Cupboard Space

CHAPTER 8

Harry lay staring at the tent of his striped pajama pants, in aw of the fact his erection hadn’t lost any of its fire during the night. Admittedly Harry hadn’t thought of anything else but Snape since he’d fallen into bed but that was beside the point. Having never managed to hold a hard on for more than a couple of minutes the idea of sporting a morning wood was more than pleasing, if not a little disturbing considering what had prompted it.

It was Saturday morning, and Harry had heard his dorm mates get up and go to breakfast over an hour ago. Harry knew they wouldn’t have woken him no doubt feeling guilty about what had happened the night before. Not that that mattered right now, not with something far more concerning to deal with. Turning over onto his side Harry stared at Snape’s cloak lying bunched up beside him. The cloak had gone cold during the night but it smelt of aromatic herbs and stale smoke that was purely Snape. Harry’s cock gave an appreciative twitch at the thought of Snape’s smell, and Harry found himself closing his eyes as he remembered the kiss. The kiss had been unlike any Harry had had before, it wasn’t clumsy or hurried, it had felt confident, firm and experienced. Harry licked his lips unconsciously as if he could still taste the lingering tang of the man on his tongue. Harry’s memories flashed quickly to the end of the kiss, of their parting and Snape’s onyx eyes as they’d stared at the tip of Harry’s rosy cock sticking out obscenely from the front of the cloak. With a stifled choke Harry’s body went rigid at the memory before the inevitable happened and he’d come in his pajama pants. With an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction Harry collapsed back onto his bed Snape’s cloak twisted in his fingers as his cock softened leaving behind a sticky cold mess.

“Fuck.” Harry muttered to himself as he dutifully rose from bed, careful to fold and tuck Snape’s cloak into a hidden draw beneath his bed, where he kept his most precious of things. Harry wasn’t sure what he was going to do about Snape all he knew was that the Quidditch Match began in an hour and he had to shower and change before then.

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It was miserable out, rain pelted from the sky and the wind whipped up the droplets and threw them sideways. The water stung Harry’s face as he huddled down in his cloak and made his way down towards the Quidditch field. He was late and the game had already begun.

Slytherin vs Hufflepuff.

The game was surely stacked in the Slytherin’s favor but everyone had turned out to see it nonetheless. Harry was glad he was last to the stands so that no one would see him, and he could avoid all questions regarding last night. Stepping out into the arena Harry glanced up against the rain to see if he could spot a deserted bench somewhere. Through the driving rain hitting his glasses Harry spotted a bench on the far side of the pitch, high in the Slytherin stands. Most Slytherin’s had chosen the closer seats towards the front of the stand to get a better look at the action and so Harry felt relatively safe climbing the stairs and shuffling onto the bench. Through the rain nothing could be seen of the game, although the crowd cheered regardless. Harry was cold and sighed as he huddled down in his cloak unaware of the figure who’d shuffled along his same bench and sat down beside him.

“Taking a risk sitting here aren’t you?” Snape’s voice made Harry’s breath catch in his throat. The boy knew better than to look across at the elder wizard not wanting to give anyone cause to look at them.

“I figured if I was going to plot revenge like a Slytherin, I might sit here and see if some of their scheming rubbed off.” Harry joked dryly as a clap of thunder and lightening streaked across the sky and the rain came down harder. Harry knew he was soaked even despite the cloak, his clothes clinging to him as the rain drove into the stands and hit his face.

“A likely occurrence, I hear our scheming is catching.” Harry had never heard Snape make a joke before, it was just a pity that Harry couldn’t appreciate it with the weather as bad as it was obscuring his vision and making everything hard of hearing. With the rain practically blinding everything and everyone Harry thought it safe to glance across at his professor. Snape seemed perfectly unaffected by the wet weather no doubt surrounded by a ‘stay dry’ spell that Harry hadn’t thought of. Harry stared at the man from beneath the hood of his cloak, the elder wizards profile far from being handsome. It was hard for Harry to imagine what the man had done last night, although the thought made blood rush to Harry’s extremities where another blossoming erection bubbled beneath his cloak.

“Thank-you.” Harry whispered silently wondering if Snape had heard him. If Snape did hear him he ignored the boy and Harry sighed heavily.

“I thought it prudent to come and make sure you were coping after last night. Such a shock can sometimes take time to truly sink in, and knowing your rash behavior in the past I thought it best to make sure you hadn’t turned suicidal again.” Harry nodded quietly his eyes glued to Snape’s leather gloved hands that were resting on his knees. Harry stared for a long time at the slender fingers wrapped tightly in the leather, droplets of rain running from them onto the floor. On impulse Harry reached across and took hold of Snape’s right hand dragging it up and over to bring it to rest on Harry’s own knee. Snape didn’t flinch at the movement his gaze still firmly locked ahead and his expression a wash of cool regard. “Potter.” Snape’s warning came out in a growl but Harry ignored it, the warmth of Snape’s hand even through the glove sending sparks straight to his cock. Harry had never had this kind of reaction to anyone, or anything before in his life and the feeling was intoxicating.

“This morning I was still hard.” Harry shifted across the bench, so that he was practically plastered against Snape’s side, close enough to feel the man’s heat and to be heard above the roar of the wind, the crowd and the rain. Harry didn’t look at Snape as he spoke, if they were caught by anyone it would be the end of everything. “I’ve never been at more than half mast before,” Harry ran his own hand over Snape’s still resting on his knee before clutching at it and dragging it slowly up his thigh. Snape still didn’t react so Harry continued to whisper. “It hurt when I came, it splashed all over my pyjama’s. I didn’t even touch myself.” Harry didn’t know what the hell he thought he was doing, but he was determined to make sure what had happened last night with Snape wasn’t just a dream. If he was really gay Harry would get off on this, and unsurprisingly he already was. Harry watched carefully as Snape sucked in a large lung full of air at Harry’s last comment but still didn’t react, despite the fact Harry had now dragged his leather gloved hand up to his crotch and had it cupping the warm, throbbing package hidden beneath.

“Potter.” Snape growled another warning deep in his throat, his hand tightening in Harry’s lap despite himself. The boy was baiting him, testing the waters and his new found freedom and Snape was finding himself increasingly helpless to do anything about it without making an unwanted scene. If Snape had expected fall out from his decision to help the boy last night, this certainly wasn’t what he’d envisioned.

“I’ve never done anything like this before, all the girls want to do is get it in. No ones ever touched me.” Harry trailed off and finally Snape turned his gaze from the Quidditch game to glance at the boy sitting beside him. Harry was the picture of confused innocence, his lips blue and teeth chattering in the cold. He was wet all over from the rain, and despite the hood of his cloak wet strands of hair stuck to his forehead and hung in his eyes.

“Shit.” Snape muttered a curse beneath his breath, knowing it was pointless turning the boy away, he’d created a monster last night and despite himself he was rather pleased with the result. No one could have predicted the boy-who-lived would make such a wanton, needy queer or that he’d willingly come to the one person he supposedly hated in the world. No one could possibly believe the truth of the matter even if Snape himself told them, so the entire situation was perfectly designed for him to become blameless.

A roar erupted from the Slytherin stands no doubt a goal had been scored. Snape used the opportunity to spin Harry around on the bench so that the boy’s back was to the pitch, his hood pulled down low to disguise his identity. “If you want this get it out.” Snape ground out from between his teeth as he pretended to continue watching the match. Harry nodded and with his cloak huddled around him quickly unzipped his trousers and pushed his white underpants aside to let just the ruby head of his penis stick out. Harry held his breath as Snape reached around him, his leather gloved hand cold, and slightly wet with rain as he grasped the boy’s cock rather awkwardly beneath all the layers of clothing. Automatically Harry bent forward at the first touch of leather to his heated flesh, his legs falling open wider as he tried to keep his cloak around him to hide what they were doing. Snape didn’t wait for the boy to adjust and quickly began pumping the swelled member in his gloved hand. Without lubricant Snape knew the sensation would have been raw and perhaps even a little painful but judging from the boy’s stifled gasps coming from beneath the hood of the cloak he was enjoying it nonetheless. Harry stared at the black, long fingers wrapped around his cock as they pumped him in a steady rhythm. Harry couldn’t help but touch too, his own cold fingertips pushing a little more of his white underpants aside so that he could fondle his sack beneath. With the combined stimulation of his own and Snape’s hand Harry erupted in a spray of creamy fluid all over Snape’s leather glove without any warning. Snape let go of Harry’s prick as he felt the boy’s release, managing to keep his own attention firmly on the Quidditch game and not on the boy who’d just spunked all over his hand. Snape reached into his own cloak pocket to pull out a tissue to wipe his gloves but before he could remove his hand from the safe hiding of Harry’s own cloak the boy had grasped his hand and was deftly sucking each leather clad finger clean of his own essence. Snape shuddered, hardly believing the boy was so adventurous and willing, when not 24 hours ago he’d been like a blushing virgin. When he’d cleaned Snape’s fingers Harry tucked himself back into his pants and turned back around on the bench, his clothes restored and only the slightly blush to his cheeks any sign that something had happened. With his glove still glistening with Harry’s spit Snape sighed as he put it back on his own knee and concentrated back on the game, ignoring the throb of his own cock trapped within the confines of his clothes.

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Harry was pleased with himself as he strolled back to the castle after the game had finished. His little adventure had proved to himself that what had happened between he and Snape had been real, and that he was indeed as queer as Snape had suggested. In his euphoric state Harry forgot about the party disaster last night and in his momentary slip walked blindly in to the dinning room for lunch. Instantly Harry heard the giggles and whispers, he felt the stares and pointed fingers in his direction. His moment of pleasurable bliss was gone in an instant and he was back down at rock bottom.

“Potter, I’ve got some photo’s you might like to take a look at.” Draco Malfoy came strolling into the great hall behind Harry and the boy felt his body go rigid in fear as the blonde came to a stop in front of him with a small pile of wizard pictures. Draco was still dressed in his Quidditch uniform, still wet and dirty from the game but having obviously rushed to get to the great hall in order to humiliate Harry in front of everyone.

“You see, this one’s of Ron and you arriving.” Draco flipped the first picture over and Harry stared at the picture of he and Ron standing together getting a drink of firewhisky from the table of food. “Oh and this one’s of me hanging upside down on the ladder.” Draco spun the second picture upside down as he showed it to Harry, as if the boy was showing off his holiday snaps. “And finally this one’s of you, blind folded and naked.” Harry stared at the third picture, he was standing just outside the cupboard and it must have been taken the second Ginny had pushed him out judging from his facial expression. “I think this one’s a keeper don’t you?” Draco laughed his eyes cruel as he turned back to face the great hall. It was then that Harry realized what everyone was looking at. In front of every place at the tables was a bright green flyer, on which, was a blown up picture of Harry naked. Even the faculty hadn’t been spared a piece of parchment and Harry felt the blood drain from his head as his gaze locked with Albus Dumbledore’s who was holding the flyer in his hand. Harry stumbled forward as his legs gave way sending him crashing to the floor with a sickening thud. Distantly Harry heard the headmasters voice calling his name before darkness took over and he fell into an abyss.

TBC>>>>>>

A/N Yeah as you've probably gathered I was trying to teach myself to write shorter stories, so forgive the slight lack of detail here and there I really was trying hard....still hope you're enjoying it. A couple more chapters to go but if you want 'em' you got to beg on hands and knees.
CHeers
RIFFRAFF