Fest fic: Truths Title: Truths Author:suemonroe Beta:rakina Word Count: 6042 (yes, yes, I know. I am far too wordy.) Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Harry/Severus Prompt: #55 Teacher/Student scenario. Some sexual flirtation and teasing in class, clandestine of course, UST till end. Warnings: DH spoilers Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling and not me.
The Dark Lord was dead, fallen at the hands of the child he’d tried to murder sixteen years before. Even though it had been only a few months since their 'Chosen One' had fulfilled his destiny, most of the Wizarding world had already forgotten the war. Or if not forgotten, then buried deeply. They happily went back to their little lives and little concerns, neglecting the one who’d freed them.
Oh, Potter had had parades in his honor, an Order of Merlin for his mantle, and on the occasions the boy went out, hearty slaps on the back and free drinks. But they didn’t notice what the war had cost the boy. They never saw past the charming mask Potter wore, the mask that grew stronger and yet more brittle each day. They didn’t want to see, were happier pretending that darkness hadn’t nearly consumed their world. And but for the strength and determination of a seventeen-year-old boy, it would have.
They didn’t see Potter’s slow, quiet withdrawal. They didn’t see him distancing himself from his friends; didn’t notice his sudden studious bent, or the calm maturity he’d developed. But Severus did.
He’d watched the boy for seven long years now. He knew Potter’s habits, his mannerisms. From the way the boy bit his bottom lip when he was unsure, to the hand run though untidy hair when he was nervous. The quirky one-sided smile when something amused him, to the full out belly laugh when he was delighted with something.
Severus had made something of a habit of watching Potter. It had started as a necessity. To keep the boy safe. Though Potter didn’t know it, Severus had even watched him on his Horcrux hunt. But over the last year or so, it had become something more. Something Severus hadn’t dared label or analyze while the Dark Lord lived. But the Dark Lord was dead, and still Severus watched Potter.
Albus was dead as well. As were Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and too many others to name. And while Severus had hardened himself to death long ago, each victim of the Dark Lord’s madness seemed to weigh heavily on Potter. Severus had the feeling Potter would have even mourned Severus’ own death, had Severus not survived thanks to his skill with potions.
Granger and Weasley still followed wherever Potter led, but they were too wrapped up in each other to notice the rift growing between Potter and the world. The youngest Weasley had noticed, but instead of trying to discover the cause, or help, she simply drifted away, into Longbottom’s arms.
And because he’d watched, because he knew Potter, Severus understood what the boy needed. What he didn’t know was if he could offer it. Severus hadn’t opened himself to another person since the boy’s mother, and the friendship he’d had with Lily Evans wasn’t what her son needed. Potter needed far more than that: unconditional acceptance, understanding, and affection where what he needed. He needed someone to be there for him, someone who wouldn’t give up when things got rough. The boy was too old and independent to need a parental figure; no, Potter needed a companion, a partner… a lover.
Looking over the blind, uncomplicated children before him, Severus wondered where Potter would find what he needed. Not among these brats. His eyes landed on Potter only to see the boy once again lost in his own thoughts, the verdant eyes far from the Potions text open in front of him. Potter bit down on his lush lower lip, and Severus was suddenly glad he didn't have a parental bone in his body.
From his seat in the back of the Potions' classroom, Harry pushed away his textbook and looked over the mix of students instead. Several members of his class had returned to Hogwarts to either finish or take their seventh year. Headmistress McGonagall and the Board of Governors had decided to simply combine his year with the current seventh years, making for a slightly larger class. Sadly, it wasn't as large as it should have been. Too many had died.
Being back at Hogwarts was both comforting and heart-wrenching. The familiarity of the school soothed him. The physical damage to the school had been quickly repaired, but Harry still saw the shattered stones and fallen bodies. He figured he always would. No one else seemed to feel the same way. It seemed that everyone around him had pushed aside the war and plunged determinedly into normality.
Harry often wondered if that was the root of his problem, he'd never known normality so maybe that was why he felt so adrift, so lost. Everything had changed, and nothing had changed. Dumbledore was gone. Remus – and with him Harry's last link to his father – was gone. Gred-and-Forge was gone, and only George was left behind. The last time Harry had seen George the other man's forced gaiety had been more painful to witness than his ravaging grief at Fred's funeral. The Slytherins were still universally despised, despite the ones that had stayed and defended Hogwarts. Hagrid had repaired his hut and was still finding new 'misunderstood creatures' to tend. Trelawney still drifted about in a cloud of sherry fumes, Flitwick had remained cheerful and even McGonagall with all her new responsibility still found time to watch over Gryffindor House.
Movement across the aisle caught his attention, and Harry looked up to see Snape patrolling the classroom. Even Snape had changed. Gone were the unfair detentions and malicious put-downs, though part of it could be that any student who'd been here for Snape's term as headmaster had a tendency to tiptoe around the man.
Harry himself had come to terms with his feelings for Snape. He'd forgiven Snape for telling Voldemort the prophecy. Snape had been young, barely older than Harry was now, he'd made a mistake. It was obvious from Snape's memories the older man regretted his actions. That Snape had at one point been a willing, eager Death Eater was even easier to accept. Harry too knew the pain and loneliness of a lousy childhood. Harry couldn't help thinking that if things had been different he might have made the same choice Snape did.
No forgiveness was needed for Dumbledore's death. Harry had his own share of guilt in that event. Though he understood Dumbledore's reasons for everything he'd done, Harry didn't know if he'd ever forgive the old man.
His mind was rudely jerked from his ruminations as his vision suddenly went dark. Startled, Harry looked up, straight into Snape's eyes.
“Daydreaming in my class, Mr. Potter?” Snape drawled as he cocked an eyebrow. “Am I to presume you have an adequate understanding of today's potion?”
Biting his bottom lip, Harry glanced down at the open page. Luckily, he did know the potion, a powerful painkilling draught Hermione had taught him to brew for his headaches. “Yes, sir, I know it,” Harry said on a relieved sigh.
The other brow joined the first. “Then you won't mind if I watch you.”
It wasn't a question. Harry noticed that everyone else had put away their notes and taken out their cauldrons; he wondered what else he'd missed while lost in his thoughts.
Quickly he set up his cauldron and prepared his ingredients, all under Snape's unceasing regard. The corner of his mouth twitched but Harry quickly suppressed the smile that wanted to escape. He'd learned to brew this potion while it felt like his head was going to explode; Snape wasn't going to fluster him.
Everything was going well, until Snape moved around the worktable and stood behind Harry, staring over his shoulder. Not being able to see Snape, but knowing he was there was worrying. Harry nervously ran a hand through his hair, and tried to concentrate on the potion. Glancing at the next instruction, Harry groaned softly. He'd never really learned the knack of the odd twisting stir the potion needed. And Snape was sure to criticize.
Harry tried to hold the stirring rod at the angle Hermione had shown him, but it was awkward and uncomfortable. A moment later, as he’d predicted, Snape’s low voice rumbled in his ears. “Ignorant boy, you’re doing it wrong.”
Snape stepped so close that Harry could feel his body heat. As he was surrounded by yards of black cloth, Harry’s breath caught. A strong hand covered his as Snape adjusted his grip and still holding Harry’s hand, demonstrated the proper technique.
Body tense, Harry tried desperately to pay attention to what Snape was doing, but his entire being was focused on the man surrounding him. Snape’s hold on him was surprisingly gentle, not the rough, impatient grip Harry would have expected, had he ever given any thought to Snape holding him. As Harry drew in a shaky breath, he caught Snape’s scent. It was clean and sharp, like rain, not the bitter smell Harry had been expecting.
Without knowing why, Harry found himself relaxing. Snape continued to guide his hand to a slow, even tempo. It was almost hypnotic. It was only when he became aware that the beat he’d thought was in his head was actually Snape’s heartbeat that Harry realized he’d leaned back and was resting against Snape’s chest.
Quickly straightening, Harry spluttered, “I’m sorry.”
Snape completed the last of the ten required strokes and then released Harry. Harry was sure he must have imagined Snape’s fingers caressing his hand as Snape pulled away. Snape was so close that his hair tickled the side of Harry’s neck as Snape leaned down and whispered, “Don’t be.” And then the warmth was gone, leaving Harry more chilled than he could explain.
Harry kept his eyes glued to his cauldron for the rest of the class, but his thoughts were full of Snape. What had the man meant by ‘don’t be’? Don’t be sorry obviously, but why not? It was like Snape had wanted Harry to lean on him. Upon further consideration, Harry didn’t know that he’d ever seen Snape touch a student before… hell, or another human being for that matter. What was he playing at? And why had it affected Harry so much?
Snape eventually dismissed the class, and Harry couldn’t resist a glance at the front of the room as he packed up. The black eyes meet his, and Harry couldn’t decipher the look in them. It wasn’t one he’d ever seen directed his way before, but it didn’t seem angry. Frowning, Harry went to the Great Hall for dinner.
%%%
The incident stayed on Harry’s mind all weekend. He tried to surreptitiously watch Snape at meals, but Snape caught his eyes every time, and suddenly Harry couldn’t meet Snape’s gaze anymore. The look in them caused an unfamiliar tingling in Harry’s stomach and chest.
There wasn’t anyone he could talk to about it. It was just too weird. Harry could imagine that conversation: Hey, Hermione, Snape keeps watching me, and he touched me in class. Right, that made him sound like a nutter. The only reassuring point in the whole situation was that whatever Snape was up to, it didn’t strike Harry as dangerous. Strange, but not threatening.
On Monday, Harry didn’t have a class after lunch so he went flying. He didn’t mind not being on the team, but he missed flying. The Pitch was empty when Harry ducked into the changing room. Coming back outside, he got a running start and leapt onto his broom. He flew straight up. Higher than the goals, higher than the stands, higher and higher until the wind made his eyes water.
Harry wished he could keep flying until he was above all of his regrets and worries. But he’d learned he could never outdistance them, and it was little use to try. He’d had to accept his own death in order to defeat Voldemort, he didn’t know how or why he’d lived after that, but he had. And that was worth whatever problems living brought with it.
Abruptly stopping his broom and pointing it downwards, Harry pushed all of his concerns aside momentarily and shot downward. Enjoying the freedom, Harry pulled up only seconds from a painful impact with the ground and twisted around the goalposts. Ducking under the Hufflepuff banner, Harry determined the outlines of a makeshift obstacle course and set out to push his limits. Exhaustion helped him sleep at night.
On his third pass Harry noticed a dark blur sitting in the Slytherin stands. Stopping his broom on the opposite side of the stadium, Harry wasn’t surprised to see Snape. Over the last few days, Harry had come to expect Snape to show up in odd places. Like the library when Harry was studying, in the kitchen when Harry stopped in to beg food from the house-elves. No matter where he went, Snape was there, watching.
Snape never said anything, so Harry didn’t think the other man was trying to catch him doing something, but with Snape you could never tell. Tired of wondering what Snape was up to, Harry reminded himself he was a Gryffindor and flew across the field. Hovering in front of the black-clad form, Harry said, “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Snape arched a brow. His dark eyes dropped to Harry’s feet and made a slow trip up Harry’s body until they once again locked on Harry’s face. Suddenly Harry realized how sweaty he was. His hair was plastered to his head; his Quidditch robe clung to his body and legs, clearly showing he didn’t have any trousers on under it. “I don’t recall accusing you of anything, Potter,” Snape drawled coolly.
Frustrated with whatever game Snape was playing, Harry asked bluntly, “Why do you keep watching me?”
Leaning back against the seat, Snape crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you keep watching me?” Snape rebutted.
It was all Harry could do not to growl audibly. Trust Snape not to answer a direct question. “Because you touched me in class,” Harry bit out.
“And you watch everyone who touches you? Strange, I seem to recall you ignoring several of your classmates when they paw at you.”
Harry flushed; he knew what Snape was referring too. Lavender and Padma had taken to ruffling his hair or trying to grab his hand in the hall. Harry didn’t know how to get them to stop, so he just ignored them. “That’s different,” he muttered.
Snape smirked. “I’m gratified you notice the difference between myself and Miss Brown.”
Knowing he’d never win by verbally sparring with Snape, Harry sighed. “For once, will you just tell me what’s going on?” He met Snape’s black eyes unflinchingly. “Please.”
“You interest me,” Snape said simply.
Harry frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” It was only after the words were out of his mouth that Harry realized he’d cursed in front of a professor.
But Snape didn’t take points. Instead he leaned forward, reached out and tucked a wind-blown lock of hair behind Harry’s ear. Snape trailed the back of his hand over Harry’s cheek in what could be called nothing but a caress. “Think about it, Harry.”
And then he rose to his feet and left Harry staring after him as he exited the stands. Unconsciously Harry floated down and found Snape at the base of the box. Throwing his leg over the broom, Harry dismounted and walked over to where Snape stood. He opened his mouth to ask more questions when Snape stopped him by pressing a finger to Harry’s lips. “Think about it,” Snape repeated firmly. Snape briefly traced Harry’s bottom lip and then in a swirl of black fabric, he was gone.
Harry stood dumbly for several moments watching Snape’s long legs eat up the distance to the castle. When he could think again, Harry gathered up his broom and followed Snape’s path. On the walk back to the dorm Harry tried to figure out what had just happened. Had Snape really just come on to him? And why wasn’t Harry disgusted by the notion?
%%%
Harry spent the next couple of days thinking about Snape. Given his new preoccupation, Harry was glad his classes weren’t demanding. He still wasn’t sure where Snape was trying to take him, but for the first time since the war ended, Harry spent more time thinking about the present than the past. More than that, he was actually anticipating something. And he couldn’t deny Snape had always intrigued him. He’d spent most of his sixth year wrapped up in the Half-Blood Prince after all.
It had taken a major shift of his thoughts to see Snape as something other than a teacher. But Harry was fairly used to life-shaking developments, and as developments went, this one wasn’t that bad. So he’d wait and see where it went.
And so the next time he saw Snape, Harry was a little more prepared. He’d been walking down the hall from the library when a hand shot out and pulled him into a covered alcove. The single torch put out enough light for Harry to make out Snape’s face as the older man pushed him against the wall. “What are you doing?” he demanded breathlessly.
“Giving you something to think about,” Snape growled.
Harry didn’t have time to wonder what Snape meant. The mouth that had so often berated him was suddenly pressed against his. Snape’s tongue traced along the seam of Harry’s lips asking for admission, Harry hesitated, but when he felt Snape begin to withdraw, opened his mouth.
Harry didn’t know what to expect. He’d never kissed a man before, until quite recently had never even considered it. When Snape’s tongue pushed into his mouth and tangled with his own, Harry briefly cursed himself for not trying this before. Then he was lost in the kiss and didn’t have the capacity for thought, not with the sensations overtaking him.
Here was the passion he’d been looking for. With the girls he’d kissed, Harry was always more concerned if he was doing it right. Now all he could think of was getting closer. Rising up on his toes, Harry slid his arms around Snape’s neck and held on. Snape’s left arm went around Harry’s waist and pulled him tightly against the dark robes and the body beneath them. The right cupped Harry’s skull tenderly. Long fingers tangled in Harry’s hair. Snape broke the kiss with a gentle nip and then tilted Harry’s head back.
Before Harry could regain his breath, Snape was kissing along his jaw and up to his ear. “Have you been thinking, Mr. Potter?” Snape punctuated his whispered question by sucking Harry’s earlobe into his mouth.
After a moment, Harry remembered how to speak. “Yes. I … uh…” Snape bit down softly and Harry whimpered. “I can’t think when you do that,” he spluttered.
He felt more than heard Snape’s dark chuckle. Releasing Harry’s ear, Snape dropped another kiss on Harry’s lips. “We can’t have that, now can we,” he mocked.
Harry didn’t bother to hide his twitching lips. Snape’s snide remarks pricked Harry’s pride less when they were pressed against each other. Shifting his hips to try to relieve some of the pressure on his aching cock, Harry nearly jumped when he brushed against Snape’s equally hard erection. His eyes flew down, but he couldn’t see anything because of Snape’s voluminous robes.
Snape’s hands slid to Harry’s hips and gently put some distance between them. Catching Harry’s questioning expression, Snape simply shook his head. “Have you come to any conclusions, Harry?” Snape questioned softly.
“Yes. No.” Harry was still thinking about Snape’s cock. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know… I never… didn’t expect this.” Harry was grateful when Snape shut him up by kissing him again.
By the time Snape lifted his head, Harry was sure he’d never look at a girl again. Of course he’d probably never walk again either. It seemed Snape shared his predicament, because the older man buried his face in Harry’s hair and Harry could feel the tension in Snape’s muscles.
Eventually, they both calmed. Snape drew back and looked down at Harry. His dark eyes were warm. And then the unbelievable happened. Snape smiled. A smug, satisfied, smirking kind of smile, but still the first one Harry had ever seen. “I trust I’ve given you sufficient fodder for further thought?” Snape drawled silkily.
Nodding, Harry didn’t even attempt to speak. Who knew what stupid thing would come out of his mouth. Most of his blood was still in his lap.
“Good. I shall be brewing for the remainder of the day, so I will see you in class tomorrow,” Snape commented, and then with a tender squeeze to Harry’s neck, Snape propelled Harry back into the hall.
%%%
Anticipating Potions, Harry barely noticed the small brown owl landing in his plate at lunch. He absentmindedly untied the scroll and shooed the owl on its way with a bit of chicken from his sandwich. Opening the letter without looking at the address on the outside, Harry wasn’t prepared for the contents.
Teddy Lupin was sick. They had caught the Dragon Pox early, so luck was in their favor, Andromeda wrote. But Harry couldn’t trust luck – it had backfired on him one too many times. With the letter gripped tightly in his hand, Harry shoved away from the table and headed for the doors. Ignoring the questions from his friends and the angry mutters from the people he pushed aside in his haste, Harry’s only thought was to be there for Teddy. No one had ever been there when Harry was sick, and though he knew Andromeda would move heaven and earth for Teddy, he needed to be there too.
He was pulling open the heavy front doors when a hand caught his arm and spun him around. His wand flew to his hand and a curse was on his lips when he realized it was Snape. He pocketed the wand and tried to shake off Snape’s restraining hand.
“Potter, Harry! What was in the letter?”
His first instinct was to tell Snape to go and jump in the lake. Just because they’d snogged didn’t give Snape the right to ask about his mail. But then Harry caught a glimpse of Snape’s eyes, and what he saw in them gave him pause. Snape was concerned. He wasn’t simply being nosey or domineering.
Silently Harry handed Snape the crumpled letter. Snape’s grip loosened, became more of a reassuring touch than a restraint. His black eyes rapidly scanned the parchment; when he’d reached the end, he gave Harry’s arm a squeeze and then let go. “If you give me a moment to collect a potion, I will accompany you.”
Eyes wide in shock Harry stared mutely at Snape. “Why?” Harry croaked.
“You should not have to face this alone,” Snape said softly. “I would like to help.”
Harry closed his eyes. He could understand Snape wanting to kiss him, sort of. Even that for some strange reason Snape was attracted to him, but this… kindness? Harry had no defenses against it.
When he opened his eyes again, Snape was patiently waiting for a response, a concerned frown on his normally blank face. Harry licked his lips. “I’d… I’d like that.”
Snape raised his hand and tentatively ran his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I’ll just be a moment.” He was halfway down the hall when he turned back to Harry. “I will not promise that everything will be okay. But I will promise to be at your side.”
Harry never doubted him.
%%%
Teddy, thanks in large part to Snape’s potions, made a complete recovery. And Snape, true to his word, had stayed with Harry. He’d stayed through the fevers, the vomiting, and Andromeda’s breakdown. And when they’d returned to Hogwarts, Snape had sent an exhausted Harry to his bed with a goofy grin and kiss-reddened lips.
That had been a month ago. Since then, Snape would talk with him, in fact he created opportunities for them to talk. He would kiss Harry often, and thoroughly. But every time Harry tried to take it further than kisses, Snape would shake his head and say not yet.
Thus far Harry had followed Snape’s lead, even when he didn’t understand the man’s reasons. He was tired of waiting, and he had a plan. Considering he was dealing with Snape, he also had a back-up plan. With his Invisibility Cloak around him, Harry headed for the dungeons. He’d never actually been in Snape’s rooms, but thanks to the Marauder’s Map, he knew where they were. He only made one wrong turn in the dungeon corridors before he arrived at Snape’s door. Pulling his wand, Harry put to use everything he’d learned about slipping past wards.
Half-an-hour later, Harry was tempted to simply blast the door down. Obviously Professor Flitwick hadn’t anticipated Snape’s wards when he’d shown them his sure-fire ward evasion charms; because Snape’s wards threw back everything Harry hit them with. Sometimes quite literally.
Frustrated, Harry threw off his cloak and kicked the door.
“Potter, kindly stop abusing my door.”
Harry whirled around and faced Snape. “Exactly how paranoid are you?” he demanded petulantly.
Snape snorted. “Apparently more than enough to keep wayward young men out of my chambers.”
Harry glared even though his lips twitched. Lately he’d found Snape’s sarcasm amusing, the difference between the Snape he’d thought he knew and hated and the reality of the man was amazing. Not long ago Snape would have verbally skewered him for attempting to break his wards, and then taken points followed by a torturous detention.
But now Snape simply rolled his eyes, brushed past Harry and laid his hand on the door. A moment later the door swung open. “Passwords can be guessed. My wards only open at my touch.” Snape’s voice dropped to a velvety tone on the last two words.
Stepping back, Snape gestured for Harry to precede him. Stepping into Snape’s rooms, Harry looked around. It was surprisingly normal. The color-scheme was a little heavy on the green, but overall it was nice. A messy, parchment-covered desk lurked in the corner; the walls were lined with bookshelves. A plush green brocade sofa sat in front of the fireplace.
Closing the door behind him, Snape leaned against it and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to tell me why you were trying to break into my chambers?”
Harry dropped his cloak over the back of the sofa and sighed. “Well, I was going to strip down and wait for you in bed.” Running a hand through his hair Harry avoided Snape’s penetrating gaze and muttered, “I thought you mightn’t be as likely to turn me away then.”
“Harry, look at me.”
Slowly Harry raised his eyes… Snape was shaking his head again. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, not again!” Harry snapped. “Why won’t you fuck me?”
“I have no intention of ‘fucking’ you, Potter.”
If felt like he’d just taken a Bludger to the stomach. Hurt, angry, and very confused, Harry squared his shoulders, he’d find out what was going on and this time he wouldn’t let Snape put him off. “Then what’s this all been about?” he demanded. “You’ll kiss me, talk with me, but won’t have sex with me.” Though he was blushing hard enough to light the room, Harry held his ground.
Snape shook his head again. “You misunderstood me, Harry. I never said I wouldn’t have sex with you.”
“Then explain it for me, Severus,” Harry snapped.
Crossing the room, Snape stopped arms' length from Harry. “'Fucking' is what a person does when they don’t care. That is not the case here.” He reached out to touch Harry, and then hesitated. “That will never be the case with me.” His hand dropped. “Though if that is all you want… I understand.”
Harry’s heart soared. He’d learned a lot about Snape in the last month. The most important lesson was to listen to what Snape didn’t say. And what he didn’t hear now meant the world to him.
He took a step closer to Snape and laid his hand on the man's chest. “What do you call it when you do care?” he asked softly.
Snape took the hand on his chest and raised it to his lips. Pressing a soft kiss to the palm of Harry’s hand, he murmured, “Words are inadequate. Come, let me show you.” He tugged Harry’s hand and Harry followed willingly.
Inside Snape’s bedroom Harry didn’t bother looking around. The only thing in this room he was interested in was Snape. The look in the other man’s eyes told Harry that Snape felt the same way. “I don’t know what to do,” Harry said honestly.
“Relax,” Snape instructed. He used the hand he still held to pull Harry into his arms. Leaning down he mouthed Harry’s jaw, behind his ear. “Follow your instincts,” he breathed in Harry’s ear making Harry shiver. “Have they led you wrong before?”
Wrapping his arms around Snape’s neck and rising on his toes, Harry whispered against Snape’s mouth, “No.”
Snape dipped his head and pressed their lips together. Snape’s tongue swept into Harry’s mouth and thrust against his.
Tangling his tongue with the older man’s, Harry felt Snape’s hands trail down his back until they cupped his arse. Harry growled and shifted his hips only to gasp a moment later as he was suddenly lifted off his feet. The other man lifted his head and smiled softly. “I won’t let you fall,” Severus promised.
Laying Harry tenderly on the bed, Snape kissed him breathless. When the older man released him and straightened, Harry said, “I know you won’t.”
Snape kissed him again and then stood. Harry was treated to the sight of Snape’s surprisingly broad shoulders, a well-built chest, and a trim waist, as Snape quickly shucked his shirt. And then his sight was filled by Snape’s face. Giving himself up to the drugging kiss, Harry barely noticed when Snape smoothly unbuttoned his shirt.
As Harry was stripped, Snape lavished gentle nips and sucking kisses to the newly revealed flesh. Completely nude, Harry fought not to squirm as those hot, black eyes slowly surveyed his body. “You are exquisite” Snape said reverently.
Cursing his tendency to blush, Harry wrinkled his nose. “Less flattery, more stripping.”
Snape chuckled. “We’ll get to that,” he promised darkly. Stretching out beside Harry, Snape pulled him into his arms. Once he had him where he wanted him, Snape ran a hand down Harry’s side from shoulder to arse. Harry shivered under the touch and thrust his aching cock against Snape’s trouser covered leg.
Determined not to lie there passively, Harry followed the line of hair down Snape’s stomach, and then tentatively rubbed a finger underneath the waistband of the black trousers. A knuckle under his chin tipped Harry’s head back. Meeting the black eyes, Harry brazenly laid his hand over the bulge in Severus’ pants and squeezed gently.
The older man hissed and arched into his hand. “Are you certain?” Severus asked him through gritted teeth.
Harry rolled his eyes. “No, I’m here naked in your bed because I want to play chess.”
“A simple 'yes' would have sufficed,” Snape growled.
Laughing, Harry quickly undid the buttons of Snape’s trousers and boldly stuck his hand into the opening. Snape’s cock was heavy and warm in his hand. But Harry was quickly frustrated by the awkward angle. Removing his hand, Harry sat up and straddled Snape’s legs. He grabbed the waistband of the trousers and tugged them over Snape’s slim hips helped along by Snape himself. Hmm, maybe Harry wasn’t the only one who was frustrated.
The instant Snape’s trousers were off; Harry was crushed against a hard chest and flipped onto his back. “You aren’t going to let me do this slowly are you, Potter?”
“You’ve teased me long enough,” Harry growled. “Now get on with it.”
Snape took him at his word. There was a short fumble for a wand, and Snape muttered something Harry didn’t catch, but he felt the results. A tingling feeling in his arse and something warm and slick filled him. In less time than he’d thought possible, Harry was flat on his back, legs on Snape’s shoulder as the older man slowly pushed into him. Harry panted at the sensations, it wasn’t pain exactly, but it was definitely intense. Snape pulled back slightly and pressed forward again. When he was fully sheathed inside Harry’s willing body, Snape stilled. “All right?” he asked roughly.
“Fine,” Harry said tightly. He wasn’t quite sure why this was said to be so enjoyable. It was nice to have Severus’ weight on him, and while it felt odd to have Severus’ cock in him, it wasn’t painful.
Snape twined his hands with Harry’s and began to move. The strokes started out slow and gentle with Snape changing his angle each time he moved forward. After several moments Snape brushed something inside him, and Harry swore he saw stars. After that, he was much more enthusiastic. Oh, he’d heard about the whole prostrate thing, but it wasn’t something he’d believed. Not until now, that is. Soon he was actively moving to meet Snape’s thrusts.
And if the physical pleasure wasn’t enough, Harry had the pleasure of seeing Snape’s normally stoic mask fall away, leaving behind a man lost in his passion. Harry had never seen anything more erotic. He’d never been so engrossed before in his life; Snape was all he could see, all he could feel, Snape was all he cared about. Lips and teeth found his neck, nibbling and sucking, finding every sensitive spot Harry knew of. It was too much.
When a hot hand surrounded his neglected cock, Harry whimpered. It didn’t take long until Harry felt his climax hit him. He came in lush waves over his lover’s hand, with ‘Severus’ on his lips. The strength of his release stunned him; he’d never come so hard in his life, and he’d had plenty of experience with wanking.
Moments later Snape buried his face in Harry’s neck and Harry felt the older man shudder as Snape’s own orgasm hit. The erratic thrusts sent small shock waves through Harry as well.
Harry grunted as Snape relaxed and gave Harry his full weight, but he was content to stay that way. If Snape had felt half of what Harry had, he probably needed the time to regain his composure.
Eventually Snape raised his head. “I trust that was sufficient explanation.” There was still a trace of breathlessness in Snape’s voice.
Harry smiled slyly. “I think I have the basics,” he conceded. “But some of the finer points might take me a while.”
Snape rolled off and wandlessly cast a cleaning charm. He pulled Harry against him. Harry pillowed his head on Snape’s chest. “You are welcome to stay,” Snape said stiffly.
Harry frowned. Snape was not saying something again. “For the night?” he asked cautiously.
“For as long as you’d like.” Huh, that was pretty straightforward.
“And you’ll stay with me?” Harry questioned further, one could never be too sure with a Slytherin.
“For as long as you’ll have me.”
Harry turned his head and hid his smile in Snape’s chest. He knew what Snape wasn’t saying this time. He thought Harry would tire of him. Leave him someday in the future. But Snape didn’t know the truths Harry did. Love and loyalty, once rooted in a Gryffindor’s heart, never died.
Watching in the mirror across the room, Severus caught a glimpse of Harry’s smile and fought to suppress one of his own. In the last month, Severus had watched most of the brittleness disappear from Potter’s face. The brilliant green eyes had lost many of their shadows, though Severus knew some would always remain. Tightening his arms around the young man, Severus felt content for the first time in his life. Who knew that watching Harry Potter would pay such dividends?
For the first time he could remember, Severus didn’t regret the past. Because every true Slytherin knew the truth about love: it was worth any cost.