Cleansing

***I DIDN"T WRITE THIS BUT I MADE A CONTEST AND THESE ARE THE ENTRIES THEY GAVE ME POMISSION TO USE THERE STORIES HERE****

Severus Snape was focused on the task at hand. Well, slightly focused. His mind kept returning to a certain black-haired green-eyed student, who had again fought with him earlier that afternoon. Recalling the events, he was almost ashamed to say that for no apparent reason he had acted like a complete and total prat.

“Potter! What are you doing?”

“Sir?”

“Unlike your fellow classmates, who are all busy with their potions, you are the only one lazing around and talking to our resident natural disaster, Mr. Longbottom. Is there something important you have to say to him that demanded his attention this very moment? A moment, I might add, that he needs to concentrate in order to prevent another botched up potion.” Severus could hear the other conversations in the background stop.

“I was just helping him, Professor.”

“You, brat, don’t even have the skills or experience to help him stir.”

“Snape-“

“Mr. Potter, when I say that each student will work alone then that means, each student is solely responsible for his or her potion. There are no partners today. And since you, being one of the lowest scoring students here, barely above Mr. Longbottom himself, how could you possible even consider that you’re help would benefit him.”

Snape frowned. Potter was only helping Longbottom, and Merlin knew that idiot boy needed all the help he could get. Still, remembering how the two young men had their heads bent close together, their shoulders touching, and their mouths whispering to each other, Severus had to act. They were being impudent, especially Potter. Again Snape frowned. Looking back on it he didn't have to add those personal comments, but then Potter, as always, reacted with his usual Gryffindor arrogance and commented that his poor performance reflected on Severus’ teaching skills or lack there of. And since almost everyone was failing potions maybe he should follow his own advice and seek someone of higher skill, like Hagrid.

Hagrid!

Potter needed to be disciplined. He needed to be brought down low and shown that a man like Severus was worth a hundred, no a thousand Longbottoms or Hagrids. Potter should respect him, admire him, and be grateful that he was there to teach his pathetic self. Potter should be groveling at his feet, gratifying him, satisfying his - Severus stopped. Again, without even realizing it, he was envisioning the Chosen One, the Saviour of the entire Wizarding World as something . . . no, he needed to stop. Dumbledore was right when he had told Severus about letting go of his petty grudges against the boy. They had fought side by side during the Final Battle, guarding each other's back, and not only survived but won. Still, there was something about Potter that always made him, for lack of a better word, disgruntled.

Relax, he thought. Relax.

As he cleaned his newest collection of tools for his Potions research, Severus couldn't help but feel less agitated, despite being irritated at himself and especially at the brat. Cleaning, the actual act of scrubbing, rinsing, and wiping, became an outlet for him. A simple enough task that allowed him to break away from the demanding duties usually pushed upon him or expected from him. The simple idea of physical labor that ended up with clean and neat results was very satisfying. Slowly breathing in and out the smell of the soap he was currently using filled his lungs. It was his personal concoction - lemon ginger soap. A light scent that lingered and teased. He breathed in again and with a relaxed sigh, smiled.

Harry stood, stunned.

He was going to knock on the door to announce himself, when he discovered the door slightly open and so walked in, only to see his Potions Professor, the perpetually snarky bastard smiling. It was very rare and few times in between when he chanced upon a smiling Snape. In fact, most of the time it was more of a smirk or a polite grimace.

Focusing his attention on the snarky man he had seen earlier that day snarling, Harry watched the planes on Snape's face relax, dark eyes crinkled at the sides, and there was no trace of those jagged lines that appeared on his forehead when he was angry, or sarcastic, or well, being a greasy git. Inhaling Harry smelled lemons, a soft tangy aroma, but something he didn't associate with Snape. Spicy cider and sandalwood was Snape’s scent. He discovered this tidbit during one very long and dirty mission. Snape revealed that he made his own soap and, luckily for them, carried one with him. Surprisingly, Harry liked how Snape smelled, not that he ever told the man. The Professor was an interesting dark enigma and no matter what his friends said, especially Ron, he would continue the shaky and sometimes explosive dealings with the volatile wizard. After all, both fought together and protected each other. He would tolerate whatever he could and act accordingly when the git decided to be his normal pompous self.

Still staring at the Potions Master, Harry’s eyes wandered down his Professor’s face and watched as strong rough hands dipped into the water, gently testing its temperature. The hands were not wearing any gloves or using those abrasive copper scrubbers. It was just skin to metal.

In Severus’ hands was a vial, a metal one that shines and gleams after it’s clean. It looked so small in his large hands, very sleek and smooth and cool. He picked the vial up and ran it under the stream of water, carefully rubbing his thumbs all over it. His palms spread the wetness along the surface while long fingers reached into the center, stroking the slick inside of the vial. Water and soap cling and trickle down his fingers, to his wrists, and then down long pale arms. The edges of his dark sleeves are slightly damp but hardly noticeable unless one really looked. He finishes the job with a swift rinse then began to polish it, wiping its surface with a soft cloth until it looked untouched. Fingers gently graze the surface, a last stroke. Laying it on the counter to dry the older man slowly turns away.

“Potter! What are you doing standing there? Get in! 25 points from Gryffindor for being late!” Snape bellowed. Professor Snape was a busy man after all and the Potter brat was once again upsetting his schedule.

Harry shook his head quickly then answered in a controlled calm tone, “I was here on time, Professor. But I saw you in the middle of cleaning and decided to wait until you were done.”

Grabbing a rag to dry his hands, Snape strode up to Potter sneering. Using his height to intimidate the insolent boy Snape stood a few inches in front of the Gryffindor and tossed the rag in his face. Harry caught it just after it hit his glasses and was now trying to stop his face from sneering as well.

“When I say you’re detention is at 8 o’clock, I mean 8 o’clock sharp.” A glance to the clock on the dungeon wall showed the time was now ten minutes past eight. Had Potter just stood there watching him? He gazed down at the boy, now taller, grown up, and slightly jaded after defeating The Dark Lord, Voldemort. With one eyebrow raised Severus appraised him and as always saw something, that mysterious element in Potter that prompted him to react and respond to the boy. An instinct or urge he couldn’t quite place or completely control. Without a doubt, the brat was a constant pain in his side but there was something else, something that made him anxious and almost wild with emotions. Something Severus couldn’t fully understand and it was driving him mad.

The Professor’s voice was low, deep, and menacing. “Don’t think I’ll accept your excuses. You are hear for a reason, Potter. Don’t make any more mistakes.”

Snape swept away from Harry going back to where he stood, not noticing the young man’s heated gaze. “You will start with cleaning the cauldrons. No magic, just water, soap, and that rag. You know the routine.”

Harry watched as Snape, behind the table, leaned down to his left, only to come back up with another metal vial in his hand. Taking a closer look, the seventeen-year-old Harry found at the bottom of the table a large box of metal objects. His curiosity piqued Harry ignored the dirty cauldrons on the other side of the room, walked straight to the box and picked up a metal vial.


“What exactly do you think you are doing, Mr. Potter?”

Harry looked up and saw up close the image he saw just moments ago when he walked into the potions classroom. Professor Severus Snape without his outer robes, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone, and dripping wet from the hands to his arms. Never had he seen the Professor so informal, so casual, and well, nice-looking. A couple detentions before and even during class, Harry had seen Snape washing his equipment but it was always precise, clinical, and brief. All others times Snape would use ‘Scourgify’ or some other cleaning spell. Tonight was the first time he had seen Snape wash something with his bare hands and was finding himself wanting to see Snape clean other ‘equipment’ besides the metal vials.

Harry shook his head. “This is stainless steel.” Quickly inspecting the object in his hands he returned his eyes back to Snape. “Why do you have stainless steel vials?”

“Do you have a problem with that, Potter?”

“No. I’m just curious since we only use glass, crystal, or copper vials. I’ve never seen anyone in Hogwarts use anything that is stainless steel. Even the dinnerware is either pure silver or gold.”

“Your point, Mr. Potter?” Severus raised his eyebrow, trying to guess what Potter was going on about this time.

“Just curious. I used to clean Aunt Petunia’s stainless steel cookware all the time. It was strange seeing someone else do the same thing.”

Snape breathed out heavily and gave Harry a hard stare. “As entertaining as it is to listen to you expound about yourself once again, may I remind you that this is your detention.” He reached out, grabbed the vial from Harry, and placed it in the sink. “I am not Rita Skitter from the Daily Prophet digging for details about your pathetic life. Do not open your mouth unless spoken too and begin with your punishment. Now.”

As Snape turned his attention back to his task he didn’t notice how Harry stood there glaring at him. Suddenly, the young wizard stepped behind the desk, deliberately bumping into Snape’s side, picked up another vial, then reached over to the sink and turned the knobs for the water on high.

“What do you think you are doing, Potter?!” Severus jumped slightly as water sprayed his hands. He was frustrated with the audacity of the young man. Potter was the only student who again and again dared to defy him.

“I am helping you clean, Snape," Harry replied emphasizing the name. He knew the older wizard disliked it when he used his surname. During the war, Harry took great pleasure calling his Professor by name. A few months before, Harry had managed to call Snape, Severus, but when the war ended and Hogwarts was reinstated, formalities were put back into place and they once again started from the beginning - respected teacher and lowly student.

"The cauldrons you can ‘Scourgify’ but these vials, you don’t know how the magic will affect it, right? That’s why you are cleaning them with your bare hands.” Now Harry was adding more soap into the sink, until only a mass of bubbles and water could be seen. The scent of lemons was almost overpowering. Bending down to pick up a few more vials, he purposely bumped into Snape every single time, not stopping, not apologizing, and never looking at him, only focusing on picking up the vials and placing them in the sink.


Severus stared at Potter as the young man rolled up his robes and sleeves, picked up the last remaining vials and proceeded to lay them in the soapy water. Damn brat just kept doing whatever the hell he wanted. Isn’t that always the case? The famous Harry Potter doing whatever he felt like doing – whenever or wherever, it didn’t matter. Potter was the one exception and everyone allowed the brat to do as he pleased. Severus’ lips curled.

“Once again, Potter. What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?” His voice was low, very low, almost a growl.

“It will take too long if you clean each vial one by one. Putting them all in the sink to soak will be just as effective and be more efficient. I would think, Snape that you of all people would have thought of that.”

Severus was fuming inside but the brat did have a reasonable argument. It was late and he was tired, and Potter's constant annoying presence was draining him. He would have to find another time to punish him. Maybe another large deduction of House points and some humiliation - that sounded acceptable.

Harry, on the other hand, was tense. He didn’t know why he was being so forward with Snape but he couldn’t stop now. For months he had been feeling anxious and restless. Whenever, Snape was around those feelings increased tenfold, along with some other unspeakable emotion that pressured him to act out against the big greasy git. Avoiding Snape’s gaze, which he felt burning his back, Harry gingerly took of his glasses and placed them on the edge of the table. Pressing his side to the Professor’s he elbowed his way to the space in front of the sink then placed both his hands in the bin of bubbles.

Feeling for the vials Harry ran his hands over any surface he found. The water felt nice and slightly cool but it didn’t make him less aware of the tall body next to him. They worked in silence. Snape’s heat was rolling onto him. Every now and then their bodies brushed against the other, there forearms slightly rubbing due to the small area of the sink. Only the swish of water and the occasionally tick tock of the clock could be heard. The scent of lemons still lingered but now Harry could smell the familiar scent of cider and sandalwood. Gradually, Harry's heartbeat seemed to fill his ears. He had to steady his breathing to calm his beating heart. He was so distracted that he didn’t even realize Snape was speaking to him.

“Let go of my hand, Potter.”

Green eyes finally turned to look at Snape. They blinked twice then widened. “What?”

“My hand, Potter. You have been rubbing my hand for at least five minutes.”

Harry stilled. The incessant sound of his beating heart stopped. He could almost feel his soul seeping out of his open mouth. A heart attack would strike any minute now.

Turning back to the sink Harry lifted his hands, only to see Snape’s hands as well.

Wet, hard, large hands.

Although slick with water, Harry could still feel the scars and callouses Snape acquired from fighting. Harry remembered, the battles still vivid in his head, how those skirmishes weren’t won with only brains, strategy, and magic but with pure physical force too. He could still picture the time when Snape had punched his attacker. Harry had dropped his wand, unable to grasp it correctly after having his hand almost crushed by the foot of a Death Eater. The crunch of bones still sounded in his head along with the image of a panting Snape, arms limp at his side, hands bloody and dirty, cursing at him, at The Boy Who Lived, for risking his life yet again and consequently the lives of the entire wizarding world because of his brash and reckless actions. Harry, for a moment, just stared at the hands that saved him countless times, feeling the warmth of them seeping into his skin, only to remember where he was and exactly what he was doing - holding Professor Snape's hands.

Now in complete shock, his heart palpitating, the young wizard did the only thing he could do since his brain wasn’t responding back to his screaming thoughts of “shit,shit,shit,shit,shit” and “oh, bloody hell”.

He listened to his body.

Placing both their hands back into the water, Harry let go of Professor Snape, and when the angry Potions Master turned toward him to lecture about the impertinence and idiocy that is Potter, Harry made his move and splashed water directly onto Snape’s face.

“Potter!” yelled Severus. “What the bloody –“ Soft lips were smashed onto his chapped ones. Wet fingers slide through his hair and a hot, firm body was now fully pressed against his own.

“Potter!” Severus shouted again but this time a warm, slick tongue attacked his open mouth. Trying to escape from the squirming body Severus took a step back, only to slip on the now soapy and water-soaked floor.

Both landed with an ‘oomph’ but while Severus was disoriented by the fall, Harry was now straddling the wet, disheveled Potions Master, who had soap suds covering his face and hair. Harry watched as some water trickled from Snape’s chin down to his neck onto the open area of his chest above his collar. Without a second thought, Harry swooped down and lapped the trail up.

Severus jerked and made a surprised noise. The Potter brat licked him! He could feel the young man sucking and licking his skin. Fingers were rubbing his chest and a heavy weight was pushing him into the wet hard floor. Severus, who still didn't completely grasp what was going on, lifted his head to look at Potter.

The young wizard was now unbuttoning his shirt and kissing his stomach and chest. A lick here, a bite there, a suckle and another lick. His breathing quickened when a warm mouth latched onto his nipple. A tongue flicked and Severus could feel himself twitch, his groin hardening. He managed to move his hands and grabbed a head full of black messy hair. Green eyes glanced up to his and Snape watched as Harry slid out from his grasp to stop at his pants. Not believing what he was seeing, he waited and stared as Harry unbuckled and unzipped his pants. Never breaking eye contact, Snape’s eyes followed Harry’s every moment until the brat finally set him free and took him completely into his mouth.


Snape’s head snapped back and he let out a long-suffering moan. Sweet Salazar! What is the brat doing to him?! Severus could feel Harry’s hot, slick tongue swirling around his tip and shaft. Hands were rubbing and messaging him. His breathing hitched when a sharp sucking movement tightened his entire body. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He was about to burst. Growling, Severus jerked up dislodging Harry from his person and with a strangled war cry he lunged at the confused boy and pinned Harry to the floor. Ripping Potter’s robes open he proceeded to take off his and Harry’s clothes until both of them were completely naked.

Severus splayed his hand all over the younger man. The heat coming off the firm body underneath him was almost unbearable. Inhaling, Severus could smell their arousal, along with Harry’s distinctive scent – cool citrus and basil. Despite everything, Severus had always enjoyed how Potter smelled. A fact that displeased him immensely. But now, at this moment, he couldn’t get enough of Potter – the way he smelled, the way he tasted, how he felt – it was intoxicating.

Positioning himself directly on top of Harry, Severus pressed his hips onto the younger wizard. Grabbing Harry’s arms with one hand and forcing them above his head, Severus used his other hand to grab, message, squeeze, and rub the boy’s tight form. His breathing ragged and his own body and mind heated with adrenaline, Severus stared at the panting body of his most hated student. But instead of seeing the arrogant Boy Who Lived or the brat who is James Potter’s son, the only thing Snape saw was a beautiful young man - flushed face, smooth warm skin, a willing pouty mouth, messy silky hair, green passion-glazed eyes, and a big hard – Severus sucked in his breath.

This is it! That unknown insufferable feeling. That indescribable part of Harry Potter that grated his nerves, raised his hackles, and made his blood boil. Bloody hell! He was genuinely, immensely, uncontrollably, attracted to the impudent brat. Lusted. Desired. Craved. Maybe even . . . liked. After all those years of disgust and hate, before he realized it the courageous idiotic Gryffindor had grown on him. Yes, he still became infuriated and enraged at the brat but the intense dislike had vanished. Replacing it were feelings of loyalty, trust, slight admiration, (he was still horrible at potions) respect, friendship, and even, dare he think it - companionship. The time they spent together: the lessons, the fights, the missions, even the formal functions and parties he was forced to attend, Potter was with him - yelling, fighting, eating, sleeping, laughing, crying, sneering, jeering, talking, caring, helping, learning, discovering, surviving, living - the list goes on. Merlin's Balls! All that time they were bonding!

Harry watched as Severus suddenly stopped, and silently sat on top of him, staring at nothing, a variety emotions passing across his face. Taking this as a sign the young wizard breathed in a lungful of air and took this unexpected pause as a chance to consider what he just initiated. Severus was his hated Professor (still a complete git during Potions) but he knew something had changed over the years. Even after the harsh sessions practicing Occlumency and Legilimency, he found himself wanting to prove himself to Snape. No matter what, the bastard had to recognize that Harry was better then what the man imagined him to be. Harry didn’t know exactly why he acted this way, why he wanted acceptance from Snape, but he knew that right now, this connection between them was what he was looking for. He wanted to do this with Snape. Hell, he wanted to do Snape and Snape do him. The anxiety, the stress, and the tension he always felt with the snarky sexy man – it was all leading up to this.

Wonderful mind-blowing sex.


Harry sat up, resolute, and forcefully kissed Snape out his stupor. The response was immediate. Hands grabbed and pulled. Their bodies continued to rub against each other. Each could feel the strength, the desire, the excitement in the other's body. Moans echoed in the classroom. Both were breathing heavily and their hips were grinding furiously. Harry wrapped his legs around Severus and thrusted his hips more deeply against the Potion Master's lean figure. Suddenly their positions change and Harry was lifted off the floor and placed on the table. Harry gasped feeling the wet countertop, his hand reaching out to support himself, knocking his glasses and some of the vials they had left out to dry. Sharp, loud clangs resounded off the dungeon walls but the two continued to touch and feel one another.

Kissing the younger man while rubbing his nipples, Harry broke off to breathe out a moan. Severus continued his kissing, while roaming his hands along Harry's muscled chest down to his firm thighs. Gripping Harry’s knees Severus opened the young man's legs and with a quick swoop took him into his hot, wet, skillful mouth.

“Oh, f***!” cried Harry. Never in his life did he even dream of this intensely satisfying feeling. The sensation of the older wizard’s tongue swirling around him made him shake with exhilaration. As a teenager living among other hormonal teenagers’ some experimentation and experiences were to be expected. But with a vicious Dark Lord trailing your every step along with an army of psychotic killers, romance, and yes sex, was the last thing on Harry’s mind. Moaning loudly, he knew he was too close. Grabbing a fistful of hair he pulled. Severus stopped and looked up into Harry’s lust-filed face.

“Come in me now, Snape.” Harry was heaving. His breathing and heart rate were wildly out of control. “Severus, do me now.”

“Professor, to you Potter.” Snape growled, greedily soaking up the image of Harry’s sweat-slicked body. He leaned forward and started licking and sucking on the young man’s ear.

“Severus, damn it.” Harry bit Snape’s neck. “Call me Harry.”

Snape hissed, “You’ll pay for that, brat.” He tongued Harry’s ear a few more times, receiving another moan before pulling back and forcing two fingers in Harry’s mouth. The young man groaned and vigorously traced his tongue all over Severus’ fingers. Snape grabbed Harry’s hardness with his other hand, took his thumb and rubbed against the tip, spreading Harry's wetness and started pumping.

Harry bite down on Snape's fingers.

Pulling out from Harry’s mouth, Snape with a fierce growl, once again attacked those soft lips with his own mouth, while he slowly traced his slighty bruised, slick fingers over the young wizard’s chest, circling a nipple, then slide straight down until he inserted them into Harry’s eager tight body.

Harry jerked and one of his supporting arms slid into the soapy water which was now very cold. Harry brought his arms back up and wrapped them around Snape’s neck. Severus shuddered slightly as the warm body pressed closer while feeling the cold water glide up and down his shoulders and back. With his two fingers still going in and out of Harry, Severus bent his head towards the brat and leaned his face against the famous scar. Hot short breathes brushed Harry's skin and hair. Long fingers touching him, widening him, preparing him, slowed and with one last push pulled out. Harry's entire body slumped forward onto Severus, not realizing how much tension and anticipation had built up in him. His stomach clenched when he felt something bigger and warmer touching him.

“Potter. Harry,” the Potions Masters smooth voice vibrated through him, “I’m going to do it now.” And without a second warning Severus plunged into him. Harry shouted and Severus could feel fingers digging deep into his neck and scalp.

Sweet Merlin! They both thought.

Severus could feel every muscle of Harry’s, clenching him and sucking him up. Harry, after the sharp pain, felt only shocks of pleasure every time Snape filled him. Again and again they both plunged into one another. Each could hear the heavy breathing of the other. Their heartbeats were erratic and fast. Harry moaned in Severus' ear making the older man grip his hips even harder. One or both of them screamed in ecstasy. Bodies shaking, they kept a steady pace until both of them sped up, each others holds tightening around the other’s body, kissing, sucking, biting, until finally sweet, wonderful release.


The famous Harry Potter had once again landed himself in detention with everyone’s most favorite teacher to hate, Professor Severus Snape. All of Harry’s friends along with every other House in Hogwarts were baffled about the never ending feud between teacher and student. With the war over, mostly all of Voldemort supporters were captured or missing. Sure there were still Pureblood attitudes and anit-Muggle sentiments but the stark hatred and violent distrust among the Houses were gone. Several months had passed and the unity the Sorting Hat spoke about had finally come about. The two men had spilled blood for each other, they ended a legacy of terror together, and still they fought. No one suspected, except maybe for Hermione and Dumbledore, and well, Mrs. Norris, that Harry and Severus had finally put aside there differences and threw away their previous prejudices and biases. Even with the suspicious lack of deducting points on Snape’s part, no one seemed to realize the deep bond between them.

Two years later, Hermione’s steadily growing suspicions were finally confirmed when the two, now world-famous wizards, were discovered by the twins in a compromising position on Ron’s old bed at the Weasley house. After, Harry and Severus finally decided to come out and admit to people that they were indeed, in a committed relationship. When Hermione and a red-faced Ron asked how they got together the response was that during one detention with Severus, when Harry was assigned to clean some cauldrons, the two, after an argument over washing vials, finally had a chance to really understand each other as well as themselves. And the result?

They loved every mind-blowing minute of it.

* * *THE END* * *