Title: When Lightning Strikes
Author: alisanne
Characters: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Outdoor sex.
Themes/kinks chosen: biting, hair pulling, and ceraunophilia (arousal by thunder and lightning/storms).
Word Count: 2250
Summary: There are worse things than waiting in the rain.
Author's notes: Thank you to sevfan for the use of her beta-reading skills and to the Slashchat girls for the support.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.


~

When Lightning Strikes

~

Exhausted yet triumphant, Harry eyed the isolated cottage. It had taken him a year and a lot of work to track Snape down, and though he didn’t imagine the man would be especially welcoming, Harry was going to speak with him. I’ve too many questions to be put off.

The sky rumbled and Harry looked up. Clouds were milling about in the sky and the air was heavy. I hope he lets me in or I’m going to get very wet.

Marching up to the door of the cottage, Harry rapped sharply, surprised that there weren’t repelling wards up. Maybe he didn’t think anyone could track him.

The door opened so suddenly that it startled Harry, who stepped back, wary.

Snape, looking younger and certainly healthier than Harry remembered, opened the door. Upon seeing Harry his eyes widened and he appeared shocked. “No,” he said, his mouth working for a moment. Shaking his head, he glared at Harry and snapped, “Go away!”

A second later the door slammed in his face and Harry, blinking, tried again. “Snape? Please let me in, I just want to talk!”

“No.”

Exhaling, Harry pondered what to do. He wasn’t about to break into the cottage. Even if he could. “I’m staying out here until you talk to me.”

“Talk?” Snape growled through the door. “Arrest me you mean. You think I don’t know you’re an Auror? I keep up with the news. Where is the rest of your unit? Surely they didn’t send you to try to retrieve a dangerous war criminal by yourself?”

Harry sighed. “I’m not here in an official capacity, I swear. I just want to talk. And no one considers you a dangerous war criminal.”

“Why should I trust you?” Snape sounded suspicious.

“You don’t have to take my word for this, but I’d appreciate it if you would. I just want to talk. If you want me to take some sort of vow or some Veritaserum to prove it, I will!”

The door opened suddenly and Harry found himself confronted once again by Snape, pointing his wand squarely at Harry’s chest. “How did you find me?”

Harry held up his hands to show he was unarmed. “As you know, I’m an Auror. Once I got through the training I went back and started investigating your...disappearance from the Shack that night. I picked up on some clues that others must have missed.” Or that they didn’t follow up on. Harry had long had his suspicions about the rapidity with which Kingsley had dropped his search for Snape.

Snape’s expression gave nothing away. “And your investigation led you here?” He narrowed his eyes. “I thought I’d covered my tracks. I suppose this means I should expect random people to start showing up on my doorstep now?”

“Unlikely,” Harry said, lowering his hands. “You led me on a merry chase. Not many would be that determined to find someone who’s supposed to be dead.”

“Most people would have taken the hint,” Snape said, wand still pointed at Harry.

Harry shrugged. “Since when have I been like most people?”

“Indeed.” Snape sighed. “What do you want?”

“I told you. I just want to talk.”

“Let me guess,” Snape said, lowering his wand. “You’ve questions about your mother, about our friendship. Or perhaps about Albus.”

“For a long time those were my biggest questions, yes,” Harry admitted. “But the main question for me right now is why did you run?”

Snape’s eyes went flinty. “So you’re here to berate me for being a coward?”

“No!” Harry cried. “Bloody hell you’re tetchy! Actually, you should know that I defended you to the Wizengamot. I told them about all you’d done to bring down Voldemort and told them that you were one of the bravest men I’d ever known.”

“Oh?” Snape raised an eyebrow and the wand wavered for a moment. “And why would you do that?”

“Because I felt bad about not believing you once I saw your memories. Dumbledore told me to trust you and I--”

Snape rolled his eyes, sliding his wand into his pocket. “So you’re really here because you feel guilty about not trusting me when I went out of my way to ensure you wouldn’t? Grow up, Potter. You saw what you were meant to see.”

“I know.” Harry looked Snape up and down. “And now I’m seeing the real you. The person I got to know through your memories.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “My memories,” he murmured. “What exactly do you think you saw in my memories?”

“I know what I saw.” Harry smiled slowly. “I saw what happened with my mother and I saw how you felt about me. I can’t believe you managed to keep all that from Voldemort.”

“Occlumency was a necessity for all Voldemort’s...associates.” Snape looked away from Harry’s searching gaze. “As for what you believe you saw--”

“I told you. I know exactly what I saw,” Harry interrupted, moving closer. “You wanted me.”

“When I gave up those memories I thought I was dying. I was hardly in any shape to control the memories I passed on.” Snape looked uncomfortable.

“Well I’m glad I saw them.” Harry cleared his throat. Snape’s head had popped up and his stare was a bit unnerving. “In case you didn’t know, I had a rather large crush on the Half-Blood Prince. Basically, I wanted you, too, only I didn’t realise it. So may I come in so we can talk about this? I think it’s going to rain.”

“You may not come in,” Snape informed him. “I’m busy at the moment. Perhaps I’ll consider it some other time. Go away.”

Harry shook his head, tamping down his disappointment. He’d known Snape would be difficult. “Can’t we...negotiate?”

“Why should I?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “I know you. As soon as I leave I bet you’ll try to disappear again. No, I’m not going anywhere.”

Casting his gaze towards the overcast sky, Snape smirked. “Suit yourself. You’ll have to stay out there, however, since I’m brewing a rather...sensitive potion at the moment.”

Harry inhaled. “Potion? That smells like--”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter what you think I’m brewing. Since you claim to not be here in an official capacity, you have no legal right to enter my home. Stay if you like. Just be prepared to be rained on.”

Harry smiled. “Oh, I don’t mind that. There are worse things. I’ll wait.”

Snape sighed. “Do as you like. I shall be brewing for a while.” With that, he shut the door and Harry heard pots clanging.

Shaking his head, Harry sat on the bottom step and gazed out at the rolling hills that surrounded Snape’s cottage. He really had chosen an idyllic location to hide. No neighbours for miles, far from any cities. Yeah, I can see the appeal.

A fat drop of cold rain fell on his cheek and, tilting his head back towards the sky, Harry grinned. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Snape he didn’t mind waiting outside. Thunderstorms had always turned him on, and he loved getting wet in the rain. Back when he’d thought he’d liked girls, he’d once even tried to tempt Ginny into shagging outside during a storm. Since her bits didn’t especially interest me, though, that didn’t work too well.

It started to pour in earnest, and rather than put up a shield, Harry stretched out his legs and closed his eyes. In the distance he could hear thunder and he licked his lips as his cock swelled in his trousers.

He could hear Snape inside and, deciding that ‘a while’ would probably give him enough time to take care of his arousal, Harry slipped his hand into his robes, deftly undoing his flies and pulling out his prick.

The rain began falling steadily, the moisture making his stroking easier. Eyes at half mast, Harry imagined Snape coming up behind him, sitting down beside him, reaching over to encircle Harry’s fingers with his own long digits.

With a groan, Harry sped up his movement as the fantasy took hold. Snape had a habit of sliding his thumb over his lips when he was concentrating; Harry clearly recalled it from years of watching the man in and out of class. His fantasy Snape ran his thumb over the tip of Harry’s erection before raising the finger to his mouth and tasting Harry.

“Fuck,” Harry wheezed, speeding up his wanking even more. He was arching up into his fist, the thunder and lightning providing a counterpoint to his masturbating. So fucking close--

“What are you doing?” Snape’s growl was so close to his ear that it made Harry jump, his hand falling away from his cock. “Merlin, Potter. You’re such a...pervert.”

Swallowing hard, Harry began to cover up, until he glanced up to see Snape staring at his prick, a look of intense longing on his face. Harry’s breath stopped. “See something you like?” he whispered.

Snape’s throat worked. “You...we can’t possibly...”

“Why not?” Harry asked, deliberately reaching for his cock again. “Who’s going to see us? You picked a great, remote spot, perfect for it, really.”

There was a pause and then Snape was on him, batting his hand aside, grasping Harry’s prick firmly. Biting at his mouth, Snape snarled, “If this is some sort of experiment, Potter--”

Reaching up, Harry fisted a handful of Snape’s hair, tugging hard. “Snape? Just shut up and fuck me,” he bit out.

Snape shoved him onto the ground, and as they writhed together in Snape’s front yard, Harry felt as if the weather was reflecting his emotions. A whispered spell on Snape’s part Banished their clothes, and Snape’s hands were everywhere and so was the rain, slipping in between their bodies, making them wonderfully slick and wet.

Snape was biting at Harry’s shoulders, his neck, his jaw, and Harry gave as good as he got, arching up against him, urging him on with hands and his own teeth as he bit back.

The storm intensified and so did their movements. One of Snape’s hands was stroking their pricks, the other sliding between Harry’s legs towards his hole. After another whispered spell, that one for lubrication, Snape’s fingers were gliding inside Harry, preparing him.

“You’re tight,” Snape said, drawing back to look down into Harry’s face.

“It’s been a while.” Harry tightened his muscles, trying to pull Snape’s fingers deeper. “God--” Grabbing Snape’s hair and tugging hard, Harry panted into his neck. “More, dammit. I won’t break.”

Snape obliged, driving another finger deep into Harry, making him moan.

Opening his eyes, Harry saw the storm raging over their heads, lightning ripping across the sky, the driving rain making it almost impossible to see much else but Snape hovering above him. “Enough,” he gasped. “I’m ready. Fuck me.”

After settling Harry’s legs over his shoulders, Snape bent his head and, breathing hard, guided his cock into Harry, propelling himself firmly through the guardian ring of muscle. He paused briefly to allow Harry to adjust but Harry wasn’t having it.

“Fuck me!” Harry growled.

“Demanding,” Snape muttered, beginning to thrust, establishing a rough, perfect rhythm. His hand tangled in Harry’s hair as he moved and Harry shivered at the intent look on his face.

“God, we must be filthy,” Harry gasped, as mud squelched beneath him. He closed his eyes.

“A bit late to worry about that now,” Snape purred as his hips moved against Harry’s as his cock moved in and out in sure, languid strokes.

“At least the...rain should...wash off...the mud,” Harry panted, rotating his hips to pull Snape deeper. “Love the rain.”

“You do seem rather...enthusiastic about it,” Snape whispered as he sped up, his thrusting getting harder, more emphatic. Soon he was grunting, his rhythm faltering as he got close. Grasping Harry’s hips, he buried his face in Harry’s shoulder, biting down on it hard as he came shuddering.

Moments later, Harry bucked wildly, coming with a groan, his cock spurting come between their bodies.

And, as if responding to them, the rain slowed to a drizzle.

Raising his head, Snape stared down at Harry. “I suppose you think this means I should invite you in now.”

Harry grinned. “I wouldn’t say no.” He sniffed. “Is that your...potion I smell?”

“Beef stew,” Snape said, rolling off Harry to lie on his back and gaze up at the sky. He shook his head. “I knew you’d worm your way into my cottage eventually.”

“Well,” Harry said, sitting up and running covetous eyes over Snape. “You do have my clothes.”

Snape got to his feet. “And I suppose you want them returned.”

“Oh, we can...negotiate that,” Harry said.

“Indeed.” Snape smirked. “I look forward to that.”

So do I, Harry thought as he followed him inside. So do I.

~