Indebted (2/2), for sinick and ac1d6urn Title: Indebted Author:elanora Giftee:sinick and ac1d6urn Word Count: 12000 Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Snarry Warnings: DH spoilers Disclaimer: All of the characters settings, and etc. of the Harry Potter universe belong to JK Rowling. Summary: A trip in time reveals Harry to be unknowingly involved in Snape's past, and inextricably linked to his future. A/N: Thanks to S and M for fabulous beta jobs, and to the other S for additional help. Much love to Sinick and Acid – may your festive season be full of Snarry :-)
*
"Harry!" Hermione flung herself at him with a force that wrenched the air from his lungs. "You've been gone for hours!"
"Have I?"
"Ron said you were staying late to finish a report, only I know that can't have been true, and then I worried, and –"
"Hey, chill," called Ron's voice from down the hall. "It's only been a few hours."
"Yeah," said Harry, making his way into the kitchen, where Ron was sitting at the table. "Anyway, she knows full well where I've been."
"I do not!" she cried, but it was a little too indignant and even Ron raised his eyebrows. "I mean," she added, flustered, "not exactly. How did it go?"
"I don't know," Harry replied, honestly. "I don't even know why I was there."
"Oh. So where did you go?"
"Um," Ron cut in. "Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?"
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. "Yeah," said Harry. "Just as soon as I know myself."
Hermione, though, would say nothing, and Harry was exhausted and really did not feel like pursuing the matter, so he made his excuses and went to bed.
Despite his fatigue, Harry barely slept that night, tossing and turning, unable to banish the thoughts from his head. He thought about Dumbledore and his infuriating omnipotence, about Snape being set on the path that would lead him to death, and to his parents' deaths.
At last, in frustration, he kicked the covers from his bed, groped for his glasses and squinted at the clock on the opposite wall. It was four in the morning and he wasn't sure he'd slept at all.
He dressed quickly and made his way downstairs. They'd done a reasonable job of making Grimmauld Place homey, but in the dead of night it still felt like the dismal mausoleum it had once been.
The kitchen was cold. Harry found a bottle of milk in the fridge and took a swig, smiling inwardly at the thought of the outraged squeal that would earn him from Hermione.
It would be at least three hours yet before they would rise. Harry gazed out of the window, running over every detail of what had happened. What was the point? He didn't appear to have changed anything. The world seemed the same now as when he had left it.
"I thought I heard you get up."
With a start, Harry looked up to see Hermione, wrapped in a red dressing gown and yawning in the kitchen doorway.
"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to frighten you. You want to talk?"
"Not really. Um. I mean, yeah. Why did you let me find it?"
Hermione shrugged. "I used it, so it seemed only fair."
"Did you know where it would send me?"
"No. It's weird, not like the one I had in third year. It picks up on –"
"Where you most want to go, I guessed that."
"May I ask –?"
"I'd rather not. I don't even understand it. I didn't even know I'd been thinking about it."
"I guess it wasn't taking your NEWTs, then," Hermione said with a wry smile.
"Not exactly," Harry laughed. "Can I ask you something?" Hermione nodded. "Does it change things, or have those things always been that way? Hang on, that doesn't make sense –"
"I know what you mean. And no, it doesn't change things. You were always there, in whatever part of the past you visited, and you've always done the things that you did then."
"So it was always me, not my dad…."
"Sorry?"
"Oh. Nothing. I think I'm going to go for a walk."
"Don't be late for work, will you?"
"No, mum," said Harry, rolling his eyes and earning himself a swat on the backside as he passed Hermione on the way out of the kitchen.
He didn't consciously think about where he was going, but he was unsurprised when he Apparated into a familiar Westcountry village. The graveyard was swathed in the red light of dawn, the deep glow of sunrise like blood bathing the pale tombstones. The grass under his feet was sprinkled with dew that seeped through his trainers. His hands were numb from the cold, his ears stung and his breath misted before his face.
There was an oppressive malignance to the icy air; it closed in around him and oozed through his skin to chill his bones. It was not unlike the presence of Dementors - that sense of despair emanating from the long rows of old, forgotten headstones.
Knowing where he was going this time, Harry walked quickly. He passed many names, too many. The Abbotts and the Dumbledores and the Peverells: row upon row he passed, until the red dawn had given way to a clear blue sky and the graveyard was bathed in the cold light of the autumn sun.
He saw the white marble headstone from some distance, but he had passed the grave of Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore before he noticed the dark figure hunched before his parents' grave.
Harry felt a sudden constriction in his throat. It was as though his heart had stopped and the air had been sucked from his lungs. Some moments passed before he dared to approach; even then, he stood in silence beside the figure but afraid to look directly at him.
The crisp air burned as Harry fought to breathe, and his entire body shivered in the cold, but still he stood, motionless.
"You took your time," Snape said at last.
"I haven't been here since…since the first time," Harry replied. "I don't know why. I don't know why I'm here now, either. Did you know I would be?"
"No, or you can be sure that I would be elsewhere."
"Right. Um. So you're a ghost? Or a figment of my imagination?" Harry felt stupid for mentioning it, but it felt equally awkward to ignore the fact that he was talking to a dead man.
"Neither."
"Okay." Harry shifted awkwardly.
"Some years ago, an interfering and undoubtedly brainless individual advised me to carry a bezoar at all times."
"And Blood-Replenishing Potion," Harry recalled.
"Indeed."
"So you did?"
Snape gave him a withering look. It was the first time he had looked in Harry's direction, and Harry was startled to see that this really was Snape, almost exactly as he remembered him.
"Not at all times, no. But when it mattered, they were on hand."
"So you didn't die?"
"Obviously."
"Well why didn't you say anything?" Harry was unaccountably angry; he had actually grieved for this git!
"I believed it was to my advantage for my continued existence not to be well-known."
"Selfish bastard. I guess you earned it, though," he grudgingly acknowledged.
"Very good of you."
"You don't have to be so…well, you about it," Harry snapped. "I understand now."
"I doubt that very much."
Harry sank to his knees, mindless of the cold dew seeping through the thin fabric of his jeans. He knelt beside Snape for a moment, then gave a feeble laugh and said, "I don't hate you any more, you know."
"How generous of you."
"I mean it. You know, Dumbledore once told me that when one wizard saves another’s life, it creates a bond between them."
Snape was staring at him with an unreadable expression. Harry continued nervously, "I reckon we’ve saved each other’s lives so many times, imagine what sort of bond we must have."
Snape’s black eyes were boring into Harry in such a way as to almost make him feel sixteen again.
"I tried to stop you." Snape’s voice was more weary than it was angry. "But you couldn’t mind your own business, could you? I did everything I could to make sure you hated me so that you would never want to…." Snape paused, as though he were checking himself. "But you still bowed down to your noble, self-sacrificing Gryffindor instincts."
"But I saved your life," said Harry incredulously. "I thought-"
"No, Potter, you did not think. That was always your problem. Did you suppose I would be forever grateful to you? Do you not suppose I knew full well that your only motive was maintaining the glorious reputations of your father and his followers?"
"That’s not-" Harry yelled, then sighed. "That’s not true," he said quietly.
"Do you recall what else Albus used to say? That life is about choices. Our choices define both what we are and what we become, or some such nonsense."
"Yes, he said that to me too."
"I have had every choice I might have made taken away from me. Do you suppose I wanted to be indebted to a Potter?"
Harry took a deep, shaky breath and climbed to hit feet. "I think I owe you far more than you owe me," he whispered, and slowly walked away.
*
"He's alive?!" Ron repeated for what seemed the hundredth time, back in the Grimmauld Place kitchen.
"Yes, Ron," Harry snapped. "Hermione, is there any way of finding out where he is?"
"I don't know," she replied with a frown. "It sounds to me as though he'd rather not be found."
"Will you try?"
"Bloody mental," Ron muttered, shaking his head.
Harry shot Hermione a pleading glance and she nodded once, then looked away.
Work that day seemed more meaningless than ever. It was clear he'd only been taken on for his name - Harry Potter Joins the Aurors had made a great headline for the weakened post-war Ministry – and the resentment that had long been bubbling in Harry's mind was now starting to overflow.
"I don't care about these stupid reports," he ranted at Ron.
"Steady on, mate," said Ron under his breath. "At least we have jobs, right? And they'll let us train to be actual Aurors one day if we just keep our heads down and-"
"No, they won't. They're just going to keep us in this stupid back office unless we do something."
"Like what?" Ron raised his voice now and threw up his hands in exasperation. "Look mate, you need to learn to be grateful."
"Grateful? We saved this whole miserable world, and look what we ended up with!"
"So what do you suggest?"
"I don't know, but not this," Harry declared. "I quit."
Ron snorted and turned back to the report he was writing.
"I mean it," Harry insisted. "I'm going to go and hand in my notice right now."
"Good for you," Ron said without looking up, an icy tone to his voice.
Harry's determination, however, did not waver. He stormed from the office and down the hall with a purposeful stride.
"Harry!"
Hermione stumbled in her effort not to run straight into him. "I found it," she blustered, breathless. "I found him, I mean."
"What? Hermione, I'm just on my way to-"
"Look." She handed him a long roll of parchment, but he didn't glance at it.
"You were right," he continued. "I've decided I'm going to-"
"Later Harry. This is it, I'm sure. Dumbledore inherited this old castle way out in Eastern Europe. It doesn't say, but I'm sure it belonged to-"
"Grindelwald," Harry filled in. "What's your point?"
"Well, Dumbledore was already dead by then and had no heir, so there was this whole legal thing –" she paused, saw Harry's expression, and continued hurriedly, "well, it ended up going to Snape."
"You think he's there?" said Harry, strangely choked; he honestly had never expected they would find Snape, and had no idea what he should do now that he had a lead.
"Worth a try," Hermione shrugged. "So what were you going to tell me?"
"Um...tell Kingsley I quit, will you? I have things to do."
"What? Harry, you can't –"
"Yeah, I can."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around him and started babbling about taking care of himself. Harry wasn't listening, though; for the first time since Voldemort's defeat, he felt he had some purpose.
*
The journey was long and tedious; though almost fun when compared to the endless camping trips while they searched for Horcruxes. It involved several steps of Apparition, countless surly border control officials and an undignified search of his person, but at last he reached the address stated in the will.
The castle was even more isolated than its long, unpronounceable address had suggested. It stood alone on a craggy rock, as though in mockery of every stereotype of villains' lairs.
A single winding road led to the door from where Harry had Apparated. As he proceeded along it, a heavy sensation of dead settled over him. What was he even hoping to achieve?
At the entrance to the castle was a heavy oak door with a large brass knocker in the shape of a lion. He knocked once, twice, three times, but was unsurprised when there was no answer.
"Snape?" Harry pounded on the door. "Look, I can keep yelling here all night if I have to. You really want all your neighbours to hear Harry Potter banging on your door?"
The door swung open, and Harry grinned as he stepped inside.
"Neighbours?"
The arched eyebrow and heavily ironic tone made Harry flush, but his smile remained in place.
"Look, I know you’d rather owe your life to anyone but me, but we’re even, right? I mean, you’ve saved my life far more times than I have yours. Does it really matter?"
Snape was looking at him with a blank expression. "I fail to understand," he said "what it is you want from me."
"I don't know. Some acknowledgement that things have changed? I mean, I know about everything you did now, and I've wanted to talk to you about it for years, and then I go back in time and find out I'm the one who saved you – Uh –" he stopped. "Did you know that…about, um…"
"Yes, Potter, I knew. Not immediately, but once you arrived at Hogwarts there was no doubt. His face and…." He trailed off, but Harry heard the unspoken her eyes.
"Right. Of course you did. So…."
"So what, Potter? This may have been a recent revelation to you, but you're talking about something that happened more than twenty-five years ago."
"Right. I knew that."
A long pause, then, "Why are you here?"
"I just wanted to see you. Ever since…you know…I've wanted to talk to you. Tell you that I understand now."
"That was the point. I did not suppose that even you would be so obtuse as to –"
"Can you drop it? You don't have to keep that up any more."
"I assure you that there is no pretence here. I genuinely desire to be alone."
"Okay," said Harry, disappointed though he could not say why. "Guess I'll go then."
Snape nodded and moved towards the door and opened it.
"I just wanted to know my mum's best friend." Harry fought an embarrassing stinging sensation behind his eyes.
Snape paused, his face entirely blank as he processed that. Harry held his breath. An interminable amount of time passed before Snape sighed, closed the door and turned back to Harry.
"What do you want to know?"
Harry self-consciously chewed on his lower lip. "I don't know, specifically."
Snape walked off down the hall. He made no motion for Harry to follow, but Harry took it as an invitation anyway and followed.
He was led into a large, rather cold kitchen with stone walls. It was dark, lit only by a few candles. Snape busied himself on the other side of the room for a moment, and Harry watched him. He had never looked at Snape before without a heavy filter of hatred, and it was strange how easily that had slipped away.
He took a seat at a small, rickety table and absently scratched at the surface. Snape placed a cup of tea in front of him and then took a seat directly opposite and looked at him expectantly.
"Um…I didn't exactly have a plan," Harry explained.
"Shocking."
Harry grinned. "I quit my job."
Snape raised one eyebrow and paused with his tea halfway to his lips. "With what in mind?"
"Well…"
"You have no idea, do you?"
"Not exactly, no."
"Then why did you give up a perfectly stable –?"
"All right, I don't need a lecture. It's just so obvious that they only took me on so they could say they had Harry Potter. They gave me this stupid, pointless desk job, and that's not what I wanted, I wanted to be an Auror. You know, a real one."
"Unable to quench that tiresome Gryffindor urge to save the world, then?"
"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "It would be more worthwhile than writing meaningless reports."
"Indubitably."
"So what should I do?"
"I believe you already answered that question."
"I did?"
"You said you still wish to be an Auror."
"Yeah, but they won't accept me on the training programme because I have no NEWTs."
Snape inclined his head. "So take your NEWTs."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Harry frowned. He didn't really know why, other than that it would mean returning to Hogwarts, dealing with being stared at…but then he had that at the Ministry, too.
"It would seem," Snape seemed to be choosing his words carefully, "that to give up with only one year remaining would be somewhat wasteful."
"Not to mention that you would have put up with me for six years for nothing," Harry added.
Snape almost smiled at that, Harry was sure.
"Do you think I'd be able to do it?"
Snape raised one eyebrow. "Don't expect overwhelming praise from me."
"Right." Harry drank down the last of his tea. "I'll be off, then."
He stood and made for the door, then stopped. Snape's gaze was fixed on him, his expression unreadable.
For a long while neither said anything, but Snape's eyes seemed to bore into Harry, pinning him to the spot with unnerving intensity. Harry was distinctly reminded of the sixteen year-old Snape he had met beneath the stairs at Hogwarts; that powerful stare had changed little in the intervening years.
Snape suddenly looked away, and Harry was surprised to see that his face was flushed.
"Be sure to bolt the door properly on your way out," said Snape, not looking up from his book.
"I won't tell anyone where you are. Or that you're alive. Um. Unless you want me to."
"I believe my self-imposed isolation speaks for itself, don't you?"
"Right. Well, thanks. Really. And not just for this, for…" But Snape, it seemed, wasn't listening. Harry sighed and headed for the door without looking back.
*
"I can't believe it!" Hermione squealed. "You're actually a real, fully-trained Auror!"
Harry laughed. "I've been in training for three years, Hermione. You don't have to act so surprised."
"But it's fantastic! Just what you always wanted! You and Ron will be able to work together and –"
"Whoa," Ron laughed, returning from the bar just then with a round of drinks. "I've still got another year of training. Harry'll be way ahead of me by the time I'm done."
Harry grinned and drank his Firewhisky in one, earning himself a disapproving glare from Hermione.
"Hey, it's my celebration, right?"
Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance.
"'Course, mate," said Ron, patting him on the shoulder. Hermione smiled. Harry was left with a strange, uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He climbed into bed that night with a not-unpleasant buzz in his head. The room swam every time he closed his eyes, so he remained awake and stared at the ceiling. Ron and Hermione had been acting more and more like a couple over the last few weeks. Harry supposed it was understandable. After all, they had been together for years. But why the sudden change now?
He was idly wondering whether Hermione might be pregnant when he was distracted by a tapping at the window. He hauled himself up and found an unfamiliar owl. He let it in and untied the note from its leg, then fumbled for his glasses as he opened it.
I understand congratulations are in order.
It was unsigned, but Harry would recognise the spidery scrawl anywhere. He smiled, clutched the note in his fist, and climbed back into bed, where sleep found him almost immediately.
*
"Married?"
Harry sank into his chair. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised – it was about time, really – but why now?
Ron and Hermione were looking at him expectantly, so he grinned. "That's great, guys," he said, trying as hard as he could to sound genuine. He was genuinely happy, it was just…weird.
"Thanks, mate," said Ron. Hermione shot him a glance and he cleared his throat. "Uh, there's more. We're, um…. We decided it would be best to live somewhere else."
"Oh. Why?"
"We thought it would be nice to have a place of our own," said Hermione. "It's nothing personal, Harry."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry, though his smile this time was definitely forced. "I have to get to work. I'll see you later."
He was an hour early for work, and they both knew it, but they nodded and let him go.
Harry arrived to an empty office and was glad of it. He caught up on his paperwork and was about to sit down with a cup of tea when Ron arrived. He looked stricken.
"Look," Harry said, pre-empting whatever rant Ron was going to descend into. "I'm happy for you, I really am, it's just a lot to-"
"It's not about that," Ron cut in. "Take a look at this." He handed Harry a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet. Emblazoned across the front page was the headline, War Hero Severus Snape Alive? .
"Shit." Harry sank down into his chair, absently sloshing tea over his lap.
"Yeah," said Ron. "Thought you might say that. And look, I never said anything and I know Hermione didn't either."
"He'll probably think it was me," Harry said with a gloomy sigh. "Damn."
By lunchtime, it was all the Ministry gossip machine could talk about. Harry caught numerous sly sideways glances in his direction. As the one who had cleared Snape's name, he guessed it wasn't surprising that people would assume he'd known about this.
"Is it true you helped him to fake his own death and then sent him into hiding?" he was asked over and over again.
"Is he really your father?" was perhaps the weirdest rumour doing the rounds.
By mid-afternoon, it had become unbearable. Harry made his excuses and Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He threw his cloak over a chair and started. There, waiting patiently at the kitchen table, was Snape.
"I guess you remembered how to find the place," said Harry.
"If that is your attempt to express in polite terms the fact that I broke in then yes, I did, and I apologise. Given the current climate of speculation, I thought it unwise to linger outside."
"Of course," said Harry. "I understand. That's fine. Um. Cuppa?"
"I have no wish to impose. It seems I find myself in need of your assistance."
He seemed uncomfortable – awkward, even – and Harry pitied him.
"Of course," he said gently, taking a seat. "You know I'll do anything I can. What do you need?"
"I need to be hidden."
"Right. Well, this place isn't ideal. See, everyone knows where I live now. But you can stay as long as you need to."
"That isn't what I asked. I have a perfectly suitable residence. I need it to be hidden."
"The Fidelius Charm?"
"Precisely."
"Well, I'm not the best at Charms, but I'm sure Hermione could –"
"I am perfectly capable of performing the charm. I need a Secret Keeper."
Harry blinked and shook his head. "You mean…me?"
"Of course, if you are unwilling –"
"No! I mean, yes, of course. It's the least I can do. You trust me?"
Snape said nothing, but Harry understood. However, when he rose to leave, Harry stopped him.
"Will you stay for dinner?"
"I would prefer not to."
"Look." Harry moved to block the doorway. "You can be as stubborn and cold as you like, but you're a friend."
"You would not wish that."
"My mum did. And from what I've heard, she had better judgement than my dad."
Snape's gaze was inscrutable. "You owe me nothing."
"I know. I'm not talking about debts here. That's not why I want to be your Secret Keeper, either. I just want to help you."
Snape leaned back against the wall and let out a long sigh. "You have no idea what you're getting into."
Harry took a step towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," he said with a smile. "I'm under no delusions that you're cute and fluffy under the mean, snarky exterior."
He actually smiled at that, which lifted Harry's spirits, but then their eyes met and the smile faded.
"You still miss her," said Harry.
It wasn't a question, but he nodded. Harry slid his hand to Snape's chin and lifted his face to look at him. Had Lily fallen for him too, before things changed? Or would she have done so, if things had been different?
"You cannot change the past," said Snape. "You of all people ought to understand that."
"I'm not sure I do, actually," Harry admitted. "The time travel stuff still goes right over my head. It doesn't matter, anyway. We can still change the future."
He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to Snape's. A tingle ran down his spine as they touched, but it lasted only a moment before Snape jerked his head back. Harry hesitated for a moment, but Snape did not push him away or berate him, so he moved in again. He applied more pressure this time, and swiped his tongue across Snape's lower lip.
He hesitated for a moment, unsure, but then Snape's lips parted and he delved deeper.
It was as though the air around them had become charged. Snape's tongue entwined with his and hands gripped at his hair, pulling his head back; teeth nipped at his throat; a leg insinuated itself between his.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Snape pulled away; his eyes were wide and his jaw set firm.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came to mind. He stood there, frozen, waiting for something to break the tension, but all he could think of was, Oh Merlin I just kissed Snape and it was actually really good but he was probably thinking about my mother, which is too sick and wrong to bear thinking about -
Snape abruptly pushed Harry away; his eyes were dark and his face flushed with anger.
"I must take my leave," Snape announced, his voice laced with ice.
Harry inwardly cursed himself. Why hadn't he managed to master Occlumency?
"I didn't mean that, I just…well, were you?"
Snape's gaze was cold and shuttered, as though the clock had been wound back five years.
"No," he said, and then he Disapparated.
Harry collapsed onto the sofa and groaned.
It was another couple of hours before Ron and Hermione returned home to find him lying there with a cushion over his face.
"Um…mate?" Ron sounded more amused than worried.
"You don't want to know," said Harry, his voice muffled against the cushion. Hermione reached over and pulled it off him.
"What happened?" she asked. At least she exhibited the proper amount of concern, Harry thought, mentally kicking Ron.
"Nothing," he said. "I just did the most completely utterly horribly stupid thing imaginable."
"What?" Ron was obviously struggling to suppress a laugh. Harry supposed he probably did look a bit of a prat, so he hauled himself upright.
"I kind of kissed Snape and then asked him if he was thinking of my mum," Harry mumbled, looking at his feet.
"You kissed Snape?" Ron cried.
"You accused him of what?" said Hermione.
Ron and Hermione exchanged incredulous looks.
"I think you're missing the point," said Ron. "Who cares about that part? He kissed that ugly, evil –"
"Not evil," Harry cut in.
" – that ugly, mean, greasy –"
"All right, I get it," said Harry, throwing his hands up.
"You boys can be really stupid sometimes," said Hermione. "And you," she indicated Harry, "it's about bloody time!"
"What?" cried Harry and Ron together.
"Although I don't know how you're going to get over this one. Honestly, Harry, of all the times to bring up –"
"Hang on," said Harry. "You thought I was interested in him?"
Hermione looked at him with the exact expression that in the past would have preceded an exasperated suggestion that he read Hogwarts: A History.
"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Ron.
"There's nothing to –" Harry began, but Hermione silenced him.
"You need to go and find him," she said.
"Willingly seek out an angry Snape? You think I have a death wish?"
"He's not angry, he's hurt. And the longer you leave it, the worse it will get."
"What was he doing here anyway?" asked Ron.
"Wanted me to be his Secret Keeper."
Hermione gasped, grabbed the cushion and hit Harry over the head with it, screaming, "You idiot!" and causing Ron to laugh hysterically.
"Ow! Gerroff!" Harry found himself backed into a corner, arms held up, fending off the cushion. "What is it?"
"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, slumping onto the sofa beside him. "You can be so dense sometimes. Not as dense as him," she nodded towards Ron, who stopped laughing and looked outraged, "but pretty dense nonetheless."
"Thanks?"
"Just go, Harry, before it's too late."
"You mean, now?"
"Yes. Now." She shooed him away, looking disturbingly like Mrs Weasley. Judging by Ron's expression, he caught the resemblance too.
Harry nodded, and with a self-deprecating laugh said, "Wish me luck!" before Disapparating.
The trip was a little easier now that he knew where he was going, but international Apparation was still definitely a pain in the arse. He would have to have words with Severus about either moving closer or setting up a Portkey or something.
Realising that he was thinking as though he were planning on seeing Severus often – and thinking of him as Severus, for that matter – Harry caught himself and focused on what he was going to say.
He was no further along than Sorry, I'm an idiot, by the time he reached the castle. It was dark, probably quite late, and Harry felt incredibly stupid as he lifted the heavy, brass knocker.
The door swung open before the knocker even fell, to reveal a glowering, venomous Snape.
"What are you –?"
"Before you say anything," Harry jumped in, "I'm an idiot. Sorry."
Severus had clearly not expected that. Neither had Harry, really.
"That is a given. Precisely which part of your idiocy is under discussion?"
Harry smiled. "You're really charming, you know. Probably makes me all sorts of messed up for liking you so much."
Snape simply stared at him, seemingly impassive.
"What I mean is," Harry continued, "it was a stupid stray thought and I'm sorry, but what were you doing reading my mind anyway? That's kind of rude."
"You have still not learned –"
"Occlumency, yeah, I know."
His heart caught somewhere in his throat, Harry tentatively stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"I fail to see what you could want from me," said Severus, looking somewhat unsure.
Harry did not reply. Instead, he reached up and laced his fingers through Severus' hair. Severus stiffened, but did not resist. Feeling more nervous than before a Quidditch match, Harry leaned up and brushed his lips gently across Severus' jaw. He paused, waited, his heart hammering in his ears, half expecting an Unforgivable.
Severus gripped him by the shoulders, and Harry tensed. But then Severus' teeth were at his throat, and his knees weakened. He was thrown against the wall, hands clutching at his robes and a thigh pressing against his groin. He moaned; that seemed to spur Severus on, for he kissed Harry fiercely, thrusting his tongue into Harry's mouth.
Harry's head was spinning. He fought to respond, but Severus moved so quickly; one minute, he was kissing him, the next he was biting at his neck. Somehow, his robes had ended up on the floor and Severus' hands were slipping into the waistband of his jeans.
"Can we move to – ah! – somewhere more comfortable?" Harry gasped, feeling utterly graceless.
Severus grasped his shoulders and began moving him towards a doorway, his mouth never leaving Harry's. They stumbled a few times; Harry's shoulder was knocked into a doorframe, but his yelp of pain was drowned in a moan as Severus' knee pressed against his erection.
Harry was thrown onto the settee. Moments later, Severus was on top of him, moving against him in ways that made his entire body tingle with heat. He felt downright clumsy in comparison, kissing and groping at whatever he could reach.
Severus didn't seem to mind, though. He was deftly working through Harry's clothing, flicking open the buttons of his shirt with one hand while the other dealt with his fly. Harry lifted his hips and Severus pulled off his jeans, and his boxers with them, leaving Harry feeling exposed and somewhat silly.
While Severus was working on removing his shirt, Harry reached over to start on the buttons of his heavy robes, but found his hand summarily batted away.
"Hey!" he protested. "That hardly seems –"
He was cut short by a kiss of such intensity that he completely forgot he was naked and Severus was not; he wrapped his legs around Severus' waist and arched his back. Severus broke off the kiss abruptly and bit hard on Harry's earlobe, eliciting a small yelp.
"Turn over," Severus growled in his ear.
His voice seemed to reverberate down Harry's spine; he hadn't even registered the words when Severus' hands gripped his shoulders and flipped him over. Harry scrabbled for purchase; he moaned aloud as he felt Severus' warm body over his back, teeth at the nape of his neck and hands sliding around his waist to find his hardened cock.
Harry felt awkward, as though there was something he ought to be doing rather than simply squirming beneath Severus' touch. It was difficult to form coherent thought, though, when Severus' tongue was running down his spine and his fingers were curling around him and pulling just like that. Harry rested his head on his forearm and succumbed; he could reciprocate later, he reasoned.
There was some rustling and fidgeting behind him. Harry tried to look over his shoulder, but all he could see was Severus' long, lank hair masking his face. There was just one hand on him now; Harry pushed into it and gasped.
"'S good," he murmured, cursing his own ineloquence. It was more than good; it felt as though every nerve in his body were resonating at Severus' touch. Yet still he wanted more; he squirmed and bucked his hips, desperate for more contact.
Severus' nails scraped down his spine; Harry arched his back, gasping at the shiver that spread over his skin. The tips of Severus' fingers barely traced Harry's entrance, but he jumped at the flutter of pleasure that elicited. Then a finger slid inside with surprising ease – where had that lubricant come from? – and toyed with him for a moment, slipping in and out, twisting and crooking inside him. It felt incredible, but Harry wasn't in the mood for being teased; he just wanted Severus to fuck him, hard. He thought about saying so, but wasn't sure that it wouldn't come out as a garbled mumble, so he thought it as hard as he could and hoped that Severus had not relaxed his Legilimency.
Severus made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a chuckle. So he was still reading Harry's mind; it did occur to Harry briefly to be offended, but he didn't care all that much, so he gave up on his righteous indignation and instead focused as hard as he could on thoughts of Severus pounding him through the settee.
"Patience," Severus muttered. His voice was strained, though, which made Harry smile.
A second finger slid inside of him, and now he could feel the blunt edge of something larger and hotter pressing against him. He pushed back keenly, but Severus insisted on taking his time over easing inside, slipping his fingers out as his cock slid home.
Harry's mind went momentarily blank. He held his breath as Severus pulled out almost all the way, then let it out as he slammed back in. He could hear that Severus' breathing was ragged, and there was something immensely gratifying about that. Harry bucked hard and heard a distinct hitch in Severus' breath. Nails dug into Harry's hips, but he was only peripherally aware of the pain, for Severus then began to thrust in earnest. Heat was spreading out all over his body, making his fingers tingle and his toes curl. Leaning on just one arm, he reached a hand down to his cock and pulled on it hard. Severus' hand instantly moved around to still his, but Harry shrugged it off, stroking harder and faster, matching the rhythm of Severus' increasingly erratic thrusts as best he could.
He hoped to Merlin that Severus had stopped reading his mind, for the random images flooding Harry's mind would surely have thrown him. He couldn't stop thinking of the young Severus he had met back in the past, what it might have been like to –
"Ah!" Whatever spot Severus had just hit felt incredible. Harry's entire body jolted; he could feel his climax tumbling towards him and he wanted to delay it but he couldn't; moments later, he dived headfirst over the edge, his entire body twitching and convulsing.
He lay motionless for a long time, aware that Severus was pounding into him with increasing fervour but hardly caring. Random spasms were engulfing him, as well as an overwhelming desire never to move again.
Some time later, Severus collapsed atop him, his rasping breath tickling the back of Harry's neck. Harry rolled over and dropped gracelessly from the edge of the settee.
When he woke, he was still lying on the floor, though a cushion had been placed under his head and a robe thrown over his naked body. He rolled over, rubbing his eyes, and saw Severus sitting in a nearby armchair, fully clothed and unruffled.
"Bloody amazing," said Harry around a yawn. His mouth felt thick and dry.
Severus' eyes flickered away from him – almost as though he were shy, as daft as that thought felt to Harry.
"Tea?" Severus asked. Harry blinked, and saw that a cup was levitating in front of him.
"Thanks." He sat up, allowing the robe to drop carelessly around his waist and smiling inwardly at the way Severus' gaze rested on him, then self-consciously moved away.
Severus sipped his own tea in silence. "So what happens now?" Harry asked nervously. There was no response from Severus. "I mean," Harry continued, "we have a castle of our own, no Dark Lords to worry about…."
"You wish to remain here?" Severus tone was cool and detached, though Harry could see past that.
"Not exactly, but maybe I could visit from time to time?"
The nod was barely perceptible, but Harry sensed it.
"And Ron and Hermione are moving out, so if you want to come to London…."
"That would be pushing it."
"Of course." Harry grinned. It probably wasn't exactly the result Hermione had intended from her Time-Turner, but he was happy with it.