Odd Jobs FIC: Fire Brigade Title: Fire Brigade Author:lilyseyes Other pairings/threesome: Ron/Hermione Rating: R Word count: 5665 Content/Warning(s): None Summary: Harry decided to make his saving people thing into a career. A/N: Thank you to the lovely badgerlady for her beta work!
Fire Brigade
Harry made sure the seal on his breathing apparatus was good, wandlessly cast a Bubble-Head Charm as well, and crouched low as he followed the entry team into the burning building. The structure was an old Victorian which had been converted to flats fifty years ago and the fire was consuming them at an incredible rate. Most of the occupants had managed to escape, but the fire brigade needed to make sure, clearing each flat and each floor. They had trained on this type of rescue situation all the time and each firefighter knew their job.
In pairs, the firefighters moved fast and low through the smoke-charged corridor, knocking on each and then prying them open with a Halligan tool. Confirming each flat was empty, they marked the door with chalk to show it was clear. When they came to a stairwell, the group broke up, with most of them heading up. At each floor, firefighters broke out of the group and began searching the flats.
There were three floors, Harry thought, remembering the outside, but he couldn't explain it when the stairs disappeared up to a fourth floor. Surprisingly, no one else followed him as Harry moved upward through the now thick smoke. As he stepped out onto the landing, Harry could feel the magic that protected the floor from Muggles seeing it and everything fell into place. The fourth floor was wizard space, with a single flat.
The wards on the door were impressive, but Harry's Alohomora was fueled by his formidable power, enhanced by adrenaline. Going in low, Harry shifted the Halligan to his left hand and used his right as an extension of the wand strapped to his forearm. In the far rear corner, Harry found a male slumped over a table and, reaching up, dragged him to the floor. The smoke was thick and the man barely breathing, but Harry could feel a faint pulse and an even fainter tingle of magic. Harry cursed.
"Potter? Where'd you go?" The fire brigade commander's voice crackled with static as it came over his radio.
"I'm just down the hall from you and got one down," Harry told him, stripping off his right Kevlar glove and fumbling with the man's clothing. "I can handle him – meet you downstairs."
The radio issued a burst of static which Harry took as an acknowledgement. It cost him precious seconds, but Harry managed to find skin and splayed his hand over the man's chest. Pushing his magic out through his fingertips, Harry sent a five second burst to the injured lungs, long enough to hear the man's breathing ease slightly. Putting his glove back on, Harry hastily conjured a Bubble-Head Charm on the unconscious man. He dragged the man to the doorway, pausing only to cast a Summoning Charm for the man's wand, which shot out of the smoke and into Harry's hand.
Lifting the man over his shoulder, Harry Apparated them both to the cleared first floor flat. Harry carried the man into the corridor, where they were lost in the chaos of the emergency scene. One of his coworkers grabbed the man's feet and helped Harry carry the victim out towards the waiting ambulance service crew. The emergency lighting illuminated them for a moment and Harry instantly recognized the prominent profile with its hooked nose.
Severus Snape!
The medics met him and helped Harry lower Snape to the waiting gurney. With a wave of his hand, Harry canceled the Bubble-Head Charm as he lifted his mask off, taking a deep breath of the night air. He watched as the two men went right to work, forcing his mind to stay on track.
"Whatcha got, mate?" One began checking Snape's vitals as the other listened to Harry brief them.
"Found slumped over a table, in the hot zone, and unresponsive."
"Pulse is thready and respirations are labored! We need to go!" the other paramedic announced, and they both moved quickly towards the ambulance.
"Where are you taking him?" Harry called, making sure Snape's wand was securely tucked into the pocket of his turnouts.
"The Royal!" one shouted as they loaded the gurney and slammed the doors.
"Potter! We need you on the hose line!" the crew manager yelled from the front of the building.
Throwing one last look at the departing ambulance, Harry moved back to the front of the building. He replaced his mask, reset the seal on his breathing apparatus, and moved to join the rest of his team. They were able to confine the fire damage to two of the flats in the back of the building, but the majority of the others sustained smoke and water damage. The damage would need to be repaired before the flats could be occupied again.
The overhaul team was putting out the last of the hotspots as Harry and the rest of the firefighters helped with cleaning up. As Harry drained and rolled firehoses, his mind wandered back to Severus Snape. While he was sure he'd been able to heal enough of the damage to Snape's lungs to keep him alive, Harry hadn't had the time to see if he'd suffered any other injuries. Harry would head over to the Royal London Hospital as soon as his shift was over at six that morning.
It was ironic that it was Snape who had first made Harry aware that his magic could heal, Harry thought as he hoisted a hose roll onto the back of the engine. The day of the Final Battle, as Harry had tried to stem the flow of the blood streaming out of the jagged wounds in Snape's neck, he'd felt a pulse of his magic push out through his fingers. As he watched, the torn flesh had started to mend, the flow of blood staunching, just as Snape had demanded Harry look at him. When Harry had returned to the Shrieking Shack after Voldemort's demise, Snape had been gone.
Picking up his Halligan tool, Harry carefully stowed it in the proper place before climbing into the engine. He'd not heard from Snape since that fateful afternoon, despite his testimony to the Wizengamot which had helped exonerate the man, but Harry, of all people, understood the desire to stay out of the limelight. Harry had felt adrift in the aftermath of the Final Battle, having discovered that his magic had grown even more powerful once he became the master of the Hallows. Nevertheless, Harry had gone along with what had been expected of him and attending the Auror Academy. Proud that he'd graduated at the top of his class, Harry had resigned quietly little more than a month into his field training when it became obvious that people were causing disturbances just to meet him. Even his fellow Aurors had flung full-powered hexes and curses at him during practice sessions, just to see if they could get through his defenses.
It was then Harry had decided the Muggle world would be safer for him at this point in his life. He'd rented a studio flat in London and decided to try his hand at the fire brigade. The path he'd taken had hardly been straight or even smart, as he'd first become a paramedic, before deciding that rescue was his true calling. Hermione had always said he had a saving people thing and, it had turned out, he did. Progressing through firefighter training and onto the more daring rescue team, Harry found that he excelled in the Muggle fire brigade. The anonymity allowed him to breathe and if, occasionally, his powerful magical ability allowed him to get to or stabilize a person being rescued, then no one was the wiser.
The ride back to their quarters was a quiet one, everyone tired after the extended rush of adrenaline and the physical exertion. Harry showered off the smoke and grime from the fire before stretching out to try and nap, but his mind was too restless. His thoughts centered on Snape and what was happening with him. The ambulance service had sent word back that the unnamed victim was in the intensive care unit with smoke inhalation and Harry shuddered at the mental image. He was sure that Snape would be enraged if he woke up while he was hooked up to Muggle medical apparatus.
It was especially frustrating for Harry, who knew he could take care of Snape himself. His paramedic training would be enough to guide Harry's magic to help Snape heal. Harry's flat was well stocked with potions, as well as heavily warded, and the perfect place for Snape to recuperate. If the need arose, Snape could even stay at Grimmauld Place, now that it had been completely renovated.
Decision made, Harry got up quietly and made sure his reports were all complete for the change of shift at six that morning. Having learned from past experience, Harry had his Invisibility Cloak folded neatly in the pocket of his jacket, which would allow him to slip into the hospital undetected. The Royal changed shifts at seven, so he'd be able to drive to his flat after he was relieved and then Appparate to the wizarding entrance under his cloak and slip Snape out before day shift came on.
The sun was just clearing the horizon as Harry moved silently through the dimly light corridors of the Royal London Hospital. Tired nursing personnel clustered around their stations, completing last minute entries on the charts of patients and setting out morning pills for their oncoming colleagues. No one paid any attention to the shadow that slipped past them on the Adult Critical Care Unit E, as the sound of heart monitors beeped steadily and ventilators hummed.
Harry easily located Snape in a room that was luckily the furthest away from the nurse's station. A Notice-Me-Not Spell was the first thing Harry cast, before turning his attention to the unconscious man in the hospital bed. Thankfully, Snape's vitals looked good and Harry cast the spells necessary to make all the equipment continue to read steady levels while he disconnected them, gently pulling the IV line out of his arm and intubation tube out of his throat. Taking a deep breath, Harry slid his hands up under Snape's hospital gown and splayed both them over his chest. He could feel Snape's magic beneath his skin, which seemed warm and welcoming as he concentrated on pushing a pulse of magical energy slowly and steadily into Snape.
A sudden deep breath told Harry that the magic had helped and he silently cast a Featherlight Charm. Picking Snape up, Harry covered them both with his cloak and moved quickly to the end of the hallway. Just as the medical monitoring machines began to sound their alarms, Harry Apparated them both to his flat. Snape groaned softly but didn't wake up and Harry carried him across the flat to lay him down on the bed.
A continuous circular motion of his wand cast a diagnostic spell over Snape, giving Harry an idea of how badly he was injured. He was relieved to find that Snape appeared to be primarily healed of the smoke damage and they would just have to worry about infection as his lungs strengthened. Maneuvering Snape more comfortably in his large bed, Harry transfigured the hospital gown into a more comfortable night shirt. He was thankful that Snape seemed to still be under the influence of the Muggle sleep and pain medications and therefore wasn't in any pain, but Harry knew that he wasn't going to be able to give him any of the healing potions he had until the medications were out of his system.
Yawning widely, Harry spelled the heavy curtains closed and stripped off his clothes. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and crawled onto the bed, being careful to put Snape's wand under his pillow as he did his own. He placed his hand on Snape's arm, amazed at the way Snape's magic seemed to greet his and let his energy flow. Exhausted, Harry laid his head on the pillow beside the one Snape lay on and let his eyes close. He'd just rest for a minute.
Severus fought his way towards consciousness, desperate to get through the leaden feeling he knew was caused by Muggle pharmaceuticals. His chest was tight and his throat raw, but his breathing seemed fine, Severus noted, trying to get rid of the fog in his mind. He remembered thick, acrid smoke burning his throat and lungs, his head spinning as he tried to escape, but then a familiar voice, calm and reassuring, before he lost consciousness. The nightmare of being poked and prodded, with incessant chirps and beeps like an annoying swarm of birds swirling around his head, seemed to be over. A warm, reassuring presence lingered at the periphery of his awareness and Severus clung to it, pulling himself in that direction.
An arm lay across his chest and a warm, decidedly male body pressed against his side. Powerful magic prickled his skin, sending tingles through his nervous system and Severus new, if he hadn't been tranquilized, just how his body would have reacted. Severus kept his eyes closed as he attempted to determine where he was and who was sleeping with him, but he must have moved slightly. With a gasp, the body rolled away from him.
"Bloody hell!"
It was a very recognizable voice muttering and Severus stiffened in disbelief.
"Brilliant, Potter, you fucking idiot! Molesting an injured man in his sleep is just bad form! He'll fucking disappear the minute he figures out you've had a bloody schoolboy crush on him for almost seven fucking years!"
Severus was glad the voice moved away from him and his eyes popped open as soon as he heard a door close. There was sure to be a monitoring spell of some kind on him, so Severus remained perfectly still, moving only his eyes to confirm he wasn't in a Muggle hospital. Gobsmacked by what he'd just heard, Severus mind tried to assimilate all of the information of what he thought had happened, but succeeded in giving himself more of a headache. Potter was still muttering in what Severus assumed was a bathroom, his assumption confirmed when he heard a toilet flush.
Taking a chance, Severus rolled to his side and slid his hand under his pillow, relieved to find his wand there. Perhaps Potter had learned something during his lessons when Severus taught Defense.
"Professor!" Potter opened the bathroom door and strode towards him. "Don't move until I check you!"
Severus lay back, his eyes widening as he turned his head and caught sight Potter moving towards him: broad shoulders, bare chest with well-defined muscles tapering to a slim waist, and grey athletic pants clinging to the tops of slender hips. Clearing his throat, Severus winced at the pain and Potter immediately conjured a glass out of a sock, casting the Water-Making Spell. He helped Severus sit up and held the glass for Severus to sip, easing him back against the pillows.
"Do you remember anything?" Potter asked as he cast a diagnostic spell, completely unaware of the effect that his half-naked body was having on Severus. "Your lungs sound almost clear, but your throat still has damage from the smoke. How does your head feel?"
"Painful," Severus whispered hoarsely. "Are you a healer?"
Potter flushed as he held out his hand towards the bathroom, two vials flying into it. "I have a Headache Reliever Potion and some Throat Soother that should help."
Severus took the two vials, held each to the light and then sniffed them, before taking them with a grimace. "Adequate," he pronounced, handing the vials back.
A grin flashed across Potter's face and Severus noted the tiny wrinkles around his eyes, the dark circles under them. "That about describes my brewing abilities, all right."
The grin disappeared as Severus suddenly started to cough and couldn't seem to stop. Potter pulled him into a sitting position and, before Severus could stop him, slid his hand into the neck of the nightshirt he wore and splayed his hand across Severus' chest. His breath caught in his throat as Severus felt a pulse of powerful magic go through his chest, warming it and instantly easing his breathing. The coughing stopped and Severus was able to draw a deep lungful of air, wincing at the lingering pain.
Potter eased him back against the pillows, but Severus grabbed his wrist as Potter drew his hand out of his nightshirt. "What did you do?"
"I, uh," Potter seemed surprisingly nervous. "I just, uh, shared a bit of my magic with you, to help, uh, make your lungs better."
Severus frowned. "Are you an empath or a touch healer—"
"No!" Potter tried to tug his hand away, looking steadfastly at the bed, but Severus held on. "I don't know! My magic seems to be able to help if I touch someone who's hurt!"
"Since when?"
Potter's eyes met his before skittering away. "Since I became the master of the Deathly Hallows."
Severus stared at him, several random statements that Albus had made over the last few years of his life suddenly falling into place. "How did you—"
"How did I find out?" Potter extracted his hand gently, reaching over to brush his fingertips over the scars on Severus' throat. "When we were in the Shrieking Shack that day, I wished that my magic would help stop the bleeding and it did."
Severus could only stare at the young man, feeling aroused by the sheer power of his magic as Potter's fingertips lightly traced the raised ridges of skin. "Why did you bring me here?"
Potter shifted his weight and Severus could see him swallow hard. "I couldn't leave you in that hospital, knowing that I could take care of you. Merlin knows I owe you three or four life debts!" He looked around the room for a moment, before finally meeting Severus' eyes. "I also thought it might be an opportunity to get to know you and find out why my magic reacts this way only with you."
Glancing down, Severus was almost relieved by the sight of the erection tenting Potter's sweatpants. Acknowledging the mutual attraction with a nod, Severus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'll need help to the loo and something to eat, then I believe a Lung Restorative Potion is in order."
Harry counted six anticlockwise strokes of the crystal stirring rod, then turned around and reached for the osha root.
"Make sure the osha is granulated and not powered, so that it has time to spread through the potion before it dissolves."
Just refraining from rolling his eyes, Harry nodded his head and continued his brewing. He wasn't a master like Snape, but he'd improved since he was in Hogwarts. Snape actually looked better, despite still occasionally coughing and wheezing a bit. The lungwort was the next-to-last ingredient to the potion and then it had to simmer for twenty minutes, with a dusting of eucalyptus while it cooled to finish it. Harry knew that he'd brewed the potion perfectly, but had no doubt that Snape would scrutinize it before he drank it.
He was Snape, after all.
He cast a timing spell before turning to look at Snape, propped up in his bed. Setting the stirring rod carefully on the corner of the table, Harry reached for the teapot and moved to the bed to refill Snape's mug. He noticed Snape had not eaten any of the tidbits that Kreacher had fixed for him. Harry set the teapot back down and returned to the bed, where he gingerly sat on the edge.
"May I?" Harry asked as he slowly extended his hand, waiting for Snape's nod before Harry touched his throat. The thick scar was warm to the touch and Harry allowed his fingers to trace over the area as jolt of magic zapped along his nerve endings up his arm and right to his core. It was hot and electrifying at the same time, stimulating Harry in places that made him want to groan. Snape seemed to be similarly affected, moving restlessly under Harry's touch. Just when he thought to retract his hand, Harry felt a pulse in his magic and stopped. Concentrating on the area, he pushed his magic into the scar.
Snape gasped as Harry carefully pushed more power in, envisioning the knot of badly healed tissue and encapsulating it. Another pulse of magic transformed the damaged area into healthy muscle, capillaries, and nerve endings. Harry withdrew, allowing his magic to linger and soothe the smoke-damaged throat. Feeling a little wobbly, Harry didn't resist when Snape grabbed his hand and seemed to examine his palm. The thumb stroking his wrist sent delicious tingles up his arm and Harry tried not to squirm.
"Interesting," Snape muttered, reaching for Harry's other hand.
"The healing or the way our magic seems to spark whenever we touch?" Harry asked quietly, watching Snape's face.
"Both actually," Snape told him, a speculative expression on his face.
Seeming to have made a decision of some type, Snape met his eyes as he tugged on Harry's hand, bringing him closer. With smooth motions, Snape drew Harry steadily closer, until their lips were a mere inch apart and Harry could feel Snape's warm breath on them. Snape paused, as if giving Harry one last chance to escape, but Harry had no intention of running and closed the small gap. The first brush of his lips against Snape brought another, stronger jolt of magic which went right to Harry's groin and he eagerly pressed a kiss to the corner of Snape's mouth. The hand left his wrist and moved to the back of Harry's head as Snape titled his head a little and covered Harry's lips with his own.
Leaning closer, Harry felt the tip of Snape's tongue trace his lower lip and he opened up with a groan. His hands came up to cup Snape--Severus's face as Severus thoroughly explored his mouth. Harry's heart pounded and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears as his body tightened. He'd never before experienced a kiss that affected his whole body like this and Harry fought the urge to press as close to Severus as he could. Harry wasn't a virgin, having slept with several people, a woman and two men, but nothing had prepared him for the intensity he felt in this one kiss.
A pinging sound penetrated the haze in his brain and Harry pulled back reluctantly, until he realized it was the alarm he'd set.
"Bloody hell!"
Jumping up, Harry hurried over to the simmering cauldron. He grabbed the stirring rod and the powdered eucalyptus, taking a deep breath before he slid the rod into the simmering potion and began to stir. The eucalyptus went in slowly, until it looked like a circle on top, slowly widening as Harry moved anticlockwise. Concentrating on the complicated pattern, Harry didn’t dare look at Sn—Severus, as he knew he'd lose track of his count.
Despite his focus, Harry could still hear the wheeze in Severus' chest and knew that they had exacerbated it with their activity. The potion would have to simmer five more minutes and cool for an additional thirty. He vowed to keep his hands – and lips – to himself until Severus had taken the potion and healed. Hopefully, they had all the time in the world, now.
Severus tried to take deep breaths in order to calm himself, but winced as pain lanced through his chest. Settling on smaller, shallower breaths, Severus watched Potter as he added the last ingredient into the simmering potion. It wasn't an easy potion to brew and, as a healing potion, it needed an infusion of the brewer's magic, but Potter had handled it with ease. As had always been the case, there was much more to Harry Potter than one would believe.
Potter finished up the potion and extinguished the flame before gathering up the dirty implements and carrying them to a sink set along the wall. Severus watched as Potter returned with a fresh pot of tea. When he was done pouring and had returned the pot, Potter sat at the foot of the bed with a thoughtful look.
"I'm afraid that the potion will be absorbed easier if it is taken on an empty stomach," Potter told him unnecessarily.
Severus blew across the top of his tea. "Why are you here, Potter?"
"Harry," he responded absently. "Here as in, being in this room? Or here as in living amongst Muggles?"
"Living here and working on a fire brigade." And not working as an Auror and having babies with the youngest Weasley. Severus left unsaid.
Potter stared at his hands, clasped around a mug. "I tried to do everything expected of me: passed the Auror Academy at the top of my class and was sailing through field training, despite being challenged or hexed each and every day by an instructor or fellow Auror. I thought it would end when I was on my own, but then I realized it would be everyone else challenging me. Someone leaked my schedule and women began to have duels in the street when I was working, just so I'd respond to break it up." Potter shook his head, pausing to take a sip of his tea. "I couldn't even have sex without casting glamours, unless I wanted my private life smeared on the front of the Daily Prophet! At least here, among the Muggles, I don't have to worry about being recognized."
It had become apparent to Severus over time that Potter hadn't been the pampered prince he'd first accused him of being, nor did he revel in the public adoration he received. Severus ruthlessly squelched the flare of hope he felt. "Somehow, you were the last person I would have thought would run from a little adversity." He infused his statement with as much condescension as he could, knowing it would get a rise out of Potter and possibly get him to admit the real reason he'd fled.
"There wasn't anything to keep me in the Wizarding world day in and day out!" Potter ground out between clenched teeth, his eyes flaring briefly as he lifted his head to meet Severus' eyes. "The one person that I had fallen irrevocably in love with was the very person who still proclaimed his love for my mum!"
The bleakness Severus saw in Potter—Harry's eyes startled him and Severus felt his lip drawn up in a sneer as he delivered a scathing question. "Tell me, Harry, do you love Miss Granger?"
"Weasley!" Potter snapped, scowling. "Of course I do!"
Severus smirked and arched his eyebrow. "And how does her husband feel about that, Harry?" he asked shlly.
Potter sputtered, his cheeks flaming. "Not like—I love you, you git! I'm not in love with her! For Merlin's sake, Snape, she's like my sister!"
Severus continued to look at Potter until, finally, he watched as the information filtered through Potter's brain. Allowing the corners of his mouth to curl upward, Severus took a sip of his tea. It was almost amusing to see the different emotions that flitted over Potter's face or would have been, if Severus hadn't been intimately familiar with them. Embarrassment, guilt, and regret were things Severus had lived with since before Pott—Harry had been born. Perhaps, now, there was a chance for something mutually satisfying here – at least on a physical level.
Severus knew better than to hope for more than that.
Shaking his head, Harry seemed to slump after his epiphany and stared at Severus. "You mean, I've wasted the past five years?"
Very deliberately, Severus let his eyes run over Harry's chest and abdomen, every detail displayed by the tight tee shirt he was wearing. "I won't term the last few years a waste," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "It seems to me that you've matured nicely."
His cheeks coloring again, Harry grinned at him as he brazenly returned the scrutiny. "Well, hopefully you can forgive my inexperience enough to at least try to forge a—friendship."
Severus' lips twitched at Harry's attempt at a seductive look and he carefully set his now empty mug on the bedside table. Harry reached forward, setting his down next to Severus. He moved forward as Severus leaned towards him, their magic sparking as their lips touched. Severus pulled back as first as his breath began to burn in his lungs. Sliding closer, Harry put his hand lightly on Severus' chest and Severus was amazed at the warm magic that spread through him.
"So it seems we'll have to wait until the potion is ready," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "What were you doing you living in that old house?
Severus snorted. "I own that old house, Mr. Potter."
"Oh, I'm sorry—"
Heading him off, Severus shook his head. "Not to worry, it's only property and most of the flats were vacant as I'm converting it back into a house." He glanced at Harry. "No one else should have been injured, correct?"
"No one else was hurt, but I have to admit being surprised to find you there." There was no mistaking the curiosity in Harry's voice.
"Despite my exoneration by the Ministry and your own efforts to the contrary, many in the Wizarding world thought me guilt of all the crimes I was accused. It seemed prudent to take the assets I had along with the annuity from Hogwarts and disappear, much like you did." Severus closed his eyes for a moment. "Now, I have my research and I've gained a moderate following as a restaurant and food critic."
Harry stared at him, eyes narrowing. "You are Sven Skaden!" He grinned madly. "I should have known that biting wit was you! The blokes at the station love reading your reviews aloud, especially when you sound like you're affronted because you actually like the food!"
Severus smirked at him. "And if I told you that it started out as a way to have someone else pay for my fine dining choices?"
Throwing back his head, Harry laughed delightedly. "Spoken like a true Slytherin!"
Anything Severus might have fired back was lost as a chime sounded in the room, the signal that the potion was ready. Harry was on his feet immediately and headed towards the cauldron and Severus was amused as he worked quickly and efficiently to decant the greenish grey liquid. Student Potter had never shown this type of talent in Severus' classes in the five years they had both suffered through them but, Severus realized now, he would have never acknowledged Harry if he had. Such was the state of their world then, with Severus doing everything he could to make Harry hate him, even as he protected the boy with his life.
Perhaps now, Severus could allow himself to admit to the grudging admiration of the way Harry had persevered despite all odds. His magical power was intoxicating and incredibly compatible to Severus' own, not to mention the sexual chemistry they had both felt. The old adage came to mind: There is a thin line between love and hate. Severus snorted at the idea as he watched the sturdy, square-tipped fingers gently handle the vials.
With Harry Potter even the impossible was probable.
Harry stood beside his bed, watching the steady rise and fall of Severus' chest. The Lung Restorative Potion was working perfectly and Severus's breathing was already almost back to normal. Stripping down to his pants, Harry slid carefully in beside Severus. The potion should keep him asleep for the rest of the night, in order to complete the restoration process, and Harry was not about to sleep on the couch. He studied Severus' face for a moment, struck at how peaceful and relaxed the man looked in the ambient light of the flat. Taking a chance, Harry shifted closer and turned onto his side, so that he was pressed against the length of Severus's body. It comforted him and Harry fell asleep immediately.
It was still dark when Harry slowly awoke. An arm banded his waist from behind, a warm hand splayed across his abdomen with its fingers brushing the tip of his morning erection. A male form was molded against his back and a hard cock pressed into the cleft of his arse, thrusting slowly. Even through two layers of cloth, Harry could feel the tingle of magic and waved his hand to Banish their clothing to the floor. A soft gasp puffed against his shoulder and Harry groaned. Parting his thighs, Harry reached between them, his hand closing around Severus' generous prick, and guided it between his legs. Harry squeezed his thighs together and rocked his hips.
Severus groaned and buried his face in the hair at Harry's neck, his hand wrapping around Harry's cock. Harry covered Severus' hand with his own and rocked faster; the sensation of movement across his scrotum and his hole was incredible. Severus stiffened behind him as Harry's balls drew up and he came apart, waves of pleasure exploding through him.
As he tried to calm his breath, Harry waved a hand to clean away the stickiness at his groin. "I have an idea," he said as he turned in Severus' arms.
Dark eyes met his as Harry lifted a hand to cup Severus' face. "Oh? What, pray tell, would that be?"
"I think you need to stay here while your building is being repaired." Harry moved closer as he spoke, until he was whispering against Severus' lips. "I know it's small and we'll have to share the bed—"
In the next instant, Severus had flipped him on his back and kissed him breathless. "And after the repairs are done?"
Harry smiled, still a bit dazed. "I guess we'll work that out then." And pulled Severus' head down for another kiss.