
"I think this endeavor is an extremely bad idea, but I am willing to give cohabitation a try if you are," Severus answered with the appropriate amount of sarcasm in his voice.
It wouldn't do for him to appear too zealous. Potter was thick, but he wasn't stupid. He would wonder why Severus didn't put up at least a token amount of resistance. Snape had worked too hard to get the lad to blow it now.
"I am," Harry said eagerly. "Just see—it'll be great. You won't regret it, Severus. I promise."
Snape just smiled and tucked Harry into his arms. He rubbed Harry's back until the younger man drifted into a sated sleep. He knew he wouldn't regret staying with the young man. In fact, if everything went according to plan, he would be bonded to the powerful wizard within the next two years. He would say one year, but he didn't want to rush things.
Severus Snape was finally able to claim his prize. He had coveted Harry Potter for years, and now that he had the young man, he refused to part with him. As the dawn broke over the Red Windmill, Severus finally fell asleep, content in the knowledge that he had finally gotten his just reward.