Cake

Cake
Pairing – SS/HP
Summary – The Order is famous band, Harry and Hermione have backstage passes.
Rating – NC/17
A/U – Extremely alternate universe. The Order is a famous band (think NIN) and Harry and Hermione have backstage passes…weird? I know! MUHAHAHAHAHA!
A/N- In this story, there is sex with minors. (Don’t read if offends.) Also, there is underage drinking, etc.
Disclaimer – Nope, I don’t own them or the names and likenesses used in this story. That honor and privilege goes to Joanne. Also, no profit is being made from this. It’s all fiction. Made it all up. Surprised? Me too… :-O



Harry drowns out the noise around him and stares forward and up onto the stage. It is dark with swirling red and green lights. Some asshole nearby is trying to crowd surf, nearly knocking him over into Hermione, but he simply stares forward, a kind of sick grin on his face as he watches his favorite performer with a strange transfixed glare. Oh God, that man is hot.

As the lead singer screams into the microphone and seems to be making love to the pole to which it is attached, the lead guitarist, to whom Harry is interested, sways slowly to the beat. The man is somewhere in the vicinity of his forties, maybe, skin white as porcelain with black shoulder-length hair, black slacks, black T-shirt, black suspenders hanging down and black suede shoes. His nails are painted black. The other members of the band are following his lead, as he seems to lose himself in the minor cords, his pale white fingers dancing across the strings like they are possessed.
Harry is in awe of his raw talent and his body vibrates as he rips it up. Around his neck is the backstage pass he proudly displays, and he turns a quick glance over to his best friend, Hermione who is also in possession of a pass. How they got these, Hermione isn’t saying, but she seemed extremely proud of herself the day she called him up.

“Yep, two passes!” she’d squealed that day as Harry had felt himself melting from happiness. “One for each of us so now you can finally meet that greasy weird guitarist, Snape.”

Harry had been eternally grateful and could barely believe it. Now, however, he stares up into the man’s face (as best as one can from fifteen rows away) and smiles to himself. It won’t be long now. The concert is drawing to an end, and he will finally see him up close. He wonders what he will be like even as he dreads being snubbed by the man, who is somewhat famous for doing that to his fans, barely scrawling two letters of his name before asking security to take the unfortunate fan away from him as it gives him hives.

Now, as pyrotechnics leap into the air and dry ice causes misty smoke to float across the stage, the crowd is going insane with applause, and it is nearly time for them to be lead back to meet the band. Hermione is almost as terrified and excited as is Harry, but she’s showing it much better. Harry can see her fingers trembling inside her pockets as she turns to him.
“I’m going to die!” She shouts over the wild audience noise.
Harry nods, slowly. “Me too! Oh, I can’t wait!”
The friends smile at each other and watch as the lights dim and people start to shuffle away.

When security finally leads them towards the long corridor and down a sectioned off hallway, Hermione is visibly trembling. The security officer is mumbling something about how he hates Indie Metal music, but The Order is actually a decent band. Harry and Hermione are both too frightened to speak. Then, they reach a door on which a star is taped with the Band name, and the door opens to reveal a normal looking redhead guy.
“Hi, kids!” He says, jovially. “I’m Arthur, the stage manager. And you two are the contest winners.”
They both nod slowly and enter at his lead. He is smiling and looking very pleased with them.
“So, what are your names?” they tell him and earn more smiles before he offers them some sodas.
“You two can wait here and I’ll bring out the guys in a second. The only thing I must ask is that you not use recording equipment of any kind – that includes video phones or digital cameras. Please don’t…uh…grab them. They don’t like that. Their wardrobe is part of their persona. Don’t ask them anything too…ah… invasive or they might be inclined to cut the interview rather short. Also, please…uh…no shenanigans.” He laughs when he says this and Harry and Hermione eye him closely. “Uh…you two aren’t liable yet, so…keep it clean, I guess. Though, I suspect the guys won’t try anything.”
Harry gives Hermione a look and soon, Arthur is gone again with a little bow and a smile and the two of them are left sitting there on a deep leather couch, holding Ginger Ale and looking absolutely nauseous with anxiety.

In another minute or so, however, Hermione nearly spills her soda when she bolts to her feet and the guys shuffle in, one by one, looking oddly disheveled and somewhat disoriented. Harry attributes this to their probable drug usage and stands next to Hermione, feigning bravery as his soda nearly slips from his own suddenly sweaty palm.

The lead singer is Sirius Black, a lanky, shirtless, hairy guy with a crooked grin and intense eyes. “You must be Harry and Hermione.” He seems rather friendly as he comes forward to extend his hand.
Hermione gapes at him, unsure what to say. “I…uh…the show was…Oh God…”
Black nods and smirks. “Glad you enjoyed it.” His voice is gruff and deep as he introduces the other players in his band. “As you already know, I’m Sirius. This skinny guy here is my back-up vocalist, bass player and best friend, Remus.” He is an attractive guy but seemingly very shy with short brown shaggy hair and amber eyes. His thin mustache quirks a bit when he smiat tat the teens and salutes. “This asshole here,” he gestures towards the off-the-wall drummer who Harry and Hermione have always heard about in the tabloids, “is James.” He has black unruly hair and narrow eyes. He barely nods at the kids and soon after, stalks off towards the mini bar. Harry decides he doesn’t like him much. “This shit-for-brains is Peter, our occasional keyboardist.” The guy is kind of round and misshapen with beady eyes, big teeth, and a fat face. He nods to the others then kind of shuffles back into another room. “And this is Severus.” He finally says, gesturing to where Snape stands, looking extremely uncomfortable and wearing a frown over a furrowed brow. “He is our brilliant guitarist.” Snape doesn’t do anything except blink a time or two and Harry feels himself falling deeper into obsession with him. His hair hangs about his head in stringy black tendrils and his black eyes meet Harry’s. Sirius laughs in the back of his throat. “Well, can I offer you guys a drink? Now that Arthur’s gone?”

Hermione surprises Harry by speaking up. “S-sure. I’ll have a g-gin and tonic.” Sirius raises an eyebrow and Harry notices his eyes dancing over her body briefly, along the slight curve of her hips and breasts in the stuffy sweater and hip-hugging jeans she choose to wear. Then, his eyes are on her again.
“A woman after my own heart. I’ll get that for you.”

Harry sighs and takes a step closer to Snape, unsure what to say since the man certainly isn’t making it easier for him. In fact, he seems to be steeling himself against whatever Harry might say.
“I-I’m a big –fan.”
Snape seems to consider him, before tilting his head a bit. “Indeed.” His voice is deep, like velvet and Harry closes his eyes briefly before looking back up into those black orbs.
“Y-yes. You’re my f-favorite.”
Snape chews his lip, then clears his throat and says very slowly. “Do. You. Want. A drink?”
Harry feels his heart rate speed up as he nods quickly. “Um. Yes. Sure. Thank you.”
Snape eyes the bar warily while Sirius is there, and only goes over when Sirius moves to where Hermione has sank back into the couch eyeing him with something next to deepest adoration. Remus is there also, regarding Hermione with an almost fatherly expression on his washed out features. He looks exhausted, Harry notes before turning to watch Snape mix himself a drink.
“What’s your poison?” He asks casually in that deep silky voice and Harry falters a bit until the black eyes are on him again. “You don’t know?”
Harry shakes his head, slowly, unable to remember a single drink Hermione had told him about before this night. Usually they got drunk on Vodka stolen from Hermione’s parent’s liquor cupboard, but he suspects he should order something more fancy.
“Fine, then.” Snape seems to almost light up while mixing a drink from the bar with nimble fingers, pouring and shaking and stirring. “Do you like cake?”
Harry’s heart quickens. “Uh…”
“I’ll make you a chocolate cake martini.” He says, adding cryptically. “Because I like them as well. Especially second hand.”
Harry doesn’t get the joke until later. Currently, though, he is mesmerized as he follows Snape to another couch along another wall. He takes a moment to notice how plush the room is, how comfortable and nice. Snape is sitting beside him and handing him his drink while taking great gulps of his own Stoli. Harry has a sip of his martini and meets Snape’s eyes with large surprised orbs. “It’s good!” he enthuses.
“Yes.” Snape says, matter-of-factly. “I may have missed my calling with bartending. I am rather…proficient at it.”
Harry sits down his drink and moves absently closer to Snape, hoping he doesn’t notice. He is trying to take in everything he can, the scent of him, the feel of him. He smells like cinnamon and liquor – like someone spilled it onto his clothes.
“I love you…” He muses and when Snape’s eyes dart down to him, he clears his throat and corrects himself. “I mean…your music. I love your music. You…um…are very talented. I know you hear that a lot…” Harry’s voice trails off.
Snape doesn’t reply for several seconds, then speaks in a quiet vice. “How did you obtain these passes?”

Harry shrugs. “Hermione. My best friend.” He gestures over to where she sits with Sirius’ hand on her thigh and Remus sitting next to her now on the couch. She seems thrilled to be with them and Harry notices that she’s actually gazing into Remus’ eyes now. Harry glances up into Snape’s endlessly black eyes.
“She’s really good at using her…er…resources…”
Snape’s lip curls upward. “I can see that.” His eyes have drifted over to where Hermione sits with the other band members. “I’m not clairvoyant, but I can imagine Sirius will have her wrapped around him like an athletic supporter before the night is through.”
Harry is coughing and sputtering, purposely not looking at Snape. It shouldn’t be so funny, but he’s probably right about Hermione. She’d stuffed like twelve condoms in her jean pockets before leaving for the concert, and Harry had only eyed her suspiciously, making faces at her until she’d finally punched him in the shoulder. Now, however, hearing Snape vocalize it…
“She isn’t like that.” He feebly tries to protect her honor. “Anyway, she isn’t the only one around here with low morals.” He tosses a dirty look in Sirius’ direction. “She’s only sixteen.” He adds quietly.
Snape makes a low sound in the back of his throat. “And are you sixteen, Harry?”
The tone of voice is what gets to Harry more than anything. It almost sounds like teasing – like toying.
“Um. Yeah.”
Snape doesn’t reply but stands and goes back to the mini bar. Harry watches him as he mixes again, shaking, stirring, adding vermouth, then lemon, then coke…When he returns, he takes a sip of his drink and seems to muse to himself. Harry takes this opportunity to make an inquiry.
“I read an article recently – about issues between you and your agent?”
Snape’s brow furrows even more. He doesn’t respond right away and when he does, it’s in a low icy voice. “My representation is of no concern to you.”
Harry quickly replies. “No. I mean…I read the one about your history together. It was a nice article. His name is Albus, right?”
Snape closes his eyes briefly, for strength, then turns to look at the boy. “Yes. Albus Dumbledore was my agent. But that is a thing of the past.” Harry notices a quick flash of regret within the black orbs. “Anymore questions, Lois Lane?”
Harry shakes his head, slowly. “I’m sorry.” He whispers.
Snape doesn’t reply. They both cast a glance in Hermione’s direction and Harry is shocked to see her head thrown back and Remus planting kisses down her neck while Sirius looks on, smiling delightedly. Instead of trying to analyze it, Harry turns to look at Snape.
“When I said I loved you…” He pauses, looking down at Snape’s manicured hands. “…Well…I really meant it. I visit all the band’s websights and stuff and I’ve joined so many fanclubs, hoping to get close to you, and here I am.”
Snape doesn’t seem phased. “Must be overwhelming for you.” His voice is dry and indifferent, but Harry nods vigorously.
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He looks up into Snape’s face. “I really nearly died when I found out I’d be seeing you.”
“Pity.”
Harry’s eyes are twinkling. “I just love your music. I ordered three of The Order’s live concert DVD’s because you have that really long solo on Dark Mark, and there are these little different nuances on each version. Like in the Tokyo show, you kind of throw your head off to the side, and your hair gets in your face a lot. And in the Sydney show, you’re so rigid, almost mechanical except for your hands – but then in the Dublin show, you and Sirius dance against each other while he plays air guitar…that was so fucking hot!”
Snape rolls his eyes. “I was high as a kite that night. And Drunk.”
“I adore you.” Harry says softly, during a moment of clarity. “God, you must think I’m insane.”
Snape’s lip quirks upward. “Yes. But…I am charmed by your exuberance.”
Harry licks his lips. “Can I kiss you?”
Snape doesn’t answer. Instead, he waits until Harry’s instincts drive him forward and up until their lips brush softly. When he sits back down on the couch next to Snape, he seems breathless.
“Are you…satisfied…with yourself?”

Harry tries to hide his grin by looking across Snape to see what Hermione is doing and has pretend not to notice her hand down Remus’ pants and him with his eyes closed. Someone has turned on music and things seem surreal. Sirius is still watching them, but his hand has drifted into his lap. When Harry’s eyes meet Snape’s, he considers his words carefully.
“Can we…um…go into another room?”
The black eyes seem puzzled at first before melting into understanding. He leads Harry into another room, and turns on a light. James is here tinkering around with his cellular phone and Snape stares daggers at him until he gets the point and makes a hasty exit. In another instant, they are alone and Snape comes close.

“So, you wanted to be alone?”
Harry nods, gazing into the depthless black irises. “Yes.” He is trembling when Snape comes to within inches.
”What do you want? An Autograph?” Snape snorts, sarcastically, and Harry has to laugh at himself, how weird the situation is, how strange it all feels. He is trying to control the fluttering in his stomach when he reaches up to push a lock of Snape’s hair behind his ear.
“You’re beautiful.”
The guitarist exhales slowly. He seems so exhausted suddenly, but manages a weak grin. “Thank you.”
Harry’s eyes roll. “So, do you want to fuck me?”
Snape seems suddenly taken aback. “Ah…Hmm…how should I answer this?”
Harry smiles widely. “Simple answer. Yes or no.”
Snape looks uncertain. “See, those are two very simple answers to a not so simple question. Yes, I’d like to fuck you. No, I don’t like the moral implications. Yes, I can deal with the moral implications. No, I can’t deal with a lawsuit. Yes, I have an excellent attorney. No, I don’t want to be known as a celebrity who molests young boys. Besides, Michael Jackson already holds that title. So, you see, there are many issues accompanied with this…simple question.”
Harry nods, head spinning. “So, do you want to fuck me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be seventeen very soon.”
“Lets not discus age.”
“I’ve already had a fair amount of sex with my dad’s friends.”
“Cute.” Snape is already unzipping the boy’s jeans, and Harry is watching his large nimble fingers working, imagining himself to be the strings of Snape’s guitar. The image makes him harder than he already was.
“Severus…” He whispers when Snape takes hold of his cock and tugs him forward with it. His jeans are just under his ass, tight and binding, but Snape already has access to the part of Harry that interests him most and Harry is quite glad for this. His breath is already coming in short gasps as the man leads him to another leather couch, tugging him by his cock.
When they are face to face, Snape bends his head and drags his tongue down Harry’s neck, licking the hollow at the base of his throat and using his teeth to graze the soft flesh there. Harry moans softly and rests his hands on Snape’s shoulders. The man is pumping his cock gently in a soft fist and using the pre-cum as lube to circle the head with his thumb.
Suddenly, turning Harry away from him so he’s standing with his back to Snape, the older man drops into the couch cushions and spreads Harry’s ass cheeks, lazily licking in and around the puckered hole there in the center. Harry is absolutely weak and has to literally force himself to remain standing with sheer will. Otherwise, the sensation of it all, Snape’s hands tightly gripping his ass cheeks, Snape’s tongue swirling around his innermost crevice, will undoubtedly drive him insane.
“Don’t come yet, Harry.” Snape pulls away just long enough to drawl and Harry is so close, it scares him, but he manages to keep himself on the brink.
“Oh God…” He moans as Snape’s hand reaches between his legs and grasps his sac loosely. “…Severus. Oh…yes…”

In the other room, Hermione is putting the condoms to good use. Remus has his eyes closed and is stroking her face lovingly as she rides him slowly, occasionally holding gently onto her small pert breasts. She feels so good around him, he might howl but he resists the urge and Sirius is stroking himself to fruition, not bothering to hide his determination while every so often, calling out requests. “Touch her hair, Remus…yes…like that…put her fingers in your mouth…yes…like that…God, that’s beautiful…”

Severus Snape, on the other hand, is a willing participant in his corruption of a minor and he takes a moment to really look at Harry’s penis. “It undoubtedly veers off to the left.”
“Only when erect.” Harry says, breathlessly. “That’s nice…what you’re doing…I like that…”
Severus grins. “I know you do. I invented this move for you.”
Harry’s heart quickens. “Did you?”
“Oh yes. Don’t ever question me.”
“O-Of course not.”
Then, moments later, the boy is tight around his cock, wet, accommodating and warm and Snape is enjoying it very definitely. Harry is a light weight to bear as they are against the wall, facing one another with Snape holding the boy up against him. It feels incredible to Harry who is fighting himself not to come yet, but Snape has him at such an angle that he might pass out. The thick cock is right up against his prostate, nudging it gently.
“God, that f-feels so good…I m-might come…”
“That’s the point.” Snape says sonorously. “Let go. I won’t mind.”
Harry is still hanging on but barely as his head goes back a bit and knocks into the wall. “Ow.” He whispers as Severus chuckles low in his throat.
“You’re a riot.” He says in a strained voice, moving imperceptibly inside Harry. “It’s funny. My last lover was old enough to be my grandfather. You’re young enough to get me into troub
“
“I’m going to come.”
Snape sneers, minus the contempt. “Do it.”
“Fuck me.” Harry whispers weakly. “I want to ache from this.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“Severus…”
With a rough thrust on Snape’s part, Harry is trembling and shooting cum onto his pale white stomach and Snape has given up trying to restrain himself. He begins pounding into Harry, bruising his narrow body with such a strong grip on his thighs as he drives harder and harder with each upswing until he is shuddering and letting his head rest against Harry’s, dark hair spilling over onto his shoulder.
“Ah…. That’s…” Snape’s voice is weak as he empties himself into the boy. “DNA evidence…” He whispers as he slides from Harry’s body and lets his feet reach the floor and Harry has to use the wall to steady himself.

Nearly able to focus, Harry recognizes the grunts and moans and cries coming from the other room. He wonders idly if Hermione is alright, then his eyes meet Snape’s and its as if he were reading Harry’s mind.
“Shall I go and check on her?” He’s already mostly dressed and Harry nods, shyly, covering his mostly naked body as best he can with folded arms across his slender chest. Too late for modesty, he thinks stupidly as Snape goes into the other room.
When he returns, maybe a second later, he’s wearing that smug grin. “She’s quite fine. In fact, its Sirius who’s making all the noise.” Severus makes a face. “Pathetic shit.”
Harry smirks. “You don’t like him that well. I can tell.”
Severus nods. “Good job, detective. I hate him, in fact. But. We make beautiful music together.” Harry regards him with adoration. “Speaking of beautiful music,” Snape continues. “Are you alright? You were making some strange sounds there yourself…”
Harry blushes. “Uh. Yeah. My legs are wobbly, but I’ll be fine. I think.” He adds, quietly. “Thank you.”
Snape makes a face and seems to have some minor internal struggle before sighing. “I don’t usually say so, but I…enjoyed this. It was…”
“Fun?”
Snape nods, slowly. “Yes – and I could still taste the chocolate on your lips. Cake.”
“I think I could fall in love with you.” Harry murmurs, wrapping his arms around himself, feeling a little cold and exposed. “God, did I just say that?”
Snape rolls his eyes. “Yes. Unfortunately, you did.”

Two months later, Hermione and Harry are sitting in the front row of The Order concert in Phoenix and screaming as the last song is played and the usual pyrotechnics explode, warming their faces and making the crowd roar.
Before its over, they are led backstage and into a plush room where they wait with their backstage passes dangling around their necks. Hermione is smirking and Harry is rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, anxiously. In another several minutes, Remus comes in carrying several roses for Hermione and Sirius is carrying a bottle of wine as they both embrace her and Harry waits until he sees the figure enter wearing black and with an errant lock of black hair hanging about his face. His expression is sour, but he allows it when Harry comes close and touches his pale cheek with warm finger tips.
“I loved the show – as usual.” Harry smiles up at Snape.
He makes a face. “I could use a drink. A martini maybe.”
Harry grins. “Chocolate cake?”
After a beat Severus can’t help but to smile, warming Harry through and through. “Yes. I rather think so.”

FIN