Happy Daft Day, alisanne! Recipient:alisanne Title: Unfinished Business Author/Artist:munanna Rating: NC-17, to be safe. Warnings: Skirtporn/crossdressing, male on male action. Prompt/Summary: Humor, snarky dialogue, teasing, first time, skirtporn, wall sex, public or semi-public sex. Author/Artist's Note: My undying gratitude to Awesome Lifesaver and Beta Reader Extraordinaire, juniperus! :D And to alisanne: It took some research before I understood what ‘skirtporn’ is (Heh, I even mailed you about it, remember? ;D), but I hope that you’ll find this short piece enjoyable nonetheless! Merry Christmas! *takes a bow and makes room for the smut*
”What do you mean, alive?!”
Draco sighed and pinched his nose. Gryffindors! It was typical, really, of them to make a scene in the middle of a tea shop. The other customers at Madame Puddifoot’s had stopped sipping their tea and stared at the young men by the counter. Silence had spread like an old blanket over the room.
“Keep it down, Potter. He doesn’t want everyone to know,” he hissed at his former classmate, who stood staring at him like he had grown a second head. He sighed again and handed the young witch behind the counter a couple of galleons.
“We’d like a more secluded table, please,” he said archly and shoved Harry gently to follow her as she walked towards a door further into the small tea shop, opened it, and gestured them inside. They entered and seated themselves by a small table, which was, in fact, the only table in the entire room. Draco suspected it to be a room for personnel, not customers. The girl quickly returned carrying a tray with their cups, a pot of tea, and a plate of biscuits. She looked at Harry with fascination, but he was oblivious to her. He seemed to be deep in thought. Unsure what to do, Draco cleared his throat. Harry looked up.
“I… I thought he died,” Harry said, slowly, as if speaking it out loud too carelessly would make it true.
“It was close, but no. For the first six months he was under medical observation, but after that he, well, got on with his life, I suppose. Everybody has thought that he was dead, which I suspect suited him perfectly. He’s a solitary man after all.”
Harry was silent for awhile. It had been a difficult year. Ron and Hermione had moved abroad to a better position for Hermione’s research and he missed them terribly. Somehow he had always envisioned them living close. Everybody he knew, more or less, left the country within a year after the war. All except Draco, of course. He had his heritage to think of, family business, and all that, which was why he was now having tea with his former nemesis. They, at least, understood what the other had gone through.
He couldn’t even begin to sort out the feelings that bubbled up in him when it finally sunk in that Snape was alive. Intense relief. Excitement, such as he hadn’t felt in a long time. Two years had gone by since Voldemort died and for the first time he felt an old shiver of anticipation.
“Where does he live?” Harry asked, at last.
¤¤¤
Severus Snape was annoyed. Not only had the store managed to send him faulty ingredients, but his wall clock had noiselessly ceased to function properly and so he was over fifteen minutes late taking the Alabaster Antidote off the fire. Needless to say, the potion was ruined and it would take another week before he had another batch to deliver to St. Mungos.
It was then that the door bell chimed, a horribly cheerful melody that came with this house that the Ministry had gifted him with after the war. He had tried to hex the damn thing off the wall, but it had a self-repairing charm that made it almost impossible to get rid of it without filing an official complaint, which he would not do. He simply refused to waste that much effort on a door bell. For now it was a cold war: the bell chimed and he treated it with stony silence, but went and opened the door. The small satisfaction in ignoring it wasn’t worth the pain when the visitor pressed the door bell a second time.
Of course, nothing had prepared him for the sight he was about to see: Harry Potter, famed boy wonder and child hero of the Wizard World. He hadn’t grown much, Snape noted. At nineteen he was still a skinny little nothing with unruly hair and green eyes that glittered with defiance and vulnerability.
“Potter,” said Snape, coldly. He watched Harry open and shut his mouth a few times, clearly not sure what he was going to say.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you were alive?” Harry blurted out. Snape raised an eyebrow and the temperature dropped another degree.
“I wasn’t aware that I had to inform you of everything, Potter,” he sneered and tried to shut the door. Harry quickly wedged his foot between the door and the door frame, then howled. He hadn’t expected Snape to slam the door so hard.
“Insufferable brat! Look what you did!” Snape spat and took a firm hold of Harry’s upper arm and dragged him inside. Harry clenched his teeth and tried to limp as fast as he could as he was dragged into a dark living room and pushed down on the sofa. Snape lit a reading lamp on a small table beside Harry and walked into the kitchen.
“Take off your shoes,” he called from the other room and Harry obeyed. This wasn’t going exactly as he had planned. To be truthful, he hadn’t planned much at all, but he would have imagined this to be a little less violent. He began to remove his shoes.
“Um… look, I’m fine, it’s really nothing,” Harry replied, then gasped as the left shoe slid off and revealed an already swollen foot.
Snape reentered the room carrying a small vial. “I know you’re fine, Potter. I just don’t want you to track dirt all over my carpets,” he said, and sat himself down on the sofa beside Harry.
Harry’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and anger. Did he have to be such a complete jerk? They hadn’t seen each other since… since… “I thought you were dead,” he said quietly. He watched his former professor’s face intently for some sign that he, too, was affected but found none. Was it his imagination, or did Snape hold the vial a little too tightly?
“So did a lot of people,” Snape answered finally. “Give me your foot.”
Harry lifted his foot slowly, suddenly a bit shy. He held it in the air for a few moments until Snape got impatient and grabbed him by the ankle. “For Merlin’s sake, Potter, I asked you to give me your foot, not your virginity!” Snape smirked in sadistic delight when Harry blushed. He rubbed the soothing ointment on the injured foot, taking care to press in all the right places…“I see. So the famous Harry Potter is still a virgin, is he?” He chuckled softly when Harry’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.
“No. I mean, that’s ridiculous. Of course I’ve… I mean… Of course I had…”
To say that Harry was confused would be an understatement. He hadn’t expected to have his foot crushed and then caressed. He sure hadn’t expected Snape to make jokes about his sex life! ‘What sex life?’ his snide inner voice piped up. Okay, if he had to be honest with himself, then yes, maybe the imminent doom at Hogwarts put a damper on his sex life. And yes, he had felt alienated after his graduation. There had been plenty of willing girls but he found himself with nothing in common with them at all, not to mention he was not attracted to any of them. He had even entertained the thought that he may be asexual, which made it all the more confusing that he was getting hard while Snape was rubbing his foot.
His defensive inner-tirade trailed off and he lowered his gaze as he tried to pull his foot away. Snape would have none of it, though.
“Stop that. This ointment has to be thoroughly applied if it’s going to take affect,” he said, knowing full well that the ointment had been sufficiently applied minutes ago. “Now, tell me what brings you to my door step.” Harry looked up again, grateful for the change of subject.
“I wanted to see you.” He said simply and Snape’s hands stilled. Their eyes met and the moment trembled between them before they both looked away. Snape let go of his foot and got up.
“I see. Well, as long as you’re here you might as well make yourself useful,” he said and walked over to a book case and pulled out a drawer at the bottom. From it he pulled a board and turned to Harry, “Do you fancy a game?” The smooth voice sent shivers down Harry’s spine. His foot, hell, his whole leg tingled where Snape’s long fingers had touched him.
“Sure, why not? What is it?” he said and peered through the gloom.
“Wizard’s Chess.” Snape answered and put it on the table and began to place the pieces.
Harry brightened and sat up straight. “Great! Ron taught me a few tricks, so I’m pretty good now,” he said. Snape smirked.
“Oh? Care to make a bet?” he said. Harry scoffed.
“What would the winner get then?” he said, smiling to himself. No way would he make a bet with Snape. No way.
Snape shrugged with his eyebrows raised in a mock innocent expression. “What would you want if you won?” he asked. Harry pretended to consider it.
“Well… if I win I get to ask you anything and you will have to answer truthfully,” he said, knowing that Snape would never volunteer personal information like that. Snape hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then nodded.
“It’s a deal, Potter,” he said, catching Harry off guard.
“Er… and if you win?” Harry asked faintly.
“If I win you will meet me at The Leaky Cauldron tomorrow night at 8:00.”
Harry felt slightly nervous at this, but he found he also had a faint tickle of anticipation in his stomach. “To do what?” he asked, curious. Snape smirked.
“You’ll have to trust me, won’t you…Harry,” he said. Both of them paused at the sound of Harry’s name on his tongue. Harry swallowed and nodded, promising himself that he would not lose.
Three hours later the smashed remains of Harry’s queen rattled over the board. He sighed. It didn’t look like he was going to be able to keep his promise after all.
As it turned out, he wasn’t. Ten minutes after that, Snape declared the game over, though Harry hated to admit it. He fumed, not wanting to be a sore loser but failing miserably.
“Congratulations. So what now?” He asked and crossed his arms over his chest. Snape looked at him and let his eyes travel freely over Harry’s body. Harry blushed when he noticed and looked away. “What are you looking at?” he muttered as he squirmed under Snape’s intense gaze.
Instead of answering, Snape sat beside him on the sofa and leaned over him with his face inches from Harry’s. His dark eyes locked with Harry’s green ones, wide with breathless nervousness. A shivering moment, then Snape’s lips were on Harry’s in a tender kiss that quickly became hard and passionate. Harry moaned and answered it clumsily, fumbling hands on Snape’s shoulders. He made a disappointed sound when Snape pulled away. His former teacher placed his hand on the side of his face and caressed him tenderly. Harry leaned into the touch, relishing the comfort.
“Tomorrow,” Snape whispered in his ear and stood up. Harry looked up at him through half lidded eyes, looking every bit like the definition of a debauched angel. Such a little tease, Snape thought and made a serious effort to control himself. “I have work to do, Potter. Perhaps it’s high time you return home,” he said coolly and cleaned the table with a word and a wand gesture.
Harry looked hurt for a fraction of a moment, then looked at Snape cynically . “Fine. See you tomorrow,” he said, then put his shoes on and limped out the door.
Later, Snape hummed to himself while getting ready for bed.
¤¤¤
Harry didn’t get much sleep that night. He looked at a few pictures of former love interests of his, among them Cho Chang. He couldn’t remember a single time he had felt even a fraction of what he had felt when Snape kissed him. For Merlin’s sake, he was still hard!
When he finally fell asleep, exhausted and frustrated, he was nowhere near an answer. Fortunately, his brain had gone on autopilot and refused to analyze the matter more.
The next day crawled past at snail’s pace. Harry kept checking the clock, grimacing, as only a couple of minutes had passed. His lower lip was already swollen because of his chewing. Was 6:30 too early to arrive? Just as he was debating this etiquette dilemma he heard a faint tapping noise against the window pane. An owl was trying to keep its balance on the window sill, tapping the glass with its beak at the same time, and failing miserably.
Harry opened the window, letting the owl in. It flew past him, navigated around the light on the ceiling, and finally landed on the bed. Around its foot dangled a small parcel and a note. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. It couldn’t be…
ROOM 26. WEAR THIS. /S
Harry frowned and opened the parcel. It was a skirt, a school girl’s skirt. Harry’s first reaction was anger. How dare he? This was probably some ploy, a sick game where he would show up in a skirt in front of a lot of cameras. He made a face and threw the skirt down, then slumped on the bed.
He chewed his lower lip a bit more. What if it wasn’t a cruel joke? The kiss had seemed sincere enough. His thoughts lingered on the kiss and the faint smell of musk and herbs that was so uniquely Snape… and his eyes wandered to the skirt. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to try it on. It wasn’t as if he would really go there dressed like that, right? The thoughts chased each other in a few more circles before he reached for the skirt and felt the cotton. No, it wouldn’t hurt to try it on.
Half a minute later Harry admired himself in the mirror. It looked weird, it felt weird, but the really weird part was that he liked it. The skirt looked good hanging from his narrow hips, showing off his long legs. He struck a few poses and promptly collapsed in a heap of laughter. He decided: sure, why the hell not? His robe would cover it, so public humiliation wasn’t really an issue. Suddenly time passed much faster.
¤¤¤
What Harry hadn’t counted on was that he knew exactly what he was wearing under his robe and found he couldn’t look anyone in the eye, particularly since he was wearing it for someone else.
The man behind the counter looked at him in a funny way when he asked for the room key. “It’s already hired,” the man said, and then added with a leer, “Of course, if you’re a guest, then by all means feel free to go up.”
At that moment Harry felt like bailing. His excitement faded when the other man leered at him and implied things that he’d taher not think about. Instead he thought of the kiss and it steeled him until he was no longer in the man’s sight.
24…25…26! Once outside the door he had to gather his courage before he knocked. Taking a few breaths helped. He rapped on the door.
“Enter!” Snape’s voice held the usual amount of coldness, making Harry hesitate again. Perhaps the feelings weren’t mutual after all? Well, he’d never find out if he went home now. Feeling like an eleven-year-old all over again, he entered the room and closed the door behind him.
Immediately Harry noticed that Snape, too, had dressed up: his black robe had a long row of silver buttons. As they looked at each other Harry wondered if he should make the first move, so he smiled shakily and walked over. He stretched up and kissed Snape clumsily. The response was instant and he found himself swept up in a strong embrace. All fear and hesitation scattered like mice as his mouth was invaded by a wet tongue.
“Are you wearing the skirt?” Snape asked, his hot breath tickling Harry’s ear. Harry grinned and stepped back, opening his robes to reveal the infamous skirt caressing his thighs as he swayed his hips, mock tempting and giggling. Snape’s hot gaze brought a familiar redness to his cheeks, though, and he was trying to close his robes when he felt Snape’s hands on his.
“Stop that. Let me see you.” He ordered softly and Harry leaned his forehead against his chest as Snape pushed the robes off his shoulders, leaving him in nothing but the skirt and a sweater. Snape swiftly removed the sweater, and then proceeded to tease Harry’s nipples with his fingertips, all the while watching Harry’s face as to not miss a single pleasurable moan. The skirt revealed Harry’s erection only too well, and Snape maneuvered them to the bed. He maneuvered Harry so that he was sitting down on the edge of the bed. Snape ran his fingers along the inside of Harry’s thigh, making him spread his legs a bit more. As those long fingers closed around his erection, Harry keened and leaned back. It didn’t take long to make him come, writhing on the bed wantonly.
Afterwards Snape nudged his own uncomfortable erection to the side and gathered Harry in his arms. The young man was panting and dazed, enjoying the afterglow. He curled up in Snape’s arms and kissed him gratefully. “That was amazing,” he mumbled against a pale cheek and let the hand that wasn’t trapped beneath him travel down Snape’s body. It found what it was looking for and Snape hissed and removed his hand. He kissed away Harry’s hurt expression and smirked. “Now, now… aren’t you hungry? I think we should go down to the restaurant.”
Harry grinned. “Like this?”
They both laughed, then Snape nodded. “Alright,” Harry said, “but no funny business.” Then he looked a little green. “Merlin, I sound like my uncle,” he said in disgust, and Snape smiled his little half smile while they went down to the restaurant.
There weren’t many people, something that Harry was grateful for: since he was still wearing the skirt he felt like this was still some sexual game, and he didn’t want any prying eyes. They took a table behind a small screen and ordered their food. As they were waiting they talked, and Harry was surprised to find himself admiring Snape outside of Hogwarts. Not surprisingly, he appreciated his intellect a lot more when it wasn’t used primarily to humiliate and make fun of him. When they finally got their food the meal passed quickly. Neither of them ate much, as they weren’t very hungry, but they continued to talk. And then it happened.
Harry felt Snape’s hand caress his thigh under the table.
“Severus..!” He hissed, as it now felt natural to use his first name. Snape raised an eyebrow as if falsely accused but let his fingers wander further up… and on cue Harry’s face turned as red as the table cloth. He was hard and wanted Snape so much, and in ways he couldn’t quite imagine but nonetheless suspected was possible. As he was caressed under the table he squirmed. “Please…” He whispered and moved against the strong hand.
“Please what?” Snape breathed into his ear and Harry shivered. “Please, let’s go up to our room,” he begged, and Snape let go of him with a triumphant smirk.
As soon as they reached their room Harry found himself pressed against the wall. He felt Snape’s hard organ pressing against his stomach and rubbed against it teasingly. A muttered latin word and their clothes were suddenly lying neatly folded beside the bed, all except Harry’s skirt, still bunched between them.
Then Harry grimaced in pain.
“My foot…” he said as he held unto the older man for support. Snape lifted him up and pressed him against the wall, pulling Harry’s legs around his waist. Harry moaned as they came skin-to-skin in the most intimate place and suddenly knew what he wanted. Blushing madly, he whispered it in Snape’s ear. Snape muttered an incantation and began to push inside of him. It hurt horribly at first, but Snape held still before moving in short, controlled thrusts and before long the pain dissipated and left only a pleasure so intense that Harry soon begged for more. Who was Snape to deny the Boy-Who-Lived?
Much later, when they were both satisfied many times over and Snape had long since fallen asleep with Harry in his arms, Harry let himself shed a few happy tears.