Love Is The Fire In Which We Burn

Author’s note: The title is an adaptation of the Soran line “Time is the fire in which we burn.” from Star Trek: Generations. I don’t like underage sex, so Potter is sixteen or more in all of my stories. Here, he’s seventeen.
Summary: Harry Potter cannot take the strain. Neither can Severus Snape. They lose it.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and every character in the books belong to J. K. Rowling. Story’s mine though, created in my smutty brain. I make no money from this, and I intend no infringement on copyrights. a: Da: Devi, for finding a lot of inconsistencies in plot and characterization, and Karen Colohan for helping out with Britishisms and some repetition. Thanks to both of you for your patience with an impatient author who wants to send her stuff out there yesterday when she’s done, and thanks for an outstanding job, as always! Without you, this story wouldn’t be what it is today. All remaining errors and holes are my own, since I did do some changes at the last minute. Don’t I always...? Thanks also to Devi for suggesting some comic relief about Snape continuing to call Harry by his last name even after they become lovers.
My website: http://www.kardasi.com
Thanks to: Diana Williams for helping me figure out Snape’s age in relation to Potter’s Thanks also go to my husband for giving me a read-through on the non-explicit bits of this when my patience for commentary grew thin and I was flailing about not knowing if I was babbling or repeating myself too much.


Love is the Fire
in Which We Burn
by kira-nerys

PART I

Professor Severus Snape was brimming with annce.nce. This entire school year had been absolutely horrid, and he gnashed his teeth in an effort to stifle his irritation. It didn’t seem to work. Just laying eyes on the Gryffindor students made his insides itch, as though an army of ants had crawled into his robes and decided to put up habitat in there. Nothing seemed to help – not even imagining the offending student spending his weekend scrubbing all of the lavatories in Hogwarts with a toothbrush. When even that failed to put Severus Snape in a better mood, something was terribly wrong. He knew what it was, too, and it seemed only to escalate as the days, weeks and months passed. Ignoring it wasn’t helping.

Harry Potter looked up from his parchment, his quill stilling as he did so. The young man – the boy, Snape scowled – looked so innocent and tortured that it drove him mad. Snape rose abruptly from behind his desk, and Potter quickly averted his eyes, as though frightened. That gave Snape at least some measure of satisfaction. That child was unbearably annoying, more so than any other child who had ever been a student at Hogwarts since Snape started teaching there.

There was no shortage of reasons why he disliked Harry Potter so much. For one, he was insolent, and he was far too pampered for his own good. Not to mention the fact that he sneaked around Hogwarts at night using his invisibility cloak without ever worrying about the consequences. Voldemort was still at large, and Snape had caught the boy making out in the Astronomy Tower several times over the last few months. It made him see red and last night he had snapped.

Severus Snape didn’t want to examine too closely why a couple of snogging teenagers drove him to such white-hot rage. He’d never reacted that way to any other student trying to catch a few kisses and gropes in the Astronomy Tower before, especially when it was two boys. Given his own orientation, Snape had always been slightly more forgiving toward the homosexual trysts. Not so with Potter and Finnigan last night. With them he’d gone stark raving mad and had probably scared young Finnigan so badly that he was scarred for life. Potter, however, didn’t scare so easily. Even worse was that the points he had taken from Gryffindor had given Severus Snape no measure of satisfaction at all.

Sending another scowl toward his students, Snape shut the book he was reading from with a resounding thud.

Apart from all of Potter’s annoying traits, Snape also hated the way the young man messed up in every Potions lesson. It would be enough to drive anyone mad, especially a professor who knew what he was doing, and people could say whatever they liked about Severus Snape, but he was very good at what he did! A voice inside Snape’s head insisted that it was no wonder Potter messed up in class when he got his head bit off if he so much as spilt ink on his desk. That same voice – strangely reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore’s – kept insisting that he was lying to himself when he listed the reasons why he hated Potter so much – lying through his teeth.

You get so annoyed with the boy because....

Shut up!

...because..

I said, shut up!

.... because he makes you feel. Admit it, Severus. You don’t hate him at all. You...

SHUT UP!

“What is the matter, Potter? Are you falling asleep?” Snape growled at the boy. “These notes of yours should have been finished long ago.”

Snape knew he was petty, but knowing it didn’t help his mood at all. Quite the contrary.

He makes you feel, insisted the voice yet again.

He might as well admit it. It seemed the voice in his head was as annoyingly persistent as the Headmaster himself.

Yes, damn it! He makes me feel.

Turning his back to Potter before the boy had a chance to respond, Snape returned to his desk. He was slipping. So far he had, with considerable effort, been able to keep a cool mask around the seventh year students. He scowled at and berated them of course, but he did nothing to Potter that he wouldn’t doany any other student in one of his classes.

But you would like to do so much more to Potter...

No, never. Never. He is a child.

This is wrong, Snape told himself. He had never felt this way about any student before that insufferable brat came to Hogwarts, and although Potter was soon to be eighteen years old, he was still far too young for Snape to feel comfortable with any kind of...inappropriate thoughts about him. He was not a child molester. But each day it became increasingly difficult to ignore this horrid attraction. When he had snapped last night, Snape knew he was in trouble.

He turned around when he reached the blackboard. He’d had enough of this torture for today.

“Very well, students. Gather your things and get out. We are finishing early today!”

The noise level inside the classroom grew exponentially, as he knew it would.

“Silence!”

It was as though he had cracked a whip against his desk.

“Even if I do allow you to leave a few minutes early, it does not mean that you may start babbling!”

The noise lowered, but his students still moved about restlessly, sending him worried glances. Damn, he should have known this would not go unnoticed. He’d become careless, out of sorts, and everything was that boy’s fault. Another memory of the night before came to Severus Snape. He could still hear the moan Potter let out when Finnigan had kissed him. Finnigan, who was at the Astronomy Tower almosery ery night, kissing different boys. The rage that filled Snape at that thought was too intense to think about. Why would he care if Finnigan went behind Potter’s back? It wasn’t his problem.

“Hurry up. Move along,” he snarled.

But the nuisance himself, Harry Potter, remained at his desk, his face somewhat pale and serious. Snape sent Potter a very cold look. The boy startled as though he’d been struck. The wounded expression in his eyes was like a fist around the Potions master’s heart.

Before you, Potter, I had no heart, Snape thought bitterly.

“What is it?” he snapped. “I said: Class is dismissed.”

“We need to talk, Professor,” Harry said, and Snape moved behind the desk to get more distance between himself and this vile temptation. For a temptation it was, a temptation like nothing Severus Snape had ever encountered before in his life.

It wasn’t that Potter was particularly attractive. Severus Snape had seen young boys and men with much better looks than Potter in his years as a teacher at Hogwarts. In all those years, he had never felt a moment’s temptation, nor had he ever harboured a fleeting thought of corrupting one of his students. And now, because of a couple of hauntingly Slytherin-green eyes, he’d turned into this? It wasn’t that Potter was particularly bright, either. Snape had seen other students move on to pure brilliancy, even in potions, although Potter was intelligent, he grudgingly admitted. It certainly wasn’t his fame, for Severus Snape was a man who protected his privacy fiercely. If anything, Potter’s notoriety should put a damper on these ... feelings.

But what was it then? What? He shouldn’t feel this way, but knowing that didn’t stop him from feeling this annoying desire to protect Potter at all costs – or throttle him for that matter. It didn’t stop him from being at the insufferable brat’s side whenever Voldemort came too near. It didn’t stop him from wanting to murder anyone who tried to harm the Boy Who Lived, even if it were one of the students at Hogwarts, like Finnigan.

Perhaps it was Potter’s doe-like eyes that looked at him with intense understanding in a way that nobody else could. He and this young man had faced Voldemort together more often than any wizards or witches in the magical world; they had fought side by side more times than Snape cared to count. He knew Harry Potter in a way that he hadn’t known anyone else before, and the reverse was also true. It was frightening to know that this young man, his student, knew so many intimate things about him, things that Snape would never have let anyone else see if he could have avoided it. But Voldemort and the fight against him had not allowed Snape to keep his privacy or his secrets. Potter had learned far too many of them, and he still cared. Snape knew it. Thus, age or looks had nothing to do with how he felt, but understanding, trust, loyalty and belonging did.

Snape hated it, pure and simple, because it was wrong.

“I have nothing to say to you, Potter.”

“Then you’ll just have to listen,” Potter said. Snape could hear the whisper of his robes as the young man came closer to Snape’s desk. “This has gone on long enough.”

Snape couldn’t keep his head from snag upg up and meeting Potter’s serious gaze. He didn’t like what he saw there. It made him tremble inside and out. The unpleasant sensation of ants had been apt to describe his previous annoyance. Now he felt as though a thousand feathers had taken their place, brushing his body delicately in its most sensitive places, sensual little touches that slowly transformed into flames licking him from tip to toe. Surely this was Dark Magic of the worst kind.

He planted his hands firmly on the desk to keep them from trembling.

Six months. Six months oftureture since he had first seen Harry Potter kiss Seamus Finnigan in the Astronomy Tower. Six months of willing himself not to tell Potter about the other boy’s unfaithful personality. Six months of trying to keep his own lewd fantasies at bay. Six months where the protectiveness, and annoyance had only grown. Six months of realizing that Harry Potter was no longer a child, no matter how much one pathetic Potions master wished it.

“What, pray tell, has gone on long enough?” Snape hissed. But the malice he was trying to accomplish sounded more like fear, more like need, and Snape wished – truly, fervently wished – that he could pull himself out of this haze and walk out of the classroom. He wanted to leave Potter behind, but he was perfectly incapable of moving. Potter could speak parseltongue – was it possible that he also knew how to hypnotize his victims? Snape suspected it, because the Slytherin-green eyes held him completely captive.

“This dance we’ve been doing. I’m tired of it,” Potter said. “I’m not blind, Severus. Nor am I stupid.”

Severus. So they were on a first name basis now?

Snape wished he’d had an intelligent reply to Potter’s words, even if it were just to tell the brat to address his teacher with respect, but it would have been even better if it were something scathing, something demeaning, something – anything! But he was not only incapable of moving, or tearing his gaze away from those amazing green eyes; obviously he was also incapable of saying a word anymore.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me, ever since you caught Seamus and I snogging that first time.”

Snape swallowed and Potter came a little closer, his gaze stiockeocked with Snape’s.

“I shocked you then.”

Yes, the first time he caught them, he had been shocked, Snape admitted, at finding out that Potter liked boys. It had tilted Snape’s world on its axis. Other times, he’d been terribly aroused and jealous. But that very first time, he had barely allowed himself to think, to even touch the thougf a f a young student like Potter turning him on. It was abhorrent. Potter was only seventeen years old. Young enough to be his son! Last night he hadn’t been able to ignore it or push it away anymore and the rage had consumed him. Jealousy had consumed him. It had forced him to once again look his feelings for Potter straight in the eye, accept them and attempt to deal with them. Last night was just another night of many that he had not slept because of Harry Potter.

Damn the boy.

“You didn’t even know I went for blokes, did you?” Potter moved closer, standing beside Snape behind the desk now. He tilted his head to the side so that his almost black hair fell away from his forehead, revealing the lightning-shaped scar. Snapved ved his eyes from the young man’s forehead to his full lips. They were parted now, and all Snape could think of was how they would feel against his. Would they be soft and yielding under his kisses or would they be demanding and pushy? It was hard to tell with Potter. But Snape knew that he desperately wanted to find out.

“I do like men.”

The words were uttered in a low, husky tone, and Severus Snape wondered when exactly Harry Potter had turned into this self-assured, confident seducer. It was frightening. He was frightening.

“Finnigan came with me to the Astronomy Tower last night because he wanted to help me. I knew you would be there, and I wanted to get a reaction from you.”

Snape swallowed. He wondered desperately where this was going. Potter was so close now that he could feel the young man’s breath against his face, warm and titillating.

“I wanted to make you jealous, Severus.”

The words sent a jolt through Snape’s body, and he finally awakened from his inability to speak.

It worked.

“This... this is insane, Potter,” he croaked.

“Did I succeed?” Potter continued, as though he hadn’t heard Severus’ words.

Then Harry Potter kissed Severus Snape.

Demanding. Pushy.

Definitely demanding, pushy, confident and, oh, so arousing. The agile tongue pressed into Snape’s mouth and he kissed back. Snape revelled in it for a moment, revelled at the heat, the moisture and the sheer pleasure that roared through his body like wildfire, before suddenly becoming appalled with himself. Snape’s hands moved to push Potter away, but his fingers curved around the slender shoulders instead, fisting into Potter’s robe in a desperate grip. Moaning, he took over the kiss, almost succumbing to that all-consuming desire.

Then he regained his senses and pushed Potter away as hard as he could. It wasn’t very hard it seemed, because the young man stumbled one step backwards, bumped into the desk, and watched him with a calculating gaze.

“You want me,” Potter said with frightening certainty.

“Why would I possibly want you?” Severus hissed and turned around, fighting to regain his breath, to will his almost debilitating arousal away.

“I don’t know, but you do,” Potter insisted.

He did. Merlin help him, but he did want Potter, fiercely, and with a need that scared him senseless.

“What have you done to me?” he snarled. “What have you done, Potter?”

“Nothing. I haven’t done anything to you. What? Do you think I have used some spell to bind you to me, or concocted some potion to make you want me?” Potter laughed, but it was a mirthless laugh. “Trust me, Severus—”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Trust me,” Potter repeated stubbornly. “If I were to create a love-spell or potion, you would be the last person I would have chosen. But feelings aren’t like spells, and you can’t control them. You can choose to act upon them or not, but you can’t decide what to feel. Remember that I used to like you even less than you liked me, Professor. I still don’t like you very much sometimes, but I want you, and this is the way it is. I don’t know how, or even why I feel the way I do about you, but every day is torture. Every day you look at me like I am something Voldemort might have regurged. ed. Every day you hiss and snarl at me. Every day you treat me like the scum of the earth, and it is torture. I can’t take it anymore. And I know you can’t stand it any more than I do.”

“It’s wrong!” Severus said.

It was. Horribly, abysmally wrong on so many levels. So why did he want this so much? Was he that corrupted? Had Voldemort’s evil spread into his very soul so deeply that his body betrayed him like this? But no, he couldn’t blame this on the Dark Lord. How could he have reached Potter and used him in this manner? It was impossible. This need, this want – it was all Snape – all his own.

“What is it that’s wrong?” Potter asked stubbornly. “Tell me!”

Snape turned around, and now his voice was low, and defeated. “The way I want you, Potter. That’s wrong.”

“Why?” Potter spat. “Why is it wrong?” His eyes narrowed and his fists clenched at his sides as though he wanted to hit something, perhaps Severus, to make this go away. Snape wished that Potter would hit him, hit him so hard that this...feeling turned into hatred so that he’d never feel the same desire again.

“Because I’m old enough to be your father, because you are my student, because—“

“I don’t care,” Potter interrupted. “I don’t care about your age or that you’re my teacher. None of that—“

“But I do, Potter. I care.”

That made Potter blink, and he paled, as though he hadn’t expected that. Perhaps it was the onling ing Snape could have said to make Potter stop and think and maybe even back off. Snape sighed with relief. Few things could make Potter see reason when he was convinced of something, and he was obviously convinced that this... thing...between them was right, but Snape was equally certain that it was wrong and something to be fought at all costs.

“So, what are you saying? That you won’t give into your desire. I know you feel it as much as I do. Why are you fighting it?” Potter asked and moved back into Severus’ personal space. His green eyes sparkled with more than arousal now. There was anger and a healthy amount of fear.

“I don’t know if I can resist,” Snape admitted. “But I do know one thing, I really won’t be able to resist it if you attempt to seduce me, so I would ask you not to do that. Please.” Snape knew that orders would not work; insults would only get them deeper into this passionate vortex they seemed forever stuck in, so he used the only thing he thought would work. He begged for Potter’s help. “Please,” he repeated.

Potter looked like he was about to protest, but then he pulled back a couple of steps, and his eyes turned cold and distant. It was obvious to Snape that he retreated because he was hurt by Snape’s rejection, rather than angry.

“Fine,” he said. “I won’t. I won’t try to seduce you, at least not until we’ve had a long, serious conversation about this. You owe me that much!”

“I owe you?” Snape asked, incredulously. “And why exactly do you presume that I owe you anything?”

Potter sneered at him, and Snape was almost tempted to laugh. Potter had learned from the best, that much was certain. “Well, maybe not me – but you owe us that much.”

“Is there an us?”

“If you want there to be,” Potter said.

Snape sighed and conceded the point. “And what is it that you hope this conversation will accomplish, Potter?”

“I want to talk to you about this without interruption, and I want to have the chance to let you know that I’m sincere, that this isn’t just... Bloody hell, Severus, just let me say my piece, okay?”

Snape hesitated, but then he nodded, feeling slightly calmer now that Potter had promised not to seduce him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist that, no matter how much he thought he should.

“Very well,” he said at long last. “We will talk.”

“In private,” Potter said. “I’ll come to your dungeons tonight, after classes.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed, but Potter held his hands up in the air. “I promised. I don’t break my promises, Professor Snape.”

So, they were back to Professor Snape now. In his mind, Snape admitted that he missed the sound of his given name on Potter’s lips, but it was better this way. It was one way of keeping distance between them, however artificial.

“I will see you after classes,” Snape finally conceded, and as Potter left his classroom, he practically fell into his chair and buried his face in his hands. After the lunch-hour he had just spent with Potter, almost allowing himself to be seduced, he had three more lessons this day, and he wondered how on earth he was going to get through them.

PART II

Potter stood in front of Snape’s fireplace, pale and determined. For the last few hours, Snape had fervently hoped that this moment wouldn’t come, that Potter would change his mind and not show up for their scheduled meeting. But, of course, the most stubborn of all Gryffindors wouldn’t give up, would he? Now he was here, and Snape refused to leave his easy chair. He merely gestured for Potter to take a seat in the chair beside him. The younger man did, his spine ramrod straight.

“So, what is it that you absolutely must talk to me about, Potter?” Snape said curtly, trying to make his whole demeanour as unwelcoming as he possibly could. Anything to deter Potter from doing anything that would turn this meeting into something it shouldn’t be. Potter had promised not to seduce him, but this young man had no idea how little it would take....

“You’re really not one for small talk, are you?” Potter asked dryly, and crossed his legs. Lean muscles rippled underneath the thin material of his trousers as he did so. Forcing himself to relax into the easy chair, Harry Potter folded his hands in his lap. Snape wondered why he couldn’t have worn his long robes now, as he always did in classes. Was it deliberate?

“You should know me better than that,” Snape bit off.

“Yes,” Potter agreed and shot him a meaningful look that Snape tried desperately to ignore. “I should, and I do.”

“So, what do you want?”

“I don’t know where to start,” Potter admitted. “This is really important, and I want you to know exactly where I’m coming from.”

Snape didn’t reply and the silence stretched between them.

As though unable to sit any longer, Potter bounced from the chair, his body brimming with barely restrained nervousness. He had always been full of energy and had a keen intellect – if only he could learn how to use it, Snape thought irritably. Moving toward the bookshelf, Potter looked like he didn’t know what to do with his hands – or himself really. He would obviously rather be anywhere else but here, and if nothing else, Snape had to admire that despite this fact, Potter was in the dungeons with him. But Potter had always been brave and didn’t pause to think before walking into situations where angels feared to tread.

Snape followed Potter with his eyes, as the younger man continued to pace the room. He was like a caged animal, and Snape couldn’t tear his eyes away, no matter how much he knew that he should. Eventually, he hoped Potter would get to the point and then leave. Snape saw no reason to make the situation any easier for Potter when it certainly wasn’t easy for him. He dreaded what Potter had to say, but after today’s incident in the classroom, Snape had finally resigned himself to the situation, and admitted they really had to talk. Perhaps the electricity that seemed to sparkle between them at all times could have been avoided if they had spoken about it sooner. Well, no matter, it was too late now. The tension between them had been increasing exponentially and was now getting intolerable. Ignoring it was no longer an option, and the whole charade had gone on long enough. Snape had tried just about everything he could think of to ignore his inappropriate feelings.

When Snape didn’t say anything, Potter swallowed and looked into his eyes. Snape blinked and wished he could turn his gaze away from Potter, but that would be a sign of weakness.

“You made me promise not to seduce you,” Potter whispered.

“Yes.”

“Why? When it’s all that I want anymore.”

Snape glared at him and shifted in his seat. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. Potter didn’t even have to try to seduce him. Words were enough. Damn the boy! Potter sighed and looked down at his feet, seeming even younger than his seventeen years at that moment. Snape cringed as Potter drew his hand through his fringe.

“Stupid question, I suppose,” Potter conceded. “You’re my teacher. I’m your student. You’re thirty-seven, I’m seventeen. Blah, blah, blah....” Potter waved his hand in the air as though he’d heard those arguments far too many times, even before Snape mentioned them earlier that day. Snape wondered who else might have voiced them to him, if perhaps it was Potter’s own intelligence that tried to rear its head. Interesting...

”Those are very good reasons, Potter,” Snape pointed out. “But they are hardly the only ones why we shouldn’t give into this...lust.”

Potter’s green eyes narrowed. “That’s all it is to you? Lust?”

“What else would it be, Potter?” Snape glared at the younger man, who paused in front of the bookshelf and glared right back.

“What? You think it’s love?” The word fell out of Snape’s mouth as though it was poisonous.

“Yes,” Potter whispered. “That’s exactly what I think. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, and I’ve had my share of sexual trysts.”

“Oh, please. Even you can’t be that naïve,” Snape grated between his teeth, and then flew out of his chair. He’d been forcing himself to stay still, but this was just too much. A declaration of love was the last thing he needed right now. It just might make him do something very foolish. Love. The word caressed him and made him long for something he hadn’t experienced in far too long. Warmth, trust, loyalty, friendship – belonging.

“I’m seventeen. That means I’m young – not stupid,” Potter said, his voice clipped.

“Too young.”

And you had better remember that, Severus Snape, Snape told himself. It was very difficult to remind himself of it when Potter’s words and voice were like tendrils of pleasure, insidiously tearing down every reasonable argument he could come up with.

“I’m old enough.”

“No, you’re not,” Snape cut him off.

“I’m old enough, even in the eyes of Muggle law,” Potter continued as though Snape hadn’t said a word. “I know what I want, and I want you to share my life, and – yes – my bed. Right now I want you so much that it hurts, but that’s not all there is to it.”

Snape wished he could say that Potter sounded petulant, like a child who didn’t get his way, but Potter’s voice was clear and steady, and it made Snape shiver. As the younger man tried to catch his gaze, Snape looked away, and his unfocused eyes sought for something to concentrate on. He ed sed something that could distract him from that tingling sensation in his body that grew stronger with every syllable that came out of Potter’s luscious mouth.

“Well, we can’t always have what we want,” Snape finally managed tersely, but he was breaking down inside and he knew it. Potter sounded so sure of himself, so certain of what he wanted, that it was difficult to remember that he was just a teenager, who hadn’t seen much of life except death and danger and a responsibility for others that no young man of his tender years should ever have to face. Despite the things he’d experienced, Potter had never known what true love could be like. Snape had an obligation as a teacher – and an adult – to allow Potter to learn this, before taking advantage of him in such a blatant manner. Because allowing a sexual relationship between them at this point would be taking advantage. Snape turned around to look at Potter.

Wouldn’t it?

“Trust me, Professor. I know we can’t always have what we want,” Potter said tiredly. “Life has seldom granted me the things I desire.” He looked defeated and tired now, and brushed a hand across his face as though trying to hide his pain.

Snape swallowed. He knew how Potter felt, knew very intimately what it was like to not be able to lead a normal, safe life. Voldemort had seen to that. While he had got into that mess all on his own, Potter was innocent. He had been born with the fate of the whole Wizarding world in his hands.

“There are rules,” Snape pointed out..

Rules that you see fit to bend when you need to, rules that you should be able to bend this one time if you could give Harry a moment’s happiness, a voice inside Snape’s head pointed out. Tempting. So tempting was that voice in his head.

“Yes, there are rules,” Potter agreed. “And despite the fact that you often accuse me of thinking that they don’t apply to me, I know that they do, and I usually follow them.”

Snape let out a derisive snort, but there was no true feeling behind it.

“The only reason why this shouldn’t work is because you’re my teacher, and we both know that’s only for a few more months.”

“Then we should wait,” Snape bit off. If he knew that Potter would be his in merely a few months, maybe he would be better equipped to resist? Or maybe he wouldn’t be. Snape swallowed at the thought. Why wait if this was how it would end anyway?

“It won’t work, and you know it. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I don’t know about you, Potter, but I do believe I can control my libido.”

Somewhere inside Snape that voice – which still sounded uncomfortably like Dumbledore – laughed hysterically.

“Can you?” Potter said. “Really?”

Snape couldn’t even answer that. He couldn’t lie so blatantly in the face of those trusting, green eyes.

“You hate me,” he protested. It was a statement of fact, and he was proud of the way it came out, completely unemotional and not desperate, despite the fact that it was indeed a helpless attempt at making Potter see reason.

“Maybe I did, once,” Potter agreed. “When I came to Hogwarts, I thought you were the root of all evil. But you and I have fought together far too often for me to think that anymore. You must know I don’t feel that way about you at all? I care for you very deeply. I love you, and I want you, so much it hurts.” Potter’s voice was husky and even a tad desperate. It cut through Snape’s defences like a knife through butter.

Snape bit back a gasp and turned his back to Potter.

“Potter,” Snape said brokenly. “You promised.”

“I promised not to seduce you,” Potter said irritably, apparently oblivious to the effect his words were having on Snape. “I did come here to talk to you, and that’s all that I’m doing. I haven’t touched you!”

You don’t have to, boy! Don’t you see? Those words are the most seductive of them all. And you’re so young. So foolish!

“I have the right to tell you how I feel! I—“

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Snape interrupted.

Potter cursed aloud, and Snape heard the soft footfalls against the carpet. He tensed, as he knew that Harry was coming closer. They weren’t touching. Yet, it was as though electricity crackled in the air between them. If Potter touched him, Snape knew he would explode, fall apart, shatter and die. He turned, and held up a halting hand.

He put all his might into making everything about him say: don’t touch me, and Potter paused only a few inches away. Snape knew that had it not been for that promise, Potter would never have stopped. Snape also knew that he must look like he was frightened out of his mind.

He was.

But Potter didn’t remain silent. He just tilted his head to the side and looked at him earnestly.

“I know exactly what I’m saying. There’s so much about you, Severus. What is there not to love? You’re intelligent, attractive and you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. You’ve always stood by me, even when others didn’t. You were never afraid of telling me when I was out of line, and you never treated me differently. It’s the most precious gift of all. Don’t you understand that?”

Snape groaned inwardly. Being a bastard at all times hadn’t helped much, obviously. He’d made all the other students hate him, but not Harry Potter. Stubborn Potter had taken his derisive words and made them into something precious, because Snape was the only one who dared to use contempt and harsh words against him. Talk about having your own methods backfire completely.

“You know things about me that nobody else does, things I could never tell anyone, even Ron and Hermione, things someone who loves me would need to know to truly understand what I’m all about. You know me, in a way that nobody else ever will. You’ve seen me do unspeakable things, and you still care. You’ve been there through most of it.”

I’ve committed many of those unspeakable acts right alongside you, and even more, long before I met you, before you were born, even, Snape thought.

Closing his eyes, he fought the feelings that were bubbling to the surface inside him. He couldn’t fight this. Damn. He couldn’t fight, and he wanted to let go, take that step forward and wrap his arms around this young man. Harry Potter offered him everything he’d ever wanted, everything he didn’t deserve, everything he thought he could never have. Ever.

“You must be joking, Potter,” Snape said, but the green eyes didn’t even flinch when he glared into them. They just met his gaze, steadily, honestly and with something in them, strong enough to make Snape catch his breath. That gaze made all his reasons for resisting Potter evaporate like mist in the morning sun. It was ridiculous.

Dangerous.

“I’m not joking!” Potter insisted. “I would never joke about something like this. It’s too important. I’ve been alone all my life. I never felt as though anyone cared for me, but I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not aware of you, but I’m always aware, Severus, always aware of you. I’ve seen your eyes, and I know the truth.”

Potter’s voice was not petulant at all. It was calm. Collected. Certain.

“Do you think I would tell you this if I weren’t sure? Do you think I would jeopardize everything we are if I weren’t absolutely sure?”

Damn, Severus thought as he felt his control slipping, and slipping fast. What did the universe ask of him? He was only a man, not a saint – never a saint. He wanted what Potter offered.

So much.

“I love you, and what’s more – you love me, too.” Potter’s voice was soft now, and the words made Snape want to hit something. Instead, he let his irritation flow out of him through his voice.

“That’s exactly why I’m fighting this,” he hissed, and couldn’t believe he’d said that – practically admitting that he was in love with a seventeen-year-old boy! “Don’t you understand that if I were to give in, we might end up resenting each other?”

Potter laughed and gave him an amused look. “And that would be new how, exactly?”

You might end up truly hating me, Snape thought. I couldn’t live with that.

He’d lived with Potter’s disdain for years, and it had been difficult enough when he had truly been a child. Back then Snape hadn’t known love could ever be a possibility between them. The thought hadn’t entered his mind until just six months ago, when he had caught Finnigan and Potter in the Astronomy Tower for the very first time. Since then, however, it had been hard to think of anything else.

“I want to protect you,” he said tiredly, ignoring Potter’s attempt at joking. “For you to have any sort of private relationship with me would be very difficult.”

“I know that,” Potter admitted, more serious now. “I have thought about what it would be like over the last year. I have thought of little else!”

“Have you also considered the repercussions? We will be subjected to gossip and hatred. Not only because I am so much older than you are, or even because I’m your teacher, but because you are The Boy Who Lived, and I am a Death Eater.” Snape crossed his arms over his chest, and despised himself for the protection he seemed to need from this forbidding stance.

“You’re not a Death Eater,” Potter objected hotly.

Snape should have known Potter only heard what he wanted to hear. But the young man surprised him by continuing:

“I would have preferred it if we could be spared the gossip and the hatred,” Potter said. “But we won’t be, no matter what. Even if you and I weren’t pursuing a relationship, I would be subjected to the same gossip, and very likely much of the hatred as well. Some people envy me, because they don’t know what my life is like. And no matter what, some people will never understand. I can’t let them rule my life. If I let them – if that were who I am – you would never care for me the way you do, and you know that I have never cared what others think, or say, about me.”

Snape knew that to be true. For nearly six years, Potter had carried the burden of being the hope of continued existence for the Wizarding world, and he had borne it with strength, and sometimes humour, but he had never allowed the myth surrounding him to rule what he did with his life. Snape smiled humourlessly. If Potter used the same intelligence, strength and logic in his classes as he was exhibiting now...

“And from what I know, neither have you ever cared what others believe about you,” Potter finished quietly.

Snape sighed. That was true. If he had been susceptible to what people thought of him, he would have been dead long ago. He couldn’t afford to care, but he did care what people thought of Potter, and what his actions might do to the younger man.

“Your godfather hates me, Potter. He won’t like this.”

“Sirius will have to accept it,” Potter said, his gaze turning to steel. “He knows what it’s like for me and knows that I have to accept love where I can find it, and I love you. He’ll come around. It might take a while, but he’ll accept it eventually.”

I love you. The words tumbled over Potter’s lips so easily.

“What about Dumbledore? Have you thought about him? Have you considered what he will say?” Snape pointed out softly.

“He knows, Severus. Do you really think there’s even a remote possibility that he doesn’t know?” Potter’s eyes shone with something like compassion; as though Potter pitied him for believing they could hide what they felt for each other from the Headmaster.

Snape tensed at that. Pity was the most despicable of all emotions, and he didn’t want it directed at him from Potter’s green eyes. Of course, he had considered that nothing happened at Hogwarts without Dumbledore’s knowledge, but hearing Potter say it aloud made it more real somehow.

“Just because he knows doesn’t mean that he approves,” Snape pointed out.

“You’re right, it doesn’t. Which is why we have to keep this secret for another four months, and make sure that no one else finds out. After that, I am sure Dumbledore will give us his blessing, but he would want us to be careful, until then.”

“You sound like you assume that Dumbledore won’t forbid us to enter a relationship,” Snape said.

“If Dumbledore wanted us not to, he would have spoken to you about it,” Potter said assuredly.

Sneaky bastard.

Snape wasn’t sure if he meant Potter, or the old git.

“Dumbledore and Sirius aren’t the only ones who would object.”

“Perhaps not. I will tell Ron and Hermione, of course.”

“Of course,” Snape sighed. Potter sounded as though the outcome of this was already decided. Perhaps it was.

“But they are the only ones we could never hide it from, Severus,” Potter said softly and glanced up at Snape.

He stood in front of the fireplace, his arms still crossed over his chest, and the warmth radiating from Potter right next to him seemed hotter than the heat from the open fire.

“That assumption is rather arrogant of you.”

“Perhaps, but it’s also true. Together, you and I could hide anything from the rest of the staff and students of Hogwarts, and you know it.”

“It doesn’t matter what we are able to do. What matters is whether we should do anything, and you know as well as I do that we should not.”

“Doesn’t it matter that I want you, thatthat you want me too, that we love each other? Should we let something so precious simply slip through our fingers? We could die anytime. Voldemort is still out there, and you know that both you and I will be in the thick of things the next time he decides to strike. Don’t we deserve some measure of happiness in our lives?” Potter’s tone was desperate now. Pleading. “I know I could maku hau happy, if only you would let me. I don’t want to die not knowing what we could have had.”

Potter’s final words were what broke Snape, because they were so heartfelt, and the possibility of it happening just like that was so frighteningly real. But he couldn’t give in.

“Leave, Potter,” Snape said and pointed to the door.

“What?” Potter’s eyes widened spectacularly. Any other time, it would have made Snape laugh, but not now. “No!”

“For once, just listen to me, and get out!”

But it was too late. The words hadn’t even left Snape’s mouth before his arms were wrapped tightly around Potter’s slim waist. He groaned at the pleasure; he just couldn’t help it. The lean hips fit into his hands as though they were made to be there, and Snape flexed his fingers, revelling in the feel of the hard body beneath them, covered only by a layer of fabric.

Crackling energy.

Pulling the younger man close – or did Potter move into his embrace? – their eyes caught and held. Potter’s eyes sparkled with lust, and the connection between them was almost tangible. How could he ever resist something like this? How could anyone expect him to? Potter’s fingers twined into his hair, and Snape pulled him closer, their bodies fit together like two pieces from a puzzle. Perfect.

So good.

They kissed. Soft, moist lips met Snape’s eagerly, warm and welcoming, and kissing Potter was so perfect that Snape couldn’t stop shivering. More, he needed so much more than this.

“Merlin, help me,” he gasped. I’m lost, utterly doomed, Snape thought as he finally gave in.


PART III

They were going to do this, Snape realized. They were really going to make love.

“Potter...” Snape began and Potter stared at him quizzically.

“Do you call all your lovers by last name?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Harry,” Snape corrected himself and couldn’t help smiling. “You’re very persistent.”

“Stubborn, is the word you’re looking for, I think,” Harry said as his hand slid between them to cup Snape’s erection. It was pressing insistently against his trousers and had been for quite some time now. The touch was relief and torture at once. It was almost painful how he had instantly grown hard when Harry said that it wasn’t just sex, but that he loved Snape. The green eyes had been so sincere, with no guile, and no lies behind the gaze.

“Nice, Severus.” Harry’s voice was laced with equal measures of passion, approval and amusement. “So hard.” Harry’s fingers flexed around his cock and sent spikes of incredible lust through him. “Is that really for me?” Harry whispered into his ear, the warm breath sending delicious shivers through Snape’s entire body. Frightening that, how Harry seemed entirely comfortable in this situation and wasn’t shying away from touch, or seduction. It could make Snape jealous if he thought too much about it. Who had taught Harry to feel so comfortable in his own skin?

“I don’t...oh!...I don’t bloody see anyone else in here, do you?” Snape gasped. The heel of Harry’s hand pressing into his cock was electrical, and almost debilitating in its intimacy. How long since anyone had touched him like this? How long since someone he wanted so much had touched him like this? Never?

Harry snorted, and moved closer, his body pressing against Snape’s, hard in all the right places. There was no female softness anywhere, just muscles and sinews, and he smelled so good.

“For Merlin’s sake, Harry. We shouldn’t do this!” Snape grated out one last time, while at the same time his hands buried into Harry’s black hair. It was longer than it used to be, almost as long as his own, and it was tied back in a ponytail at his neck. Despite his words, Snape gently pulled the tie away. It dropped to the floor with a whispering sound, as Harry’s hair fell about his attractive young face, unruly and so soft. Like silk, and not like Snape’s all. His hair was coarse and thick and, yes, sometimes even greasy. It was the price one had to pay for being a Potions master. “You promised me this wouldn’t happen,” Snape said, a touch of sadness in his voice. He was powerless to stop this now, and he knew that Harry wouldn’t.

“I haven’t tried to seduce you. I just came here to talk, and I told you how I feel about you. Then you jumped me,” Harry pointed out breathlessly.

Much as Severus Snape wanted to protest, it was true, and he took the lush lips in another kiss, drawing Harry’s tongue into his mouth, but Harry pulled away reluctantly.

“It still isn’t too late...” Harry whispered, his voice sounding agonized, as though he had to force the words to pass his lips.

But Snape just shook his head. “Yes,” he said. “It is too late. It’s been too late for a long time.”

He returned to the kiss and this time Harry reciprocated and groaned excitedly at the wet touch, a sound that drove Snape insane. He pushed at the boy to move him to some place where they could lie down, where he could explore Harry’s body to his heart’s content. Harry complied as they stumbled across the room, frantically, neither of them able to look around or take their concentration away from the other long enough to know where they were going. Eventually, Harry wrenched his mouth away, and the loss of those soft, eager lips against his was close to painful.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Harry gasped.

Snape looked over his shoulder, trying to get his bearings and saw the bedroom door and pulled Harry toward it.

“Over here,” he said, and backed them through the door and across the rug. As they reached the bed, Harry pushed him down on it. Snape wanted to protest, but his words transformed into a moan as Harry’s hard, young body covered his and a hand slid between them to brush over his cock once more. The boy was fascinated by his sex, and went right for it, no subtlety at all. Frankly, Snape wasn’t in the mood for subtlety right now anyway. He’d have to teach Harry about slow seduction later.

Later.

That’s when Snape realized that he wasn’t ever going to let Harry go.

Even through the layers of clothes, the touch of Harry’s hand against his cock was like a branding iron. Snape threw his head back, groaning, losing all ability to think. This couldn’t be wrong; it was so good, felt like heaven. Harry’s hand on his erection moved, and the pleasure stabbed through him.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned and pushed up against the touch. Harry’s bold caress made him forget everything – where they were, his own name even. He was burning inside in a way he never had before. Where was this going to end?

Harry squirmed on top of him, fully clothed, and Snape wrapped his legs wantonly around the slender body, trying to synchronize their movements, getting Harry’s hard cock to rub against his own just right. Captivated, Snape watched the long, black hair fall across Harry’s smooth forehead, and shivered when he saw the intense expression in the green eyes. Love, Harry had said. Not just sex. Love.

But what did a seventeen-year-old boy really know about love? For that matter, what did Snape know about love? The questions didn’t seem to matter to the young man on top of him. Harry had only one objective: to get them both naked and touching. Right now, Snape had nothing to say about it. He wanted that very same thing too much.

Predatory, that’s what Harry’s gaze was, and the intensity of it made Snape shiver. As Harry lay atop him, he pushed his hands into Snape’s hair, and his tongue into Snape’s mouth, and they tangled together. Shamelessly, Snape spread his thighs wider apart to accommodate Harry, to make him press tighter against that sweet spot between his legs, and surged against that willing body. Friction was his goal, and he groaned in protest when Harry moved away.

“Off,” Harry hissed impatiently, and Snape realized the other was pulling at his trousers, pushing the fabric of his robes out of the way. “Buttons,” Harry muttered desperately as though the word was dirty, and tore at Snape’s clothing. Normally, Snape would have mocked such impatience. It wasn’t in him to ruin clothes just to get underneath them, was it? But Snape found himself cheering Harry on, and he pushed himself up to help. Their hands tangled together as they worked on Snape’s belt and the buttons of his trousers. Even the touch of Harry’s warm hands against his own pale fingers was electrifying. Finally Harry tore the fly open, getting his erection out into the air. Warm fingers around his hardness. Snape groaned and fell back on the bed.

Bliss.

“Help me,” Harry grated. “Open... my...trousers.”

Again, Snape moved to help, fumbling in a way that wasn’t in character. Harry was pretty much monosyllabic, and Snape doubted he could say anything coherent at this point either. He tore open the younger manly, ly, watching Harry’s face as it contorted in pleasure when Snape’s fingers brushed against his hard cock.

“Oh...yes, Sev. Touch...me...so good.”

Harry’s cock-head was purplish in colour, and glistening with pre-come, and Snape wanted to touch it, wanted to taste it, but Harry simply brushed his hands away and lay on top of him, grasping his hands frantically, pulling them to their sides.

“No time for that,” he groaned. “Oh, fuck, I’ve wanted this for too long, too damn long. I can’t....” And Harry was moving back on top of him and Snape’s breath caught in his throat at the heat of his lover’s erection connecting with his own. He bucked against it, wanting more. Harry’s cock was hard and sweet and right where he needed it. Harry ground his hips against Snape’s, and despite Snape’s desire to protest at this dreadful rush, he was carried away on a wave of lust unlike anything he’d felt before. His body tingled and contracted in pleasure. It was amazing to feel such ecstasy from simply rubbing against each other. Like teenagers, Snape thought in a haze.

“No,” Snape grated. “Not like this...” But there was nothing he could do. Pleasure swelled up inside, sucking him into an overwhelming vortex of passion.

“Yes, oh, yes, Severus. Just like this,” Harry moaned and kissed him.

Snape could do nothing but flex his hands in Harry’s grip. Somehow that desperate grip was more intimate, and more connected than their erections rubbing toer, er, but he was too far gone to examine that thought as he returned his partner’s frantic kisses. Snallowllowed himself to be swept away by the desperation for release that had built for so long. When he finally came, his climax was violent. To be so overwhelmed by lust and have it be over so quickly was a shame, but it was good, so frighteningly good. Feeling Harry’s body trembling against his own in an equally earth-shattering climax was even better.



“Sorry,”ry sry said.

Snape lay on his back; his trousers still open and sticky. He reached out to the bedside table, retrieved a tissue, and wiped himself off. Harry grinned when Snape offered him the Kleenex. The chilly air of the dungeons gave him goose bumps, but he was too sated to move very far, even to get his wand. By Merlin, he wasn’t even sure where his wand was.... It troubled him less than he would have expected, but he adjusted his trousers and buttoned them. Harry frowned at him, but Snape just lifted an eyebrow in challenge, and the younger man didn’t say anything.

“What are you sorry about, Harry?” Snape asked when he was presentable once again. Crossing his legs at the ankles, he folded his hands on his stomach and made himself comfortable while waiting to hear what Harry had to say.

“I really didn’t mean to do this,” he said and sighed deeply. “I usually keep my promises whatever else you might think. I know that technically I didn’t break it, but you and I both know that wou wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t pushed you with words. But the way you were looking at me when I told you I love you. I couldn’t resist you either. I wanted you so much. Still do.”

Snape sighed and looked at the young man lying at his side. Harry’s fringe was standing up, pointing every which way, and his eyes were half-closed, mouth swollen from their kisses. He looked adorablhorohoroughly fucked, and every bit his seventeen years. So young.

“It wasn’t your fault. I should have put a stop to this much sooner. Even if it meant leaving Hogwarts until your graduation.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Harry said. “But maybe we can keep our hands off each other long enough for me to finish school now?”

Snape chuckled knowingly. “Do you really believe that, after one quick roll in the hay? You believe that this little interlude will last us bohe fhe four months that are left until you have finished your studies?”

Harry’s cheeks turned red, and he shied away from Snape’s scrutinizing gaze. His hand was resting protectively over Snape’s stomach. It made Snape hurt inside to realize how much trust and love was expressed in that simple touch. “No, not really.”

“No, I didn’t think you were quite that naïve.” Snape cleared his throat and thought he might as well put things in perspective. “I think what we need to do now is talk to Albus. I should have done that sooner, but ... I haven’t wanted to admit even to myself how much I have wanted this, Harry. Voicing my concerns to Albus would have made my feelings for you very real.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, I understand,” he said seriously. “I’m glad you didn’t talk to the Headmaster.” Then he grinned and shot Snape an impish look. “If you had, and he had forbidden you to do this, you probably would have put up more of a fight.”

Snape gave a derisive snort. Much as he hated to admit it, Harry was right. To be truthful, that was probably where he had gone wrong to begin with. If he’d talked to Dumbledore earlier, this wouldn’t have happened. Guilt bed bed through him at the thought, and Snape realized that, subconsciously, he had hoped this was exactly what would happen if he put his conversation with Dumbledore off long enough. He should have resisted more. He was a teacher. But honestly, he couldn’t bring himself to care very much when he saw the happiness and the love, plainly evident in Harry’s gaze. Love was the right word, and the only feeling clearly identifiable in the warm, glowing smile that lit up the young man’s face.

“I probably would have,” Snape admitted softly. “Now, I still have to get through that conversation with Dumbledore.”

“But not just yet, Severus. Let’s wait a little while longer...” The glint in Harry’s eyes turned positively wicked.

“I’m an old man, Harry,” Snape said wryly. “Do you expect me to get it up again so soon?”

“I don’t know about you, but I want more,” Harry whispered, grasping Snape’s hand, and pressing it against his burgeoning erection, and Harry grew even harder under Snape’s touch. “Give it to me?” he pleaded huskily.

“Insatiable brat,” Snape muttered softly, and pulled his hand away. Harry uttered a protesting noise, but quieted when Snape moved down the bed, pulling Harry’s shoes off and throwing them on the floor. Trousers and shirt soon followed and Harry lay naked in front of him. Snape moistened his suddenly dry lips. Truth be told, it was too soon to leave this bed; he still craved the chance to explore this beautiful, muscular body, and if Harry had the patience to wait for a while, Snape was confident he would want more as well. Rather soon, if the heat gathering in his belly was anything to go by.

“Take your clothes off,” Harry pleaded. “I want to see you, too.”

An unexpected jolt of shyness hit Severus Snape, and he leaned forward, letting his hair fall around his face as he smoothly rose to his feet. He’d be damned before he showed Harry that the words had made him feel self-conscious. Harry was so young, so beautiful, and so perfect in every way. Snape knew that he was just – old.

“Sexy,” Harry whispered huskily. For a minute, Snape thought he’d been talking aloud, but when he looked up at Harry’s face, the boy’s gaze was trained on him hungrily, his hand wrapped around his cock, and he was caressing himself unashamedly. He was relaxed in his sensuality in a way that Snape never had been, and Snape realized that it was more attractive than anything else about Harry. So instead of hiding, like he almost wanted to do, he pulled himself upright and started undoing the buttons of his clothes. For the first time ever, he hated the fact that there were virtually a billion of them. Looking around his bedroom, he caught sight of his wand.

“No,” Harry whispered. “Let me see you undress. No cheating.”

“As you wish,” Snape said. “But I will make you suffer.”

He shrugged off his robe, which fell to the floor around him and started undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, slowly and teasingly, and then he used the one thing he had found that his lovers absolutely could not get enough of.

His voice.

“Then what do you want me to do to you, Harry?” he murmured teasingly. Not waiting for an answer, he moved his hands slowly down the small buttons, opening them one by one, continuing to talk. “Would you like me to taste your skin all over, lick your body, to find out if your nipples are as sensitive as my own? To find out where else I can touch you to make you squirm and cry out in pleasure?”

Harry’s eyes widened and he moaned. The hand on his cock moved faster.

“No,” Snape said, halting his unbuttoning threateningly. “Stop that. It’s mine, or I won’t undress.”

Harry reluctantly moved his hand away from his prick, and Snape continued undoing the buttons.

“Good. Your beautiful cock is all mine,” Snape purred. “Would you like me to suck you off? To taste you?” His own words made Snape’s arousal flare anew. The thought of doing all those things to Harry....

“Oh yeah.” Harry groaned, his hands flexing in the sheets, obviously dying to jerk himself off, but Snape just grinned ferally, and continued his undressing. Finally, the buttons were all open and he shrugged off his waistcoat. Kicking off his shoes, he knew a wicked smile was shining from his eyes, and Harry groaned.

“You’re evil.”

“And you’re what? Realizing this just now, Harry?” Snape teased. “I always believed you were a tad slow on the uptake.”

“Do you want help?” Harry growled impatiently and moved to kneel on the bed. Harry’s young, sinewy body was absolutely gorgeous, Snape decided, as lean muscles rippled underneath pale, flawless skin.

“Ah-ah”, Snape warned, and backed a few steps away from the bed when Harry reached for him. So wonderful to see such need and want in the brilliantly green eyes. It was a heady feeling to know that Harry desired him so much. Memories of catching that same gaze in classes eased his conscience somewhat. Harry had not tried to hide his attraction to Snape for months.

“Evil,” Harry repeated, as Snape tore off his white turtleneck and threw it on the floor.

Now he was clad only in black trousers, fitting snugly over his slender hips. He was still not completely aroused, but felt the beginnings of an erection pressing against the fabric, and was pleased at that. He wasn’t exactly over the hill yet. But whose libido wouldn’t wake ud tad take notice with such a gorgeous creature waiting on the bed, with lust filling his eyes, and his sta standing proudly at attention, just waiting to be touched, to be licked and to be sucked?

“Yes, evil incarnate,” Snape agreed. He quickly turned his back to Harry and walked over to the bedroom door, shutting it and then whispering one word into his bedroom.

“Lumos.”

With the door now closed, it had turned rather dark in his bedroom; not so dark as to be unable to see one another, but in Snape’s opinion, the light was inadequate for his purposes. The torch flaring to life above the bed at his spell sent a warm, orange light flickering through the room, and the hearth beside the door sprung alive behind him, simultaneously sending comfortable warmth through the room.

“Nice,” Harry said approvingly and lay back on the bed again. “Never knew you to be a romantic.”

“Under the right circumstances, I find that it can be...useful,” Snape pointed out, and returned to his task of stripping. He pulled open the belt that he’d closed only a few minutes ago, unbuttoning his trousers, and pushing them down over his hips slowly. Moments later, he stood naked before Harry, not waiting for a comment, but pleased when it was forthcoming anyway.

“God, you’re sexy, gorgeous, and I want you,” Harry gasped.

Just as thed ead earlier that day in the classroom, Harry’s words went straight to Snape’s cock, and he gasped as he grew hard, then moved to straddle the younger man’s body. Harry arched against him in appreciation as their bodies rubbed together. He met Harry’s expectant gaze, and leaned forward, their mouths only a fraction of an inch apart. Harry’s lips parted, begging for a kiss, but instead, Snape watched the younger man’s face intently as he brushed his fingertips across the flawless skin of Harry’s throat and shoulders. Harry shivered under his touch and Snape allowed a pleased smile to grace his lips. This was almost too easy. Harry was so responsive, so alive under his touch. He squirmed as Snape brushed lightly across his collarbone, down toward his taut nipples. Snape bent down to lick them, and dragged his tongue languidly over the nub.

“God.God.”

The first nipple grew instantly hard under Snape’s wet caress. When Harry arched into it and dug his fingers through Snape’s hair, he moved to the side to give the other nipple the same attention.

“Severus,” Harry groaned. “That feels so good.”

“Yes, it does,” Snape agreed huskily. “DelicioMy lMy lips and my tongue licking you like this. It feels good, and you taste good.”

Moving slowly downwards, he gave Harry’s stomach a lot of the same attention, enjoying the sensation of coarse hairs under his tongue, the salty tang of Harry’s sweat and a little bit of semen that he had missed with the Kleenex. It turnedpe ope on more than he cared to admit, that salty, slightly bitter taste. But he steeled himself against the swell of desire, and moved down further, gasping as Harry lifted his leg to brush against his balls, gentlyt itt it was enough to send spikes of pleasure through his body.

“No,” he growled. “None of that.”

“But I want to touch you,” Harry complained. “I want to feel you.”

“You will, soon. Now just lie back and enjoy, you impatient little twit!”

Harry led sed softly, knowingly, and forced himself to relax back on the bed.

Snape was more or less salivating at the thought of taking Harry’s beautiful cock ints mos mouth. He wanted it so much his teeth ached, but he also wanted to draw this out, wanted to show Harry that sex could be slow and patient, and still be hot, sweaty and far more enjoyable than a simple session of frantic rubbing against one another. Although, if he were to be honest with himself, Harry seemed to have bewitched him completely, making him lose control in ways he never had before, nor would have imagined doing. He wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with this loss of control, this burning need to get close, to come, to luxuriate in hedonistic passion. And yet Harry – and this desire he provoked inside Snape – was alluring, and near impossible to resist ...

Harry pulled at his hair, and Snape obligingly lifted his head to meet the younger man’s gaze.

“Suck me,eruserus,” Harry begged. “Wrap your sexy mouth around me and suck me, please.”

Sod it all, Snape thought and a feral grin spread on his features. They could take it slow another time, some time when the need wasn’t burning so bright, when they had sated this appetite somewhat. Some other time, Snape decided. He bent his head to the task and took Harry’s cock deep into his mouth in one quick motion, swallowing around it. Harry shouted, and the fingers in Snape’s hair pulled at the strandsost ost painfully, but he ignored it, giving himself over to the greedy desire to taste the flesh in his mouth. He licked at the cock, drooling pilypily and not caring that he did, making wet sex-noises as he sucked and let his tongue dance over the thick, throbbing shaft. The flesh of Harry’s cock was hard, smooth, and alive with the blood coursing through its veins. It was driving Snape crazy.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry cried out. “Fuck, Severus. This is so good, so good! ‘m gonna come!”

Snape wrenched his mouth away, not wanting to, but wanting Harry to come even less. He’d have to teach the boy some self-control so that he could do this for longer than a few seconds before it was all over. He loved the feel of that hard flesh in his mouth, vibrating, flexing and turning more rigid for each lick.

“Oh fuck. No! Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m so close!” Harry groaned, moving his head from side to side on the pillow, his hands fisting desperately into the sheets. “Evil!”

“Lie still,” Snape ordered. Leaning forward, he pulled out the drawer of his bedside table and snatched the tube of lubricant he kept there. Quickly, he squirted some into the palm of his hand.

“I want to fuck you, Harry,” he groaned. “Will you let me?”

“Yes, oh yes. Do it. Just don’t leave me like this,” Harry begged.

“Have you ever done this before?” Snape forced the words out, wanting this as much as Harry apparently did – and now, but he’d rather die before he hurt Harry.

“Yes. Now, get on with it!”

“Bossy in bed, aren’t we?” Snape hissed, but efficiently coated his cock with the slick substance, gasping and squeezing himself hard so as not to come. Then he pulled Harry’s firm cheeks apart, gently but firmly. “Pillow,” he barked, and Harry shoved it under his own hips, and Snape moved down on all fours, shoving his tongue up Harry’s arse without so much as a word of warning.

“Hell, Severus!” Harry groaned. “You’re going to kill me!” But, then he was too far gone to think. Severus ed ted the inviting hole thoroughly, feeling the muscle contract and relax under his tongue. When he was satisfied that Harry was relaxed enough, he checked his nails and smiled grimly when he noted that they were cut short. He was quite certain he wouldn’t hurt Harry if he used a finger to loosen him up a little.

“Don’t bother,” Harry groaned as Snape’s finger pressed gently at the entrance. “Just fuck me.” But Snape continued and slid his finger inside, wiggling it carefully, and coated Harry’s insides with extra lubrication. He didn’t want this to hurt one bit. Wickedly, he brushed his finger against the sweet spot inside Harry, who cried out.

“Fuck me, fuck me – fuck me!”

Snape pulled his finger out and threw the tube on the bed beside them, then moved into position. The very moment his prick brushed the opening, Harry surged toward him and Snape growled as the tight muscle eagerly sucked him in. Moments later, with just a quick tilt of his hips, Snape slid to the root inside Harry.

“Oh,” he gasped, remaining still for a second, just to enjoy the feeling, to calm himself enough not to simply pound into his lover until he came.

“Move,” Harry begged and squeezed his muscles around Snape. “Please, just move.”

Impatient – Harry was always so impatient. But the eagerness was infectious, and Snape pulled back and thrust back in, pulling Harry’s legs around his waist. The hard thighs gripped him tiy, py, pulling him inside, and Harry met his every thrust eagerly.

“ood,ood,” he moaned and reached out for Snape, brushing his hands across the sensitive skin of his belly. Right there, above the root of his cock, he was so sensitive, and Harry zeroed in on that area as though he already knew. Tingles grew to heated flames that travelled through his body, centering in his groin, and Snape knew he wouldn’t last long.

“Harry,” he groaned. “Don’t, oh, fuck, don’t do that. I’m going to come ... too soon.”

“Not too soon,” Harry said and grabbed Severus’ hand, wrapping it around his own cock. “Wanna come, oh god, I wanna come so bad,” and moments later, he did, with a soul-deep moan spilling from his lips.

At the sight, Snape couldn’t hold back, but thrust inside Harry hard, pummelled him like there was no tomorrow. Only seconds later the heat gathered in his balls, spreading through his body, exploding like magical overload, hexing them both into next week.

Coming inside Harry was bliss, Snape decided, and something he wouldn’t give up even if his life depended on it. That was his last thought before he gently pulled out of Harry and collapsed beside him on the bed.



Harry leaned up on his arm and looked down at Severus, brushing the hair out of his face. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and Severus opened his mouth to protest, but shut it when he saw the look on Harry’s face. Whatever Severus Snape saw each morning when he looked into a mirror, and whatever he thought about that vision, Harry wouldn’t agree. To Harry, Snape was apparently the most beautiful man in the world. Snape found he could live with that. And even if Dumbledore wouldn’t be happy with Snape for bedding one of his students, Snape hoped he could make the Headmaster understand that this was something that had never happened to him before, something that would never happen again. Harry was special. He’d always been special. Surely, Dumbledore would understand.

Somewhere in the back of Snape’s mind, that voice chuckled knowingly, perhaps even in approval. But maybe that was only wishful thinking?

END