InsaneJournal

[FIC] Our Now: Snape/Lily, Snape/Other
Originally posted here on 13 September 2007

Title: Our Now
Recipient: bewarethesmirk
Author:
Pairing: Snape/Lily, Snape/other, and Snape/Potter (kind of)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: het, m/m slash, teacher/student, dubious consent
Summary: Summer/Winter, Touchable/Untouched, Despised/Desired, Now/Then – sometimes opposites do not always exist in opposition. This fic (kind of) takes place when Severus Snape is a 7th year at Hogwarts.
A/N: hp_summersmut gift for bewarethesmirk, who requested crumbling resistance and something dirty, filthy, wrong with a twist of that's-so-right. I hope I nailed the right kind of "wrong"!


Our Now

***************************************

Severus Snape found himself again on all fours in his professor's office. He dug his fingers into the grit of the damp stone floor. Everywhere on his body it was rough, rough, rough – the wool robe rucked up under his knees, the rasp of beard and stubble against the nape of his neck, the grasp of strong hands on his balls, and the coarse rub of hair against his thighs. But his professor's cock slid smoothly in his body, splitting him effortlessly. With the slip and pull of sex-soaked skin, pain and pleasure slid effortlessly together. In the end it didn't matter that cumming left him neither blind nor breathless. For the rest of the day, Severus savored the slick stretch and ache of his arse, and the ghost of sweat and semen that had slipped beneath his school robes.

He had learned about many things from his teachers, knowledge passed across the immeasurable breach of his professor's desk. But the most important things he had learned would never be found on a test.

***************************************

The textbook in his field of vision was suddenly obscured by a white felt fedora.

"So tell me, why should I forgive you this time?"

Her tone was serious, but her face smiling. The winter light falling through the library windows illuminated the dark crimson of Lily's hair, and the book he had been pouring over was quickly forgotten.

"Forgive and forget" Severus replied in his own best mock-serious sotto voce. "I haven't forgotten, so there isn't anything for which you need to forgive me." He clicked his tongue derisively. "Have patience."

Severus received only a punch in the arm as his reply. But he grabbed that hand, and pulled her from the library. "Get your cloak. We are going to take a little walk."

Lily looked at him as if to ask if his mental faculties were still intact or if some grievous accident had befallen him over the winter hols – one too many experimental potions, or the like. Severus might reasonably wonder the same thing. Lily was again tucking up her hair beneath the odd Muggle fedora, a recent acquisition that grated on his nerves, but which he did his best to ignore on the basis of the thing so grandly called "Friendship". He felt the term friendship truly deserved its capital "F".

"Where are we going?"

"I told you I couldn't wrap this Christmas present," Severus griped, "but there really is one, so hurry up."

Outside, the air was stinging cold, even though the sun shone brightly on the fields of white snow. Any professor looking out the window could have seen two black cloaked figures sprinting into the forbidden forest like a pair of ravens. But most were still working off the generosity of Horace Slughorn and his cask of mulled mead, and so their escape was not interrupted.

"Wands out" Lily said as they moved into the shadow of the trees. But Severus already had his wand ready. They had explored the Forbidden Forest together before and had learned not to trust it, even in broad daylight. "So where is it that we are going, exactly?"

"You will see" Severus replied enigmatically, catching up her free hand with his as they passed a stand of holly, tugging her off the gamekeeper's path. They had to move slowly now, picking their way over moss and boulder, moving between the narrow shoulders of tall rock outcrops. Pools of snow dappled the ground where air and sunlight had pierced through the mix of bare-branched trees and somber pines. If there was a path Severus was following, Lily could not see it. But soon, he paused at the mouth of a narrow ravine where another clump of holly was pushing up against the outcrop of rock.

"In here" Severus said, his breath puffing white clouds in the bitter cold air. He pressed aside the low branches and shimmied through the gap. Lily stared for a moment after the place of her friend's disappearance before bracing herself against the prickling of the holly, and pushing her way through to the other side.

The gasp of surprise that left her mouth could not be seen, for here the air was not cold. It was as warm as an August afternoon. Tall trees arched up around a small clearing, their branching arms curved together like the ribs of an ancient chapel ceiling. Amazingly, every limb was bursting with living leaves. The moss was thick and spongy beneath her feet, and everywhere was green. Not the dull color of winter pines, but the brilliant green of growing things.

Laughing, she saw Severus had already dropped his snow-dusted cloak from his back, and she quickly followed suite. The warm air wrapped around her. A frost-white drift of flower petals hung on the breeze like the fall of a sweet-scented snow, and for a dizzying moment it seemed to be both summer and winter all at once.

"This is brilliant!" Lily exclaimed, twirling open-armed beneath the leafy canopy of their forest chapel.

"It's a true evergreen glade, where nothing ever dies. When I found it, I thought of you…" Severus stuttered a bit "that you would like it, I mean. Its always summer, even when school is in session."

Lily embraced Severus tightly. Pulled this close, Severus could see the dusting of faint freckles across her nose. Her cheeks were warm and rosy but her lips were still chapped with winter. Her green eyes, the same summer green of this growing glade, sparked with some untraceable combination of emotions. He thought she might be happy.

Most of the times, Severus could forget that Lily was a girl. He was comfortable around her in ways he was with no one else. But then she went and did strange things like this, hugging him unabashedly for no discernable purpose. It defied reason. Severus extracted himself from her arms, unnerved. To cover his embarrassment, he lay down in the embrace of the soft green moss.

"I told you." he mumbled. "Forgive and Forget. This time, I'll forgive you your doubts, believing that I forgot you. I never forget. Nor do I do anything that needs forgiving…or forgetting for that matter."

Lily's laughter rang like the peal of bells. Tipping back her head, she lost her white fedora, her hair tumbling loosely to her shoulders. Above, the tree branches stretched out, like hands meeting hands, holding up a bubble of summer and happiness beneath the distant winter sky.

***************************************

Very little fuss or ceremony accompanied these proceedings. Today was no different.

Severus had come to the office to ask for a pass to a Restricted Section for NEWT revision. His professor knew perfectly well that the text for which he was requesting access had been read by Severus many times before. The boy owned a copy of the book, after all. It was ironic, he supposed, that Severus paid lip service to that which was restricted only when it suited his pursuit of the truly forbidden. Then again, as an accomplice through inaction, if not actual deed, who was he to speak about the boy's underhanded cockiness?

Who was he to speak, indeed? Instead, the professor merely locked his office door, and pushed aside his robes. Severus knelt behind the desk, swallowing his professor's prick whole. A swirl of the tongue, and Severus' senses were filled with the smell and taste of his professors' body, the salt and musk that would be repugnant in every other way, but in this moment was intoxicating. From the first beads of milky fluid that leaked from the swollen tip, to the warm thick stream of satisfaction he worked to coax from his professor, Severus locked away every moment of taste and touch in his memory. And so, with his student sucking him off beneath the desk, the professor wrote the pass to the library's Restricted Section that Severus hadn't needed in the first place. Severus hadn't needed it, no, but he wanted it nonetheless.

***************************************

There were touches that meant passion and there were touches that meant pain. In Severus' experience, anyone who bothered to touch him could possibly mean both.

Yet pain did not always follow hand in hand with passion. His enemies did not have to touch him to hurt him. They certainly did not love him, but they did not hate him either, not really. He was a target to aim for, nothing more. Once they took his wand away, and cornered him four-on-one, he sometimes felt it would have hurt less if they had only deigned to lay hands on him.

"Oi! Snivellus!"

Why one of the niffler-brained nitwits always had to call him names while the other one tried to disarm him was a bit of a mystery to Severus. Better to use one's breath for actual curses, not simply cursing. But Potter had miscalculated this time, as he was, for once, all alone.

***************************************

Perhaps it was only his imagination, this feeling of eyes on his back as he left the Great Hall. Not his professor's eyes, certainly. Severus wasn't certain how long ago had he had become "his" professor in his mind. But this proprietary feeling, this unbalanced play of power, had been left behind in recent days for newer games. Nor was it the feeling of being followed by the eyes of his nemesis, the four-eyed cocky bastard. Those eyes had gone out before, their animosity drained and filled with a foreign volition. No, the eyes Severus worried about were a certain shade of brilliant green. He feared that they followed him, putting together the newest clues. After all, where Potter had gone, Severus was soon to follow.

They did not meet in a quiet corner of the castle. Quiet, seemingly private places were often the best watched. Near here, in this forgotten nook crammed between the staircase and the courtyard wall, a parade of feet tramped to and from the Great Hall. Yet no one saw Severus, for none had the will to see what was in front of them. Funny thing, one's will. Magic was all about volition, and bending reality to one's desires. And without that will, none who passed by suspected what despised acts of desire took place just inches away.

Inch by inch, old walls crumbled. Pinned against unrelenting stone, the other boy had little choice. But neither did he cry out for help. Who could say what is willing, when one's will is not exactly one's own? His hands threaded through messy black hair, Severus fumbled a bit, pushing against the taunt body pinned between himself and the wall. He knew he was scraping Potter's half-hard groin against the cold stone, but he didn't care. His own cock burned with eagerness, and it felt like a delirious heaven to finally pop past the resisting skin, and slip into the softness of his enemy's body. Inch by inch, he pushed into Potter's tight ass – deliberate and slow, breaking him open with unaccustomed gentleness.

Inch by inch, the resistance of each boy crumbled. The hard line of Potter's back melted, and he clung to the stone wall with desperation. Sweat bathed his flushed cheeks, and his slowly fisted prick wept a bit with each deep-seated push. Severus was ball-deep, caught in the tight and twitching flesh of his most hated foe. His slow push forward dissolved into a wave of compulsive thrusts, each more erratic than the last. When he came, pinning Potter hard against the wall, for a moment he too felt pinned -- weighted down with the singular force of the sensation. Erratic, erotic, ecstatic -- it wasn't quite perfection, but the sense of all things being now held him upright in the moment, even as Potter squirmed against the cold stone.

Inch by inch, disdain returned. Severus refused to look at the eyes behind the glasses, to see if he would be met by anger or spell-addled desire. Slow to build and quick to spend, such ardor cools quicker than the slow seep and drying veins of cum which trickled even now across Potter's skin. Severus left his human toy behind, slumped in a puddle of robes at the foot of the wall.

A low rumble of happy chatter from the Great Hall followed Severus to the dungeon door. Perhaps this would be the last time. It was a risk to keep this spell going, to keep Potter bound to his wishes, anger bound in unwilling desire. But Severus was bound up in ways of his own. He felt for a moment as if there were still eyes upon him. He looked around, but there was no one there to see him, and so, Severus slipped away.

***************************************

They had escaped again to their little piece of summer in the middle of the school year. The glade in the Forbidden Forest had become a favorite haunt. Lily was still dressed in her weekend clothing, that odd mix of Muggle and Wizarding wear she had begun to affect in recent years whenever she did not have to wear school uniforms. She wore a man's tweed robe, boxy and wide in the shoulders, with the starched collar of her shirt turned up and her silk cravat hanging loose and undone. The elastic braces of her Muggle trousers were slipped off her shoulders and left to hang across her hips. Her hair was tucked up under the now ubiquitous white fedora, and her green eyes were ringed in the garish black kohl of a Muggle mannequin -- a slap in the face of feminine perfection. It was odd, outlandish, and distinctly Lily. Severus looked like a nun in comparison.

Having talked themselves past the extent of their normal subjects; of Potions, and new hexes, and the unremitting idiocy of their peers; they sat shoulder to shoulder in silence for a time.

Lily lifted her arms above her head, craning her neck against the trunk of the tree. Stretching her fingers out, she could almost fit her hands over the shapes made by the branches above them.

"Remember that poem, Sev?" she asked, "the one that starts 'now all the fingers of this tree have hands…"

Severus nodded, the gentle movement translating through the touch of their bodies.

Lily softly recited the verse:

"now all the fingers of this tree (darling) have

hands, and all the hands have people; and

more each particular person is (my love)

alive than every world can understand

and now you are and I am

now and we're

a mystery which will never

happen again,

a miracle which has never

happened before-

and shining this our now

must come to then"

She paused, dropping her hands to her lap, laughing softly. "I forget the rest."

Severus thought a moment, then quoted softly:

"our then shall be some

darkness during which

fingers are without hands;

and I have no

you: and all trees are (any more than each

leafless) its silent in forevering snow"

The words of the poem, soft spoken, were accompanied only by the soft rise and fall of Lily's breath. When he paused for too long, she swatted him gently. "There's more. You left off the end of the poem, I know you did."

"No I didn't!" Severus protested.

Lily laughed, and pushed him over. "Don't lie to me."

"As if I would ever," Severus exclaimed in mock horror.

Grinning slyly, Lily pounced on him, sitting on his stomach. And with a grand tip of her hat, puffing out her chest in the manner of pontificating old men, she declaimed:

"-but never fear (my own, my beautiful

my blossoming)…"

Freeing his pinned hand, Severus poked her in the belly, deflating her poetry into giggles. Laughing, she subsided, sliding down on the moss beside him, their limbs entangled.

"e.e cummings, one of my favorite poets" Severus drawled.

"You just like to say cumming" Lily retorted.

Severus smiled impishly. "I like cumming, full stop."

Turning to face her friend, their noses inches apart, Lily seemed to chose her words carefully before speaking. "Is it worth it then? Is what you get in the end worth the risk?"

Severus froze. Their joking line of conversation had somehow gone quite awry.

"Don't give me that look. You know what I am talking about." Severus squirmed, as if to get away, but Lily didn't let him move an inch, restraining him with the mere touch of her hand and the weight of her frankly assessing gaze. "I don't know everything you do, and I surely don't understand why you do it. But don't think I am stupid."

Severus felt sure that if she knew all that he really did do, she would not be speaking with him now, tangled in their bed of summer moss. She would hate him, hate him because as smart a girl as she was there were the fine distinctions of certain feelings she just did not understand. Nevertheless, Severus' mind was sluggish in the wake of this uncertain fear. "I don't think you are stupid" he replied cautiously. "Stupid, no. Unsubtle, certainly."

"Unsubtle! You could get in so much trouble! No matter who he is, now matter how powerful, you can't be caught making love to a professor."

The fear that had stirred briefly was for nothing, and Severus pushed aside the memory of his even more risky encounters. "It has nothing to do with love" he snapped.

"Then what does it have to do with?"

"Sex, pure and simple."

Lily frowned, her freckles bunching up as her nose wrinkled in frustration. "Sex is not simple."

"Isn't it? Its desire, nothing more. " Severus retorted. "What do you know, anyway?"

Lily sat up again, untangling her arms from his. "Perhaps more than you!" With a swift pounce, she slid astride his body. "Have you ever even touched a girl?" she asked scathingly.

Severus could barely comprehend that Lily, his friend, was touching him the way she was now. Her hands, slender, clever things, were slithering down his chest. They popped open button after button, until his chest lay exposed to the summer air and winter sun. His nipples prickled under her finger, a soft swelling that was echoed quickly in his groin. She leaned forward, and the soft curve of her breasts brushed his skin through the starched linen of her shirt. For a mad moment, he imagined that the silken whisper of her cravat against his chest was really the touch of her skin against his. In that moment, he longed for nothing more that to toss her over and bury his face in tiny slope of those breasts, licking a path down the warm fields of her skin. But he found himself incapable of doing any such thing. His hands tangled in the loose braces of her trousers, his legs lay swaddled in the skirt of his own robes. Trapped between her thighs, he was helpless to hide the hardening evidence of his desire.

Wickedly aware of Severus' discomfort, she drew her body out along his own. Planting one arm firmly on the ground and sneaking the other down to cup his ass, she rocked her groin against his. The clothed heat of her flesh was soft against his chafing prick. In some remote corner of his own consciousness, Severus was horrified how eagerly his hips bucked up against her own. But his reason was overthrown; sensation ruled his body. Covered in the boxy pleats of her tweed robe, shaded by the wings of her shirt collar and brim of her hat, Severus' world suddenly contracted to the touch of her hands, and the sliding of clothes over desire-swollen skin, and the sight of brilliant green eyes ringed with dirty kohl. This close, her gaze sparked with some untraceable combination of emotions. "Desire, pure and simple?" she hissed in his ear.

Her lips, still chapped with winter, brushed against the skin of his neck with the barest nip of teeth. It was too much too soon, and with a gasp he came, spilling into the sticky confines of his own monkish robes.

Lily sat up, straitening her collar and silk cravat. It took a moment for Severus to realize that the look on her face could be interpreted as one of disdain. "Was that all for me" she asked softly, "or was it just for a moment that you forgot I wasn't another man?"

Thoroughly addled, Severus could not even begin to come up with a reply. He could only watch as she re-settled the shoulders of her boxy robes, her hair tucked up under the white fedora, and she stepped out of their glade, leaving behind their shared place, their little piece of summer in which nothing ever dies. He did not even begin to know how he had made her that angry, if she was even angry at all. One moment all was well, and then all was not.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment, a false snatch of memory blew through his thoughts, feeling as foreign as a summer breeze beneath a winter sky: a warm mouth wrapped around his cock, his hands buried in messy black hair, but this time behind the glasses was a flash of green eyes, sparking with a passion. If it was pain or pleasure, anger or desire, love or hate that illuminated such a searing glance, Severus was uncertain. There were things he still had to learn, things he had apparently not learned well enough stretched across the immeasurable breach of his professor's desk.

***************************************

Harry Potter found himself again on all fours in his professor's office. He dug his fingers into the grit of the damp stone floor. When finally released from the grip of Legilimensy, it always felt like this, this revelation of: This is now. Here I am. I am here.

"Now" and "Then" were becoming increasingly fluid concepts.

Harry glared hard at Snape, who stood unreachable behind his professor's desk. He longed to strike out with him, with his fists if not his magic -- anything to really touch that implacable, cold, utterly untouchable man. Sometimes he felt that somehow it would hurt less if only Snape didn't act like he was too insignificant to even lay hands on, if he would only deign to hate Harry with the same passion Harry hated him. Harry truly hated Snape, hated him beyond hate, with something that felt like…