Powers Pawns

Disclaimer: All things in the Potterverse belong to J.K. Rowling, I just like to play with her toys. Somehow I don’t think anything like this will be in book 6, mores the pity. This is completely un-betaed, feedback appreciated. Thank you to Darklady and all the fine people who enjoyed Power Plo muo much, this is what feedback does to me. ~grin~ Note to self: Must find boyfriend with long hair. SOON. I hope you like it.

SS/HP (age 16) Post OotP and Power Play.

NC-17

Powers Pawns

By Mortifyd

Severus always woke early, usually before the dawn; time for contemplation and renewal suspended between light and dark, a mirror of his own existence. This morning had comfort, but no peace; Harry Potter lay in his arms, snoring gently. He watched him sleep as he struggled with the emotions that disturbed the precarious balance he lived in.

“What have I done?” he sighed, careful not to disturb the young man wrapped around him. He knew that this would cost him dearly; tried to convince Albus that it was a mistake, that the intimacy would shatter him. But I have endured worse than this, haven’t I? he thought. Hasn’t he as well? Torture, shame, guilt and horror; all these things had left their marks on his flesh and soul. How could he know that innocence would burn?

The first pink edges of the dawn only served to reawaken the burning inside him. He had taken the boy into his bed at Dumbledore’s insistence, solely for the purpose of building his power; to protect and strengthen him against the Dark Lord. In that, he had no doubt they had been successful. In other ways, it may have sealed Severus’ fate.

There was no way that Voldemort would not eventually find out, but that wat hit his concern at the moment. His life had been forfwhenwhen he took the mark, though he had not truly understood that at the time. But to be bound like this was something else, the level of the commitment he felt seredered him, even now.

The night before last he had gone to Dumbledore; he put his pride away and actually begged him not to allow this. Albus had been kind but unmoved, despite his pleas. He thought that it was old wounds that pained him, not the dread of fresh ones. The terror of beauty was not something he could understand.

Severus understood it all too well. His life was filled with the terror of beauty; some he possessed, some that possessed him. He was really a simple man at heart; solitary and single minded in his pursuits. He loved his work; the subtle form of magic he excelled in, though the random energy and minuscule attention spans of children wore at his patience. All of that was changed now, in the falling and rising of the sun.

It had been no mere exchange of power between them, not at all. He was chained now, bound at the very soul to boy boy in his arms. Harry stirred in his sleep and Severus touched his face gently, even reverently. The young man had given of himself so willingly; he had no idea what he had done. He had not lost his innocence, if anything he had given Severus back his own, lost long ago, before he ever came to the halls of Hogwarts.

Not innocence of the body but of spirit, though he had lost the first not far from where they lay, at the hands of Lucius Malfoy. He smiled somewhat sadly at that bittersweet memory, resting his chin on Harry’s head. The light was growing stronger now, filtering in from the narrow, high windows; the ritual of his daily routine altered for the first time in many lonely years.

Soft hands stirred against him, young limbs stretched and wrapped themselves tighter around his worn body. He did wishwish this moment to pass fros grs grasp, he chose to wrap himself closer around Harry and return to sleep in the innocence of his embrace.

Harry woke in the fullness of the morning; Severus curled protectively around him. The older man shifted slightly with a hint of a frown when he turned in his arms, but did not wake.

“Accio glasses,” he whispered, heded ded to see Severus in sleep. His face was slack, the furrow between his brows only hinted at, webs of fine lines around his eyes. Harry had never noticed the slight curve of his lips, a secret smile in rest; the strands of grey that spread from his temples. There was salt in the stubble of his face as well, dark shadow on porcelain skin; a dusting of freckles across his shoulders and chest, mingled with scars.

They were beautiful and terrible, lines and odd shaped patches that marked his flesh; he traced them with his fingers gently and Snape stirred. The mark he had glimpsed last year was there upon his arm, he touched it and Severus snatched his hand away from it, terror and longing in his eyes.

“Don’t! Have you no sense of self preservation?” Snape moaned. “Have I taught you nothing, boy?” His eyes were bloodshot but open, nard, md, measuring him. His hair was mussed and tangled; the hand he tho though it did nothing to smooth the snarls. He snorted sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I…I just wanted to…” he trailed off, unsure of what he had wanted exactly. Harry hadn’t meant to wake him, he didn’t want to face Snape awake and aware in the light of the memories that danced behind his eyes; they unsettled him.

“Get us both killed, apparently,” he mumbled, voice thicth sth sleep but not anger. “It is not as strong a connection as the mark you bear, but it is sensitive, nonetheless. Do not touch me like that again.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” he whispered, cringing slightly. He waited for the litany of his failures and stupiditybegibegin; how had he ever thought to expect anything else in the light of day, given their conversation last night?

“Of course you didn’t,” Snape said with a sigh. “Foolish Gryffindors, the whole lot of you.” He punctuated this pronouncement with long fingers carding Harry’s own unruly hair. “How do you feel?” he asked, almost tenderly.

“Er, fine I guess, how am I supposed to feel?” Harry realised Snape had been dreading this as much as he had. He thought about how he felt for several minutes; physically he felt fine, emotionally he wasn’t so sure. He shrugged. “How do you feel?” he asked. Snape didn’t answer him.

“We should get up, we have to give Dumbledore our report. We’ve also missed breakfast.” Snape sat up, pulling away from Harry’s embrace and stretched. He climbed from the bed and headed into the toilet, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

The Horrible Idea had not been horrible, at least not in the way he had expected. There was a sense of loss that washed over him, watching Severus’ lean form leave him; he wanted… he realised he didn’t know what he wanted. He felt alive in a way that was new, sensitive but armoured; this mus the the effect of the magic they had shared. They had shared more than magic; he understood that, though he didn’t know what to make of it.

His prick stirred as he lost himself in the memories of what they had done, the touch of those hands, the things that voice had whispered to him in the darkness. How was he supposed to reconcile that with the fear and loathing that would be expected of him now? Harry sighed and reg regretfully out of the bed as Snape returned.

“I’m not sure I can handle this,” he blurted out, jerking Snape from his own reverie. Harry stood by the bed, naked and suddenly ashamed. He wrapped one arm around himself, the other covering his genitals, though Severus was not looking at him.

“You have to, Potter. What’s done is done,” Snape replied coldly over his shoulder. He sighed bitterly as he towelled himself off. “Go take a shower, you smell like sex.” He refused to look at the boy; he would hurt more than he already did. His chest ached, his head pounded; cruelty was his refuge, though it pained him now to be cruel. Slowly he began to dress, putting on his dark armour as if it would hold all of it inside.

Harry walked slowly into the bath and began his ablutions. The water was hot, he could pretend the tears were simply from that. He was a little tender in odd places; neck stiff from sleeping draped around someone else. There were small bruises on the insides of his thighs; perhaps even a hint of a bite. He shuddered as a wave of arousal swept through him and leaned against the cool tiled wall.

He gave in, closing his hand around his prick, bracing his back against the wall as he replayed the images and sensations in his head. Snape’s lips on his skin, his voice in the darkness, his hands, his beautiful hands touching him as he had never been touched before. He came quickly; shuddering and gasping against the wall as the door banged open.

“For Merlin’s sake, Potter!” Snape barked at him, jerking the curtain aside. Flng dng dark eyes raked over him, his lip curled in disgust. “Couldn’t you have done that in the privacy of your own rooms?” he hissed. “Get dry and get dressed. NOW.” He stormed from the small room and Harry felt worse than he had before.

He shut off the water and dried himself quickly, then realised his clothes were in the other room with Snape. He wrapped the towel around his waist and went out to retrieve them. Severus was sitting stiffly in the same chair he had been slumped in last night, lost in thought. The bed was made, his pyjamas and robe laid over the edge of the duvet, next to his Invisibility Cloak. He dressed quickly, but Snape said nothing to him, nor even acknowledged his presence in the room.

Snape was, in fact, intensely aware of his presence. He could smell the soap on his skin, could almost feel the blood that burned in his face as he stood there by his bed. He hadn’t meant to see him like that again, eyes tightly closed, face ecstatic in passion; he had hardened instantly, though he had done the very same in the shower himself. He stood once his erection had faded and moved toward the door.

“Put your cloak on, walk out before me and go to the tower and change. Then meet me in Dumbledore’s office,” he said quietly. He sighed at the look on Harry’s face, which floated in the middle of his room. He had a flash of James standing like that over him, the memory burned. “I’ll have the house elves send up something to eat, I suspect we shall be occupied for a while.” He fought the urge to pull the young man to him and opened the door.

Harry pulled the cloak completely over himself and left. He did not turn to see Snape lean his head against the door, eyeosedosed; or the tightness in his face as he walked slowly toward the upper portions of the castle.

Severus knocked on the door. Albus called him in; he was reminded of another time that he had entered this office, burning with rage. Somehow he knew again he would find no comfort here, nor had he that day. James and Lupin, Sirius and Pettigrew had been shown favour, he had been asked to endure in silence. He expected little else now, despite the friendship he had forged with the Headmaster in the intervening years.

“You are angry with me, Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly. “It is dothenthen?”

“You know it is, Headmaster,” he snapped. He stood, fidgeting and fuming as though he was still the unrepentant schoolboy before the raised desk.

“And Harry, where is he?” Dumbledore asked softly. “Were you kind to him?”

“He went to the tower to get changed, Albus,” he sighed. All his precious anger drained from him, he suddenly felt exhausted. “Yes, I was kind to him. He is remarkably strong. He is also remarkably stupid.”

“Severus,” Albus sighed, “He is not stupid, merely young, as we both were, once.” He stood and they moved to his sitting area to wait for Harry. Albus waved his wand and a heavily laden tray appeared, along with coffee and another tray of sweet rolls and scones. Snape poured coffee for them both, their fingertips brushed as he passed a cup to the Headmaster. Their eyes met, then parted and Severus sat back in his chair.

Harry dressed quickly, his anger growing. He was alone, confused and hungry; summoned to bare himself before the man who had demanded this thing from him. While Dumbledore had explained many things to him, he had drawn back, closed himself to Harry and his need to understand. His friends had abandoned him; in the hours of the Horrible Idea it had not mattered, but now his longing for them ached in his chest.

In his anger, he decided Snape had lied to him. He had not hurt him physically, but he had broken something in him this morning. It felt good to be angry, it gave him strength. He marched to the passage where the gargoyle stood, muttered the password and went upstairs.

Snape opened the door before he could knock, his face unreadable. Suddenly Harry felt unsure and something else he couldn’t quite define, his anger evated.ted. He followed the older man to where the Headmaster awaited them and took the silently offered seat. Dumbledore smiled at him kindly and offered him breakfast. They ate in silence, the three of them together.

“Harry, are you well?” Dumbledore finally asked, breaking the tense silence in the room. He nodded slowly; he didn’t trust his voice. “Severus has told me that the exchange went well.” Harry flushed. “Do not concern yourself, he did not go into details. I know this is… difficult for you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He glanced over at Snape, who looked as uncomfortable as he felt; though he favoured Harry with a small smile. His eyes were sad, with something more Harry didn’t quite understand and he looked away.

“Why don’t the both of you stay here and discuss this, I have a matter I must attend to.” He ignored the dark and foreboding looks that both men shot at him. “I may be a while, but I trust you will find much to… talk about.” His tone left no room for argument and he left them, the snick of the lock echoing behind him in their silence.

“He locked us in!” Harry huffed indignantly. “What does he want us to tabouabout then?” He asked Severus, who had slumped in his chair with a bitter sigh.

“I suppose he wants me to explain the full ramifications of our…experience,” he said quietly.

“D’you mean why I feel so bloody strange and why you’re acting like a git?” Harry shot back sourly.

“I will not tolerate that, Potter,” Snape hissed. “Bad enough that stupid girl ever found that document, worse that we were manoeuvred into it, but I will not have you being insolent and sullen after the fact,” he sneered, dark eyes burning into Harry.

“I can be insolent and sullen, I’m sixteen. You on the other hand are a grown man and you’re – you’re acting like you don’t care at all!” he shouted, giving rein to the anger and confusion he had felt earlier. “You are SUCH a bastard!”

“My parents were married. I’m quite legitimate, I assure you, Potter.” He shook his head and started rubbing his temples again. “You really don’t understand what happened, do you?”

“Go on then, start on about how thick headed and fool hearty and stupid I am already, I know you’re just dying to, so do it.” He rocked back in his chair with a snort and rolled his eyes. “I should have known you would be the same after…” he grumbled.

“I told you last night, weren’t you listening to me?” Snape snarled. “Of course you weren’t! You have ye lis listen to anything I have tried to teach you these last five and a half years. I should just - just kill you myself! Azkaban would be a mercy in the face of your adolescent whinging if the Dark Lord doesn’t torture me to death first!”

“I am NOT whinging!” he shouted. “I…I just don’t know why I feel like this and it’s all weird and you’re being a bastard and last night you were - ” he stopped suddenly, ashamed again, like he had been in Snape’s rooms.

“And last night I was what exactly, Potter?” he sneered, springing from his chair and pushing his face forward, into Harry’s. “I was what?”

“You were beautiful,” he whispered. A single tear ran from his eye. “You were beautiful and it was beautiful and now I…” He shuddered and closed his mouth, not daring to look at Snape, though his nose was nearly touching his own. He could smell him, he realised, suppressing a groan at the memories that subtle scent stirred.

Snape sighed and backed down, sitting on his heels in front of Harry. Gently he traced the trail of the tear with his thumb, then caught the young man’s chin in his fingertips, though he did not force him to meet his eyes. His anger evaporated, replaced with a dull ache and a hole in his heart.

“Beautiful…” he sighed. “No one has ever called me beautiful, Potter. Certainly if the word ever slipped from anyone’s lips it was never meant.” He let go and sank into himself, remembering. He remembered Lucius said fucking him was beautiful, the Dark Lord found his pain beautiful, bu one one found HIM beautiful. Now this hormone crazed child he had bedded was flinging the word about as if it would alter the nature of the universe.

“I did. You were beautiful. You made me feel things and said things and touched me and held me when I couldn’t handle it and made everything right. I…what’s happening to me?” he asked, eyes round with terror and longing. “What did you do to me?”

“I did something very foolish because I found myself in a position I did not want to be in. Story of my life, Potter. I tried not to hurt you, but I can see that I was ineffective. I’m sorry I broke my word to you, truly.” He wrapped his long arms around himself, as if he could hold in the emotion that burned him. Harry gaped at him.

“The spell is complex. The fact that you were a virgin…” a little shudder passed through him, but the words continued to tumble from his lips. “And you are powerful only made it stronger. I am now bound to you in a way… that I had not anticipated or wanted. I don’t know how to deal with it either.”

“Is it permanent?”

“Yes.”

“But what does it mean?”

“It means that I will spend the next year and a half watching you grow up, then you will leave, hopefully manage to live long enough to defeat the Dark Lord and…” he rose abruptly and flung himself back into his chair.

“And what, Severus?” he asked quietly, stunned at this torrent of words from Snape.

“Professor. Leave me alone, Potter,” he mumbled, looking anywhere but at the Boy Who Lived To Destroy Him. Harry got up and pushed his face into Severus’, he wasn’t about to let this pass.

“And what?” he demanded. “I’m not going to let you be until you tell me.”

“And I will spend the rest of my miserable life wanting what I cannot have,” he said in a whisper. “Now will you let me be? Please.” He closed his eyes and dropped his head back in the chair. There. Let the beautiful little monster think on that.

Harry gaped at the older man. Severus felt just as weird about this as he did and was not at all his normal, reliable, predictable self. Does he mean he loves me? he thought with a sense of wonder and elation. All the odd looks, the sneers, the detentions, the cruelty, all of it made a twisted kind of sense from that light. Snape had punished Harry not for being alive, or being his father’s son, but for being desirable.

“How long hyou you felt like this?” he asked, a touch of awe in his voice.

“Felt like what?” Snape asked irritably. He was not in control of the situation and did not care for it at all. Everything was falling apart around him and he had nowhere to turn. Damn you Albus, damn you and damn me too.

“How long have you…cared about me?” he mumbled. Do you love me? It was horrible, this pressing need he had to know what exactly was going on in that mind. The bond, the confusion he felt, the sense he had of somehow being more than he was before and less at the same time. Did you love me before? Is that you you didn’t want to do this?

“I don’t want to talk about this, Potter,” he said stubbornly.

“Well, Dumbledore said we had to. If we don’t do it now, he’ll just make us while he sits here and gloats about it. Might as well get it over with, don’t you think?” He sat back down in his chair and waited. Severus didn’t say anything for several minutes.

“In the sense of caring whether you live or die, since you were a baby. I tried…” he stopped to compose himself. “I tried to stop what happened, but I was too late.”

“You tried to stop Voldemort from murdering my parents?” Snape shuddered at the mention of the name and Harry decided this would be a good time to watch the dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight again. He had never thought about Snape trying to save his family before, though of course he was the same age as his parents. “But I saw…I remember in the pensieve…” he stopped talking when Severus jerked his head like he’d been slapped.

“You saw nothing Potter, only foolish young men being foolish and young.” Now Dumbledore’s words haunted him. “Your father and I had our…differences, Harry, but I owed him my life. He saved me from Lupin and it created a bond, as you well know.” He shuddered. “When I realised that your family was the target that night, I had already come to Albus and was working as a spy. I tried to warn him but I was intercepted. I was taken to – to Azkaban,” he swallowed heavily, as though something were caught in his throat. “Your parents were already dead. I thought you were dead too. When Albus told me you had survived, I knew that the debt could still be paid, if I helped keep you alive in his place, since you are his only child.”

“It was a matter of pride then?” he asked, a little disappointed, but surprised at what he was learning. Dumbledore had never told him any of this, after all.

“Not pride, Potter. Honour. As the last of the House of Snape, I have an obligation to you as the last of the House of Potter. We are the last of two old wizarding families, boy. Didn’t you realise that?” Somehow it was easier to talk about it now, here, than it had been to even think about it, though he rarely did.

“I was kept in a cupboard by Muggles, I didn’t even know I was a wizard until Hagrid came to take me to school. My relatives told me my parents died in a car crash.” Harry sighed. “I don’t know anything about my family except what you, Lupin and…and Sirius told me.” He shuddered and Snape winced. “Hermione to to tell me that my father was Seeker on the Gryffindor team, I didn’t even know he had been in the same House.”

“You didn’t know you were a wizard? Is that why you couldn’t answer my questions…that first day?” Harry nodded slowly. “I…they kept you in a cupboard?” It was Snape’s turn to gape.

“Under the stairs. My aunt and uncle, they hate magic. They thought they could beat it out of me, or starve it out of me…anything to keep me from knowing what I was… I’ve never met any other relatives, ever. I don’t even know if I have any.”

“I’m truly sorry to tell you then, but you don’t, at least not close relatives. There may be some distant relations, but you are the last of the Potters.” He shook his head. “Merlin’s beard, Potter, I had no idea.” They sat quietly, absorbed in their own thoughts as sunlight crept across the room.

“As to the rest of your unspoken but obvious question, I don’t know when that happened, but last night…made it abundantly clear to me.” Snape blushed. “But it doesn’t matter. You will do what you need to do and I will be glad when it’s over. Just live, damn you.”

“You are attracted to me then.” He had to know; this was likely the only chance he would have to ever ask. “Did you…did you mean those things you said?” Harry held his breath, steeled for disappointment.

“I’ve said many things to you and about you, Potter,” he snapped, “but I have never intentionally lied to you.” It hurt to say that, given what he knew now. “As you have pointed out, however, you are not gay and I have no reason to expect you to comprehend or return what you do not understand. You are also very young, you simply responded to something youe ree required to do.”

“So now it’s just hormones and magic, is that it?” He snorted. Not only was this pathetic, but the man wasn’t taking him seriously. No one took him seriously.

“Something like that, yes.”

“But what if it’s not?” he asked carefully, looking off into space.

“It is.” Severus’ heart was beating loudly in his chest. He shifted in his chair and prayed to every deity he could think of that Albus would return soon.

“But what if it’s not? I mean, er, how did you know you were gay?” The words surprised him even as he said them. He shagged me, that gives me some right to ask personal questions, doesn’t it?

“I…I just knew, Potter. Stop asking me these things.” My soul, or what’s left of it, cannot take much more of this. He glared at Harry for good measure, but knew it was not one of his best efforts. The boy had him in a corner, always a dangerous place to push him.

“Who else am I going to ask exactly, other than the man that took my virginity?” he shouted. “RON? He’d either turn red or laugh himself silly, probably both. Hermione? Bet she’d have loads to say about it. ‘Let’s look in the library, I’m sure I remember something from some mouldy old book,’” he sing-songed in a high voice. “Dumbledore, maybe? ‘Excuse me, Headmaster, how do I know if I’m a pouf, since I liked what the Professor did to me and I can’t stop thinking about it?’ That would be a fun conversation, wouldn’t it!”

“Whom else. That was unkind, Potter,” Snape hissed, eyes glittering dangerously.

“I had a good teacher, Professor,” he shot back with a dark look of his own. They glared at one another, neither wanting to be the first to look away. They compromised and broke the stare at the same time, neither victorious.

“This was a Horrible Idea,” they said together in the ugly silence. That was all it took. They both dissolved into helpless laughter; every time they would start to wind down, one would catch the others eye and it started again. Finally, tears streaming down their faces, clutching their sides and gasping, they stopped.

“So, er, now what do we do?” Harry asked when he caught hieatheath. It didn’t seem fair that he could have this experience and then pretend it hadn’t stirred something in him.

“We do nothing. I am still your teacher and…it will grow easier to live with in time,” Snape replied, mumbling “I hope,” to himself.

“But I have my cloak…and my relatives wouldn’t know or care. I need to understand all the things I’m feeling…there isn’t anyone else I can turn to but you, Severus.”

“Minerva would have the house-elves serve her my testicles for dinner, Harry, with toast points.” His mouth twitched with a small smile as Harry snickered. He had to admit, if only to himself, Snape was right about that.

“I suspect that I could convince her otherwise, Severus,” said an amused voice behind them. Both men leapt to their feet; they had not heard Professor Dumbledore return.

“Headmaster,” Snape said, blushing furiously.

“Professor,” said Harry, blushing as well.

“I see that you two have had a chance to have a good talk,” he said with a small smile. “Sherbet Lemon drop?” he offered. Both of them declined with nervous shakes of their heads. “While there is little that happens here that I am not aware of,” he waved a hand vaguely in the air, eyes twinkling. “There are things that, given the unusual situation I have placed you both in, I might choose to remain unaware of, providing there was a certain amount of…discretion involved in the proceedings.”

“You’re not seriously suggesting…” sputtered Snape.

“I think it would be wise for the two of you to continue to talk about this matter, Severus, if nothing else to work through the experience. You may discover you have more in common than you thought, or at least find a way to deal with it in a mature manner. In the meantime, I believe luncheon will be served shortly. Shall we?” sweeping them both along toward the door.

Lunch was an odd affair to say the least. All the Christmas decorations that made Hogwarts special to Harry were in place; the huge decorated trees, the House banners, what was normally comforting seemed overly cheery. Harry sat with the few other Gryffindors who had remained at school over the holidays and missed Ron and Hermione even more.

He returned to the Tower and half-heartedly tried to study for a while, then went out to build a snow fort and challenged the remaining Ravenclaws to a snow ball fight. That was quite good fun, they split the remaining Hufflepuffs between them and the one surly Slytherin boy who had stayed actually left them all alone.

Severus went farther up in the castle than he normally did, ignoring the work he had set for himself over the holidays in favour of watching the children snow ball fight that afternoon. There was Harry, right in the thick of things; organising the games and appearing for the moment like a normal boy.

He had no compunction about his voyeuristic tendencies; he had always been more inclined to watch than participate in anything. When the children had come in to warm up he slipped outside and walked around the grounds for a while, thinking, leaving a solitary path of footprints in the snow.

After dinner, where he had refused to acknowledge Harry’s presence in the Great Hall at all, he and Albus had gone back to the headmaster’s office for a chat. Despite his assurances that things would be fine in the end, he wondered if he would ever have a moment of peace again inside his own head, much less at the school, which he considered a second home.

Eventually Harry ended up sitting in the common room and staring moodily into the fire. Finally he returned to his room and sent Hedwig off with gifts for his friends and a note to let them know he was fine, then went to bed, though he did not sleep well.

The silence seemed to grate on every nerve Harry had left, his bed felt too small and empty. He thought about wandering around the castle, but knew he would end upSnapSnape’s door. The thought both excited and terrified him, but he was unsure of the reception he would get, even after the discussion they had in Dumbledore’s office. Then he realised he had nothing to give Severus on Christmas Day. He decided to try and slip into Hogsmeade the next day and find a gift, which allowed him to concentrate on something other than hands and lips and fiery kisses until he fell asleep.

Snape paced his rooms, unable to sleep. He had tried to catch up on his potions journals, then to work on his article he was submitting next month on the Wolfsbane potion he had tweaked with Lupin’s assistance, but he found himself staring off into space, ink dripping onto the parchment.

All he could think about was Harry. He fixed himself a small drink, almost hoping to hear a knock at his door, but no such luck. He replayed the conversation with Dumbledore over and over in his head, finally nodding off in his chair.

The next morning Harry woke early and went to the Owlery; he wanted to send a note to Lupin and see if he had any suggestions for a good present for Snape. The only thing he had come up with was that Snape desperately needed a new nightshirt, but he suspected that wouldn’t go over well. He didn’t know enough about Severus’ personal life to give him a gift that would mean something, but he felt like he should. It bothered him.

Snape woke in his chair, back aching. He stretched and got ready to face the day, wishing the holidays were over. As he was standing in the shower it occurred to him that he should get Harry a present for Christmas. Nothing extravagant of course, just something to lessen the hurt he had caused him in some small way.

He thought for a while about what to get the young man, but came up blank. His parents’ gifts to him had always been practical, since they basically had their family name and little else. The boy had a broom, certainly didn’t seem to find books useful, nor did he share his own love of potion ingredients.

While he was fastening the buttons of his outer robes he realised that the thing Harry wanted most was knowledge of his past. He Flooed into Hogsmeade, purchased an obnoxiously red and gold journal with a shudder; then returned to his rooms and began to w.
.

Harry ran back to the tower after breakfast and pulled out the Marauder’s Map and his cloak, since he didn’t have permission to go to Hogsmeade, nor was he about to ask for it. It would be entirely too awkward to explain, though he was sure Professor McGonagall would know all about the Horrible Idea, being a part of the Order and all. It would just be too much for his teenaged pride to take.

The school owl returned with a note from Lupin. He had some suggestions, mostly books and lists of odd ingredients, with a plea for Harry to be careful. Sometimes he thought Lupin was the only one who allowed him to be himself without any other expectations; he knew better than to think Harry was going to do anything other than slip out.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he said. Snape was in his office, Filch on the second floor and Mrs. Norris on the first, Peeves was in the Trophy Room. He slipped out with his cloak and headed for the humpbacked witch on the third floor.

A while later he slipped out of the cellar of Honeydukes and went to the Gringott’s branch, then off to shop. He settled on a small book n han had recommended, he knew the perfect potion ingredient and had that in his trunk at school. Satisfied, he returned as he had come, the gift hidden in his robes.

The next day was Christmas; there was a pile of presents at the foot of his bed. Mrs. Weasley had sent him a new jumper of course, along with some mince pies and a large slab of Honeydukes chocolate, he slipped the jumper over his pyjama shirt and tore into the rest of his gifts.

Ron had given him the latest version of the Skiving Snackbox; Hermione had sent him a book, Defensive Charms for Every Occasion by Torgren Igorsen. The Dursley’s had sent an empty matchbox folded flat in an envelope. Harry supposed it was a step up from a single tissue or a toothpick and tossed it aside with a grin. The Creevey bers ers had sent him a huge box of Berti Bott’s and Lupin sent him a set of Gobstones, Dobby had of course given him new socks; one shocking orange and the other a bright lime green with little broomsticks. Hagrid had given him a tin of treacle fudge. He smiled at his fortune and headed down for breakfast.

Snape wasn’t there. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs wandered over and challenged him to a rematch, they spent the morning laughing and getting soaking wet. He had completely forgotten his present for Severus until lunch.

The Headmaster had arranged a single table once again; the house-elves had still made enough food for an army. Though Snape sat across the table from him, he didn’t say a word to Harry, not even when he intentionally stepped on his foot. the they rose from the table he fixed Harry with an odd look, but only wished him a Happy Christmas. It was the first time they had spoken since they had left Dumbledore’s office; Harry suddenly didn’t feel very happy at all.

He dragged his feet all the way back to the Common Room. He was quite short with the Fat Lady, who was entertaining her friend Violet in her frame; she sniffed something about a lack of manners as he climbed through the entryway to head for his bededwiedwig was sitting there waiting patiently with a note. He recognised thitiniting immediately and opened it with shaking hands while her soft hoots echoed in the room.

“Potter, you may come for tea. SS.” He tucked it away carefully in the bottom of his trunk, gave Hedwig some treats and waited for time to pass. Finally he shook himself from his lethargy, took a hot shower and dressed carefully, tucking the gifts he suddenly thought were exactly wrong into his robes and heading down to the dungeons.

Snape had re-read the journal three times since lunch. He had tried, to the best of his ability to remember everything he could about Lily and James, at least the things he was willing to share. There were some things about his father that Potter would be better off not knowing; no amount of hindsight would make them easier to tell, or any less painful for either of them.

It wasn’t complete, but it was as positive as he could make it. He had even managed to slip in a little about Sirius that wasn’t hate filled; he was rather pleased with himself about that. He set up his chessboard and waited for Harry’s knock, pacing the room.

Harry stood before the heavy door for at least a minute before he screwed up the courage to knock. Snape opened the door and he entered the awkward and silent space. He noticed the chess set, but what struck him was the package sitting next to it wrapped carefully in gold paper. He jumped when the door closed behind him.

“Happy Christmas, Potter, please have a seat,” he said quietly, gesturing toward the chairs. “I thought we might play a little chess, I assume your friend Mr. Weasley has tried to teach you a little of the strategic arts.”

“A little, Sir, though he’s much better than I am., Ha, Happy Christmas,” he added as an afterthought. His stomach was fluttering with rowdy, drunken butterflies again as he found his way to the chair.

Severus poured for them but didn’t mention the gift. They sipped and played quietly, or as quietly as could be expected from a game of Wizard’s chess; his pieces demolished Harry’s in only twelve moves. He reset the board and looked at Harry for some time before he finally spoke.

“I thought that it would not be inappropriate to give you as small gift, all things considered hop hope that it will give you some insight on matters you may have been trying to understand.” He handed the package to Harry with a slight tremble in his hand.

“Er, thank you, Sir. I, er, I got you something too.” He fumbled with his robes and produced a small package in green paper and handed it to Snape. When Severus began to unwrap his gift he decided it was all right to open his as well, he was somewhat anxious to see what the man had given him.

Severus looked at his gifts in shock. A book and a sheet of Basilisk skin, rather difficult to come by, though he suspected he knew where it had come from. A small smile played around his lips. It was the book that intrigued him though; it was a collection of Haiku. He thanked him and settled back to watch Harry’s reaction to his own gift.

Harry peeled back the paper and examined the book carefully before opening it. Set into the gold leather cover was a red framed photograph of his parents, smiling and waving at him happily. He opened it with trembling hands and saw it was filled with Snape’s flowing script.

I saw them for the first time on Platform Nine and Three-quarters; your grandmother trying in vain to smooth down your father’s hair, smothering him with kisses while he grinned and blushed. Your grandfather looked quite pleased and gave James a firm handshake, then leaned forward and whispered something in his ear that made him grin harder. Your mother was alone, clearly nervous but excited to be going away to ol. ol. I remember being struck by the colour of her eyes, which as you know were much like yours. We boarded the train and headed off to school, ready for our grand adventures to begin.

“I…oh, Sir! It’s the best present anyone has ever given me,” he said in shock. He found himself on his feet, then flung his arms around Severus, tucking his head against the startled man’s neck, burrowing into raven hair. “Thank ” he” he whispered, “thank you for everything.” He could smell jasmine and something else he couldn’t quite identify, something he simply labelled ‘Snape’, a warm, safe smell thate hie him feel good.

Severus put his arms around the young man and held him, steering him into his lap when it was clear he had no intention of letting go just yet. They sat in silence, caught up in the feeling of simply being alive and the centre of each other’s attention.

Harry shifted in his lap and he let his hands slide ovem, rm, reluctant to let him go, but Harry surprised him again; warm lips pressed against his neck, his ear, the hint of throat his robes did not cover, bringing a moan from him.

“Harry, don’t. Please don’t,” he whispered. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop. He tried to push him away, but his arms had no strength to do so. Harry’s lips continued to mark him, working around his jaw, reaching his mouth, suckled on his lower lip. Severus was torn; he had Dumbledore’s tacit permission, but the boy coul kno know what he was doing.

“I want to, Severus,” he breathed against his mouth, “I want...” Harry slipped his fingers into Snape’s hair and pulled him forward, plundering his mouth. Severus gave in, tongue dancing, pulling back only long enough to remove the young man’s glasses and drop them on the chessboard. The pawns and knights snickered and cheered; the queens and kings harrumphed at the desecration of their marble domain.

They kissed for what seemed like for, le, learning the taste of one another as if nothing else existed. Hesitantly Harry began to work the buttons of Snape’s outer robes between kisses; frustrated his hands wouldn’t move fast enough to suit him. Severus just watched, eyarroarrowed, unconsciously licking his lips, still revelling in the sweetness of Harry’s kisses and hungry for more.

“Whyyou you wear all these infernal buttons?” he moaned in mock agony. Under the outer robes was a waistcoat with smaller buttons, beneath that a starched white shirt with yet more buttons. Harry didn’t want to think about how many more buttons might be involved in getting Snape’s trousers off.

“The better to keep young men like yourself out of my robes, Harry,” he replied slyly. He wanted to help desperately, but he needed to have Harry do this; to make the decision to pursue his own wants, not perceived obligations.

“Sure, just loads of us that loathe you and want to shag you senseless,” Harry replied with a smirk, the light in his unfocused eyes something Severus realised he hadn’t seen in a long while. I think the little bastard just winked at me!

“Harry, you don’t have to do this,” he said softly. His conscience pricked at him, this felt so good but so wrong. Few people thought he was a moral man, he was a Slytherin and had been a Death Eater after all. He was afraid this would betray the trust Albus placed in him, the thing that kept him alive and satisfied his needs. Without that trust he was nothing.

“Will you shut up and help, please?” Harry had finished with the first row of buttons down his front; he was currently struggling with a sleeve. He kept wriggling in Severus’ lap; he was in no real position to help as a result, as the boy well knew.

“Do you know what you are doing to me?” he sighed, echoing the question Harry had asked him only days before.

“I do enough,” he replied, shifting his bottom against his hardness with a grin. Snape gasped. “Difficult to miss that, now isn’t it? I thought I’d figure the rest out after.” He sighed, face scrunched into a frown. “Now help me already!”

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Snape chuckled, but he began to flip the remaining buttons at his sleeves and Harry went on to his waistcoat. “Get off me, I’m getting all wrinkled.” Harry sliductauctantly from his lap, allowing him to stand and remove his outer layer. He toed off his boots and Harry finished with his next layer, tugging at it impatiently.

“What do you plan to do with me, then, once you have me undressed?” he asked, eyebrow cocked as he raked his eyes over the young man appraisingly. He wasll dll determined to make the boy express himself, make him make demands of him to prove his willingness. He also had to admit he liked the attention, if only to hlf. lf.

“Er, I was going to…” he blushed and immediately felt stupidly embarrassed again. “Going to touch you and kiss you and stuff, ‘c I d I didn’t really take advantage of the opportunity the first time.” His eyes roam up and down Snape’s body, returning again and again to the bulge in his trousers. “I want to suck your prick,” he finally mumbled, flushed and aroused, closing in on Severus, licking his lips. His hands went to the waist of Snape’s trousers; he cursed loudly as he discovered more buttons. Snape laughed.

“There are only five, I think you can manage that if you are determined enough, Potter.” His long fingers stroked through the young man’s hair as Harry opened his fly; his erection sprang from its confinement of black fabric, glistening at the tip and firm with blood.

“Harry,” he corrected absently. “You don’t wear underpants?” he asked, grinning. “Never would have thought that, as many layers as you have on the rest of you.” He slipped one hand around Snape’s prick, working up and down his length slowly, the other pushing the trousers down his thighs into a dark pool on the carpets.

“I may have to rethink that habit in the future,” Snape replied dryly, kicking his pants from around his ankles. Harry was using both hands now; one cupped his sac, squeezing gently, the other gripping firmly as it slid against him.

“You need to sit down I think, your legs are a lot longer than mine. I might end up poking my eye out or something.” He used his grip to try and guide Snape to the chairs as Snape smirked.

“On the bed would be better I think, my parents are scowling at us.” Snape’s parents were indeed scowling at them from their frames on the mantle, his father appeared to be shouting rather forcefully as well, waving a fist. Harry was suddenly glad there were no paintings of them in the room; actual commentary on his first attempt at oral sex was not what he needed at the moment.

“Are they angry you’re gay?” Harry squinted, but thankfully couldn’t quite make out their faces.

“No, that’s a Muggle prejudice. I suspect they are angry because it’s you. What kind of family did you think I came from, Harry?” They walked in tandem to the bed and Snape sat on the edge, then lay back and propped himself on an elbow.

“A…a dark one, I guess.” He got on his knees, looking up at Severus hesitantly. He didn’t want to spoil this, but he was terribly curious.

“Indeed. My father was quite friendly with the Malfoy’s, as well as the Lestranges and a host of others. I suspect they would feel I have betrayed the family honour, though they were generally rather cross with me, regardless.” He looked at Harry fondly; he felt no real need to rush him despite the position they were in. “Are we going to have a discussion of my genealogy, or did you have something else in mind?” he drawled. Maybe a little need to rush then, but it wasn’t urgent, yet.

“Er, right.” He blushed, though the majority of his blood was otherwise engaged. He was staring at Snape again, who watched at him coolly in return. His hair hung over one eye, shirttail rucked up beneath him, a thick nest of curly dark hair contrasted with milky white skin. Harry realised he was right to think him beautiful, a thrill of longing and appreciation went through him.

“You need do nothing, Harry, I have no expectations of you.” Wants, I have those, but no expectations.

“I’m, er, just not sure where to begin, that’s all. What do you want me to do?” He had a stubborn look in his eye. It grated on him to ask for direction, but he wanted to do a good job of it. His mouth twitched as he thought about the tongue-lashing he risked if he didn’t; somehow that relaxed him a little.

“Whatever you like, providing you are somewhat careful with your teeth.” He smiled and reached ard,ard, caressing Harry’s face gently, causing the artery in the young man’s throat to flutter. “I trust you will find your own level of comfort.” Harry smiled somewhat bashfully but traced his hand along Severus’ thigh, then followed the path of his hand with his lips. I liked that, so I suppose he will too.

Severus made a throaty little sigh as Harry’s lips brushed against his skin, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. Harry took that to be a positive sign and slid his tongue out, tasting the twitching muscle; then bit gently where he remembered he had been bitten. He was rewarded with a gasp, then a moan as he worked his tongue on the skin between his teeth. He was sharply aware of that smell again - stronger now - the feel of Severus erection against the side of his face, the fingers that ruffled his hair.

He turned his head slightly, closing his lips along the base of his shaft; he tasted somewhat salty, but rich. He felt the older man’s pulse thundering as he suckled gently, laying wet kisses against hot flesh, working his way under and around, exploring. Snape’s fingers fluttered against skull, but did not guide him; he was struck by the restraint the man had. He could feel dark eyes drinking him in, it made him feel powerful and his confidence grew.

Slowly he licked his way up the shaft, mouthing gently, trying to see how many different noises he could coax from his lover. The moment of truth was upon him, his fear and hesitancy gone. He licked his lips in a way he hoped was seductive and took the head of Severus’ prick into his mouth.

“Oh yes, Harry,” Snape moaned, delirious as those lips closed over him. His breath quickened; a trickle of sweat made its way down his heaving chest. He was so beautiful, almost heartbreakingly so; green eyes flashing, cheeks flushed, a look of pleased concentration on his face. The younger man slid his tongue across the head, working it under his foreskin; a shudder ran through his body as Harry swallowed his pre-cum and pushed the tip of his tongue at his opening for more.

He tasted sweet and slick, another sensation filed away as he tested the springy flesh with his tongue. He discovered a new texture in the slit, working his tongue against it as more sweetness flowed into his mouth. He wrapped one hand around the base and began to pull gently, then took him farther into his mouth, bobbing his head lower with each stroke.

He could feel Severus’ hand tightening in his hair and hear him panting, but he had an idea. He released him slowly, his lips made a popping sound as he let go and Sev groaned. He worked his hand up, pulling back the foreskin and spreading the wetness with his thumb before taking him back in his mouth. Now he was sure he had Severus’ undivided attention, running his questing tongue around the head, along the sensitive bit underneath; more textures to explore and sample at his leisure.

He began to move again, trailing his free hand along Snape’s thighs, then to his balls, drawing more wonderful sounds from him. He could tell the man was getting close, so he redoubled his efforts to suck the pleasure right out of him, taking his hardness into the back of his throat. He was beginning to drool a bit, but the slickness added to the work of his hands and Sev certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Harry, that’s so good,” Severus groaned tightly. He had no idea the young man could do t cou could make him feel like that. “Just a little harder, please…” he moaned as Harry complied, fist gripping tighter in all the right places, pulling at his balls, he wasn’t going to last much longer but he didn’t care. His hand was clenched in Harry’s hair now, willing his throat to open, to take all of him into that sweet wetness. He felt the tightness in his sac, the rush of the end; he cried sha sharply as Harry took him as far as he could and he shattered into a million pieces, falling back on the bed.

Harry felt perversely proud of himself as he continued to suck gently, teasing the last drops from the spent man before him. He was surprised at how good it tasted, salty and warm and thick on his tongue; he let the softening organ fall from his lips and lapped at him eagerly, not wanting to miss a single drop. He was strongly aware now of his own throbbing erection, but it could wait. He’d proved his point and had in fact, learned quite a bit about himself.

“Come here to me,” Severus said gently, wincing as he sat up; the shoulder that had supported most of his weight ached deliciously, though it would hurt tomorrow. His eyes shone, candlelight caused flickering highlights to dance his hair. He pulled Harry to his feet and into his embrace, kissing him slowly, tasting himself on Harry’s tongue. Carefully he undressed him, caressing, teasing, tasting; he would devour him if he could.

Harry toed off his trainers but allowed Severus to undress him without assistance, basking he ahe attention he understood was his alone. No one could take this moment from him; no one else would share it. Snape’s undivided attention was an awesome thing to behold, it was almost overwhelming to be the centre of it; no part of his body was left wanting in his wake. He allowed Sev to lift him into his lap, smiled at him as he kissed his brow.

“You humble me with your beauty.” Long pale fingers caressed his face, trembling in time with his heartbeat. “Even now you are innocent,” he whispered in awe. “What do you want with me?”

“You’re beautiful Sev, I told you,” he said softly, kissing the older man again. There was a different power in the air between them now, an understanding beyond magic and sex - an enlightening.

Sev twisted his body, easing Harry onto the bed and knelt in turn on the carpets. He pulled him closer; hands wrapped around the slender waist, then loosed his grip, closing his mouth over one rosy, taut nipple, teasing the other to a nub with a hand, stroking his prick slowly with the other. He kissed his way across his chest, licking the small patch of hair that was growing in on his sternum and laved his other nipple with the same intense devotion he had given to its twin as Harry moaned.He bHe bent forward and teased Harry’s cock with his hair, brushing the silky strands across the slick tip until he shivered, wrapped it in his fingers and stroked him with it before taking him into his mouth. Harry shuddered against him, wrapping his calves around Snape’s torso, thrusting his hips forward with need. Severus pushed him back on the bed, urging his thighs apart, then trailed a lock of hair lightly over his scrotum as Harry gasped and writhed.

He could feel Harry losing control and released him from his mouth with a sigh, ignoring the questing fingers and whimpers that reached his ears. He lifted the young man’s legs onto his shoulders and lightly began to lick his tight sac with long sweeps of tongue, but that was not his goal. Severus breathed deeply, entranced by the smell of youth, the taste of sweat; he pressed Harry’s thighs forward and tongued his arse.

Harry was sure he was going to die. He thought it had been bliss when Severus’ sure fingers had pressed into him, but the wet, hot intensity of his mouth was something beyond that. Snape’s tongue burrowed into him, wringing sounds he had never made before from his lips, his throat, his very soul. When Sev took him in hand and stroked him in time to his questing tongue Harry was gone. His hips bucked as he came, heels drumming on Severus’ back, his name a scream on his lips. Severus chucked throatily but freed him, lifting his head to admire the wide green eyes that stared over that perfect open mouth, the lean, muscular thighs that twitched and shook around him.

“Oh, gods, Severus,” he panted, trembling and tingling from head to toe.

“I take it you enjoyed that,” he said with a satisfied smirk, pulling himself to his feet. He was hard again, but sated; holding Harry would be enough now. Harry seemed to have other ideas however; his eyes lit up at the sight of Snape’s renewed vigour. He sat up, catching Sev’s hips in his hands and took him in his mouth.

“Greedy little findfindor,” he moaned; Harry’s tongue swirled around the head of his prick, clever fingers gliding along his shaft. “You’re going to kill me.” Harry pulled back and looked up at him; spreading the wetness his mouth left with his fingers and smirked.

“Take a potion. I want you inside me, Sev, no point in wasting it.”

“Turn over, on your hands and knees,” he hissed. Harry complied quickly, arse stuck proudly in the air, back arched, head thrown back. He looked over his shoulder at Severus, the very picture of seduction.

Snape fumbled around in the side table drawer, a little extra lubrication never hurt. He quickly prepared himself as Harry watched, then positioned himself behind him. He may have planned to go slower, but Harry rocked back on his knees, impaling himself with a moan. Severus held steady as he adjusted, only thrusting when those wicked green eyes bored into him.

They moved together, neither wanting it to end; breathy gasps and moans echoed despite the hangings on the walls. He wrapped his fingers into Harry’s hips, gripping him tightly; sweat formed a sheen on his skin as Harry urged him on. His knees nearly buckled from under him as Harry flexed his ankles, trying to pull him deeper, faster, harder; his need was palpable in the air.

He withdrew and Harry whimpered; Severus nudged him a little further into the bed and knelt, sitting back on his heels, toes dangling in the air, prick jutting out proudly between his thighs.

“Harry, turn around,” his voice husky with his own need. Harry turned and held onto Severus’ shoulders as he lifted him, impaling him again with a groan; he wrapped his legs around his waist as he rode him. He twisted his hands in dark hair, kissing Sev as he lifted his body again and again; as his pace increased he gave up on the kissing, his head thrown back as he made breathy little cries; every thrust hit that perfect place inside.
veruverus could not resist that tender throat, the heat that engulfed him; every down stroke made him dizzy he was sep iep inside Harry. His mouth latched onto Harry’s neck; he pressed him down on his cock sharply and bit, hard. Harry howled and spilled himself, arse clenching around Severus as he came inside him.

They clung to one another, trembling, arms locked around the others back, unable to move voluntarily. They fell together into the bed, pan and and moaning, Snape’s spent and softening prick slipping from Harry. Slowly they sorted themselves out, stretched out side by side, eye to eye. Harry rubbed his nose against Snape’s, eyelids heavy, body and heart content.

“Can I stay tonight?” he asked. Snape nodded sleepily.

“Will anyone miss you?” he asked. “Did any of your roommates stay for the holidays?” He ’t w’t want him to go, but his instincts were to make sure it was safe. Harry shook his head.

“They all went home. The other three Gryffindors are in other years; I made sure I was surly to them earlier, when I was waiting to come see you. They won’t miss me a bit,” he answered with a grin.

“Are you hungry?” Snape asked. Harry shook his head.

“Sleepy.” He stretched against Snape and wrapped one arm around him. “You can get us something later, I forgot my cloak.” Severus smirked, but nodded. He rolled on his back and unbuttoned his damp shirt thoughtfully, then wriggled out of it and tossed it to the floor. He called his wand to his hand and flicked it, the covers moved from beneath them to float gently onto their bodies.

“Nox,” he mumbled over Harry’s gentle snores, settling next to him protectively. He felt safe and loved - something he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before as he drifted to sleep.