Happy Daft Day, venturous! Recipient:venturous Title: Wishing Author:centaury_squill Rating: R Warnings: UST, fellatio, mention of foreskin Disclaimer: Not mine, no money is being made. Prompt/Summary: AU after DH Ch 29. In this version, Snape was not deposed as Headmaster of Hogwarts, nor was he attacked by Voldemort's snake. The main story begins at Hogwarts in the September following Voldemort's defeat. Author's Note: Happy Snarry Swap, Venturous! I hope you enjoy my tale.
PROLOGUE
A tempting smell of spices filled the small kitchen. The woman looked down at the dark-haired little boy leaning against her legs. Her rather sullen face was transfigured by a loving smile as she held out a wooden spoon.
"Here, my love, stir the Christmas pudding and make a wish."
The boy took the spoon and stood on tiptoe against the table, but the bowl was out of his reach. With a furtive glance over her shoulder, his mother retrieved her wand, hidden behind a row of tins. She pointed the wand at the bowl, which floated down to the boy's level. He gave his mother a knowing little smirk. He loved seeing her move things around by magic. But before he could stir the pudding mixture, the door crashed open and a scowling, hook-nosed man stormed into the kitchen. He saw the hovering bowl, seized it with a shout of rage and hurled it against the wall.
"Haven't I told you I'll have none of that? You'll not do any of that! Not in my house, you won't!"
He gave the woman a violent push. She cowered away from him.
"You'll not!" he bellowed again, then turned and left the kitchen, slamming the door violently behind him. Sobbing, his wife brought out another bowl and began to reassemble the ingredients. Then, with a tiny shrug, she picked up her wand again. Within minutes the mixture was ready. Wordlessly, she held out the bowl and spoon.
The little boy stood pressed against the wall in a corner of the kitchen, his fist thrust into his mouth to stifle his own sobs. He hated seeing his mum cry. One day, when he was grown up, he'd pay back his dad and all the Muggles like him. One day. Slowly the boy came forward, took the spoon and stirred. Scowling blackly, he made his wish...
WISHES
The chattering, scuffling and chair-scraping died down as the Headmaster stood up to speak.
"Now that the Sorting Ceremony is complete –" he paused for a moment, his black gaze raking back and forth along the four long House tables – "Now that the Sorting Ceremony is complete and you are all amongst your... kindred spirits..." his lip lifted briefly in a sneer, "I have a few things to say to you all.
"Unfortunately, I have as yet been unable to fill the Defence Against the Dark Arts post..." he raised his hand to quell the murmuring which threatened to break out among the students "... I myself will be taking these classes until a ... hmm ... suitable ... applicant comes forward ... SILENCE!" He scowled around the Great Hall until the comments died down.
"Secondly, I would like to introduce our new Muggle Studies teacher, Violet Barwell." He bowed slightly towards a nervous-looking witch sitting between Professor McGonagall and Rubeus Hagrid. "I am sure we all wish her well in her new post," Snape continued silkily. "And that she does not meet with any of the... unfortunate... accidents which befell her predecessors..."
The witch turned even paler. Minerva McGonagall put her arm round Violet's shoulders and shot a reproving glance at Snape.
"And finally, no matter what portentous events occurred last year it is time to forget them and attend to your studies; you are all schoolchildren still, and need not expect any special treatment –" He glared at the Gryffindors, his black eyes lingering for a moment on the unruly hair and green eyes of Harry Potter – "no matter how... famous... you may think you are."
Severus Snape sat down and a buzz of comment rose from the packed House tables.
"Don't know how that bastard's got the nerve –"
"– was completely exonerated, though –"
"I heard he bribed the Ministry enquiry."
"Oh? I heard he Confunded the Chief of the Wizengamot..."
"School governors must be mad."
"Bad enough having to repeat a year, without all those extra firsties too."
"Yeah, friggin' Mudbloods..."
"You can't say we learnt much last year, though."
"Oh I dunno, those Dark Arts classes were cool, none of that Defence rubbish..."
"Better not let our revered Headmaster hear you say that!"
"Huh, he'd teach 'em himself if he could get away with –"
Snape ignored all the muttering. Only the slight tightening of his thin mouth showed he heard any of it at all. Presently he gave a faint smirk and his black gaze returned to the Gryffindor table. The object of his scrutiny was concentrating on eating his treacle tart, refusing to look up and meet anybody's eyes.
~*~
Ron hurled his bag into a corner and dropped into the armchair nearest to the fire. "Never thought I'd be back here again."
Hermione sat down on the arm of his chair. "It does seem a bit of an anticlimax," she admitted. "Where's Harry?"
"Went straight up to our dorm, I think," Ron said, putting his arm around her waist.
"Is he – you know – all right?" Hermione looked worried.
Ron shrugged. "Why wouldn't he be?"
"After all he went through? With Voldemort and everything? And so many people being killed... You know Harry, how he feels responsible for everyone. And he's been so withdrawn lately. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's suffering from post-traumatic stress, or something."
"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron said. "We had stresses and traumas too." He pulled her down onto his chest.
"But we've got each other," Hermione whispered, glancing round the crowded common room.
"Well, Harry's got Ginny, hasn't he?"
"That's the thing, Ron, I'm not sure he has. She told me he doesn't seem interested in her any more. She's worried about him, and so am I. I'm sure there's something wrong. Can't you have a word with him?"
Ron looked uncomfortable. "You're imagining it, Hermione. He seems all right to me."
But later, up in the dormitory, Ron paused by Harry's drawn curtains on his way to his own four-poster. He cleared his throat. "Er, Harry mate? You OK?"
Harry grimaced to himself. The past summer had been the worst he'd ever endured; worse even than the one following his godfather's death. He'd shuttled frenetically from The Burrow to Grimmauld Place to The Leaky Cauldron and back to The Burrow again: no sooner being in one place than wanting to be in another, unable to escape from the demons driving him, never at peace with himself. He stared bleakly at the curtains enclosing his bed. "I'm fine," he said.
~*~
As the term got under way, Harry found some solace in the familiar routine; it was a comfort not to have to make decisions, just to follow the timetable – Potions with Professor Slughorn, Charms with Professor Flitwick, Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, Herbology with Professor Sprout.
Then came Thursday afternoon, and Defence Against the Dark Arts, with Snape.
The lesson began normally enough. Snape stalked among the class, handing out test papers. "In the light of the last, rather... unconventional... school year," he said, smirking at their glum faces, "I intend to establish what, if anything, you retain of this most important subject."
Listlessly, Harry held his hand out for the proffered test paper. When Snape didn't hand it over immediately, he looked up to see Snape regarding him speculatively. They exchanged a long, unsmiling stare, then Snape abruptly handed over the paper, turned and swept to his desk at the front of the class. Harry pulled out his quill and began poring over the test questions. Surprisingly, he felt a flicker of interest as he read them. Snape certainly knew how to pose some knotty but intriguing problems... Harry was happy to lose himself for a while in attempting to solve them.
At last he had done all he could, and felt blankness descend on him again as he pushed away the paper. He looked up, to see Snape staring at him. For the first time in many weeks, Harry allowed himself to remember.
He was standing once more in the Room of Requirement. Snape stood confronting him:
"Potter, there is something I must tell you..."
"Yeah, like I'd listen to a MURDERER..."
"Potter, this is important, look at me!"
Then he was seeing snatches of Snape's past, like that time he'd broken into his memories during an Occlumency lesson:
Dumbledore, holding out his blackened hand; Snape murmuring incantations over it, giving him a potion to drink.
"How long do I have?"
"Maybe a year."
"Well, that makes things easier... Severus, you must kill me. When the time comes."
Dumbledore's office again. "If Lord Voldemort ever starts to keep his snake safe beside him, under magical protection... you must tell the boy... when his parents were killed... part of Voldemort's soul lodged inside him... In order to finish Voldemort for ever the boy himself must die."
A look of utter horror on Snape's face. "You have been raising him like a – pig for slaughter?"
Harry couldn't bear to see any more; had wrenched his eyes from Snape's. "I believe you."
Then Lucius Malfoy had burst into the Room of Requirement. Snape had pushed Harry behind him, out of sight. But he'd known what he must do. Malfoy was telling Snape that Voldemort had summoned him, but Harry had stepped forward.
"No," he said. "It's me he really wants. I'll go." And he had turned his back on Snape and left the room, full of resignation and some other feeling he didn't want to analyse...
Harry returned to the present, conscious that he had been gazing into Snape's dark eyes for far too long. A tinge of malice crept into the man's thin, clever face. He lazily reached for his wand, lying on the desk in front of him, and began absently toying with it, his eyes still fixed on Harry's.
Harry gasped.
His cock, which had been limp and uninterested in anyone, ever since that final confrontation with Voldemort, was suddenly stirring. Within seconds he was harder than he'd ever been in his life. Eyes widening, Harry stealthily tried to release his cock from his now uncomfortably constricting underpants.
Snape began to roll his wand on the desktop with his fingertips. Backwards and forwards. Pause. Forwards and backwards. Pause. Harry felt as if Snape's fingers were on his cock, rolling back his foreskin, playing with him... he gave a groan and wriggled in his chair. Snape smirked and pushed his wand aside with a decisive gesture, leaving Harry to squirm in a state of painful arousal for the remainder of the lesson.
As soon as the bell sounded for the end of the period Snape reached for his wand again. Harry tensed, expecting... what? torture? orgasm? But Snape merely Summoned everybody's test papers: they flew through the air and arranged themselves in a neat pile on his desk. "Class dismissed," he said silkily.
Harry was among the first to leave the room. Bent double, holding his schoolbag in front of him to conceal his raging hard-on, he escaped up to the Gryffindor final-year dormitory and flung himself onto his bed, underpants at half-mast, cock straining against his robes. He took a moment to handle himself through the thin material, imagining Snape doing it, then impatience overcame him and he flung his robes open and seized himself in both hands. He pumped himself frantically until he came, grunting Snape's name with each spurt of cum.
He lay curled up on his bed for a while, stunned by the violence of his orgasm. Merlin's balls, what spell was Snape using? And why, for fuck's sake? Could he possibly be interested in Harry... sexually? It was fortunate that a couple of free periods were next; he could take his time to recover.
At last Harry got up, went down to the Gryffindor common room and collapsed into the armchair Ron had saved for him by the fire. "Where's Hermione?"
"Ancient Runes, I think," Ron said. He squinted at Harry. "Why'd you rush off like that?"
"Um. Feeling a bit rough."
"That surprise test Snape sprung on us was enough to turn anyone up," Ron said sympathetically. "Evil sod."
"He's not –" Harry stopped. When had he stopped thinking of Snape as evil? True, he must have done some fairly unforgivable things, but now Harry just thought of him as clever and brave and... yes, might as well admit it... sexy. He clung on to that image of Snape, a welcome focus for his wandering thoughts...
He looked up with a start as Hermione dropped a huge bag full of books onto the floor beside him and settled herself on the arm of Ron's chair.
"Hi Harry," she said brightly. "You look serious."
"Oh... it's nothing," Harry said. "Um, Hermione... there's a spell I want to find out about. Is there any way of tracking down a particular spell from its effects?"
"What sort of spell?" asked Hermione.
"Um..." Harry blushed.
Ron, who had been watching Harry closely, suddenly gave a shout of laughter.
"To make you horny!" he said. "That's it, isn't it? Who did it Harry – my precocious sister?"
"No, it wasn't Ginny," Harry said. "I – I'd rather not say who. Any idea where I could find out about a spell like that?"
"There's the library, of course," Hermione said predictably. "But any spell like that is sure to be in the Restricted Section. You'd need to get permission to look there."
"Yeah..." Harry said thoughtfully. "I wonder who'd give permission..."
~*~
For the rest of that week Harry kept coming across Snape: the man seemed to be everywhere... lurking in the shadows, giving Harry what he now thought of as those looks. For his part, Harry realised that he was far more aware of Snape than he'd ever been before. The sight of that dark, enigmatic figure made his skin tingle, his cock throb and his heart beat fast. He welcomed this feeling. At least he was feeling again. It was far better than the grey blankness edged with spiky unrest which had been dogging him for months...
He kept talking about Snape, too, until Hermione started giving him funny looks and Ron accused him of being obsessed. Harry shut up about Snape after that, but couldn't help thinking about him. So when, as Harry was staring abstractedly into the common room fire late one night after everyone else had gone to bed, the coals suddenly took on the appearance of Snape's head, he at first thought he must be hallucinating.
But when the glowing apparition opened its thin lips and spoke, Harry realised it must indeed be Snape himself, fire-calling him. "Potter! Stop dreaming, boy. I require your presence in my study. The password is asphodel."
Bemused, Harry scrambled up from the comfortable fireside armchair and set off along the dark deserted corridors towards the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle guarding the entrance to the spiral staircase regarded him blank-faced, just like Severus Snape practising Occlumency... I must have it bad, thought Harry, staring it firmly in its stony eye. Everything reminds me of him now.
"Asphodel."
The gargoyle moved aside, the wall opened, and Harry stepped onto the moving staircase. He rose in giddy spirals towards the Headmaster's office. It was the first time he'd been here during Snape's reign as Headmaster. He tapped on the door and waited.
"Enter."
Snape sat behind the large desk, moonlight silvering its polished surface. The room was shadowed; just one candle flickered in a corner. It was hard to tell in the darkness how much had changed since Dumbledore's occupancy. Harry gave a quick glance around, then fixed his attention on the dark shape behind the desk. Snape's voice came softly out of the shadow.
"I have summoned you here, Mr Potter, to ask you a very important question."
Harry's groin tightened. Snape's going to ask if he can have sex with me! No, stop it, don't be silly... what's he saying? Something about a wand?
"Erm, sorry, could you repeat that, sir?"
Snape muttered something, then raised his wand. Light flared up all around the room. Harry blinked, startled, and snatched his hand away from his crotch.
"I asked, Mr Potter, what became of Professor Dumbledore's wand." Snape sounded annoyed. "I know that Lord Voldemort removed it from the tomb... but where is it now? Nobody appears to know what you did with it after his death."
Harry stared at Snape, thinking hard. Finally he said: "I'll tell you... if you'll give me permission to study in the Restricted Section of the library."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Can you be developing Slytherin tendencies, Mr Potter?" he asked. He regarded Harry quizzically for a moment, then reached for his goose feather quill. He dipped it in the ink bottle and scratched away on a small piece of parchment. "Here," holding the parchment out to Harry.
Harry took it and read: I, Severus Snape, hereby give permission for Mr Potter to study in the Restricted Section of the library until further notice. Since Mr Potter is incapable of independent research, Miss Granger is permitted to accompany him. Signed: S. Snape
Harry seethed at this. Snarky bastard! Pushing down a heated reply, he forced himself to smile politely at Snape and sound amused. "Good idea, Professor. Perhaps you'd better put Ron down, too. We don't want to split up a winning team, do we?"
Snape gave him an unfathomable look, took back the permission slip and added Ron's name after Hermione's. He held the parchment firmly anchored to his desk with a long forefinger, and raised his eyebrow. "Well? Do you know the whereabouts of Professor Dumbledore's wand?"
In turn, Harry put his own forefinger on the corner of the parchment closest to him and replied, "Back where it belongs. In Dumbledore's tomb."
Snape slowly raised his finger from the parchment; Harry slid it away, picked it up and stowed it safely in his robes. "Um, why do you want to know? Sir?"
"That need not concern you, Potter. You may go."
Harry turned away, frowning. He hesitated for a moment then looked back at Snape, wondering whether he should say more. Snape fixed him with a cold black stare. "Was there anything else, Mr Potter?"
The moment passed. Harry shrugged and turned to go. "No sir. Nothing."
~*~
Harry was filled with a haunting sense of déjà vu as Madam Pince held the permission slip up to the light, peering suspiciously at it as though suspecting a forgery. For a moment they might almost have been back in their second year, searching the library for instructions to make Polyjuice potion. Merlin, how much had happened since those days...
Then Madam Pince irritably waved them on and Harry, Ron and Hermione tiptoed into the Restricted Section. It didn't take long to find a likely shelf of books – with names like Esoteric Erotic Enchantments, Seduction Spells and Cock Charms, the wonder was that they featured in Hogwarts library at all.
Her face pink, Hermione began leafing through Cock Charms. Harry looked over her shoulder for a while, then was distracted by a book of gay sex-play which Ron had found, complete with moving illustrations. He stared, fascinated, as a naked youth knelt in front of a fully-dressed older man, who looked remarkably like Severus Snape. The youth reached inside the man's robes and pulled out his half-hard cock, nuzzling at it with full, pouting lips. His red tongue poked out and slid up and down the rapidly-stiffening length as it responded to his ministrations. The man's face clenched with pleasure, his hands burying themselves in the youth's thick black hair. Would Snape look like that, Harry thought, if I...? He shivered.
He became aware of Hermione tugging at his arm. "Harry! Wake up! I think I might have found it – does this sound like, er, the one?"
Harry blinked, then focussed on the book Hermione was holding out to him. "Turgify," he read aloud. "The Turgify spell is used during foreplay between lovers. It produces..." his voice trailed off, and his eyes flicked rapidly along the lines of explanation. He tried not to blush. "Er, yes, sounds like the one."
Ron looked interested and took the book from Harry. "Sounds FUN." He looked meaningfully at Hermione, who giggled.
"Want me to try it out on you?" she whispered to him. "See if it works?"
Ron sniggered. "How will we know?" he whispered back, putting his arm round her. "I'm always hard when I'm near you, anyway!"
Just like I am near Snape nowadays, Harry thought, his attention straying back to the illustrated book, where the youth was now enthusiastically sucking cock. I wonder if HIS cock is as big as that...
"So who has been casting this on you, Harry?" Hermione asked. "They must be serious – well, you both must: it says it only works between people who are attracted to each other anyway."
"Yeah," added Ron, "and look, it gives a list of other spells it's often used with... let's look 'em up... see what treat you're in for next, Harry!"
~*~
Harry went to his next Defence Against the Dark Arts class filled with anticipation. Would Snape use one of those other spells they'd found cross-referenced to Turgify? Little thrills ran through him at the thought. So it was with a deep sense of disappointment that he saw Professor McGonagall seated at the teacher's desk.
"Good morning, class," she greeted them. "Sit down, Mr Potter, don't stand there gawping."
"What's happened to Snape?"
"Professor Snape has been called away on urgent business, Potter. I'm sure you'll find me an acceptable substitute."
I'm sure I won't, Harry thought to himself with a private grin. "Er... when will he be back?"
"As soon as he can, I'm sure. Now do sit down. I have been looking at these test papers you all wrote for Professor Snape, and I must say..."
In fact Snape was away for several days: each time Harry entered the Great Hall for a meal he looked eagerly for him, only to be disappointed again. It wasn't until the middle of the following week that the familiar dark-haired, hook-nosed figure was back in his place among his staff. He doesn't look very happy though, Harry thought, meeting a thunderous glare from the High Table. Something must have gone very wrong with that 'urgent business'. Snape was unlikely to confide in him, but there must be some way of finding out what the problem was. Maybe he would be more forthcoming with the other members of staff.
~*~
After his fourth clandestine visit to the staffroom, Harry was beginning to doubt this theory. Snape was just as taciturn there as when surrounded by students. And it was damned uncomfortable, crouching in a corner hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, waiting for a teacher to leave so he could slip out in their wake. He'd just give it one more try, then he'd have to think of something else.
On his fifth visit, things at first seemed even more unpromising; this time Snape wasn't even in the staffroom. The only teachers there were Professor Flitwick, whom Harry had followed inside, and Professor McGonagall, seated in a shabby leather armchair sipping tea. Harry slumped disconsolately into his corner by the door, waiting for one of them to leave so he could escape.
Half asleep, the teachers' conversation droning on above his head, Harry suddenly came to with a start. What had Professor McGonagall just said? He was sure she had mentioned Snape's name. Mentally kicking himself for not paying attention sooner, Harry strained his ears to catch their low-voiced conversation.
"... of course I told him all I could," Professor Flitwick was saying, "but I'm afraid it wasn't enough for what he needed. If only he'd told me more, given more details..."
Professor McGonagall sighed. "I know, Filius. I'm afraid Severus can be very uncommunicative at times."
"Normally, of course, the counter-charm I gave him should have been sufficient to overcome Translocare Immobilum – but you say Lord Voldemort himself cast it?"
"Yes, yes, so I understand. Apparently the protective spells guarding the location are still in place even after Voldemort's death – initially I think Severus was hoping they would fade with time, but that does not seem to be the case."
"Well, considering who cast it, I suppose it isn't too surprising that the counter-charm failed," mused Professor Flitwick. "Who is this hostage that Severus is so keen to rescue, someone dear to him, did you say?"
"Someone very dear to him, but he won't say who. And he refuses to ask the Ministry for help. I don't know whether it's a Death Eater on their wanted list, or whether he just doesn't trust them."
Harry felt a sense of shock. Someone very dear to Snape? A Death Eater? Maybe a... lover??? And these spells he couldn't overcome – that must have been why he wanted Dumbledore's wand! But of course, the Elder wand wouldn't have worked properly for him...
~*~
"... and so I've got to help him," Harry finished, looking earnestly from Hermione to Ron. "But how? And what IS this Translocare Immobilum spell that Flitwick tried to help him counter?"
"It's a magical immobility spell," Hermione said promptly. "It –"
"Hang on, mate," Ron broke in, looking bewildered. "WHY do you have to help Snape? What's he to you?"
Hermione gave a wise little smile. "Isn't it obvious?" she said. "He's the one who cast that Turgify spell on you, Harry, isn't he?"
"Yeah," Harry admitted. "And you saw what it said in that book. Only works between people already attracted to each other. That's true. Well, I know I'm attracted to HIM."
Ron looked revolted. "You can't be! Not SNAPE." His face brightened. "Hey, maybe he's found a way to override that attraction thing. Mixed it with an Imperius curse, or something?"
Harry shook his head. "Nah. I'm sure I'd feel it if it was like that. This is real, all right." He smiled apologetically at Ron. "It's funny, but I've never felt this way about a girl. Not even Ginny. Guess I must be gay." A sudden thought struck him. "Um, there are gay wizards, right?"
"There must be," Hermione said. "Remember that book you two were looking at?"
"Yeah," Ron said, sniggering. "I remember my uncle Nicholas – Nicky the Nance we used to call him – OW!" He broke off, rubbing his ribs where Hermione had just elbowed him. "What did you do that for?"
Hermione frowned at him. "Can't you see Harry's feeling unsure of his sexuality?" she hissed. "Your homophobic comments aren't helping."
Ron spluttered. "Homophobic? What're you talking about? Just because my uncle was a complete weirdo, doesn't mean – um –" He waved his arms around.
"I'm not feeling, um, unsure of my sexuality," Harry said. "I'm sure I want Snape."
"Do you know how he feels about you?" Hermione asked sympathetically. "I suppose he must be attracted, because of the spell... or is it just the person who's Turgified who...?"
Harry shrugged. "I dunno, Hermione. Snape's managed to keep his innermost thoughts safe from Voldemort for the past three years. He's hardly likely to just give them away now, is he?" He frowned. "Anyway, getting back to this immobility spell thing, what does it actually DO?"
"It prevents transport by any magical means," said Hermione. "So you wouldn't be able to reach wherever this hostage is being held by Apparating, or Portkey, or Floo, or... well, anything magical. Not even a broomstick. You say Snape tried to overcome this charm using the Elder wand?"
"Yeah, he must have. He asked me what I'd done with it, and I told him I put it back in Dumbledore's tomb. And I think he just took it," Harry said. "Thinking it would work for him; the same mistake Voldemort made – HE didn't realise until too late that I'd ended up as the Elder wand’s owner. I nearly told Snape all that, up in his office. But, I dunno. He was being such an arse about giving me permission for the library." He took a deep breath. "Really, I ought to help him. I should go and tell him the wand will only work properly for me. If he couldn't lift this Immobilum charm with it, maybe I can."
"Ah," said Hermione. "But would you want to?"
Harry looked puzzled. "Yeah? I just said I –"
"Sorry," Hermione said. "I should have said, would you want to immediately?"
"Come again?"
"Well, if you told him that even the Elder wand couldn’t counteract Translocare Immobilum – and for all we know, it can't – you'd have more time with him. Just the two of you. If, for instance, you had to walk from the closest you could Apparate."
Harry grinned, thinking of the possibilities. "Shame we don't still have that tent we used when we were hiding from Voldemort," he mused, half to himself.
"Er, well," Ron said. His ears flamed. "Um, I brought it with me. I thought, er, maybe Hermione and me could use it for the odd weekend, you know?"
"And there's my bag, too," Hermione said, looking rather pink. "You could carry the tent and anything else you needed in my enchanted bag. I'll go and get it." She got up and walked over to the stairs leading to the girls' dormitory.
Harry smirked at Ron. "So how many dirty weekends were you two planning?"
Ron scowled.
~*~
Harry couldn't stop a big grin spreading across his face as he hastily shoved a few things into Hermione's enchanted evening bag. This was his chance with Snape; he meant to make the most of it. Grumbling, Ron hauled the tent out from its hiding place under his bed.
"Mind you clean up after you," he muttered, "I don't fancy taking Hermione for a weekend camping and finding Snape's spunk all over the walls."
I wish, Harry thought.
"And stop grinning like a maniac," Ron added crossly.
"Clean up. Turgify followed by Scourgify. Got it," Harry said, snatching the tent from Ron and stuffing it into the bag. "'Bye!" he called cheerfully over his shoulder, hurrying as fast as he could through the castle to the Headmaster's tower.
Arriving at the hidden entrance to the private staircase, he breathlessly panted "Asphodel!" But the gargoyle did not move aside; a sneer remarkably like Snape's own twisted its stony features. Evidently the password had been changed.
Baffled, Harry glared at the gargoyle. Was he going to have to run through the entire A to Z of Potions Ingredients? Then he had an inspiration. What was that other main ingredient of the Dreamless Sleep potion, besides asphodel? Ah, yes... "Wormwood," he said confidently. Begrudgingly, the gargoyle moved away from the wall, which split to reveal the moving staircase.
Snape looked up, frowning, as Harry burst into his office. "It is customary to knock, Potter," he said icily.
It was nearly sunset; through one of the tall windows Harry could see the trees of the Forbidden Forest silhouetted against a saffron sky. The mellow light illuminated the wand lying on the polished surface of Snape's desk. The Elder wand.
"Um," Harry said. "There's something you should know about that wand..."
When Harry had finished his rather incoherent explanation, there was a long silence. Snape rubbed his fingertips against his temples.
"If I understand you correctly, Mr Potter, this wand will perform to its full... ah... potential... for you and you alone?" he asked.
"YES," Harry said impatiently. "That's what I've been telling you. Though even I'm not sure what it can and can't do; that's why we need to be careful..."
"We, Mr Potter?" murmured Snape.
"Yeah, you need me to use the wand to help you rescue your, um, the hostage..."
"And how do you know about that?" Snape's tone sharpened.
"Um, I just happened to overhear Professor Flitwick talking about it to Professor McGonagall," Harry confessed.
A look of comprehension came over Snape's face. He sighed. "Remind me to confiscate that damned Cloak of yours," he said. "But yes, it appears I will have to accept your offer of help." Reluctantly he picked up the Elder wand and held it out to Harry. "What do you suggest?"
~*~
"I'm going to regret this," Snape muttered to himself, as he stood beside Harry just outside the gates of Hogwarts. He glanced at Hermione's beaded evening bag, slung carelessly over Harry's shoulder. "Very fetching, Mr Potter," he commented drily. "Now take my arm."
"Huh?" Harry gulped.
"Take my arm," Snape repeated. "You are familiar with Side-Along-Apparation, I trust?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Dumbledore took me –"
"We can dispense with your memoirs for now, Potter," Snape interrupted coldly. "Just. Take. My. Arm."
"Right."
Harry grabbed Snape's forearm as hard as he could; his momentary stab of lust vanished in the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed violently through a giant extra-strength condom. He stumbled as they landed and buried his face in the thick folds of Snape's travelling cloak. The material felt rough against his cheek; it smelt of woodsmoke and herbs...
"You may release my arm now, Potter," said Snape softly.
"Uh, right. Right." Harry went bright red and hastily stepped away. He shook the tent out of the bag and stooped over it, trying to seem unconcerned.
"I'll – er, erect, um, put this up, then, shall I?"
Snape had a most peculiar expression on his face; could he be trying not to laugh? "Yes, you do that, Mr Potter."
The last of the sun had faded by the time Harry managed to get the tent up. It was cosily lit by lamplight inside though, and as Snape had insisted on paying a visit to the kitchens before leaving the castle, they had plenty to eat. He'd even brought a few bottles of red wine.
"Much better than pumpkin juice," he murmured, topping up their glasses. "So this is the famous tent the three of you used to evade Voldemort's searches for so long? May it be of good omen." And he raised his glass in a solemn toast.
"Good omen," Harry echoed.
After the meal Harry felt warm and content, and Snape looked more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him.
"So," he said, regarding Harry over the rim of his glass, "how did your researches in the library go?"
"You know that spell you used on me in Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Harry asked, looking closely at Snape. It was hard to tell in the flickering lamplight, but he could have sworn that the man smiled.
"Mmm?" Snape said noncommittally.
"Well – we found it," Harry said. "In – in, um, Cock Charms."
There was no doubt now, Snape was definitely smiling. "That must have been an education for Miss Granger," he said, sounding amused.
"For all of us!" Harry said fervently.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you've never..."
"I've, er, had a lot of other things on my mind," Harry said defensively. "You know, like staying alive? Like defeating Voldemort?"
"Yes, but still..." Snape pursed his lips and ran his finger meditatively around the rim of his wineglass.
"And," Harry said quietly, "until very recently, I was, you know, thinking in terms of girls."
There was a silence. Snape regarded Harry, his dark eyes intent. "What changed your mind?" he whispered.
"You did." Harry's voice was husky.
"With just one stray spell, cast to relieve the boredom of a tiresome teaching task?"
Is that really all it was to you? Harry thought, his heart sinking. Then he told himself to get a grip. Surely Snape didn't make a habit of casting random sex spells in his lessons. He jerked his chin up and gave his opponent a challenging look.
"Dunno," he said. "Why don't you try another one and I'll see?"
Snape took another sip of his wine and smirked. "How about this one?" he enquired, pulling out his wand. "Manissimus!"
Instantly Harry felt as though many hands were all over his body: caressing his back and arms, stroking his thighs, tweaking his nipples, fondling his balls, squeezing his arse cheeks, fingering his crack... The one place remaining untouched was his aching cock. When he tried to reach down to touch it himself he found his own hands seized by a ghostly pair and held well out of the way.
"Ungh!" he sobbed, thrusting up his hips and vainly trying to find something to rub himself against. "Please... please?..."
"Please what, Mr Potter?" Snape asked silkily.
"Touch me..."
Snape shook his head and settled back in his chair to relish the sight of Harry wriggling and gasping. Eventually he lifted his wand again and ended the spell. Harry reflexively reached for his cock, but seeing Snape watching him avidly, snatched his hand away.
"Good, Potter," Snape purred. "I think it would be salutary for you to learn the pleasures of... anticipation." His already deep voice dropped still further on the last, long drawn out word, sending shudders through Harry's stiff cock.
Will he? Harry thought. Will he touch me? Oh Merlin...
But Snape showed no signs of reaching for Harry. He seemed to be in a reflective mood; refilling his glass, he leaned back and contemplated the flickering lamplight on the ceiling of the tent. Harry, intent on his throbbing cock, suddenly realised that Snape was speaking:
"...that spell, I was still a pupil at Hogwarts myself..." Pause. Snape almost seemed to have forgotten that Harry was there – he was back in a long-ago Slytherin dormitory...
"Lucius Malfoy was the leading light; he was the one who... borrowed... those books from the library –"
I'll bet, Harry thought viciously. Probably how he recruited Death Eaters...
"... donated by his father; a school governor, of course..."
Oh, of course... ow, my dick... can't wank in front of Snape...
"Dumbledore didn't think they were suitable, insisted on them going in the Restricted Section... had a good look at them himself first, I'll bet... didn't know what was going on under that crooked nose of his... such promiscuous orgies..."
Promiscuous orgies!!!????
Snape's voice started to slur slightly. "All in the past, now. L-lost m'taste for group sex longago. Older and wiser!" He snorted. Harry suddenly realised that Snape was drunk. "On-ly one m-man f'me now." He leaned forward, squinting at Harry. "Whassit, P-potter?"
Harry's face had fallen. Of course, that bloody lover of his. The one we're rescuing – how could I have forgotten? And what's he mean, leading me on, when all the time... "Er. Just one? You sure?" was all he could manage.
Snape fumbled in his robes and produced a small bottle. He swigged down its contents and grimaced. It seemed to clear his speech, though, his tones were now as biting as ever. "I suppose you think a gloomy middle-aged professor would be lucky to get even that?"
"Er... no, of course not...."
"Monogamy not your preferred lifestyle, then, Potter?" Snape spat. "I expect you crave universal adoration. Just like your father."
Harry blinked, confused and hurt. Where had that come from? "FINE!" he shouted. "You could have SAID, instead of – of making a fool of me!"
Furious, he jumped up from his chair and staggered over to his bunk. Oops, that wine was affecting him too. And damned if he was undressing in front of Snape now. He angrily kicked off his shoes, curled up in his sleeping bag, fully clothed, and closed his eyes tightly to shut out the sight of Snape gloating over him.
~*~
Harry lay hunched miserably in his bunk. He'd had a stealthy wank when he was sure that Snape was asleep; it helped ease the ache in his cock but had done nothing for the ache in his heart. How could Snape have strung him along like that, only to warn him off at the last minute? How would he like it if...
Suddenly decisive, Harry jammed on his glasses, scrambled out of his bunk and retrieved his wand from where he'd dropped it the night before. Snape was standing by the tent flap, putting on his travelling cloak. He gave Harry a moody glower. "We should be leaving, it will soon be daylight. If you still intend to help, that is."
"Oh, I'll HELP all right!" Harry yelled. "I'll make sure you're good and ready for when we rescue your sodding HOSTAGE!" And he jabbed his wand furiously in the direction of Snape's crotch. "Turgify!"
Snape gave a stifled gasp and let his cloak fall. Harry stared fascinated at the front of the man's robes. There was definitely something stirring down there – bloody hell, it was bursting his robes open –
Snape looked down at himself and then up at Harry. An embarrassed flush stained his thin cheeks. "In Merlin's name, Potter, what makes you suppose this is a fit state in which to meet my mother? I am not about to enact a scene from Oedipus Rex –"
"Your mother????" Harry hurtled across the tent towards Snape. "Your MOTHER? I thought – I thought –"
"You don't think, Potter," Snape snarled, his long fingers grabbing for the boy's tousled hair and forcing him to his knees.
"I thought it was your lover," Harry whispered.
"You're the only lover I want," Snape growled, driven beyond endurance. "Now deal with it." He pushed Harry's face towards the opening in his robes.
"Oh, yeah..." Harry breathed in Snape's musk. Images from the illustrated library book filled his brain. Now he was pulling Snape's cock free of his robes – and it was just as big as he'd hoped – his lips nuzzling, his tongue licking, his mouth sucking... and Snape was thrusting, thrusting... Merlin, I'm going to choke!... then Snape was moaning "yes, oh YES," and a gush of warm liquid suddenly shot down his throat. Harry clutched at him, but Snape abruptly pulled away and refastened his robes.
"I hope you're satisfied," he said bitterly. "Congratulations, you overcame my better judgement. How do you mean to keep tally of all your conquests, Potter – notches on your broomstick?"
"Conquests?" Harry said stupidly. "What the hell are you talking about? And what was that about your mum? I thought it was your bloody LOVER we were supposed to be rescuing, for Merlin's sake!"
"Yes, conquests," hissed Snape. "You made it abundantly clear last night that you have no intention of entering a monogamous relationship. I should have realised you wanted many lovers..."
"Hang on –"
"... widespread adoration..."
"HANG ON!"
"... a promiscuous lifestyle..."
"SHUT UP! I don't want ANY of that, right? And it was YOU who warned ME off last night –"
At last he seemed to have captured Snape's attention. "Warned you off? What do you mean?"
"All that about you giving up promiscuous sex and orgies and stuff. About, uh, wanting a monogamous relationship."
Snape stared at Harry as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "And that warned you off, how, exactly? If you weren't hoping for a promiscuous lifestyle yourself?"
"What the hell made you think I did?" Harry demanded.
"What was I supposed to think, when you refused my offer?"
"Offer? What offer??"
"I definitely said I was only interested in one man," Snape growled.
"That was supposed to be an OFFER?"
"Mmm... maybe 'offer' was too strong a word," Snape conceded. "But I was definitely allowing for the... possibility... of a relationship."
"But I thought you were already in one!" Harry snapped. "A relationship, I mean. How was I to know we're supposed to be rescuing your mum? You never said." He scowled. "Anyway, who IS this 'one man'?"
"You, of course," growled Snape. "How many more times do I have to say it?" He grabbed Harry and pulled him close.
"You've only said it once so far – mmph –"
Snape occupied Harry's mouth with his remarkably talented tongue until they were both gasping for breath, then reluctantly released him. "Stop distracting me. We have work to do. The Muggle farmhouse where my mother is being held is at least another ten miles away."
"I should try that counter-charm Professor Flitwick gave you," Harry said. "Maybe the Elder wand can break that immoby thing after all. Then we can Apparate there."
"You led me to believe..." Snape's voice trailed off. He gave a short huff of amusement. "Much more Slytherin than I thought. Very well, Mr Potter. The incantation is Translocare Permissum. But before you go rushing in, maybe we should discuss... tactics."
~*~
There's a lot to be said for a combination of Slytherin tactics, Gryffindor bravery and the Elder wand, Harry mused after they had finally broken through the last defences at the isolated farmhouse and left a pile of Death Eaters stunned on the floor. Although this wand is far too addictive; I'd better get it back where it belongs in Dumbledore's tomb as soon as I can.
He looked up from his task of binding the Death Eaters securely with thin ropes conjured by the Elder wand. "They won't get away from these in a hurry," he said with satisfaction. Then he saw Snape's face. "Uh – what's wrong? Can't you find your mum?"
"I can't wake her." Snape sounded anguished.
Harry finished binding the last Death Eater and got to his feet. "Show me."
His face tight with pain, Snape led Harry upstairs to where a grey-haired, heavy-featured woman lay immobile in a tiny bedroom.
"You've tried Rennervate?" Harry asked.
"I've tried everything."
Snape went down on his knees beside the bed. Harry put his arm around the man’s hunched shoulders; he could feel how tense he was. He had a momentary insight into how much Snape must have suffered these past few years. "Don't worry. Let's try with this, shall we?" He tapped the woman gently on her arm with the Elder wand.
"Rennervate!"
For a moment nothing happened. Harry felt Snape shudder. Then the woman opened her eyes. She gave a little cry and tried to get up but fell back, obviously very weak. Her eyes darted fearfully around the room. Snape took her hand. "Mother?" Her wandering gaze fixed on him and her look of confusion cleared a little. She gripped his hand as tightly as she could.
"Severus!"
Harry, watching their reunion, felt a lump come to his throat. "I'll – um, wait downstairs."
But Snape looked up at him, fierce joy on his face. "No, we must leave as soon as we can. I want to get my mother back to her cottage and I don't want to waste time on tiresome explanations to the Ministry of Magic."
"What about all those Death Eaters downstairs?" Harry objected.
"I'll be very surprised if an Auror squad doesn't arrive within minutes," Snape said. "The magical activity here will have triggered all their Dark Alarms. They can deal with the Death Eaters."
"Don’t you – do you want me to come with you?" Harry asked.
Snape looked at him, then down at his mother, still clinging to his hand. She was obviously confused and weak. He gave Harry a hard, closed look. "No, you had better return to Hogwarts. Here," and he pulled a small roll of parchment from his robes. "An order as Acting Headmistress for Minerva. She is half-expecting it."
"Aren't you coming back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked in a small voice. All his happiness seemed to drain away.
"Ah – I expect so, in due course," Snape said, lifting his mother gently in his arms. "But I must stay with my mother until she is fully recovered. Take the scroll to Minerva, Harry. She'll understand; I alerted her to the possibility she may have to be Acting Head for the remainder of the term."
"Um – right," Harry said. Snape had called him "Harry"! That must mean something... was he just grateful for Harry's help? Was there more? Had he meant what he'd said about wanting a relationship? But he didn't want Harry with him now...
He felt a light kiss brush the top of his head. "Go back to Hogwarts," Snape whispered. "I'll send for you when my mother is well enough for visitors."
EPILOGUE: 2 months later
A tempting smell of spices filled the cottage kitchen. Eileen Snape looked up at the tall, dark-haired man leaning against the wall by the window. "Do you think your friend will come, Severus?" She was startled by the sudden look of joy illuminating his thin face.
"Here he is now."
The tousled-haired youth pushed open the gate and walked up the path to the cottage. Eileen welcomed him inside. "My son tells me I have you to thank for rescuing me."
Harry, blushing and mumbling, followed her into the kitchen.
"I'm making my Christmas puddings," Eileen continued. "An old Muggle tradition my late husband insisted on – only he wanted it all done without magic." A shadow crossed her face, then was gone. "You've arrived just in time to stir the pudding and make a wish. My Severus used to love doing that when he was a boy."
Harry glanced up at Snape, standing so close beside him, his face impassive. It was hard to picture him as a boy helping his mother in the kitchen. Snape nodded towards the mixing bowl. "After you," he murmured. Harry took the spoon, stirred, and wished, his eyes closed. Then he opened them to see Snape's mum looking from him to Snape, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"I always used to wonder what he wished for: he looked so malevolent. I must say he looks much happier now."
Snape smiled. His fingers curled around Harry's on the handle of the spoon. "I have better things to wish for, now."