Bottled Passion

TITLE: Bottled Passion
AUTHOR: Casey Snape
PAIRING: Snarry
MINOR PAIRINGS:
RATING: NC-17
FEEDBACK: caseysnape@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: Not Mine. I make no money from this. The characters and concepts in the following story do not belong to me. Ms. Rowling and all her assignees, publishers, etc… have that honor. .

WARNINGS: Parts of OTP & all of HBP and DH never happened. OOC. AU/Graphic Sex/Rimming/Masturbation/Voyeurism/Bonding /Dirty talk

July 30, 11:58 PM. Harry stared in awed anticipation at the clock. He had gotten Hermione to tell him about the rules of magical inheritance. Technically, wizards and witches were not supposed to talk about the inheritance with anyone who has not already “awakened”, but Harry had overheard her talking to Ron, their fellow best friend and Hermione’s boyfriend, about her inheritance. He knew he could not get much actual info from tall red-head, so he focused all of his persuasive powers on the hyper-intelligent girl. Besides, she could never last long under his patented “puppy-dog” look.

He knew that, at the stroke of midnight on his 17th birthday, his powers would “unlock”. She told him that the amount of – how did she put it? – physical sensation the person experienced was in direct proportion to the amount of power that person held. Or, as she explained after he stared at her blankly for more than 45 seconds, the more power there is to release, the more it will hurt. She also said something about creature inheritance & bonding, and some other stuff that really didn’t register with him after he heard the pain part. He thought bitterly, “I mean, come on – who could concentrate after that - knowing that you’re Harry bloody Potter and you’ve already beaten the ‘great and gruesome Lord Voldemort’?” He let out a sour groan. He just knew this was going to be one long night.

11:59 PM. Harry settled back on his small bed at Privet Drive. He was surrounded by the old pillows and blankets he’d been nicking since the beginning of summer. He glanced at the clock again. 15 seconds. He watched and started the countdown softly, “10…9…8…7…” He bit down on an old piece of belt leather and continued, “5…4…3…2…”

Pain flared hot and fast in his stomach. It raced through his veins. He clenched his jaw, almost biting through the leather in his determination not to make a noise and wake his hateful ‘family’. His body felt as if it was being consumed by flame. He rolled to his side and curled in on himself. He could barely breath. He could swear that his bones were melting; his blood had to be boiling. Sweat poured off of him, soaking the linens and mattress in his small bed. Stabbing, sharp pains traveled up and down his arms, his legs, his back – it moved to his belly and started upward. His last thought was that his heart would explode as he blacked out.

Sometime later, Harry woke up.

Things were…different. He was not in bed, or at least, he didn’t think he was in bed. He was lying on something extremely comfortable, and his clothes had changed, also. He moved. Everything hurt. Slowly, carefully, he shifted and reached for his glasses, only to realize that he didn’t need them anymore. Oh, that was good. The light was not bright, but it was more than enough for him to see. He shifted again, gradually sitting up on whatever he was on. He flexed his shoulders bit by bit. The soreness was beginning to fade.

Stretching gingerly, he gained his feet. Moving helped relieve the stiffness and pain. He looked around. His bed, it seemed, was nothing more than a large pile of pillows on the side of the room. The room was big and round, with weird, odd shaped windows all around the top of the wall. The walls were dark red, and seemed to give off a stained-glass type of appearance rather than anything else. The pillows were in shades of brown, ranging from a pale beige to a dark chocolate. There were no separate rooms or doors. There was what looked like a sleeping area, and then a small sitting area. There was a low table with a bowl of fruit on the middle that was surrounded by more pillows that he assumed was his dining area. A screen separated one small area from everything else. That, he guessed, would be his bathroom area. A low bookcase curved along with the wall near his sitting area. The books that filled the shelves looked ancient and valuable. On top of the bookcase was pictures of his family and friends. There was even a rather nice one of his secret crush. He smiled. The room was rather nice, he decided.

He saw his trunk sitting to his right. On the top, looking very disgruntled and quite annoyed, was his faithful owl, Hedwig in her cage. Next to her were all of his belongings that he had stashed under the loose floorboard in his room, including his wand. He glanced at his clothes. His chest was bare, and he was wearing a loose pair of silk pants. He had bands around his wrist that looked like gold but felt like a second skin. He noticed that his body had seemed to fill out even more – the muscles that he had already seemed to be even more defined and he had a little more body hair. He’d never be a hairy man, but he wasn’t completely bare. His feet were bare. He made his way over to the screened off area. He was right – it was a bathroom. He glanced at the mirror, and nearly died from shock. His hair was longer – falling neatly to the top of his shoulders. His jaw had become a little more pronounced, making him look more manly, but still held a fey sort of shape. His scar was faded to almost nothing. His eyes seemed to glow a deep emerald color, and his ears! A quick inspection revealed that his ears were pierced, and he had the most beautiful onyx stud earrings in that he had ever seen.

Shaken by the changes in his physical appearance, he left the bathroom and headed toward the sitting area. He saw his wand on top of his trunk and realized the other thing turning seventeen had meant – he could do magic away from Hogwarts! A grin lit his face. This would be fun. Quickly, actually a little too quickly if the spasm in his shoulder meant anything, he grabbed his wand and was…disappointed.

Usually, when a wizard holds a wand, even one that does not belong to him, he feels a zing – a trace of the magic inside the wand, but Harry, holding the wand that had been his since he was eleven years old, felt nothing. He had expected to feel something wonderfully powerful. This wasn’t even the usual rush of magic that he felt when holding his wand. He shook it, slowly at first, then more fiercely. Nothing happened -no sparks, no wild transfigurations – nothing. He tried and tried, but he couldn’t do any spells with his wand. Nothing worked. It was as if he was holding just a twig from any normal tree. He dropped his arms down by his side and let his head hang down to his chest. The useless wand fell to the floor from nearly lifeless fingers.


August 2, 1:25 AM., Severus Snape, Potions Master and Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sat straight up in bed from a dead sleep, ebony wand already gripped tightly in his hand. There was some noise in his sitting room. Damn! He had hoped all this death-eater nonsense was long over and done with. On top of that, whoever it was had awakened him from the most delightful dream about a certain dark haired, green-eyed god that masqueraded as a Hogwarts student. His cock twitched in interest as he fought to push the dream from his head.

The boy, no, man had certainly come into his own last year. Voldemort was defeated with hardly any effort at all by a sixteen-year old Adonis who had no idea of his power or his splendor. Voldemort had made the mistake of capturing the man’s dogfather and had issued a challenge to Harry on Halloween – come out to fight him or the mutt would die. Harry had simply apparated straight to the old snake, looked him square into his red, serpent eyes, and whispered, “Die.” Voldemort had turned to dust. All of his followers had been immobilized from the pain of the dark mark, at least long enough for the arriving Aurors to round them up. Harry had gathered Sirius into his arms and hugged him, then handed the man over to Albus, who had just caught up with the teen.

The Aurors had just grabbed his arms when Harry reached his side. He placed his own hand on Severus’s arm and pulled him away from the MLE officials. “Sorry, fellas –this one isn’t one of snake-face’s men. He’s one of mine,” he pronounced to the stunned officers. He then pulled out a port key and activated it, taking Severus directly to his own rooms at Hogwarts, Harry right by his side.

Harry had stripped him of his robe and gently taken Severus’s arm in his hands. The flesh where the brand had been was rancid – decaying and rotting as the mark tried to recede from its host. The pain was almost unbearable; would have been unbearable if not for the years of experience that Severus had with the cruciatus curse. Harry softly stroked the skin, whispering words that Severus couldn’t understand all the while. Gradually, normal skin tone started to return. Harry sped up whatever he was saying, and suddenly, Severus’s arm was normal – no sign of the hateful imprint at all. Harry smiled, and lit Severus’s world. He kissed Severus on the cheek, and swiftly left the room.

Severus had been Harry’s man ever since.

Shaking himself, he grabbed on his robe and grumbled slightly as slid his feet into his bright purple slippers (he grumbled again, as they were a birthday gift from Albus) and quietly rose from the bed. He could not hear anything else, but he knew something was out there. He silently pulled the door open and slithered into the shadows of the hallway.

Vigilantly, he crept through the shadows toward his sitting room. There was an odd light coming from the room. He slid around the archway, expecting to have to dodge malicious hexes and cruel curses as he took his next breath. There was no one there. He quickly inspected the rest of his quarters. His wards were intact, and showed that no one had been in since he had come in a few hours before.

The light that he had seen was coming from a bottle sitting in the middle of his coffee table. It was a beautiful bottle – a dark burgundy in color, with an ornate, fat, round bottom and a tall, graceful neck. He walked around the table, looking at the bottle from all sides. Fluted pockets stuck out from the top of the body, trimmed in ancient Arabic runes. It was topped with a glass stopper that was the same beautiful garnet as the rest of the bottle. Lists of potions ran through his mind, but he could find nothing that deserved a bottle such as this.

He sat down on the sofa, still careful not to get too close to the bottle. He started casting detection spells at the lovely bottle. An hour later, he had gone through every spell and counter-curse he could think of. The bottle appeared to be safe. He picked it up. It was heavy, too heavy for the size of the bottle.

He held it up, gazing into the scarlet depths. The play of light from within was most fascinating and oddly calming. It appeared to be empty – no, not empty. The glow appeared to be the only thing inside the bottle.
He turned the bottle languidly, mesmerized by the light catching on the runes. He ran his hands reverently over the contours of the body as the radiance from within continued to hypnotize him. All thoughts of where the bottle came from disappeared from his mind. All paranoid fears, unsure feelings – all of it vanished. All he knew was that this container belonged to him. Everything he ever wanted was wrapped up neatly in his hands, if he had the courage to pull the stopper from the top.

Without even knowing that he was doing so, he placed his hand on top of the bottle and lightly touched the heavy plug. His fingers followed the curves, and before he could blink, he had pulled the knob from the opening of the bottle. Emerald smoke filled the room, and there before him, stood his heart’s desire.

Harry was still standing there when he felt something pull at him. It was pulling him up. Smoke – the color of his eyes, he noted absently, filled his room and suddenly, he wasn’t in his room anymore. He looked down at the smoke, and realized that it wasn’t smoke at all – it was him! He looked up and saw the man he was in love with staring at him with shocked ebony eyes.

“Um, professor – what just happened?” the young man asked haltingly. He looked down again. His body was back to the way it was before. That was definitely good. He took a step toward his professor when he suddenly stopped, entranced by the bottle that the man held so possessively in his hands. The bottle looked…familiar. Suddenly, Harry knew. His stomach dropped and his legs gave out from under him. He sat with a heavy thud.

Seeing Harry fall shook Severus out of his daze. He glanced at the bottle and back at the young man. Back to the bottle, and then to the teen again; his mind pieced together what mush have happened. Two days ago had been Harry’s seventeenth birthday – the birthday where he received his magical inheritance, Harry appeared when Severus opened the bottle, Harry was dressed like…well, frankly, like Severus’s best secret dream, and his looks had changed. Sweet Merlin! Harry was a genie!

The bottle almost fell from his hands, but Severus managed to catch it before anything happened. Oh so carefully, he put the bottle back on the table and placed the stopper beside it. He rose and made his way over to the young man. Severus squatted down and pulled the young man into his arms, pulling him up as he stood again. He led him to the couch and sat him down. Harry was obviously in shock.

Severus left Harry on the couch as he went to summon a house-elf. He requested tea for two, which was returned to him in a flash due to his reputation with the castle servants. He carried the tray to the sitting room and poured the tea (black with a hint of sugar for himself; half-tea, half-cream with two sugars for Harry). He placed the cup in the boy’s hand and gave him a stern command to “Drink!”

Harry took a timid sip and was amazed how much that simple act seemed to calm him. Or maybe it was the authoritative way Snape had ordered him to drink. He wasn’t sure about which one it was. He was sure, however, that his cock had definitely liked the powerful tone of the man’s dark chocolate voice. Harry took a few more sips, letting the warmth of the liquid flow over his frazzled nerves. Much better, he decided.

Finally, he looked at his professor. “I think I know what happened. I don’t understand it, and I don’t understand why I am here. This is my magical inheritance, right? I’m…I…I’m a genie.” His lip quivered slightly as he finished his sentence.

Severus looked away hurriedly. It was all he could do to keep himself from capturing that trembling lip with his own and soothing it with his tongue. He started to rise from the sofa, but a firm hand on his unblemished left arm stopped him in his tracks. Staring down at the hand, he took a deep breath, and relayed the facts about new genies as he knew them.

“Usually, genies are born into the djin. On occasion, one is made, due to the coming of age, just as you appear to be. This is because someone in their family, usually not their parents, has genie blood in them. Genies do not command magic as wizards and witches do. Genies are magic. Wands and other channeling objects are not needed. There is little known information about how Genie magic works, but it is well accepted that all they have to do is think about what they want to happen for it to become so.” He paused for Harry to catch up to where he was.

“So, my wand didn’t work because I no longer need it?” Harry felt relieved. For a short while, he had believed that he had lost his magic. “And the room, that was my bottle?” At Snape’s nod in the affirmative, Harry continued, “But aren’t genies tied to a master? They have to serve someone, and their bottles have been the cause of many wars over the centuries.”

Again, Severus nodded in the affirmative. “Yes, but a genie can be freed by the wish of a benevolent master. The genie keeps his magic, and can still travel into the bottle whenever he wants. The only difference is that the genie cannot be used by any other to do that person’s will.”

“Professor, why do you have my bottle?”

Severus was dreading this question. He knew it was coming but he did not have an answer for the student. Showing an outward calm that he did not feel, Severus placed his tea on the tray, then took Harry’s tea and placed it beside his own. “I’m not sure. Maybe…,” he trailed off, his mind racing. “You helped me, after you killed the Dark Lord. You healed my arm, and kept me from being taken with the others. Perhaps, I can return the favor. I opened your bottle – for all intents and purposes, you belong to me.” Severus was surprised at the surge of protective, possessive lust that raged his body at that simple statement.

Unknown to the professor, Harry was in a similar state. To hear the man that he loved say those words put every last hormone in his body in hyper-gear. Unconsciously, Harry leaned forward, placing his lips very close to the older man’s ear. “Yessss,” he whispered. “I am yours.” His tongue snaked out and touched the tip of Severus’s ear lobe.

Shocked, and turned on more than he could ever remember, Severus turned his head. His lips touched Harry’s. Control was a distant memory to both men as desire flamed high and engulfed them. His hands found Harry’s chest and traced his way down. Harry, apparently, had decided to test his new magic, as Severus’s robes and nightshirt disintegrated around him, leaving him in those awful purple slippers and his smalls.

Not to be outdone, Severus began working on Harry’s loose pants. He pulled the stretchy waistband down and groaned in frustrated relief when he realized that genie wore nothing underneath. He wrapped his hand around the hard, velvety length and shivered as the young man groaned, “Gods, yes, Severus. More, “ against his mouth. He trailed his lips and tongue along Harry’s jaw, coming to rest at a small hollow just below his ear. Sucking on that spot seemed to make Harry go wild and buck like a hippogriff.

Severus was just about to renew his attack when the young man pushed him back. He was shocked to find out that they were no longer in his sitting room. Somehow the green-eyed god had transported him to Severus’s bed. He didn’t have a mind to object, however, as Harry’s quidditch-roughened hand found its way under his smalls and skated the length of Severus turgid cock. Severus bit Harry’s neck in response, a little harder that he would have liked.

“Fuck, yes!” Harry all but screamed. “Again, harder,” the young man ordered. Severus hastened to comply. His mouth thoroughly indisposed, Severus decided to make proper use of his hands. He slid the pants down as far as he could. He wrapped one long-fingered hand around the young man’s cock and pulled roughly. The other hand slid around Harry’s hip and came to rest at the delightful crease that hid such wonders. Harry murmured and moved his head down, his tongue and teeth finding Severus’s nipple.

“Get some lube, love. Now.” Again with the commands. If Severus had not been using all his blood supply elsewhere, his impressive brain would have come up with several scathing replies. Instead, his hand automatically left Harry’s arse and found his nightstand. After a moment of fumbling inside the drawer (all without looking as he was still ravaging Harry’s ear and neck with love bites and licks), he found his prize. He rolled, pinning the young genie below him.

He pulled back, admiring the lust darkened eyes, the passion-reddened lips, the very impressive bruises forming on a lithe throat and further down – the tanned, muscled chest and rock hard abdominals, the teasing trail of hair that led his eyes down to a beautifully erect cock that was purpled and leaking. Severus’s mouth watered. He dropped his head down and claimed Harry’s mouth in a soul-consuming kiss. “Say you’re mine, Harry,” he broke away with a pant, “say it!”

“I’m yours, Severus, for as long as you’ll have me. I’ve wanted you for so long.” Severus was astounded, but continued his assault. He couldn’t stop now if all of Hogwarts came in to watch. He stripped the pants from Harry and settled himself between those gorgeous muscled thighs. He dipped his fingers into the now-opened jar of lubricant, and quickly found Harry’s puckered entrance.

Harry moaned and spread his legs. Merlin! This was better than he ever fantasized. He pushed down, trying to get Severus’s finger deeper inside him. “Shhh, my Harry,” the older man whispered against his chest, “I have to go slowly. I don’t want to hurt you.” Something told the potions master that Harry was a virgin, and he would be damned if he messed this up for the boy.

Harry wasn’t in the mood to wait, however. He used his new powers to envision his opening wet and stretched. Severus bit back a growl as his finger slid deeply within Harry’s hole more easily than he should. Impatient boy and his genie magic! Another thrust of his hand, and he realized that Harry was ready for him. He carefully removed his finger and scooped up some more lube. He slathered it onto his painfully hard erection and guided himself to Harry’s puckered entrance. He stopped just short of breaching him, and reached up with both hands to clasp Harry’s hands.

Severus leaned his face down toward Harry’s. “I am yours, as well, my Harry. I have loved you for months. I never thought…,” his words stuck in his throat. He swallowed roughly and tried again, “I am yours until you decide otherwise, and even beyond.” He surged forward, impaling Harry’s body with both his cock and his tongue. He felt Harry’s answering shiver as the young man wrapped his legs tightly around Severus’s hips and lifted himself to meet that first thrust.

His control broke. He began fucking Harry’s mouth with his own, his hands tightly grasping Harry’s, making the encounter all the more intimate. He snapped his hips forward harshly, delighting in Harry’s answering gasp and rise of his hips. Neither man, it seemed, would be able to last long. Severus wanted to grab Harry’s prick and stroke it, but he couldn’t manage to let go of the young man’s hand, and he certainly didn’t want to separate his body from all of that firm, tanned skin enough to get his hand between them.

Harry didn’t mind. The feel of Severus in his arse, the tongue in his mouth, and Severus’s lightly furred stomach rubbing against his cock had him almost to the edge as it was. Severus shifted his weight, pulling his knees closer to Harry, and the change caused Severus to brush over something inside the young man that made fireworks explode in his blood. Before Harry could say anything, or even breathe, he was coming – his arsehole clenching, his cock exploding, and every bone in his body melting under the mandate of his master.

Severus felt the young man’s orgasm. What felt like rivers of warm seed coated their stomachs and that wonderful, tight channel started to seize around him. With a howl, he gave in, filling his lover with his own passion. He collapsed on top of Harry, who cradled his weight with a welcoming sigh.

Sometime later, Severus rolled both of them over, bringing Harry to rest on his chest. Softly, he started, “I…I meant what I said, Harry, both before and during…”

Harry lifted his head. “So did I, Severus.”

A smile touched the dour man’s face. “You did? You…care for me?”

Harry laughed, “No, I don’t *care* for you, you great bat. I’m in love with you. I have been for well over a year now. Why else do you think I took you from the Aurors? I couldn’t let anyone harm you.”

Severus released a breath he didn’t remember taking. “I love you, Harry. I don’t know what else to say.” He looked down at his love, and saw the bands on Harry’s wrists. “I take that back. I do know what to say. I need to free you so no-one could ever use you. I wish for Harry…”

Harry cut him off before Severus could make his first wish. “Severus, I can still grant you two wishes before you wish me free.”

Severus laughed and rolled, pinning the genie beneath him. He kissed him fiercely, until both were breathless and panting with need. He lifted up and smiled down at the dark-haired beauty in his arms, “Harry, having you is everything I could ever wish for. Now, my genie, my only wish is for Harry James Potter to get his heart’s wish: to become free and never have to answer to a master ever again.”

Both men smiled as the bands vanished from Harry’s wrists. A weight he had not noticed before seemed to disappear from his chest, and Harry felt lighter than he ever had before. His kissed his lover. “Well, that was only part of my heart’s wish. The rest of it was to stay with you forever.”

Severus laughed again. “Your wish is my command, my Harry.”

EPILOGUE

Raven Potter-Snape picked up the crimson bottle from the shelf in her parents’ room. She knew the story, just like all of her brothers and sisters. Smiling, she cradled the bottle in her hand, carrying gently outside to the garden. Her heart gladdened at the sight of her six brothers and three sisters standing there waiting on her.

“Hurry up! Dad and Papa will be here any moment...,” her youngest brother, Asher, whined. The oldest of the boys, Daemon, playfully slapped him on the back of the head. “Stop whining. You know how Papa hates that.”

The rest of the siblings lined up as Raven set the bottle in the middle of the table. By age, there was dark-haired, dark-eyed Raven and dark-haired, green-eyed Daemon (the first set of twins), who were in their mid-twenties; Keegan, who was just twenty-one and had auburn hair and green eyes like his grandmother; Devlin was nineteen and was Severus all over again, nose and all; Willow (age eighteen) was a beauty with long, straight black hair and clear blue eyes (a gift from James’, no doubt); Ethan was sixteen, and had black eyes and reddish-black hair; fourteen year old Wyatt a miniature Harry; twelve year old Asher, who had straight, lanky black hair, midnight blue eyes, and the faintest lightning bolt scar on his forehead; and the youngest (and identical twins), ten-year-old Veronica and Sabrina, who had their daddy’s glowing green eyes and brownish-red hair.

A noise in the house had all ten children standing straight and at attention, identical looks of mischief on their faces. Harry entered the garden first, followed closely by Severus.

“Happy Anniversary!”

Both men stumbled, well, Harry stumbled, and Severus simply stopped. “Our anniversary isn’t for six months. What’s all this?”

Raven answered for the children, “I know it isn’t your bonding anniversary – it’s your bottle anniversary. It’s been fifty years since Dad’s bottle appeared in Papa’s rooms.”

Harry blushed. Severus came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his husband. “She’s right, you know.” Harry blushed deeper. It delighted Severus to no end that he could still make his husband blush after all this time and ten children.

Veronica and Sabrina spoke up, “Daddy, Papa – come on. You have to blow out the candles and make an anniversary wish!”

Severus smiled as he looked at his family. He turned Harry around in his arms and looked deep into those wonderful emerald-green eyes, “I have everything I ever wanted right here in front of me. I can’t possibly wish for anything else.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with unshed emotion. He leaned forward and gently kissed his husband’s cheek before whispering in his ear, “Well, how would another baby – or two – sound?”

Severus pulled back and looked at his mate. “Are you…?” Harry nodded. All the children laughed and cheered as their normally calm father swept his younger mate into his arms and kissed him soundly.