HARRY POTTER 2004

HARRY POTTER 2004
Author – 8inchCaliper
Pairing – Harry/Snape
Rating – NC/17
Summary – Extremely AU. Suppose Harry Potter wasn’t a wizard and Hogwarts was just an ordinary boarding school…
A/N – Harry is fifteen here. If that offends, I’m terribly sorry.
Disclaimer – I don’t own Harry Potter or Severus Snape or anything in their universe. Joanne has that honor. *sigh*

I’m searching this CD Hermione burnt for me for Teen Spirit, that old Nirvana song that I love and trying to keep my eyes focused on my laptop. Whenpasspasses by me in the hall, I nudge Ron and he glances up and makes a face.
“I don’t know what you see in him.”
“Shut up!” I shush him quickly.

Hogwarts is the Boarding School I attend, where dreams are made and hopes are crushed. It’s the place where I discovered my fortune, my mentor, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore – and my greatest crush to date, Professor Severus Snape. Of course, it makes no difference. I certainly can’t let anyone know except for my two best friends Ron and Hermione. They hate the Professor because he seems like such a horrible asshole, but I know he has a heart, somewhere beneath his black blazer and mock-turtle neck. I can’t prove it, but I must believe.

When we shuffle into the lecture hall, I slouch into my seat next to Ron. Hermione comes and sits behind us and we all exchange glances. She’s shaking her bushy hair and pressing the vibrate function on her cellular phone. All she does is instant message back and forth with some foreign jock named Viktor and giggle as he promises to steal her away into the night. Ron is here on scholarship – and because his parents are affiliated with the school, and I am here because I’m supposedly special.

When I was just an infant, a horrible schizophrenic murderer killed my parents and attempted to kill me but instead, collapsed of an undisclosed illness, leaving me with a strange scar on my forehead. He was never found, but somehow, he still manages to make his presence known. So, I was sent to live with some miserable relatives who forced me to act as the house servant. Then, I was sort of rescued by some friends of my parents and brought to Hogwarts where I am now. At fifteen, I’ve had a pretty eventful life, but currently, the only thing I can think of is the man standing at the front of the class, wearing an indifferent expression and gearing up to teach us one of the hardest and most annoying subjects I’ve ever had to learn. Calculus.

“Alright students…” He speaks in a deep, velvet, almost sensuous voice (Ron would call it frightening), but when I listen to him, I get goose bumps. “Turn in your books to page…249.”
There’s just something about him. He’s tall and porcelain pale with black hair that hangs down to almost shoulder-length. He’s unbearably cold and it’s brutally apparent that he hates me, but still, I can’t stop lusting after him.
“Hey Potter…” The whisper reaches my ears from near the center of the room, and I am met with a pair of clear blue eyes and an evil smirk. Draco Malfoy, the platinum blond bane of my existence. “…Dog eat your homework again?”
I flip him the bird, and instantly regret it. “Potter!” The voice is like silk, even when used in warning. “Zero points today – for blatant profanity.” He pauses, holding my gaze. “And PAY ATTENTION lest you fail another of my quizzes.”
My ears are red; I can feel them burning, but my insides still tickle. It’s as if I’m a glutton for his punishment, letting his hostility fuel my desire. He has no idea.

Halfway through his lesson, Snape is lost in his speech about Linear Functions and Equations while everyone else in the room stares blankly forward. I adore watching him teach because even though he never misses an opportunity to make me feel stupid or look bad in front of the class, I always like the banter back and forth. He tells me what a terrible inept student I am while I nod and say repeatedly, ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Of course, sir.’ ‘ I suck, sir. Absolutely!’

Ron and Hermione think I am insane for being attracted to him – especially while they think he is purposely trying to make me fail and get me expelled. I feel, deep down, that he is fond of me and this is merely his way of showing it.

After his class, the three of us, Ron, Hermione and me, zip up to the common room and dump off our books. I am torn between wanting to go to the library and net surf with Hermione or playing chess with Ron in the café. Although I’d promised to email my godfather, I’d much rather go to the dining hall and see if I might catch a glimpse of Snape on his way off campus or heading down some mysterious corridor.

Finally, the three of us decide to go down to visit the Care of Exotic Creatures teacher, the huge hill of a man who keeps the horses and stuff at Hogwarts, (and one of the guys who rescued me) Hagrid.
When we reach his cabana, he’s outside struggling with some kind of huge lizard creature he calls a Komodo dragon. I am staring at it in awe as he wrestles it in his own massive arms. Hermione and Ron are standing back a ways, justifiably frightened.
“Um…Hagrid…” I’m not sure where to start. “…Where did you…uh…get that?”
Hagrid grins as sweat comes into his eyes. “Oh, don you worry abou’ tha’.” He says good-naturedly. “I got this guy perfectly under control, mate.”
As usual, we’re a bit doubtful of Hagrid’s interest in strange and dangerous animals as he goes on to explain to us that he’ll probably be atemtping to breed them and have his classes help out. I don’t usually skip his classes, but I might mysteriously come down with a flu bug the day we study these huge lizards.

Back inside the school, we settle down to dinner with the rest of the classes, and Ron and Hermione keep making eyes over the diner roll basket. It’s funny that she sorta leads this guy Viktor on, but she actually flirts with Ron to no end. I’ve even walked in on them one day while she gave him a hand-job in a secluded spot in the common room, and she couldn’t look at me for a week after that without blushing like a tomato. Ron, for his part just chooses not to talk about it with me, but I know he wants to.

Departing from the dinning hall, I leave them because I know within an hour, they’ll find someplacego hgo have a nice long shag, and I’ll be stuck doing nothing anyway. I like to walk around the grounds, but occasionally, I sneak around in the shadows looking for shit to get into. Like tonight, I just wish I could hook up with Snape. I’m feeling braver tonight than I ever have, and even if he turned me down and tossed numerous insults at me (which he probably would do), at least I could say I tried. Then again, maybe he wants me but just doesn’t want to get in trouble with the Headmaster – or the law.

Since school is out, I’m wearing faded low-rise jeans, trainers without socks and a dark blue pullover sweater over a white T-shirt. If I somehow managed to sneak away to London, at least I would be appropriately dressed. Then again, I don’t think I brought enough money for smokes or anything so maybe I shouldn’t go. Suddenly, I realize I’ve walked almost completely around the grounds to where the staff parking lot is.
I’ve had so much time on my hands since I’ve been at this school that I’ve memorized everybody’s car - except Headmaster Dumbledore because he doesn’t drive.
Hagrid drives that beat-up looking brown Suburban. Professor McGonagall drives the sensible pea green Taurus. Professor Flitwick drives the mini Cooper. That rat bastard Filch, the groundskeeper, drives a horribly dilapidated old pick-up truck, and of course, Snape drives the shiny, impeccable Lexus. My eyes dance over the sleek dark silver body as I lick my lips and consider stealing it because I have a shady godfather who taught me everything he knows - so long as I use my abilities for good.

Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s seven o’clock on a Friday and a lot of the cars have gone because most of the instructors leave during the weekend. I just know that eventually, Snape will leave via the parking lot because he never stays on the campus. In fact, he leaves the grounds whenever given the opportunity so I decide to just wait here for him behind the huge marble staircase. Eventually, he’ll come, and although I don’t know what I’ll do or say, I do know that I am going to approach him – if for no other reason than to ask him why he hates me so much.

After about forty-five minutes, the wind starts to pick up, whipping my face and freezing my ears. By the time an hour has passed, it has started to rain, and I’m feeling like an idiot as I turn to go back towards the castle, but then, I catch sight of someone, emerging from the lit interior of the building. It’s him. My body is instantly warmed because it’s him, looking perturbed as he slings his satchel over his shoulder and holds a folder over his head to protect him from the drizzle.

I’m spending so much time watching him unlocs cas car door and slide inside, that I almost forget what it is I’m supposed to be doing. Dashing out into the mist, I approach the Lexus and d thd there, shivering before tapping on the window to get his attention. Fixing me with an irritably surprised glare, I wait until he activates the power window.
“What the hell are you doing out here, Potter?”
Trying in vain to keep my shivering to a minimum, I shrug. “Uh…sorry, sir. I… wanted…uh…needed… to talk to you.”
His eyebrows are scrunched as he regards me, his face a mixture of exasperation and confusion.
“It can wait until Monday.” He snaps, but I’m already shaking my head.
“No, sir. It really can’t.”
He makes a soft sound of exasperation, lets his head fall back onto the insanely plush headrest and closes his eyes.
“Christ, Potter…” He mutters. “…don’t you ever take a day off?”
My sweater is covered in silver water droplets. “Sir, I’m getting really drenched.”
Sighing, he opens his eyes and regards me, and I think, for an instant, that he’d let me stand out in the rain the entire time. Then, I hear the familiar clunk of unlocking power doors.
“Get in.” He says grudgingly hostile. “Don’t touch anything!”
Obeying him gleefully, I slide into the passenger’s seat and try to keep the grin off my face while I watch his large expressive hand press the button marked, ‘heat’. The chills going up and down my spine aren’t from the cold but from being in such a close proximity with him. There is soft music playing in the background, and it sounds like Evanescence. Suddenly I’m trembling.
He inadvertently brushes against me when he reaches into his backseat and produces a small traveling blanket, which he then tosses into my lap.
“If you get pneumonia, I’m sure I’ll be blamed for it.” His deep cold voice ratesates in the quiet car, and I wish I could find my own voice because soon enough he’ll want an explanation.

In the several seconds of silence, I have time to think of so many things. I think about my two friends, Ron and Hermione and how they never have to go through shit like this, uncertainty. The both of them only have to be themselves – whatever that is. Ron is the poor, youngest son of missionary parents, not especially talented at anything but still smart enough to slip beneath the radar. And Hermione is the half-breed, a socialite mother and immigrant father, both of whom love her very much and are very proud of her honorable academic status. I am someplace in the middle. A virtual superstar because I somehow managed to overcome adversities when the odds were stacked against me, and who somehow managed to survive long enough to claim the fortune left to me by my deceased parents.
Now, I sit in this car and remember the face of my godfather, Sirius, an escaped convict, wrongly accused of murder and other heinous crimes and my handful of mentors, Hagrid, Headmaster Dumbledore, the adorably soft spoken Remus Lupin, former friend of my father’s.
It’s funny how none of it matters right now because I am sitting in Professor Snape’s car, right next to him, taking in the light, airy scent of him and drinking in his evil scowl. God, I want to jump him, but I know I can’t. He’d never go for it.
“Are you going to tell me, Potter or do I have to somehow, magically, read your thoughts?” He considers his own words. “Granted, I am good, but not that good.”

Gaining courage, I blink once in his direction, staring into his dark black orbs. “I’m in love with you.” I pause, trying to gauge his reaction before adding, “I love you.”
For several seconds, there is nothing but silence. Then a slow exhale of breath.
“Get out.”
I’m shaking my head. “No. I won’t. This isn’t a joke.”
He turns to stare straight ahead, his hands gripping his steering wheel. “Of course not. For jokes, we visit the Weasley twins. For complicated muck, we have Harry Potter.” His voice is contemptuous, but I suspect it isn’t directed at me, so much as. “God, I could do with a good joke right about now.”
“How do you feel about me?” I ask, simply.

He turns to face me so sharply it startles me. “Are you serious?”
I nod, slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. If you hate me…”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
He makes an angry sound in the back of his throat. “No. Just…get out, Potter. Go back to your little friends.”
A small part of me wants to do just that. Then, I think about how they’re getting on with their lives, and how I need to get on with mine. In a small voice, I whisper to him. “Take me home with you.”
Now, he actually laughs a deep soft sound like rocks being thrown into a pond. I can’t help but to gape at him. Smiling changes his entire appearance. I’m getting that wiggly feeling in the pit of my stomach again, the one that eventually travels farther south. He’s too damned sexy.
“You’re funny.” He says, starting his car as if we’ve just had a laugh over some television program. “That’s really good, Potter. You almost had me. Now, if you’d be so kind as to vacate my car, I really need to leave.”
He has turned serious again, and I am staring at him, wondering about his hair, wondering about the hair on the rest of his body. If I said I hadn’t ever fantasized about him, I’d be lying. In fact, it’s all I do anymore, dream about him touching me, dream about him fucking me. It’s crude, I know, but I can’t help myself. There’s just something so exciting about the thought of him losing his cool like that.
“I’m not getting out.” I affirm, folding my arms across my chest.
“Potter…”
I snort. “Don’t ‘Potter’ me. I’m staying put – at least until I get a decent response from you.”
He shrugs and continues to stare forward as his car starts to move in reverse. “Fine. Do what you will – but put on your seatbelt. I don’t want to be resiblsible for your…fatality.”

In moments, we’re on the freeway and Snape is shifting into third gear and I’m wondering if I made the right decision before I mentally slap myself in the face. DUH! I’m riding in Snape’s car with SNAPE. This is like the second fantasy I ever had about him. Halfway along, he mutters something about having to answer to Dumbledore, but then he turns the radio onto some dramatic Opera and presses his foot on the gas, speeding us up even more.

Eventually, we reach Hogsmead, a little province just outside of London, and Snape pulls in front of (what I think is) his flat. Its set back from the street a ways, constructed differently than most of the flats in London, a dark brick townhouse covered in vines and with a front yard so overgrown with wild plants that you can barely see the front door. He puts her into park, turns her off and gets out, leaving me to sit in the car looking stupid until I decide to follow him inside.

He goes down the front hallway and I stand in the foyer looking uncertain, glancing around and noticing there are no photographs on the walls – just weird dark paintings done in reds and blacks and grays. They’re definitely abstracts and more than a little unnerving. They almost resemble death or murder. Then, Snape comes up near me and examines the one in front of which I stand.
“It’s called, Death Eater.” His voice is soft but still somehow cold. I turn to look at him as he speaks. “The artist is called Voldemort…if you can believe that.” He rolls his eyes. “I like them because they’re… geometric.”
Instinctively, I reach out and let my hand touch the lapel of his blazer, needing contact with him. He doesn’t seem to notice, at first. Then, his eyes travel down to where my fingers rest and he moves away from me into another room. When he returns, he is carrying a flute of red wine in one hand. Nothing for me, of course. He is still a selfish bastard – even though this is the nicest I think I’ve ever seen him.

“Right.” He says in an annoyed voice. “Now, tell me, you insufferable little twit, what did you want? Certainly not to come to my house and look at my paintings – although, they are originals.”
Rolling my eyes, I glance again at the art on the walls. “Where’d you get them? At a show?”
He snorts in disgust. “No, dear boy. I don’t go to shows. I got them off ebay.”

I’m smiling at him as he removes his jacket and hangs it into a hall closet. The silence is pregnant, and I feel like I want to say something, but I’m not sure what. So I simply choose the immediate question on my mind.
“Why do you hate me?”
“Ah, but I already told you.”
I’m frowning at him, exasperated. “Give me something I can use.”
After another long pause, he sighs deeply. “I knew your parents.”
Not the reply I’d been expecting but something tangible at least. My eyes become alight as they follow him around the room. “What did you say?”
“Your father was a lot like you are – quirky, ambitious, talented, intelligent. A showoff.” He rolls his eyes. “And your mother…” He pauses. “…Well, I’m sure you’ve heard it many times, but you have her eyes.”
There’s an instant lump in my throat, but I don’t want to feel like this right now. I want to feel sexy and beautiful – not like some abandoned little boy again. I’m so tired of feeling like that.
“Go on…” I manage to get out.
“To make a long story short, I hated your father – and he hated me.” He shrugs as if there is nothing more. “Many would say this is why you and I have a lot of…differences, but I feel as if I am completely objective where you are concerned even while I wouldn’t exactly call my feelings towards you…fond. You’re an…interesting…pupil…”
I’m nodding, looking up at the strange paintings again. “More like insufferable.” I mutter.
“And insolent.” He adds, swallowing more wine.
“Meddlesome.”
“Caustic…” He pauses. “…Potter, where is this going?”
Suddenly, I turn to him and come close, loving the way he looks in a black shirt with black hair framing his almost ghostly white features. “Fuck me.”
He laughs again, surprised and a little embarrassed, I think. “Wow. Direct, are we?”
My lips curl into a grin as I notice that he does nothing to put space between us. “Yeah. So you’ll do it?”

He’s shaking his head. “You don’t know what you’re asking. People will be expecting this sort of thing.”
I’m getting hard. “Then lets do it. If you do hate me because you hated my father, then let that be the reason. I don’t care. Just do it, and then I can still fantasize about you in the morning.”
“Potter...” His voice is as soft as I’ve ever heard it, and it simply melts me down like butter. “…Harry…stop this. We have nothing to gain from it. Besides…I like loathing you – and you’re way too young.”
Deciding on senseless acts of bravery, I lean forward and press my mouth up to his, tasting him deeply before pulling away with a loud ‘smack’. He is staring at me with disbelieving eyes. There is something so charming about his resistance, especially since I know most of the Hogwarts instructors would kill for a chance like the one I’m offering Snape. Not that I’m all Malfoy pretty, but I know my status, and I’ve already been approached by a long line of losers looking to join the ranks of Cedric Diggory, Percy Weasley, Oliver Wood, etc. Snape has no clue that I’m a slut. He’s just looking at me as if I’m some little inexperienced boy. Now looking back on the boys I’ve had sex with, I’d trade all that in if Snape would succumb to me.
“This is insane.” He says, a conflicted look gracing his features and making my cock tingle with need. “I simply can’t.”
Using all my strength, I push him back against the wall and press my pelvis to his, not only letting him feel my erection but also getting a nice feel for his. I’m not surprised that he’s aroused. I’m just a little stunned at his attitude change. He always seems like such a cold-hearted bastard until my best interests are at stake.
“You want this.” I murmur.
Our bodies are close, and I realize suddenly, that he is no longer fighting me. He seems to have slumped against the wall, breath uneven, eyes unfocused. I bring my face in close and let my lips brush against the surprisingly warm skin of his neck.
“Potter…” He whispers, letting one hand come out to caress my hair. “…God, Potter.”
“Please…” I’m whispering between gasps of air. “…call me…” gasp “…Harry….call me Harry.”
I’m working my way up his neck and when I reach his lips again, this time he returns it, his hand resting gently on my jaw. When the kiss is broken, he is looking down at me, his hand still resting on my cheek.
“Harry, I’m going to regret this.”
I smirk as my arms wrap around him. “So, you’ll screw me raw tonight, as per my request?”
His chuckle sounds nervous to me. “Uh…let’s just see where this leads, shall we?”

In minutes, I have my hand down the front of his pants, stroking along his hard thick girth, and his hand is pumping me gently, slowly driving me insane. We switched positions and now he has me against the wall as I let my eyes shut. He is making a soft breathing noise, and I feel like a drama queen because I’m moaning so loudly, but it really does feel so good, his warm large hand on my cock. I think I might faint from it. I want him inside me, but I don’t want to beg. I want him to want it.

We both jump when we hear the soft melody of Tubular Bells, and he releases my cock suddenly to answer his cell phone.
“Yes. This is Snape.” His voice is so sensuous, and I wonder briefly who has called him. We’re still against the wall, and I still have my hand down his pants even while one of his hands is holding his phone and the other is hanging limp at his side. He is trying his best to maintain professional cool as my index finger gently circles the head of his cock, and he makes a soft, high-pitched sound before yanking my hand out of his pants and putting several feet between us. I’m grinning and biting my lip as he explains himself to the other person on the line.
“No. That was me. Uh… my dog. He’s…sick…” He’s glaring at me, and I have to hold my hand against my mouth to suppress a laugh.

When he hangs up the phone, he approaches me looking angry with narrowed eyes. “Do you have any idea who that was?”
“Prime Minister?”
“Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.”
Instantly, color drains from my face. I feel like a fugitive. “What did he say?” I ask in a small voice.
Snape takes pleasure in my fear as his lip curls into a slow grin. “He wanted to know if I’d seen you. Apparently, your friends were worried about you and went to make an inquiry as to your…whereabouts.”
I’m nodding, slowly. “What’d you tell him?”
“Naturally, I told him I hadn’t seen you.” He says in a soft voice, as his eyes seem to grow darker. “I’ve never lied to him before.”
Slowly, I close the gap between us. “We should make the best of it.”
Snape’s eyes slide shut, briefly. “Can you think of nothing but your stiffy? He wants to see me in his office on Monday morning – about you, no doubt.”
Uncaring of this news, I nod dismissive and rest my hands on his forearms. “Take off your shirt.”

He snorts and looks extremely put out. But then he seemingly gives up, raising the black garment up and over his head. Surprised for only an instant, I’m dancing my eyes appreciatively over his pale chest, down the flat plane of his stomach.
“Happy now?” He asks in an evil sarcastic voice. “Anything else I can do for you? Drop my trousers or handcuff myself to the banister?”
My smirk is smug. “Uh. Later, maybe.”

It takes a few minutes, but his gaze softens as I start to run my hands up and down his torso, dragging my fingernails down his ticklish stomach, watching the skin quiver slightly. Without preamble, I lean forward and kiss his warm skin, and his hand is instantly buried in my hair, manicured nails digging lightly into my scalp.
“Potter…” He hisses as my tongue touches his nipple.
As he starts to wrap his other arm around me, I catch sight of something and pull back. It’s something on his forearm, underneath. Stopping my ministrations, I lift his arm and examine the dark mark-like scar that looks like a cross between a tattoo and a brand. It’s some kind of snake and ancient letters. My eyes meet his inquisitively, and he makes a face. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse.
“I was young…” Is all he says, and I am charmed by his vulnerable shyness. It clashes so much with the harsh, evil man I’m used to dealing with. Without another thought about it, my mouth crashes to his, and he has me against the wall again, pressing hard against me. I am gasping and clutching him as he snatches my sweater up over my head and rips the T-shirt off and onto the floor. My erection is raging in my jeans, and I push my pelvis forward, desperate for him to touch me again.
“Dammit, Snape…” I’m flushed and breathing in harsh pants as he starts to unzip my jeans. “…Hurry…”
“Patience…” He replies sonorously as his hand finds me again and wraps around the shaft, giving me a yank. I moan and let my eyes flutter shut.

“Oh God…Severus…”
His hand is working up and down on me, and I’m getting close. I can feel it like a ball of fire in my abdomen. Then, he stops.
When I look at him, my eyes are watering. He takes a step back and looks down at me.
“Have you done this before?”
Nodding, slowly, I lick my lips. “Uh…yeah…yeah, I have.”
He doesn’t react straight away. Then, he speaks again. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
My chest rises and falls in uneven intervals. “Yes. I do.”
“Why?”
Swallowing, I try and muster a response. “Because I love you.”
He snorts. “You don’t. You couldn’t. It’s impossible.”
My head is shaking, and I reach for him and say in a weak voice. “Please…”
For some reason, a tear slides down my cheek and he comes closer. “You’re quite pathetic, Potter.” He envelops me in his arms, and I press close to him, loving the feel of his skin against mine.

After several minutes of him holding me close, I feel myself beginning to get restless and I start to rub against him, eager to feel his touch. Since my jeans are already loosened, I need only squirm around a bit before they are falling down my legs of their own accord. Instantly, I feel a sort of draft until his warm hands start to stroke my thighs. I’m quivering at his touch and soon, we have become frantic again.

He has turned me around so that I am facing the wall and he is behind me, pressing me against it, his teeth biting into my shoulder and neck while I try and push my ass out to brush the bulge in his pants.
“Mm…Potter…” He’s whispering, reaching beneath my boxer briefs to caress the left globe of my ass.
“Severus…”
“Hold still.” He instructs as his hand yanks my underwear down. “You’re a glutton.”
“I need you.”
“Mm…I know you need me.” His mouth is on my shoulder again, biting, causing me to wince in pain. His hands are grasping my wrists and holding them above my head against the wall, and the friendship bracelet Hermione gave me is sliding down my thin arms.
Snape is rubbing his crotch against my ass, and the fabric of his trousers is so abrasive, I’m grimacing against the discomfort. I want to feel him. I need it.
“Inside me…” I’m whispering, moaning, whimpering. “…Snape…Inside me…. Please…do it.”
His chuckle against my skin sends shivers up and down my spine. He feels so good, so sexy. Then, his slick fingers are inside me, and I am surprised, unprepared and so close to shooting my load, I have to mentally reign myself. When I start panting, he stills his two fingers inside me.
“Don’t faint, Potter…breathe…”
I’m nodding, pushing back on his fingers and letting my head fall back against him as I get myself under control. It’s a difficult task, but in moments I am rewarded with his huge cock sliding gently inside me.
“Holy shit…” I’m hissing, adjusting to his size. “…Goddamn, mutherfucking, sonofabitch, that feels so…”
“Language, Potter…” He groans, rocking his hips against me.
Now, I’m pushing back against him, fucking his cock roughly and moaning his name.
“Severus…Severus…Oh…yeah, Severus…. God! That’s it. Right there…mmm…Severus…”
His hands are on my hips, nails biting into the skin there, and I am so close – but soon, he wraps a hand around my cock, and I am shuddering, quaking all over. I’m lost in heaven but still pissed at myself for ending it so quickly. But his hips are still slamming into mine and he is fucking me without abandon, and I am so thrilled by him that my cock is already hardening again.
“So close…” He whispers against me, his black hair cascading over my shoulder. “…so close…”
Then, in another moment, he goes absolutely rigid, making a soft sound in the back of his throat that sounds like a whimper. He is filling me with his warm essence, holding me so tight to him. My eyes are clenched shut and my palms are flat against the wall as he milks out the orgasm.

Later, I am sprawled naked on his couch and watching him in his black terrycloth robe, pouring himself a glass of scotch. I’m staring at him, falling in love with him – more so than before. He looks like a million bucks.
“Can I stay here tonight?”
“Absolutely not.” He murmurs, still not looking at me. “In fact, you should get dressed. I’ll give you money for a taxi.”
“Why can’t you take me?” I’m trying not to sound indignant.
He pours a third of his drink down his throat and winces a bit before answering. “Because I’m in enough trouble already. It would look pretty suspicious if I drove you back after I told him I hadn’t seen you.”
Stretching out languidly on his couch, I’m remembering our sex and marveling the achy feeling I have.
“Maybe we could have another go of it.” I’m grinning.
He snorts and rolls his eyes. “I don’t think so. But thanks for asking.”
I make a face and stand to go gather my clothes, muttering to myself about what an asshole he is. I can hear him in the other room, on the phone with someone. I’m dressing myself in the hallway and decide to just discard my shirt because it is torn to shreds. Luckily, I wore my sweater.
When he comes to me, he has a handful of bills in his outstretched hand.
I feel suddenly wasted, used up, discarded. I want to refuse the money, but if I don’t take it, I’ll be stuck here in Hogsmeade with no way back. Looking up, I regard him.
“Did this mean anything to you?”
He doesn’t answer at first. Then he pushes the money towards me. “Take the money, Potter and listen out for the taxi. They should be on the way.” He yawns exaggeratedly. “I’m going to bed.”
My eyes fill as I take the several crisp bills and he walks away from me, up the stairs. I suddenly hate myself because he can be as mean to me as he wants to and I won’t ever stop being in love with him. I shouldn’t have come here.
When the taxi arrives, I slam his front door hard enough to wake the entire city.


By the time Monday rolls around, I am ignoring the hurt I feel over Snape. I told Hermione and Ron that I followed him home, but I didn’t tell them about us having sex because I didn’t want their disgusted faces glaring at me – and I didn’t want anyone else to accidentally find out.
At some point, during History, I am pulled out of class by an office assistant, and sent to Dumbledore’s office.

To say I’m frightened would be an understatement. I’m practically shaking when I arrive at the threshold and knock tentatively on the door. Headmaster Dumbledore promptly opens his office to me, and I step inside as he beams down at me. He is fingering the lapels of his brown corduroy blazer, peering at me over his half-moon bifocals.
“How are you, Harry?”
“Uh. Fine, sir.” I lie, startled to find Snape in the office as well, standing there and looking magnificent in a black suit coat and black shirt and slacks. His black hair looks a little unkempt, but otherwise, he looks like a beautiful creature, so pale and indifferent. I want to go to him and cry to him, but instead, I stare forward, waiting for the Headmaster to expel me or whatever he has planned.
“I trust you gentlemen had a fine weekend?” Dumbledore always sounds so quietly jovial, and I’m shuddering in my loafers, wondering if I caught a hint of an accusation behind his words. I don’t dare to look at Snape as I answer.
“Um. Yes, sir. A fine weekend indeed, sir.”
Snape coughs softly, drawing me and Dumbledore’s gazes. “On the contrary, I spent the entire time grading and cleaning dust bunnies off my paintings.”
Dumbledore makes a face. “Those are beautiful paintings, Severus. And quite rare, I would surmise.”
“Yes.” Snape answers. “Very rare.”
I am unsure if I should be here, but then Dumbledore turns and starts to tap the keys of the computer on his desk. At this moment, I take an opportunity to glance at Snape and find that he is already looking at me. My breath catches in my chest, and I have a sudden memory of his hands on my hips, clutching me so tightly. My eyes shift nervously back to Dumbledore.

“Ahh…well, I’m sure you’re both wondering why I called you to my office.” He glances up at us both, smoothing his long, bristly, gray beard. Snape doesn’t seem worried, but I am. So much so that I am trembling, visibly. “Professor Snape, I believe it is time that Harry is moved onto more…advanced mathematics, and you are just the instructor to tutor him.”
I don’t know what I had been expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. I feel myself becoming less tense as Dumbledore continues. “Furthermore, you will instruct him select evenings after class so that he will be prepared for the next course because we’ll want to make sure he is ready for College tests, etc, etc.”
I’m a little letdown, actually – and more than a little angry. I already hate math, but now – to spend extra hours doing it a day… I can’t imagine why Dumbledore would do this to me, aside from the fact that he’s like a guardian to me and wants me to have every opportunity there is available. And Snape doesn’t exactly look thrilled at the prospect of dealing with me. Terrific.

As we’re exiting his office, I start down the hall away from Snape, but I feel his hand on my arm.
“A word, please?” He says softly.
“Oh.” I glare at him. “Now you ant to talk to me?”
“Not here.” He whispers, glancing back at Dumbledore’s closed office door.
We’re walking down the corridor together, me wearing a scowl and him looking like he usually does. We continue walking until we reach the lush gardens and he turns to me.
“I’m sorry. About the other day. I was…horrible to you.”
Sighing, I pretend not to care. “I’m used to it.”
“No.” He stops me. “I mean…I…I really am sorry. I’m just that way. I’m a selfish bastard. I don’t deny it.”
I’m surprised at this admission. At least he owns up to it. “Yeah. You are pretty rotten.”
“And I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”
“I asked you to do it.”
“I know, but…”
“I wanted it. Remember?”
“Will you let me finish, please?” He sighs and seems to consider his next words very carefully. “I just want you to know that I look forward to working with you – during this college math tutoring nonsense.”
I smile, in spite of myself. I want to be angry with him, but I can’t. At least not while he’s being all genial and sweet.
“I look forward to it too.” I say, once again placing my heart on my sleeve. “Do you have my email?”
He looks taken aback by this change in gears before nodding quickly. “Er…Yes. I believe I have it on my class roster.”
I smirk, so fond of him that it aches inside my chest. “Okay then. Maybe you should use it.”
“I will.” He says, looking almost superior as he starts to walk away.
“Um…Professor.” I call out to him and he turns to look me squarely in the eyes.
“Yes. What is it, Potter?” His voice is cold and irritated.
“I still love you.”
He glances quickly around to make sure no one has heard, before fixing me with an evil glare and then pivoting on his heel and walking back up towards the building. Grinning so hard my face hurts, I make a mental note to tell Ron and Hermione about the look on his face.


FIN