Who Knew?

Disclaimer: The characters and places of this story are the property of J.K. Rowling. I only created the situations they find themselves in during this story. I make no money from this writing – it is strictly for amusement.

WARNINGS: TEACHER/STUDENT, BDSM, ANAL, CREATURE DEATH, POSSIBLE MINOR – DEPENDING ON YOUR LOCALE (not a minor in my area)

AN: Thanks again to everyone who takes the time to read this, and special thanks to all who review! Cookies for all of you! Again, if you have followed this story on another site, hang on to your butt! Inspired muse at work! Please review, it really does help the muse! Angel, you’re the greatest!

Chapter 9: Old Bonds

The first Friday night of the term brought Quidditch practices. Madame Hooch had designed a practice schedule for all of the house teams this year, as several recreational teams were forming. Tonight the Gryffindors had the Flying Practice Field. After a grueling three-hour session, Ginny, the team captain, signaled enough. Ginny was a natural as the team captain. She had the ability to bark out orders severe enough to cause a seasoned military drill sergeant to swell with pride. On this night, the team was still panting as they reached the common room. Everyone was eager to get to bed, and Harry fell behind as he stopped to gather the books he had left earlier. He looked wistfully at the fireside bathed in a muted orange glow, so inviting and relaxing.

“Harry?”

“What is it, Ginny?” Harry had assumed by the silence of the room that he was alone, but exhaustion seemed to take the jittery edge off his nerves, so he decided that Ginny’s presence was not a bad thing, this time.

“Are you headed to bed, or could we visit for a while?”

“Sure, we can talk. We really haven’t had too much time for that yet.”

They had seated themselves on the very sofa Harry had been admiring. Harry found the warmth and glow just as relaxing as he had thought it would be. He didn’t know if he was just practice weary or lulled by the crackling of the burning logs, but he found himself able to block out the nagging images that threatened to complicate his evening.

“Oh this is great! I’ve missed you so much this summer. I’m used to having you around each summer. So tell me what’s been going on with you,” she said curling against him so much like the little girl he remembered. They talked and laughed until their sides hurt. Ginny told of amusing things that had happened in the lab, or on field trips, Harry was sure some of which was heavily censored; she had certainly left out things that Harry was aware of, but it felt good to be back in her presence. The dull ache in his chest eased, the mental exhaustion faded, and the ever present depression lifted. It felt natural to be laughing with Ginny, in the middle of the night, just like all the past summers with the Weasleys. So natural that Harry never realized when they began to hold hands, or established the constant contact they had made with their legs. He felt whole and complete. Soon, Harry had forgotten the assaulting images completely.

*****

“Good, very good,” smiled Professor Dumbledore, as he watched the scene in the Gryffindor Common Room from the portal in his office. “Apparently no damage was done.”

“Apparently,” Snape said, with sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “He seems open and receptive as far as Draco is concerned, also.”

“As your relationship becomes more widely known among the students, Harry will be a very powerful ally. His trust should be fostered and protected, Severus.”

“I am well aware of that Headmaster, as is Draco.”

“The students look to him as a natural leader. Most will follow his lead, especially if he has the support of his chosen few.” The older man leveled a piercing gaze at the stoic Potions master.

“Miss Weasley’s involvement will help ensure her brothers’ cooperation, although I highly doubt that a matter as insignificant to Harry’s life as my selection of lovers would divide the “Golden Trio”. Miss Granger is the voice of rationale. She knows what it feels like to be despised. Once the Slytherins ostracize Draco, she will come to his defense. Mr. Potter is much the same.” Snape’s deep voice carried easily through the circular office, in spite of how softly he had spoken the words.

Dumbledore sipped at his tea and regarded the caged cat-like body language Snape was exhibiting. His heart went out to the man, as he knew Snape was not being totally honest, or forthcoming, in this visit. Dumbledore knew that the younger man was as uncomfortable as he had ever been, but there was nothing that could be done for it except…

“This is the most influential group of Gryffindors since the infamous Marauders –”

“At least this group appears to actually be of Gryffindor material,” Snape mumbled, not quite under his breath.

With a mildly reproachful look, the Headmaster ignored the interruption.

“While Slytherin is… How would you describe it Severus?”

“The word weak comes to mind, especially in comparison with Gryffindor House. Any of the Gryffindor males could step up and assume control in Potter’s absence, as well as a good number of the young women. In Draco’s absence, no one has been able to fill the void. Those who were represented during Lucius’ reign all have children in Slytherin House now, and each lacks the intrinsic leadership traits that would empower them.” After a few seconds of silent consideration Snape added, “Well, all save one student. I have accepted the fact that I will never have children.”

“Ah, yes, Lucius… This brings up a most important question. What word from Lucius?”

“Draco has been excommunicated, completely… Family, business ventures, finances, even in name.” As a slight flush crept into the normally pale face, Snape leaned forward onto his knees. “I have offered him my name. He found it to be… acceptable. As most of the Slytherin students are aware of the situation between Draco and his father, they are expecting something of this nature; they will not be surprised when Draco takes the sir name of Snape as his own. It will not be easy for him though. This… role… is truly not his nature. He has applied himself diligently in this matter, though.”

“Is he having second thoughts?”

“No.” Looking up at Dumbledore, he had to wonder exactly which details the old hierophant knew of; which scenes had the meddling fool watched from the sanctity of this office, through any number of devices. “He accepts that it provides him with the greatest degree of protection. He would rather face the ridicule of his fellow students than to risk ever having to face his father.”

For a moment, Snape seemed lost in his own memories. Dumbledore waited for several breaths before pushing on, doing so gently in an attempt to ease the troubled conscience of the professor before him.

“Such difficult decisions will have to be made by so many of our students this year. They are still so young, much too young to bear this kind of weight.” Dumbledore said sagely. “But most seem to be in the position to make sound decisions, and are mature enough to accept the responsibility of such decisions. The positions of authority are also falling into place quite well of their own accord. That is always best, but what of you, my friend? I know that you… enjoy the company of, shall we say, a variety of partners. The role you now find yourself in is not one that you will easily adjust to, either. Compounding this, of course, is the fact that you are a very private man. This type of… scrutiny, will not be to your liking. There will be much talk about Draco being your paramour; not to pry, of course.”

Snape appreciated the opportunity to avoid this discussion, but felt that total honesty was essential at this point. Delicately he said, “An agreement has been worked out, one which benefits both of us. There was an attraction already present from both sides, Albus. I believe, had circumstances remained as they were, this attraction would never have been acknowledged by either of us. It is, as you said, not in our nature. As far as the talking is concerned, I am relying on the gossip from hormone driven teen-agers to provide the credibility needed to avoid the demand for… demonstrations and witnesses, shall we say. Voldemort will want proof, as will Lucius.”

“Very well, very well; there is only one other matter I wish to gauge your response to, Severus.”

Snape simply returned the patient look, and waited for the bottom to fall out, as he knew it would. It always did when that tone of voice was used by the old man.

“One could not help but notice certain similarities between Miss Weasley and the former Miss Evans.”

“Oh, bloody, fucking hell, Albus! I have told you before, several times in fact, that my recent relationship had nothing to do with her and my past. I really cannot believe that you would stoop to this new depth after all these years! I do not now, nor have I ever, loved Ginerva Weasley. I do, however, greatly respect her talent for the dark arts and I must reiterate that I feel she is being underestimated. I seem to be unable to stress enough the fact that she could kill just as easily, and without conscience, as could Potter, if provoked sufficiently. That provocation truly would not have to be great, if the right method is chosen to start with.”

“A magical union between the two would be very formidable. She is the only one who is suitable for young Harry’s temperament and the trials that lay ahead, but they are still only children. As of course is Draco… Far, far too young, for what they have already encountered, much less, I fear, for what is yet to come.”

*****

As he entered his quarters, Snape sensed Draco’s presence. He could smell the unique scent of caramel and vanilla that hinted at something darker hidden in the mix. He could feel the magical energy signature drifting on the air, a goodness that the young man’s father had never possessed. As he stopped by the counter separating the kitchen from the dinning area, he thought back to his visit with his friend, for whatever else the old goat might be, he was the closest friend Snape had ever had. He had placed his robe over the counter and started loosening his tunic, when he felt strong arms slip around his waist. A firm chest pressed against his back, as a warm tongue drew tiny circles on the side of his neck. As he leaned into Draco’s ministrations, he felt the tension easing in his shoulders. Draco worked his way through the thick black hair hanging down to Snape’s shoulders until his tongue had made its way to the other side of his neck.

Snape undid the buttons on his tunic, as firm hands kneaded and rubbed at his erection, causing Snape to tremble and suck in a sharp breath. He could feel Draco’s naked erection shifting against his arse as Draco undulated his hips in rhythm with his kneading. His lover seemed unwilling to break contact even long enough to allow Snape to remove his tunic. Draco slid one hand up the exposed chest to tweak the already hardened nipples and stroke the sparse covering of soft black hair. Snape laid his head back on Draco’s shoulder and fell into the easy undulating movements, relishing the sensation of the soft skin sliding beneath his palms as he slid his hands up and down young, toned hips. When he would cup the firm globes and open the cleft with a squeezing pull, Draco would press hard against Snape’s arse while using his hands to pull Snape’s body solidly against his own. With one opening of the cleft, Snape firmly prodded his lover’s puckered opening, and was rewarded with both of Draco’s hands sliding up the inside of his thighs to the juncture with the groin, then slightly lifting Snape up onto his toes. Draco gave a very solid, and insistant, shove against Snape’s arse at the same time. It took several heartbeats before Snape realized that the wanton moan he heard had come from his own lips.

“There seems to be something in our way,” he hoarsely whispered.

As nimble fingers went to work on his trousers, Snape rolled his head onto his shoulder, allowing Draco better access to his throat.

“Draco, are you telling me that you want to top tonight?” Snape had to work hard at keeping his voice light and humorous. It had been a long time since he had been taken and the thought caused his heart to pound against his chest. He was not sure, though, if Draco had enough experience to be a safe top, but then, Snape reasoned, he had survived worse at a revel than Draco could inflect in his inexperience.

“Mmm, don’t care.” The reply was little more than a breath ghosted across his skin. “I just want you, Severus, all of you; anyway I can have you.”

As Snape turned to embrace Draco and step out of his trousers, he saw a sight that made his blood run cold. In the middle of his parlor floor laid a mangled Eagle Owl, specifically, Lucius Malfoy’s owl. Its entrails were strewn across the floor; it had not died quickly. Snape tilted Draco’s head down and softly kissed his forehead, rubbing the sharp cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Bad news?”

The blond turned his face away from the scene and leaned a damp cheek against warm lips.

“Don’t wanna’ talk… Wanna’ forget… Make me forget… Please just ride me until I forget. Take me to that place where you make me feel like a beautiful person, loved and desirable.”

Snape felt the tears flow across his lips, and without another thought to the message from Malfoy Manner, he led Draco to his bed.

Snape watched the young man as he crawled to the middle of the large bed and rolled onto his back, eyes closed as he waited for Snape to join him. He was nervously biting on his lower lip, and clutching fists into the duvet. Snape trailed his fingers up the firm thighs and watched his lover’s pale nipples harden; pre-come was already seeping from the twitching member near his hand. He settled between Draco’s legs, and leaned over to slide his tongue up the tender underside of the cock before him. As Draco gasped and shuddered from the contact, Snape plunged the entire length into his mouth and throat, burying his nose into the wiry blond hair at the base, while cupping the heavy sac beneath it, and plunging one dry finger into the tight puckered opening. The ring of muscle clamped around the invading finger, holding it in place, as Draco’s hips bucked hard off the bed; his scream was loud and long, as he emptied himself deep into Snape’s throat.

Once Draco collapsed back onto the bed, Snape eased his mouth up the length and gave a gentle parting kiss to the tip. Then, he began kissing a trail over the tender sac to his finger, which was still clamped in Draco’s unprepared arse. He stroked the ring around his finger with his tongue and set off another round of spasms. Gradually, Snape felt the opening relax. He allowed several strings of saliva to fall onto the delicate tissue above his finger, as he gently eased it up and down, and side to side, working the saliva into Draco’s opening. With the rest of his finger well coated, he was finally able to ease it completely into the tight channel. Snape kept laving the edges of the opening, adding more saliva, and probing around his finger with his tongue, until he was able to slip his finger out, drawing a cry of frustration from the heavily panting blonde. As Snape sat up and stretched his stiffening muscles, he could not suppress his smile at the once again weeping erection begging for more attention.

Draco cast a lazy grin at the man kneeling between his legs, before turning it into a mock pout.

“Make it better? Make it good again?” he asked in a silky, seductive timbre.

“Of course, but would you like to top this time,” asked Snape trying to keep the nervousness from his voice. He had hoped that eventually Draco would want to, but remembering the owl, he was certain that he did not want that type of emotion taken out on his arse by a novice. He was relieved when Draco shook his head and rolled onto his stomach. Snape retrieved a vial of oil and prepared himself, as Draco settled onto his knees and chest. He was well into preparing his lover when Draco spoke up, almost timidly.

“Sev, umm, would you make it hurt without, you know, er, any injuries, without drawing blood?”

“Draco, do you feel the need for some form of punishment?”

“Punishment, no… Just the need to feel… To feel on the outside like I do on the inside.”

Snape leaned over Draco and placed his mouth close to the young man’s ear.

“What about making it better, or good, or taking you to that place–”

“It will feel good,” Draco said as he squirmed out from under Snape and sat up to face him. “The first time… Afterward, mentally, it sort of felt as though I had been raped. There were injuries, too. However, when I didn’t move, just stayed still, it felt really good. I can’t explain it, but it was a full, stretched, used and enjoyed feeling. If I didn’t think about the emotional part of it, and just focused on the physical sensations, it was incredible.” Seeing the concerned expression in Snape’s eyes, Draco decided he needed a better frame of reference, before he wound up at St. Mungo’s, in a padded room and an extra-long sleeved jacket.

“You played Quidditch, right?” Snape nodded.

“Okay, remember how you would get sore after a good, long, hard, practice or game? You would be sore, but it felt good, too?” At this, Snape gave a small, slow smile, and nodded again.

“That’s how I want to feel,” Draco said, shyly.

“Well, that can be accomplished,” said Snape, hesitantly. “First I want you to look me in the eyes and say stop.”

“What?”

“Do it. Say stop”

“Why?” Draco was beginning to sound panicked at this point.

“A simple, directive word with four letters… Say it.”

“Okay, okay… Stop,” whispered Draco

“Say the word no,” instructed Snape.

“This is crazy! What’s the point,” yelled a frustrated Draco.

“If you can’t say it, we don’t do it; not rough, at least. I need to know that you can tell me when you need me to stop; when it gets to be too much.” Snape watched the understanding dawn on Draco’s face, replacing the panic and frustration that had been fuelling the young man.

“Stop and no,” Draco said softly, with another shy smile playing about his lips.

“If you say stop, everything stops immediately. If you say no, I will stop what I am doing and move on to other acts. If you pull away from me, I will not pursue. If you push me away from you, I will not move back in.” As Draco stared in wonder at the man sitting in front of him, he seemed to be unable to respond.

“Draco I need to know that you understand me. I can cause pain, if that is what you want, but I have no way of knowing how it is affecting you emotionally. You have to be able to tell me when you have had enough, or want something different. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Severus, I understand,” Draco said in a broken voice as he leaned in for a deep kiss.

Once again, Draco settled on his knees and chest, with a mischievous grin over his shoulder he asked, “Is it going to hurt?”

His answer came in the form of a smirk as conjured ropes wound their way around the pale wrists and stretched Draco’s arms toward the headboard, and secured them at an awkward angle. Draco was just able to rest his forehead on the bed. The sheet beneath his knees, suddenly, felt as if he were kneeling on burlap. Snape slammed hilt deep into the tight arse that had been presented for his use. He pulled completely out and massaged the angry red opening with one thumb while delivering a short stinging slap on an arse cheek.

“I don’t know,” Snape chuckled, darkly. “Did that hurt?”

“Oh, fuck, Merlin, yes! Gods, do it again! Harder!”

Snape slammed back in and pulled completely out three more times in rapid succession, as Draco swore, and cried out in on odd combination of pleasure and pain. After the third time, several stinging slaps were delivered across the cherry red arse bouncing around before him. Snape gently rubbed the globes quivering under his touch, and leaned in to caress the irritated, red opening with his tongue. When Draco sighed out in his relief, Snape reached between the man’s legs and gently, but firmly, squeezed his sac, causing Draco to sharply suck in a breath. Snape angled his next thrust to hit the sweet spot, and had Draco screaming, again. With pleasure being countered by pain, more slaps were rained down upon Draco’s arse. Draco’s orgasm, several minutes later, was not viewed as a reason for respite. In fact, when his ring began to spasm around Snape’s cock, Snape rode it out with fast, full thrusts, each one causing a tugging sensation more vicious than any hand job he had ever had. Draco was sobbing into his pillow when Snape ask if the word needed to be said.

“Bloody, hell no, don’t you dare! Gods, don’t stop! I want more, just like that!”

Snape’s deep moan left Draco unprepared for the nest strike across his arse, one that brought tears to his eyes, and a string of very undignified words form his lips. In the next instant, he was shuddering form the sensation of something rough sliding across his still stinging flesh.

“What the bloody hell is that?” he hissed, in a choked whispered.

Snape held a paddle under Draco’s stomach, allowing him to see the newest addition to their “toy box”. It was thin with a flat, round face, and several holes of various sizes through it. One side was fine, but unfinished wood, while the other was covered with plush fur. Another blow was landed, but this time it was followed by an intense tickling sensation. And so the torment began. Several full, hard strokes would be followed by one or two strikes from the paddle, which was followed by either a caress from its rough side, a teasing graze from the soft fur, or firm swipes from a wet tongue. For Draco, nothing was the same twice in a row.

As the early hours of morning slipped by, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, ringing paddle strikes, hoarse groans and moans, and the occasional incoherent scream echoed through out Snape’s quarters, and on Draco’s third orgasm, Snape’s control gave way. His final thrust drove Draco into the bed, and with a deep guttural growl, Snape fell from the edge of the universe.

When he awoke, Snape found that he had slipped out of Draco but was still lying on top of him. Draco was asleep, too, and their fluids were just starting to dry. Unable to gather enough strength to stand and walk to the bathroom for a damp cloth, he opted for his wand and a cleaning charm. Draco stirred from his sleep as Snape rolled him over to clean the mess he had collapsed in.

“G’mornin’,” he sighed sleepily.

“Mm… Good, yes it was. Morning, yes it is.” Snape wrapped himself around the lanky figure in his arms and found that he was already too alert to go back to sleep.

“Can’t go back t’sleep?” Draco was becoming more alert, much to his chagrin. “You do know that the only thing to adequately top that performance is either ten hours of sleep or a full breakfast don’t you?”

“For me, ten hours of sleep is the result of a near death experience; though I must say, last night was a close call.”

“So breakfast in bed then?” Draco asked, hopefully, as Snape moved to the edge of the bed and rose, stretching every muscle in his lean body.

“I think that can be arranged. Are you injured?” At the stern look and raised eyebrow, Draco couldn’t resist the eye roll.

“You would already know if I were.”

“Was that what you were wanting?” Snape asked kneeling down to be on eye level with Draco. He was not sure if he wanted an honest answer, but his need to know overrode his not wanting to know.

“Exactly… But I think I may stay here in bed all day, if that’s acceptable with you?”

“I would expect nothing less. You stay here, I’ll return with breakfast.” With that, Snape pulled on his dressing gown, and padded to the fireplace in the parlor. Draco wondered if the normally graceful man was aware that he was padding, as opposed to his normal gliding. ‘Just as long as I’m not the only one feeling it after a night like that,’ Draco thought, with a smirk.

In a few minutes, Snape walked back into the bedroom with a tray laden with various breakfast foods. Draco was disappointed to see that the man’s movements were quickly returning to near normal, for Snape. He had planned to enjoy Snape’s discomfort for as long as he could, and not that he would admit it, but he had found the way his lover’s hair bounced as he padded, well, rather cute, in a very disarming sort of way.

“Draco, do you feel like talking now?”

“What do you wish to talk about? Oh, yes I do. Thank you, for not pushing the issue last night.”

“Why was there a dead owl in my floor, specifically your father’s dead owl?” The matter-of-fact tone in his voice caught Draco off guard. At his silence, Snape continued on, “You are aware that killing the messenger has no effect on the message, are you not?” Draco only rolled his eyes, again. “I would also presume that you are aware that your father will not take kindly to that particular owl’s demise?”

“He, and his bloody owl, can go get stuffed for all I care!”

“You seemed to care greatly last night.” Again, Draco simply sat in silence. “It is usually emotional pain that drives one to seek out extreme physical pain, so… What was the message?”

“Basically it said that as Lucius knew you so well, he would enlighten me as to what lay ahead for me. When you inevitably grow tired of me, I would be welcomed back at the manner, as my services would be of great enjoyment at gatherings… In addition, while I would not be receiving the dark mark, he would still be seeing me around as you were not selfish with your toys… Um, some trash about finding new ways to enjoy his visits to you, since I was no longer his son, and legally an adult, he would be able to answer his questions regarding my skills in bed. He wrote that all fathers wondered about their sons’ skills with women, but he knew of your talents and that you would be a suitable master, and teacher.” Draco knew by the stony silence, and the waves of disturbance radiating from Snape, that a nerve had been hit. He had dreaded having this talk, for he did indeed know of the relationship between the two older men. He now found himself filled with shame, and unable to face his lover as he continued.

“He added that the first time your loyalties were questioned by the Dark Lord, you would offer me up as a catamite, to save yourself.”

“Draco, look at me.” Snape waited patiently while Draco gathered enough fortitude to look up. “I have no doubt that Lucius would use you in the manner you are suggesting. You know that as well as I do, and you knew it at the start of the summer. Always remember that you are not actually my toy. I have asked you to bond with me and become my mate. That is far removed from being something I would share with anyone. As for your security here, on the school grounds, the wards have always been set to send an alarm when Lucius approached. Since his last visit, though, the wards have been increased so as not to allow him entrance with out Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, or myself opening the door for him. You could not even allow him entrance. Those very wards, and more, protect my quarters, my office, and my classrooms. Should he be allowed entrance, I will never allow him to touch you. I do care a great deal for you Draco-” Snape found himself trying to swallow past the obstruction in his throat

“I love you Draco, as much as I understand what that means. I have for a good number of years. It has been only recently that this feeling took on a sexual nature, but it was never quite what a father would feel for a son.” As Draco began to fidget with the service set on the tray, Snape struggled to find the words to explain his views of their relationship to his lover.

“The only really questionable part of our relationship is that I am your teacher. Once you are out of school even that becomes irrelevant. It has long been known that you possess the innate abilities needed to become a Potions master. When a master takes a tyro, it is assumed that a sexual, and emotional, relationship will form, simply from the close proximity and length of time the master and student work together. Even our age difference is truly not that uncommon among wizard relationships. Very few people will take an avid interest in our relationship.”

Snape watched as the storm in Draco’s eyes calmed, the muscles in his face and shoulders relaxed, and the smile he gave was sincere. The tender moment was broken when the floo sounded an incoming call.

“Severus, are you there?”

As Snape glided back into the parlor, Draco sensed his father’s presence through their blood link. By the time Snape had returned Draco was dressed.

“I thought you were staying in bed today?”

“My father–”

“Is being dealt with by the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress, as it is their responsibility; besides, he claims to be looking for his owl. Filch is searching the Owlery, I advised the Headmaster of your letter, and said that the owl has not been seen since last night.”

“But…”

“There is a former Malfoy House Elf gainfully employed by this school. His loyalty to Mr. Potter and Dumbledore, combined with his hatred for Lucius, makes him a most valuable staff member. His discretion is exemplary.