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snarryhols (snarryhols) wrote in snarry_holidays, @ 2009-12-23 18:43:00

Fic: Bound to be Broken - for atypicalsnowman
Title: Bound to be Broken
Author: The Grinch!
Giftee: atypicalsnowman
Word Count: 12,712 words
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Warnings: *Snape survives; DH but not Epilogue-compliant.*
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: There is a way to break the accidental bond between Harry and Snape; it simply involves lots of sex.
Author's Notes: So many thanks are due to the mods for their astounding patience with me. I'm so happy to have completed this fic, and that's all due to their encouragement and flexibility. To my recipient, atypicalsnowman: I took your very first kink/request of accidental bonding and ran with it. I also tried to incorporate a number of your other kinks, as well as slipping in the last of your optional prompts in one scene. I really hope you enjoy the results. Happy Snarry Holidays!



When Harry walked toward his home, already loosening his tie, he found Snape awaiting him at the threshold. Snape's arms were crossed over his chest, his stern features were drawn into a scowl, and he was tapping the toe of his boot on the step in a staccato metronymic rhythm seemingly designed to set Harry's already tense shoulders into a Gordian knot.

"There was a meeting," Harry began.

"If you think I have nothing better to do than stand about in dilapidated Muggle neighbourhoods awaiting your inauspicious arrival --"

"I tried, all right?" Harry wrenched the door open, pointed for Snape to go inside and then followed, turning the locks with a snap-snap-snap. "I said I had somewhere to be. Then Jenkins started in, 'What exactly could you have to do that's more important than this?'"

"Fine, fine." Snape waved him ahead. When Harry hesitated, he said, "Shall we?" through gritted teeth and gave an over-elaborate flourish of his hand.

"Give me a moment." Harry stalked off toward the kitchen, not bothering to invite Snape to make himself comfortable. He ran the tap and drank one glass of water, then another.

"I so appreciate this continuing evidence of your concern for my time," Snape called out from the other room.

Harry only just resisted the urge to hurl the glass into the sink for the satisfaction of watching it crack into splinters.

"Cup of tea?" he called out instead, placing the glass down on the counter. He didn't know why he bothered offering; Snape never accepted.

There was a tense pause. "Just get in here so that we may yet again attempt this futile endeavour."

Harry rolled his shoulders and pulled his tie off as he went, balling it up and tossing it in the general direction of the kitchen table.

"In here?" he asked when he found Snape in the sitting room, a high round table pulled up to the chair he occupied.

Snape had in his few moments time alone spread out some of the key texts they had taken to consulting more regularly of late on the issue of their current problem. Now he looked up from them with a great deal of annoyance.

"You have another suggestion?" he snapped.

Harry closed his eyes and mentally calculated knut-and-sickle conversions from Muggle money and then back again. "Here's fine." he said shortly, pulling up a seat across from Snape.

Snape turned the front-most volume Harry's way, and tapped an evidently relevant passage complete with ink illustration. "Well? I thought we might try this next."

"Suits." Harry yawned.

"Oh, you aren't too tired to exert yourself, are you?" Snape asked with false concern.

"Shut it." Harry stood, walking reluctantly over to Snape and the book. Snape had his black cold eyes trained on him, suspicious and resentful, as he approached.

"Right." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then without further ado, he pulled Snape to his feet and crushed their mouths together.

Snape gave a muffled sound as Harry kissed him hard. Harry swallowed that and every noise that followed, murmuring encouragement back until Snape's lips parted. When Snape surged forward in response, their teeth clacked until they were able to right themselves and get their mouths again sliding in tempo.

For a time they stood in an unsteady clutch, breathing hard through kiss after kiss. Snape worked Harry's shirt open further, running his palms over Harry's vest, massaging.

But soon enough they were misaligned and stumbling once more, the table next to them sliding and then hitting the wall as Snape's arse thumped against its edge. Harry grasped Snape's jaw in both hands and kissed him again, shoving him against the table without regard for the various books crashing to the floor.

Finally they broke apart, gasping.

Then Snape brought his hand to brush against Harry's hardening cock, making an approving noise. "Not so tired after all, are you?" he murmured, groping and stroking through Harry's trousers.

Harry didn't bother answering, instead letting his head tilt back a little as he moaned. Snape's methods really were improving, he thought a bit wildly, as Snape managed to do a kind of twist at the top through the fabric that had Harry's hips bucking forward. And Snape's mouth, now sliding and sucking its way down his throat, was absolutely the most wonderful thing in the world.

But that was nothing to Snape reversing their positions, so Harry was the one leant against the table, and then folding to his knees. He growled as he fumbled open Harry's placket with impatient plucking, and took Harry's cock in with his mouth closed around it in a tight ring.

"Oh fuck, that's so good," Harry blurted, not so mindful of their aggravating bickering of moments ago now that Snape's lips were wrapped around him. His grinding, tough day at work; a highly unpleasant fundraising luncheon; several nerve-wracking meetings: all of it dissipated like fine mist from Harry's mind as Snape slid his mouth off the head of his prick with a pop and then dove back down.

Snape said or moaned something. Harry couldn't tell what it might have been, and he didn't much care -- what mattered was the delicious hum it sent through his erection. He twined his fingers in Snape's lank hair and, without thinking it through, snapped his hips forward.

Snape choked a little. Harry hadn't time to be ashamed or guilty that it made him all the harder because Snape just kept right on, that marvellous mouth, that slippery tongue, doing all he could to drive the notion of thought itself from Harry's head.

"Oh fuck," Harry said helplessly, jerking his hips again as Snape's left hand came up to fumble through his open trousers to grasp and massage his arse. He ought to slow down, he knew, not ride forward in this out-of-control way. But Snape didn't stop him, just bent to the task, mouth so wet and warm that Harry could have sung its praises all night long if he only kept letting the head of Harry's prick rub against the inside of his soft cheek.

Snape choked once or twice more, and Harry was unable to stop himself from tugging at Snape's hair as the sound sent a frisson through him. He meant it as a warning, he thought to himself with what was left of his brain, but that wasn't true; honestly, he just wanted to rein Snape's glorious mouth in and keep on fucking his face because oh fuck, yes, fuck!

He let out a guttural cry as he came, pelvis stiffening and then jerking through the spasms.

Snape had reached up at some point to fondle his balls, and now he palmed them carefully, his palm smooth and warm as Harry gulped in air. His other hand stroked Harry's arse, deliberate and steady.

Harry stared sightlessly at the ceiling, letting the table support his weight as he slowly massaged Snape's scalp. Snape rested his head against Harry's groin, catching his breath. At the back of his head, Harry wondered if he would be able to stay on his feet for even a moment longer feeling as boneless and as magnificent as he did right now.

"You might have warned --" Snape began to say.

Harry made an impatient sound and hauled him to his feet, yanking him close and kissing him deeply.

"Well," Snape sputtered when Harry moved to lip along his jaw and bite his earlobe.

"Do you want me to try it?" Harry whispered in his ear. "I could, if you -- or I could pull you off -- you want that? Anything you'd like. Anything." He reached for Snape, but Snape snatched and stilled his wrist before Harry could touch his cock.

"That won't be necessary," Snape said stiffly.

"Won't be --" Harry blinked, trying to process what that meant in his current languorous state. He twisted his hand, trying to wrangle it from Snape's grip, and got his fingers close enough to touch the damp spot on Snape's trousers. "Oh," he said in a surprised voice.

"Yes," Snape sneered.

Harry decided to disregard any further spiteful response that might follow and kissed Snape again, gentling the contact from their earlier intensity. He used his fingers to comb through Snape's hair as their lips brushed together, and Snape sighed against Harry's mouth.

When Harry pulled back a bit, Snape breathed harshly, lips parted, eyes shut. He looked gratifyingly rumpled, and even what someone might call vulnerable.

When Harry touched Snape's cheek with his fingertips in a hesitant caress, though, Snape's eyes snapped open.

"That seemed a success," Snape noted. His lips pressed together in a thin line, and he took a step back.

Mouth suddenly dry, Harry swallowed. "Yeah. Might have been." He moved aside, giving Snape plenty of space. "We should check, I suppose."

Snape scoffed, but the slight tremor as he fumbled his wand into his hands seemed to show he was just as affected by what had happened as Harry.

Both were silent as Snape made the now-familiar pattern with his wand.

Harry tried to watch for the small spark at the end of the configuration, but he could easily have missed it, he knew from their research. "Anything?" he asked. His voice sounded calm to him, though his heart was beating quickly.

Snape's stormy expression was answer enough, but he bit out, "No." His wand disappeared in the folds of his robes, and he turned away.

"Wait," Harry blurted.

Snape whipped around, casting him a venomous look. "Well?"

"You don't have to leave right away," Harry began, feeling a right idiot.

"Don't I?"

"You could stay a little --"

"To what purpose?"

"I don't know!" Harry realized he was standing there with his flies open and his limp cock hanging out. He groaned as he struggled to compose himself. "Listen, you always just rush off, but -- look, I have plenty for supper. Have you eaten anything? I could --"

"Don't be ridiculous and sentimental," Snape spat out. "You know as well as I this is in aid of a solution to our problem and nothing more. Despite what's happened, we're nothing to each other, Potter, and you know it."

"Fine! Pardon me for being polite! Get the hell out!" Having managed to stuff himself back in his trousers, Harry gave up on buttoning his shirt as a lost cause and flung himself into a chair.

"Gladly." Snape righted his clothing and swept out of the room with as much dignity as a man with a spreading come stain on his trousers might muster.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"How did things turn out?" Hermione asked solicitously the next morning as they were served their breakfast dishes.

"Don't you think I would have said something already had it worked?" Harry replied as soon as the server retreated. He closed his eyes, rubbing at them with the heels of his hands. "If we'd managed to cement the bond enough to break it apart at last, I would have announced it at the start."

"Tough luck, mate," Ron put in. His voice sounded muffled through what must have been his eggs in his mouth.

"You should eat something too, Harry," Hermione advised him. She patted his arm briskly and then set to her own breakfast.

He shrugged. "Not hungry." His stomach was too agitated with worry for that. Despite the initial lassitude he'd felt with Snape when they had finished last night, after their irritable parting he'd had a horrid night's sleep.

"You're not going to finish..." Ron let his sentence trail off.

"No."

"Can't let it go to waste, of course," Ron commented. The tableware clattered as he pulled Harry's toast and porridge his way.

"I still don't understand why we three have to meet every morning after," Harry said, at last opening his eyes and blinking at the sunlight streaming through the windows.

"To show our support of you, of course, and help supply suggestions for further trials of breaking the bond between you and Snape." Hermione spread jam neatly on her toast. "Besides, it's nice to get a good table here once in a while so we can linger; this café is so crowded at lunch time."

Harry held out a hand. "I don't need any technical advice from you, thanks."

"You might if things keep on as they are," Hermione answered. "You're still bound to Snape, aren't you? So you haven't yet discovered what combination of physical intimacies will let you dissolve the bond."

"Besides, I thought Snape hadn't, er..." Ron paused, a spoonful of porridge on its way to his mouth. "You know. You said he hadn't. Before the two of you started. So suggestions could help."

"He hadn't," Harry said absently. "But he's bought some books to consult lately. You'd hardly know it now, like how last night, he --"

Ron choked on the porridge.

"Well, that's resourceful," Hermione interrupted brightly. "I'm glad he's actively participating in the process."

Harry thought of Snape on his knees yesterday, of his hot wet mouth, and crushed one of Ron's rolls in his hand. "Participating. Right."

"Hey!" Ron rescued the crumbled pieces from Harry, and tossed them into the porridge. "I know it can't be easy, but at least there's a way to break the thing between you. And if Snape is doing his part, well then, that's all right."

"Yeah."

"So you have resources from which to work, but did you want any input about --" Hermione started again.

"No," Harry said quickly. "I'll just -- I'll let you know how things turn out."

From the look on her face she seemed inclined to argue, but she said only, "Trying again Thursday, then?"

"As per the schedule we set up, yeah." It was awkward enough he and Snape had prearranged meetings to work on their issue. But it was all the more embarrassing knowing Hermione had the timetable they'd created tacked to the wall in her study.

"Hey, with any luck you could be rid of Snape by Friday and free to ask Ginny out by Saturday," Ron suggested.

Harry winced and Hermione frowned.

"What?" Ron asked, pausing in his act of scraping the bowl clean with his spoon. "It's not as though Harry and Snape want to be together. If Harry hadn't bonded the two of them by mistake when we did that spell to locate Snape after he disappeared, none of this would have had to happen at all."

"No, not that! You know Ginny is with Neville now," Hermione replied in an urgent whisper, leaning over the table toward Ron. "She wouldn't want to get back together with Harry even if he was free."

"I can still hear you, Hermione," Harry said wearily.

"Well, you can't have expected her to wait," she replied in her normal voice, sitting back and turning to him.

Harry frowned. "You don't have to sound so reasonable about it. As soon as I told her I didn't know how long it would take, she said we were through." And truthfully, Harry thought less and less of how things had been with Ginny. In part his demanding schedule didn't allow for it. Really, it didn't hurt that he was used to thinking of them apart more than together. But it irked him how sensible Hermione felt the end of their relationship had been.

Hermione shot him an impatient look. "Any woman who learns her boyfriend has become inadvertently bound to his former professor, and furthermore discovers they haven't any idea how to break that bond has every right to date other men. Especially when she hears that in order to dissolve their magical tie, the two of them have to attempt all manner of highly erotic acts."

The server, about to ask if they wanted anything more, pivoted on her foot and hurried off in the opposite direction.

"Hmm. Neville was at Sunday dinner at the Burrow last week, wasn't he?" Ron asked. He popped a bit of roll into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

"You likely didn't notice the two of them holding hands and blushing because you were up to your elbows in potatoes and roast," Hermione said in her most snide tone.

"It was a very good roast," Ron said defensively. "And as it seems you never find time for cookery even though you're revising at home most days, obviously I have to enjoy proper meals where I can get them."

"You could just as easily prepare dinner yourself, Ronald, and you know it! The hours you work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes are flexible!"

"When? In between stocking shelves, dealing with customers, talking to suppliers, and going over the ledgers with George? Or nights when I'm cramming for the upcoming Auror examination?"

"That's it," Harry said, throwing down his napkin and getting up. "I'm off for work."

"Right, I should be getting in to the Wheezes as well," Ron put in. He pocketed the last roll as he stood. "We have a shipment of murtlap essence coming in for our next batch of Fever Fudge. That's a high-demand international order at Beauxbatons."

"Oh dear, I'm going to be late for my Regulation of Magical Creatures course if I don't hurry," Hermione said, jumping to her feet. "Friday morning for breakfast then?" she asked Harry.

He shrugged. "Suppose so." As much as he didn't want to talk about what he and Snape did with Ron and Hermione, it helped a little to see them for breakfast the next day. At least, it seemed to make him feel a bit less lonely. Not that Snape leaving or whatever they did together caused him to feel lonely, no. It was only that he couldn't see anyone else while he and Snape were still bound together. Besides, it was an odd business, having unexpectedly fantastic sex with someone who didn't like him so they could try to dissolve the bond trapping them together.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The work day that followed Harry's breakfast with Ron and Hermione was torturous.

Three hours of gruelling training, two meetings at which Harry nearly fell asleep, then an exhausting session of paperwork to help the field Aurors catch up on their considerable backlog. Harry found himself drooping over the final pile of parchments, his quill slipping from his fingers. As he struggled to keep his eyes open their superior, Jenkins, leant into the room and demanded to know what they were all still doing there. "Shouldn't you have gone home already?" he barked.

As they all groaned and prepared to leave, some of the others in Harry's cohort tried to persuade him to join them for a pint. But he begged off, explaining he was knackered.

Claudine Chestnut, a pretty brunette in a different training group than he, gave him a tight disappointed smile when they bade each other farewell. He felt a small pang of regret, for this was the second or third time he'd sensed she'd like his company particularly at an after-work outing.

But he didn't much relish eventually having to explain to a girl he thought she really was quite nice, but he couldn't date anyone right now, you see, because he was more or less magically married to a man who had despised him for the past eight years.

Harry hadn't told anyone about the current constraining circumstances with Snape. Well, not really, because he'd told Ron and Hermione. They didn't count with those kinds of secrets, though, as they would only confide in one another, and Harry trusted them completely. Besides, Snape discovered soon enough that Ron and Hermione were in on their state of affairs. They would have to be, eventually; to start with they obviously knew all about the accidental bond, as both Ron and Hermione had been the ones to help Harry ready the spell forming the connection between himself and Snape.

At the time it seemed the ideal way to locate Snape after his disappearance, establishing a soul-connection to his former professor that would allow Harry to sense where the man could be found. When they learned Snape's body was missing after the aftermath of the Battle at Hogwarts, Harry nearly went mental worrying someone had kidnapped him, or worse, finished him off while Harry was fighting Voldemort. Snape had done so much for him, for everyone really, and the idea that he had been abandoned to die alone or left vulnerable to torture tormented Harry. Accustomed to the vigilance and frantic searching from the months of Horcrux searching, and with several months' holiday before beginning Auror training in late fall, all of Harry's focus that summer turned to the task of finding Snape.

Though Hermione expressed some doubts about the spell, Ron agreed that they should go ahead and try it.

"We don't understand fully what the spell might do to them should Harry manage to establish the connection," she had said stubbornly the last time they argued about it.

"We've also no idea where Snape might be or if he's even still alive. So it's not as though things on that front can get any worse," Ron had pointed out. "If it does connect them, we'll work out the details later."

The spell worked amazingly well, leading the three of them, through Harry's sure impulses, directly to Snape in the small flat in Warwick where he had hidden himself. Harry was immensely gratified to find Snape alive and well, though Snape himself sputtered and called them interfering idiots for ferreting him out. Harry brushed off the protestations as rote for the man's unpleasant temperament, and felt only pleasure they had managed it and found Snape safe.

Harry was less pleased, however, when finally they figured out the spell forming a connection between him and Snape had succeeded far beyond what any of them had ever imagined.

The realization something had gone wrong dawned when Harry kept seeking Snape out. At first it made some sense, him wanting to thank Snape, to learn what he had really been experiencing all this time he had hidden his true purpose, to ask him about Harry's mum as a girl and so many things in the past to which he had been witness. But the urge to spend time with him seemed only to grow each time Harry saw him.

Snape tried avoiding Harry once he apparently discerned something was amiss -- or maybe at first, before the impact was felt by either of them, he just wished to get rid of Harry completely. And for a time, though Harry thought often of seeing Snape, he busied himself with friends and gradually rekindling his romance with Ginny. Snape's desire for Harry to keep a substantial distance from him had been possible to oblige.

After another month of not encountering each other, though, both Snape and Harry began suffering terribly from the incomplete bond, which had unbeknownst to them been started so powerfully but had never strengthened.

The longer he went without seeing Snape, the more Harry experienced extraordinary amounts of agitation. After at first making excuses for him and then mildly suggesting he take care of himself, his superiors had at last conferred and concluded he must be suffering from trauma. They informed him their recommendation, if his performance did not immediately improve, was for him to take a year's leave for emotional recovery.

Not knowing what else to think, Harry contemplated taking them up on the offer of a hiatus. While he had felt all right in the first few weeks after Snape had been found, now he discovered he couldn't close his eyes without being plagued by awful dreams. As the days went on and he tried his best to keep up at work, he lost his appetite and began avoiding his friends. All the while he felt pangs of an incredible loneliness, but at the same time it seemed important he keep himself apart from others at all costs. At that point Ginny, frustrated with how Harry continually put her off, suggested the two of them needed a break. And as Harry didn't bother to answer her owls, he more or less agreed in absentia.

Things might have gotten worse had he not started hearing odd things about Snape.

Those who spotted him around Diagon Alley or other wizarding areas observed he appeared as if he was growing increasingly ill. Murmured rumours came that he had been issued warnings for hexing clerks and passers-by whenever he ventured out in public.

Finally The Daily Prophet ran a suggestive blurb about an immense explosion that had occurred in Snape's private laboratory. Apparently a potion concoction gone horribly wrong had blasted a crater in the laboratory floor and caused a rampant fire in the building. Luckily Snape, as well as others in the vicinity, were unharmed. But the mention of the misfortune, and the implication that the accident had either been deliberate or the mistake of a man succumbing to madness preyed on Harry's mind.

At last Harry contacted Hermione, asking if she thought the way the two of them were experiencing problems could somehow be related. Once they hit upon the right path, their rounds of research had begun to uncover the real crisis, and to point them to what they had to do to overcome it.

Oh, at the start they had tried more basic ways of attempting to satisfy the bond, like eating meals together or otherwise spending time in each other's company. But it became increasingly clear as they researched and experimented that "erotic intimacy," as Hermione put it, was the only way to cement the bond and, ultimately, help bring the whole situation to a close. So it was pointless to avoid it, really, not if they hoped to be rid of each other in the end.

At least now they were set on their schedule -- twice weekly, which allowed Harry the rest of his time to work and see friends, and Snape the rest of his time to do whatever it was he did when he wasn't brewing.

Harry's initial impulse once they had worked out what was going on was to lock himself and Snape in a cottage somewhere until it was sorted. But Snape made it clear he was not about to spend his every waking moment with Harry, and made some rather alarming suggestions about what exactly he would do to Harry should he be forced into that situation. Furthermore, Hermione gently suggested that Harry would go round the bend spending all his time with the man, while Ron suggested, with a slightly queasy look, that Harry ought to give himself breaks between being forced to try such things as the bond seemed to require with a man.

But it wasn't the bit about Snape being a man that bothered him, Harry thought as he stopped at Diagon Alley to pick up a ready meal. Though it had been immensely awkward at first with Snape, even with as little as kissing, Harry gradually sussed out that wasn't because they were both men. After years of thinking about and dating women, he surprisingly found touching a male body rather exciting. If he felt that way about groping Snape, he imagined he'd have no trouble with other men.

And the way Snape looked at Harry when he thought Harry wasn't watching, whenever they were having a snog or when they had their hands shoved down the other's pants, utterly disproved the theory that Severus Snape preferred women. The expression of fierce excitement flittering over Snape's face when Harry had first cried out and come all over his hand was a revelation. It made Harry pause and wonder whether Snape had ever thought of him in that way before -- though he couldn't pursue that line of thought with questions, as Snape began looking sour soon after and banged out of the house in a random fit of pique.

No, the discomfort at the start came from the fact that Snape hadn't a bit of experience. It seemed he felt incredibly defensive anticipating Harry might poke fun at his lack of technique, so he initially tried to cover his concerns by ridiculing Harry's technique. It was a vicious circle of nasty barbs and Snape departing every encounter in high dudgeon until Harry figured it out.

Luckily, Harry refused to be put off by Snape's alternating snarling and stony silence even before he comprehended the situation, and insisted they keep trying to snog and mess about.

Then during a moment of weakness (it really was amazing the sorts of things a spy used to concealing everything would blurt out during or after orgasms), Snape grudgingly confirmed Harry was the first person he'd ever really been with sexually. Harry felt unexpectedly sympathetic toward Snape in light of that, despite Snape threatening him immediately afterward with all sorts of painful hexes should he tell anyone.

Good thing he was, as it was tough to say how else he might keep tolerating Snape's company. Though, strangely, Harry found himself looking forward to spending time with Snape of late. He thought he'd probably better not dwell on what that said about him and his lack of other relationships. After all, this was Snape, who had stormed out of his place yesterday in a stupid huff; Snape, who couldn't resist making fun of Harry's friends and maintaining Harry was lazy even though he worked damn hard; Snape, who though no one's idea of handsome, had begun to hold a place in Harry's mind, where he found himself thinking of Snape's long legs and pale skin and amazing thick cock that felt marvellous in Harry's hand when he stroked him.

Harry held the containers of his meal in front of him as he hurried out of Diagon Alley. He was completely nutters, getting a stiffy at the thought of Snape and the weird mix of compelling and unappealing components that made up the man.

After a quick chat with Tom at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry Apparated to the alleyway a few blocks from his home so that he might clear his head with a walk.

He reached his house, locking the door behind him, and took a deep breath. He hadn't joked about being knackered, but now the real extent of his exhaustion was hitting him. The training period for Aurors was tiring for many, but with the added issue of dealing with this business with the bond, Harry hadn't energy left for anything. Combine that with his confusing thoughts about Snape, and Harry felt ready to collapse as soon as he managed to eat some of his meal.

He sighed as he set down his things. Even if he was tired, coming home alone to an empty house didn't hold many charms for him, particularly when all he was here to do was eat and sleep. Grimmauld Place was much improved since Kreacher and he were on better terms and as he'd managed to get rid of the last of the curses and hexes built into the place. Still, it was an awfully big home to keep all by himself. He thought wistfully of Hermione and Ron in their flat, probably bickering about whose turn it was to go get the take away before they settled down to revise for their studies together after supper. Though if he saw a great deal of them, it wasn't the same; they had each other, and here he was alone.

Even Kreacher was gone half the time, as Harry and he had worked out that Kreacher would help at Hogwarts for days at a stretch. After the house elf population had sustained its own losses at the Battle at Hogwarts, a whole group of young house elves had to be trained to handle serving and cleaning after a new group of students. When the school re-opened officially the year next, Kreacher would likely return to Harry full time.

For now the arrangement often left things in confusion at Harry's home. Harry had mostly managed to get Kreacher to stop preparing feasts fit to feed Dumbledore's Army before he departed for a stay at Hogwarts. Still, sometimes Harry underestimated how much having his house elf's savoury dishes waiting for him when he returned tired from work helped him. He didn't much mind eating take away now and again. But tonight, carrying in his sorry little containers only seemed to drive home the point -- there was no one there to share anything with him.

When he brought the containers into the kitchen and put the kettle on, however, he paused. Strange to think so much of being alone and then hear faint noises, as though there were other people in the house. He waited, but only silence followed. He shrugged it off as he took off his jacket, but no, it sounded almost as if -- were those footsteps above? Perhaps he was imagining -- no, there they were again.

Only he would inevitably find an intruder in his house just when he'd been thinking wistfully of sharing it with someone. He hoped it was just someone coming to burgle him rather than a misguided and hysterical fan of the Boy Who Lived. Either way, it would have to be someone fairly determined to get past the large number of locks, Magical and Muggle, and not leave any kind of mark betraying their entry. Someone determined, and most likely rather powerful.

He swore under his breath and raced for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reached -- yes, the sounds were coming from his bedroom. Harry took a breath and squared his shoulders. He could feel the adrenaline surging through him, readying him to take on whoever was there. Then he burst inside.

"Wait. What are you doing here?" he asked at the doorway, having drawn himself up short. For it was Snape, rather than a burglar or a deranged admirer, sitting rather primly on the side of Harry's mattress.

"I let myself in," Snape said shortly.

"Erm..."

Snape was here. On his bed. Awaiting his return from work.

Harry's fingers twitched. Okay, it wasn't the way he'd expected to spend his evening, and damned if he knew how Snape had managed getting inside. But now that Snape was here... His feeling of exhaustion, already masked by the swell in energy he'd just experienced, disappeared entirely with the slow burn heating his nerves.

He couldn't help thinking of sex when he saw Snape, after all. It was all they did together.

And here Snape was, right for the taking. And Harry had to do something with him each time they were together, even if he wasn't really inclined, because they had found no other way to work through the bond. It was all in aid of getting rid of the bond, which time and again they had both insisted they wanted to do as soon as possible. So really, sex with Snape was utterly unavoidable. Good thing Harry didn't want to avoid it.

That the sight and presence of Snape now made his cock harden right away, seemingly ages before Harry's brain had processed any bond-related thoughts, was something best left to be examined later.

"Hi," Harry said, his voice sounding hoarse to his ears.

"Hullo," Snape said stiffly.

Harry took a step closer to the bed. Snape seemed uneasy, shifting as he watched him approach. It occurred to Harry he'd best say something to reassure him. At the very least he ought to say or do something to ease Snape's jitters before he just plain rushed at him and started tearing his clothes off.

But instead of saying something suave or forgoing words entirely for direct action, Harry blurted, "We're not to meet again until Thursday."

Snape sneered. "And here I thought the heroic Harry Potter was far too adventurous and spontaneous for anything as mundane as a schedule to constrain his activities. Why delay this process, I thought to myself, especially as we seem to be making progress in our attempts?" He stood, scorn clear on his face, smoothing his robes. "But if you do not wish to pursue the problem at full speed by taking another opportunity to address it tonight; should you need time to recover --"

"I don't need time," Harry cut him off. His breath was coming faster. "You're in the bedroom," he added.

"Capably deduced," Snape remarked. His face wore a wary expression now, as if he was testing out a new conclusion.

"You've never -- that is, we've never --" Harry stopped and licked his lips. They generally snogged in living rooms or studies or, one memorable time after they'd argued about the schedule, on a table in Snape's laboratory. But they had never gone into a bedroom for this.

Snape's gaze heated slightly. Considering how stony he could appear when he was attempting to project calm, Harry thought his expression was almost what someone might call smouldering.

"Never is hardly the word with us, is it, Potter?" Snape asked softly.

Dimly Harry heard the kettle start to whistle. He paid it no mind, instead taking another step forward.

Snape started slightly, and then took out his wand, making a short motion with it. The screech of the kettle abruptly cut off. "You intended to have your tea when you arrived home?" He examined Harry with glittering eyes. "I could tolerate the wait should you need to eat first."

"What? No, not just yet. I'm not hungry, not in the slightest."

Then like a bad actor springing onto stage before his cue, Harry's stomach decided to protest this lie by rumbling.

"Even if I was, I wouldn't want you to have to wait around," Harry added hurriedly. Besides, if he did eat first, hungry though he might be, Snape could very well change his mind on a whim and storm out. And now that he was here, Harry found he very much wanted him to stay.

"Perhaps that may not be necessary." Snape narrowed his eyes. "I may have been overly hasty last night in refusing to share a meal with you."

Harry's jaw dropped, but he recovered quickly, clearing his throat. "Oh. Ah, well. I picked something up -- meant it to last several nights, so there should be plenty for two."

Snape stared at him for a moment. Then he inclined his head ever so slightly in agreement.

"Yeah? Come on, then." Harry led them down the stairs, at first attempting to slow his step so as not to appear too eager. Halfway down the stairs, though, he changed his mind and hurried ahead so he could set out plate, silver, and serviettes. If it all possible, he preferred not to seem a total incompetent when it came to having guests.

Snape entered at a more leisurely pace. He glanced around the kitchen, an unreadable expression on his face. "May I help in some way?"

"Oh, no, this is really easy to prepare," Harry said. He raised his wand over the first of the containers. They heated their contents once the simple activation charm was performed.

"That is the meal?" Snape asked, pointing.

"Oh. Yeah." Harry stopped with his wand poised in midair. "It's just -- convenient."

Snape snatched the box from him, examining it and sneering at its peppy slogans:

Vizner's Victuals: For the Wizard on the Go!

Enjoy A Convenient Treat Plenty Fit To Eat!

"I Keep My Pantry Stocked With Vizner's Victuals!" Says Puddlemere United's Oliver Wood!

Snape set the package down with a bang. "I refuse to eat this undoubtedly atrocious dish."

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," Harry replied. "You haven't even let me warm it so you can taste it."

"You have a house elf, do you not? Why on earth do you subject yourself to such revolting preparations?"

"Kreacher is at Hogwarts part of the week lately," Harry began. "So he's off for the next few nights." He swallowed, and said, "Listen, if you really don't want to try it, we could go somewhere. I mean, I could -- take you out, if you --"

"Sit," Snape commanded, pointing to a chair.

Harry sat.

Snape made his way over to the cupboards, opening and closing doors and surveying their contents with a critical eye.

"I believe there are sufficient ingredients here," Snape muttered. He went and took a look in Harry's cold cupboard and moved some of the packages about.

"Wait. You're going to cook for me?"

"No, Potter, I'm going to poison you," Snape answered in distraction. He took out a few additional items from the cupboards and then went in search of the cookware.

About twenty minutes later, after stirring and seasoning and a bit of spell work to finish it off, Snape served them two plates full of food -- roasted potatoes, greens, and lamb cutlets, all steaming hot.

"It looks very good," Harry said.

Snape shrugged.

"Not at all poisoned."

Snape snorted.

"Well, cheers."

They exchanged only a few words as they ate. Harry might have attempted more conversation, not generally liking quiet during meals. But it was more or less comfortable quiet. Snape obviously was making a genuine effort, what with offering to eat with Harry in the first place and by preparing the meal. Besides, Harry realized he didn't miss idle conversation when the air fairly thrummed with anticipation.

When they were done, Harry stood, clearing the table quickly. When he ran the water in the sink, however, Snape made a disgruntled noise.

"What are you doing?"

Harry glanced at him, soapy sponge already in his hand. "The washing up?"

"Later," Snape said. His eyes were getting that heated expression again.

"Oh. Oh! Yeah, okay."

They returned upstairs the same way, Harry leading them, though unless Harry imagined things, he wasn't the only one speeding his steps until they reached the storey where his bedroom was located.

"Hi," Harry said again when they closed the door.

Snape raised an eyebrow, but he seemed slightly amused.

"Want to get in bed?" Harry asked, grinning.

Snape's cheeks flushed. With the air of someone who was slightly dazed, he took Harry's hand when it was offered, and allowed himself to be guided.

"I -- oh, damn," he exclaimed just as Harry nuzzled his cheek. He backed up, clutching the poster of the bed as though to steady himself. "I had forgotten -- I did not retrieve the volumes we're accustomed to consulting. They are in your study, yes?" He made a motion, though Harry couldn't tell whether he planned to fetch them himself or summon them with his wand.

But Harry laid a hand on his arm, halting him. "Why don't we forget the books this time?"

Snape's skin coloured even more. "If we are to attempt the full range of intimate activities, or at the very least embark on increasingly intimate sexual episodes as we continue in our mission, I think it best if we consult --"

"I think you know what you're doing," Harry said gently.

Snape hesitated. "All right," he said at last.

"You do know it gets me hot when you talk like that, though? About the increasingly intimate sexual episodes?"

Snape attempted to assume a haughty look, but the corners of his mouth quirked. It was the closest to a smile Harry had seen on his face in all this time.

"Well, as long as we're departing from the set plan and the regular place, maybe --" Harry left his sentence unfinished and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Snape narrowed his eyes. They never got completely undressed, just made do with their clothes still on or only partially undone. But he followed Harry's lead and undid his outer robes, folding them neatly over a chair to the side of the bed. Not much was revealed, just his shirt and trousers. But the start of the process combined with knowing he was about to see still more of Snape sent a pleasant shiver up Harry's back.

Then Snape's outer shirt was open, and the soft fabric of his vest revealed. He was obviously thin, but the fabric tightened against his skin showed lean muscle.

Harry's pulse raced, and his fingers sped up until he fumbled the fabric. Finally he just pulled hard at his shirt until it came apart for him. A button or two popped off and rolled away, but he ignored them where they fell, and instead kicked off his shoes.

When he glanced up again, he saw Snape loosening the fastenings of his trousers. Harry nearly landed himself in a sprawl trying to watch that and tug his socks off at the same time.

"Idiot," Snape remonstrated, but his tone held a touch of fondness. He stepped up to offer Harry a hand for balance.

"Thanks," Harry began, but Snape interrupted by shoving his shirt off his shoulders. When Harry inhaled sharply, Snape backed him against the wall and went to work on his belt. He undid the buckle and yanked the leather out with such force that Harry felt the burn of its edge snap along the skin at his side.

"Fuck. Wait," Harry said, hands reaching for the back collar of his vest to pull it off.

"Allow me," Snape said sardonically. But Harry didn't much care how he said anything now that Snape was pushing up the cotton a bit at a time, bending to follow its path with quick flicks of his tongue along Harry's exposed skin.

"That's -- wait -- oh, keep doing that, would you?" Harry pleaded as the stiff end of Snape's tongue flicked over his nipple. He couldn't remember why he had begun to undress himself when Snape doing it was so much better.

"You are in obvious need of my help," Snape murmured. He licked first one and then the other of Harry's nipples several times, leaving Harry swaying on his feet. He had to stoop slightly to do it, but Harry couldn't find it in him to ask Snape solicitously if he would rather find a more convenient position from which to tongue his chest; he only wanted Snape to keep on doing it, to drive him mad with it.

"They're really quite pink," Snape said to himself before sucking on the right nipple. He swiped the tip and then the flat of his tongue across hard nubs.

"Jesus," Harry breathed. While Snape was mouthing at and biting very lightly at his nipple, he was also giving his trousers a gentle yank until they pooled around Harry's feet.

As Harry stepped out of them and Snape actually nuzzled his hardening cock with his cheek, he took a shaky breath.

"Severus," he whispered. He cupped Snape's cheek with his hand.

Instead of protesting the use of his given name, Snape merely pushed his cheek into Harry's hand before licking a broad stripe from the tip of Harry's middle finger to the inside of his wrist.

After that things moved a great deal more quickly. Snape proved the other night had been no fluke by doing fantastic and lovely things to Harry's cock with his gorgeous mouth. Harry hauled him to his feet when it grew too much and shoved him back toward the bed. Rather than protest, Snape went willingly, even smirking at Harry's wild expression and panting breaths. Better still was the positively sultry look he gave Harry when Harry propelled him to land with his back on the mattress and climbed atop him.

Once they were lying down, Harry tried out Snape's techniques on him, shimmying down to the foot of the bed so he could lick along the side of Severus' prick. When he slid his mouth down it as slowly as he could, Snape bucked up into his mouth and cried out, so Harry counted it a success.

At last they ended up face to face, Harry lying on top as they twisted and writhed against each other, chest to chest, hard length to hard length, their kisses blurring one into the other.

When they came it was very nearly at the same time, and Harry gasped at the feel of the slick wet between them, from both of them.

The next thing Harry knew, he was blinking bleary eyes at a dark room.

"Severus?" he called.

"Here." Snape reached out, for he was still in the bed next to Harry, and pulled him closer.

"Hmm. Are we?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Are we what?" The unusual sound of Snape yawning was strangely comforting, and Harry clutched him just a little tighter. Long fingers stroked through his hair.

"Making progress. You said it earlier, 'member? When I found you here."

There was a silence as Snape shifted. "Of that there is no doubt," he finally said in a low voice.

Whatever else he might have added, Harry didn't know, because he soon fell into a deep sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Continued in Part Two