|auctasinistra (auctasinistra) wrote in wip_rip,|
@ 2008-10-28 17:15:00
Snape walked past the double rows of vendor booths and out to the narrow road separating the market from the sand.
Harry left him alone for a while, helping Tony and Krystal pick out the numerous ingredients of what promised to be a varied and rather involved supper. By the time they’d gotten to the wine vendor, Harry was impatiently eyeing his former professor and inching away from his companions.
Tony spotted his impatience, sidled over to him and poked him in the arm. “Go. The beach is perfect for a stroll and a little heart to heart.”
“You’re assuming he has one,” Harry said, but he took the advice and crossed the road.
Snape leaned on a low fence, arms crossed as he gazed out at the rough sea. Clouds gathered in the distance; they would probably get rain tonight.
“Are you homesick?” Harry asked. He wondered if it was a stupid question, then realized that he’d wondered that about every question he’d ever asked Snape. Was it possible that he’d never said a single intelligent word to the man?
“I don’t believe so,” was the answer. “Just contemplative.”
“Do you think this Elisabeth Halkirk has our wands and the portkey?”
“Let us just say she leads a very short list of likely suspects.”
“Could she have brought me here? Is that possible?”
Snape snorted. “It is possible. It isn’t very likely. I imagine you can look closer to home for the true culprit.”
Harry opened his mouth, closed it abruptly on the inevitable ‘what do you mean?’ Think for once. Dumbledore. Halkirk. Spells gone awry. Or had they?
“The headmaster sent me here – to her – on purpose,” he blurted out.
He got the eyebrow. “That bears striking resemblance to a reasoned theory, Potter. Well done.”
Harry made a kissy face at the infuriating man. “So who is she really? If she’s a witch, why’ve I never heard of her or read about her? Is she .... she can’t be an enemy of Dumbledore’s – he wouldn’t have sent me here so blindly. But if she’s a friend ... an estranged friend?” He looked at Snape again.
“You would appear considerably more clever if you thought in silence and spoke only your conclusions,” came Snape’s glowing approbation.
“You suck,” Harry said mildly. At Snape’s look he explained, “I picked it up from Tony. It’s meant to be an insult.”
“For an insult to be effective it must be comprehensible as such by both parties, Mr. Potter.” Snape looked out to sea again, pushing black strands out of his face.
“I didn’t really want to insult you,” Harry countered, and Snape shot him another puzzled glance. “I only wanted to vent.”
“I think Tony is weakening,” Harry said. Snape gave him a look, without words communicating the direction his thoughts had taken. Harry hesitated, flustered, blushing.
“I mean, I think he might help me meet her. He’s afraid she’ll sack him since she gave orders for him to tell us nothing, but ... I might be able to talk him into helping us find her. Then all we have to do is ... persuade her to give us our things back.”
“No doubt you’ll be sorry to leave your new ... friends,” Snape said, back to his default level of sarcasm.
“I’ll miss them,” Harry said. “Tony has been incredibly kind–”
Snape snorted again and Harry sighed. Obviously Tony’s little display had been a bad idea. Apparently it had made Snape contemptuous rather than jealous.
“He has. He fed me and took me in and gave me a job. I’d be sleeping on the streets if not for him.”
“Do you imagine he gave you a job at Madame Halkirk’s establishment without her knowledge and approval?” Snape challenged. “Presumably she wished to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry said. “If this is her doing...why?”
“Yes,” Snape said. “That is a good question.”
Harry smiled. “That’s one.”
Snape gave him the old arched brow look. “If my depressingly regular and wholly justified criticisms of your intellectual efforts have led you to believe I consider you stupid, please disabuse yourself of the notion. I would not ask intelligent thought of you if I believed you incapable of it. Though you choose to indulge only sparingly.”
Harry stood amazed that simply to be acknowledged as not hopelessly stupid should delight him, feeling the smile stretch his face. “Thanks, professor. I love you too.”
Again the brow. “That will disappoint your bartending savior.”
Spotting the opening, Harry kept his tone casual. “No. He’s trying to fix us up.”
“I wasn’t aware that I, at least, was broken.”
“You know what I mean.” Harry waved, vaguely, still trying to maintain a casual, but not indifferent, mien.
“Indeed. I had rather thought he had designs on you himself,” Snape replied, casting a glance over his shoulder at the market where Tony and Krystal were now sampling strawberries.
Harry shook his head. “Actually, he had designs on you.” He grinned at the faint surprise that was all Snape allowed to show. “But I ... persuaded him against it.”
“I am astonished that you would presume to know my preferences in such a matter,” Snape said, and Harry found himself blushing again.
“Or was it your own you were protecting?” Snape asked, low, a smirk touching his mouth. Harry realized the man was joking when Snape said, “I am honored to be the bone of contention between two such luscious young pups.”
Harry sighed. “You do have a way with words.” For one dizzying moment he’d thought Snape seriously considering the idea that Harry might find him desirable. I should have known he was only mocking me.
“Will you duel to the death,” Snape went on, “winner take all? Or will you flip a coin?” Now he sounded a little angry, which struck Harry as odd until Snape added, “I suppose my own opinion on the matter is irrelevant?”
Oh. “Well, your preferences can’t affect how we feel. They might affect what we do about it. I for one don’t relish the idea of being hexed so my balls fall off.”
“What is your opinion on the matter?” Harry asked then, maintaining a light tone though his heart had sunk. So much for Snape seriously considering the matter.
“That regardless of which of you ... won, I would lose.”
Stung, Harry said, “Why?”
Snape stood up, moving away from Harry. “I think we have wasted enough time on this absurd notion. We would both be better served considering how we are going to retrieve our wands and other paraphernalia from the mysterious madame Halkirk.”
Krystal came out of the kitchen, an awed expression on her face. “You should see it,” she said. “He’s like a magician in there.”
Harry covered his mouth.
“This is wonderful,” she said. “I can’t believe some lucky woman hasn’t snapped you up yet, Severus.”
Harry almost choked on his wine. He concentrated on breathing, on not looking at Snape as the potions master said:
“Those women are luckiest, miss XXXX, who have least to do with me. I thank you for the compliment, however.”
“What is it you teach?” Tony asked.
Harry and Snape stared at him.
“Well, Harry said you used to be his teacher, so ...”
“He was my ... chemistry professor,” Harry blurted, sensing Snape’s disgust at his deficient prevaricational skills.
Tony said, “I’ll bet he was a lousy student.”
“Tony!” Krystal chided.
“He was,” Snape said calmly.
“A student is only as good as his teachers,” Harry said, sticking his tongue out at Snape.
“Nonsense,” he countered, taking a sip of wine. “A student is only as good as he chooses to be.”
“Professor, may I ask you a personal question?”
Harry let it go, knowing begging, wheedling, conniving – anything besides acceptance – would probably get him turned into a toad. If Snape could do that without his wand. Which he probably could. Harry continued washing glasses and placing them behind the bar.
Snape sighed heavily. “Ask.”
Harry tried to hide his grin. And failed. Snape scowled.
“I do not promise to answer.”
Harry let the grin out. “Fair enough, sir. Do you still hate me?”
Snape blinked. “No.”
“Is this you not answering, or ...”
Snape sighed again. “No I do not hate you, Potter.”
Harry nodded. “Okay. Thank you. Uh, for telling me, that is, not for not hating me.”
“How can it matter to The Boy Who Lived whether alone of all the thousands who revere your name, your nasty old potions master hates you?”
“Because I don’t know anything about those alleged thousands, and they don’t know anything about me. Not really. You know me. And I know you. Or at least I know enough about you that I ... that it matters to me what you think.” He cursed silently as he felt his cheeks heat, but tried to maintain his calm. “Your respect is important to me, professor. One day, I hope, I can earn it.”
Snape was staring at him, hard expression easing.
“You do sometimes surprise me, Mr. Potter,” he said, his voice hoarse, strained. “My good opinion was the last thing in the world you wanted when you came to Hogwarts.”
“I was 11. I hated you. You made it very easy.”
Harry said, “I’m not 11 any more.”
“I had noticed.” Snape moved past him to the cabinet that held the good booze. Harry smiled to himself and continued washing glasses.
“You asked me if it was my own preference I was looking out for.”
Snape thought back, visibly seeking out the memory. “I was joking.”
“I know. You thought the whole idea was ludicrous. The idea that I could think for one second that you would be interested in Tony. Or, God forbid, me.”
Snape blinked. “I didn’t...”
“I know. Don’t worry. I told Tony there was no point to his little matchmaking efforts. I told him you could never be ... attracted to me. Me of all people!” Harry forced a laugh. “Even though you don’t hate me any more.”
“You don’t...” Snape’s voice was soft. Not angry, not yet, anyway. “You don’t actually...”
“Think you would want me?” Harry smiled sadly. “No. I –”
“No.” Snape held up a hand, shook his head. “I wasn’t asking your opinion on my own state of mind.”
“Oh. You were asking if I really wanted you?” Harry flushed again. Damn.
Snape nodded, his scowl fierce, almost pained.
Harry said. “I do.” It was all he could do to hold Snape’s gaze, to not flinch or run away or apologize for his stupidity in desiring a man who felt nothing for him. Though he was hard pressed to not blurt out the apology as Snape continued to stare at him in scowling silence.
“This is not a joke.” The words were more a threat than a question, despite the disbelief on Snape’s face. Harry laughed softly.
“If it is it’s not very funny.”
“You want me,” Snape said, tone and eyes flat, challenging. “The young and beautiful Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, wants his old ugly former potions professor?”
Harry felt his mouth curve. “You think I’m beautiful?” He edged closer as Snape shook his head in exasperation.
“I cannot believe we are having this...” He lowered his gaze to Harry’s face; Harry met his eyes and thrilled within that whatever Snape saw there made him lose his voice.
Snape swallowed. “...conversation.”
Harry smiled. “Any time you’re ready to stop talking and kiss me is fine with me.” He waited, feeling Snape’s body yearn toward his.
Snape shook his head minutely, gaze flickering between Harry’s eyes and his mouth.
“You ... don’t ...”
Harry nodded. “Yes I do.” Closer, their chests almost touching; Harry lifted his head, let his lips brush across Snape’s chin. He felt fingers grasp his arms, hard, but Snape didn’t push him away.
Snape bent his head, his cheek against Harry’s, breathing Harry’s name across his ear, still in doubt. Harry drew back, locked onto those smoky eyes for one moment, then pressed his mouth against Snape’s. He slid his tongue inside for a quick taste, drawing back just long enough to say:
“I. Want. You.” His fingers were already dancing down the buttons on Snape’s shirt. Harry knew instinctively better than to give him a chance to think or breathe. He slid down to Snape’s heaving chest, licking, biting, sucking the soft skin into his mouth, while his hand continued to rub against the hard curve of arching cock inside his pants.
He pushed Snape back onto the bed and swiftly undid his trousers, pulling down everything that stood between his mouth and his goal.
Snape’s rasping breaths turned to hoarse groans as Harry took him into his mouth, tight and deep, his hands slipping around to cup Snape’s ass, feeling the taut muscles there contract as Snape pumped up into his mouth.
He looked up to see Snape sprawled against the pillows, gasping for breath, his cheeks flushed, eyes wild and gleaming as they fastened on Harry. When Harry lowered his head again to wrap his tongue around the head of Snape’s erection, the potion master’s eyes fluttered closed and his body arched.
Harry grinned mentally and took Snape deep into his throat, sucking and tonguing fiercely, feeling his own blood pound as Snape shuddered and came.
Harry swallowed until no more was to be had. Then he gently withdrew his mouth and rested his cheek against Snape’s hip until the tremors and gasps for air had eased into a sated – but not yet calm – deep breathing. Then Harry lifted himself up and crawled over his former teacher’s sweat-damp body to stare into slightly crazed eyes.
If anyone had ever told Harry he would hear his name from this man in such a worshipful tone, he would have laughed himself sick. Now he simply smiled and planted a light kiss on that sexy mouth.
“You...” the same sated, uncertain tone. Harry shook his head.
“Now you owe me,” he said. The eyes widened. Then narrowed in suspicion. Harry gently pressed his groin into Snape’s stomach, rubbed a little. “And I know how much you would hate to owe me. I’m not above a little blackmail to get what I want.” He lay against Snape’s warm, damp torso, kissing his neck, licking his jawline. He pressed his aching cock into the firm stomach beneath him. “I want you.”
He was grabbed and flipped onto his back in one dizzying split-second, finding himself staring into narrow dark eyes, black laser fire focused on him as Snape hovered over him, not touching.
“Be careful what you ask for,” Snape purred, and Harry swallowed as that voice washed flames all over his body.
“Please,” he breathed out, pushing to remove the shirt hanging open on Snape shrugged off the shirt and bent, slowly. Harry’s body arched up toward the heat of Snape’s body, but Snape only kissed his face. His forehead, his eyes, slow, lingering, unbearably tender kisses, seasoned with unexpected touches of warm, dancing tongue on his eyelids, his ears, the corners of his mouth.
Harry exploded. Writhing and shouting and gasping as every nerve ending burst and frayed and he came and came what felt like forever. I’m dying and it feels wonderful.
Awareness returned to him and he blinked and looked around; he wouldn’t have been surprised to see himself scattered all over the room. Instead he lay twitching, panting, heart still racing, tears still leaking from his eyes as Snape moved up the bed to lie next to him.
“God...” he breathed out, a thin whisper of disbelief that he was still alive. He rolled over and wrapped his limp body around Snape, feeling him stiffen briefly in surprise before relaxing and putting warm arms around Harry.
“You...” Harry breathed. He was still unable to speak more than a word at a time. “Teasing...treacherous...evil...glorious.
“Am I to take that melodramatic observation as admission of a debt repaid?” Snape said drily. Harry would have been annoyed at the calm tone had he not remembered the look on Snape’s face during his own attentions, the way Snape had spoken his name afterward.
“With interest,” he said, his heartfelt tone generating another chuckle from Snape. “I’ve got a lot to learn.”
Snape said, “I don’t recall voicing any complaints.”
Harry smiled and lifted up to look at Snape’s face. Satisfied. Calm. Thoughtful, which was not a good sign. “No. But there’s a big difference between good enough and ... spectacular.” He let his hand trail lightly down Snape’s body. “And as my teachers used to say, practice makes perfect.”
Snape groaned softly. “Impetuous child, you must allow for the recovery time of a man twice your age.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Harry said, grinning as he let his hand delicately explore. “You have very soft skin,” he observed. Please don’t think. Don’t regret.