drachenmina (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drachenmina) wrote2008-04-02 01:39 pm
drachenmina) wrote2008-04-02 01:39 pm
Memoria Secludo - chapter 4/5
Title. Memoria Secludo
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drachenmina
Word Count: ~20,600 (Complete, 5 chapters)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Summary: Severus Snape survived Nagini’s bite, but as punishment for his crimes, he has had his memories excised and has been exiled from the wizarding world. Harry can’t resist the opportunity to get to know Snape without their past getting in the way. But what will happen if Snape regains his memories?
Warnings: Object insertion
Harry is 18 in this fic.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 4
Harry tried to keep his mind on his studies, that week at school, but it wasn’t easy. School was feeling like another world to Harry, lately. Real life was him and Stefan, and adult conversations, not worrying about homework and teachers taking points. Even quidditch seemed a bit, well, childish these days.
Harry had looked out a picture of his mum to show Stefan. He hadn’t been able to find one of her on her own, and had eventually settled on one of her with his dad. Not one with Harry as a baby in it. That would just be too weird.
He had to admit to himself, he was curious as to how Stefan would react to the picture of his dad. Would he remember hating him?
When Friday night eventually condescended to come round, knocking on Stefan’s door felt almost like coming home to Harry. He grinned at the scowling figure who opened the door. “Sorry I’m late. Have I got time to come in for a mo’, or do we need to head straight out?”
Stefan regarded him stonily, but Harry thought he could detect a glimmer of a smile in those dark eyes. “One moment only.”
As soon as Harry was over the threshold, he found himself grabbed in much the same way as last Sunday. “Tardiness, Harry, must be punished,” Snape hissed into his ear as he pressed Harry against the door, one hand kneading his arse, hard. Harry could feel himself hardening instantly – and groaned as the pressure was suddenly withdrawn. “Time to go.”
“Prick-tease!” Harry gasped.
Snape smirked. “I told you punishment was in order, did I not?”
Harry grinned back. “Bastard.”
……………………………………..
“So what are we going to see tonight?” Harry asked, once they were on the tube.
“You’d probably call it another queer play. It’s by Christopher Marlowe, a contemporary of Shakespeare’s who most definitely was queer, and concerns, to a large part, the relationship of Edward II and his lover, Piers Gaveston. It’s a history, I should warn you, so there will be few laughs in this one.”
Harry smiled. “Still trying to educate me?” Bugger. Should he have said that?
Stefan was looking thoughtful. “I suppose my manner is somewhat pedagogic at times. Perhaps I was a teacher, once?” The scowl was back.
Harry tried to cheer him up. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll get your memories back.” He paused. “And anyway, it’s not so bad, is it? I mean, your life now? With me?”
“You, Harry, are not always with me.”
Harry looked away. “Yeah, well. I won’t be at school forever.”
“And what will you do when you leave? You mentioned law enforcement. You must be aware that the police are not exactly renowned for their enlightened attitude to homosexuality. I should advise extreme caution before announcing your preferences to any of your colleagues.”
“So? That’s nothing to do with you and me.”
Stefan seemed exasperated. “You must see that it will become extremely difficult for us to continue our… association. In God’s name, Harry, you haven’t even told Hermione!”
“I’m not ashamed of you, all right?” Harry snapped. “It’s just – look, I know what she’ll say. She’ll think I’m, I’m taking advantage of you and – look, it’s difficult, all right?”
It was their stop, so they got off the tube, keeping an uneasy silence until they’d reached street level. As they turned down the street leading to the theatre, Stefan put his hand on Harry’s arm.
“Harry. I did not mean to put pressure on you to reveal our relationship. Believe me, I quite agree as to the unlikelihood of my niece approving. Although I would judge her reasons somewhat differently.” His manner was stiff, and Harry felt his anger melt away at the touch.
He turned to Stefan. “Look, I’m sorry I blew my top about it. It’s been a hard week.” He bit his lip. “I missed you, you know.”
Stefan looked at him with that curiously blank expression Harry was coming to realise meant he was in the grip of some strong emotion.
“And I you.”
……………………………………………
The play was… interesting. To be honest, Harry could have done with something a lot more light-hearted, more like the previous week. Edward II was all about politics and people getting captured and killed, and Harry had had quite enough of that in real life lately.
He hadn’t been at all keen on the gory bits. They’d been sat right at the front, and it had been a bit of a shock, to say the least, when the king’s lover Piers Gaveston had had his eyes put out by a pair of what Harry was pretty certain were anachronistic ballpoint pens, and fake blood had spurted out almost to the audience.
Stefan had seemed to sense Harry’s discomfort, although he obviously couldn’t remember that he’d also recently been in a war, and had discreetly covered Harry’s hand with his own. Suddenly Harry had felt a lot more OK about things.
He’d also thought the king a bit quick, to say the least, to get over Gaveston’s death. “I mean, one minute he’s all, oh lovely Gaveston, shall I never see thee again, and the next it’s Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee here,” he complained to Stefan afterwards. “And everyone kept going on about how unnatural it was, Edward liking blokes.”
“To many people, Harry, it was and still is.” Stefan looked like he was about to say more, but Harry suddenly remembered he’d brought the picture of his mum and dad. Hermione had helped him make a copy of it that didn’t move.
“Um, I just remembered – here’s that photo I mentioned. That’s my mum and, well, my dad.”
Stefan looked intently at the picture. “You resemble your father greatly,” was all that he said.
“Um, yeah, everyone says that. But I’ve got my mum’s eyes. Her name was Lily.” Harry waited, suddenly tense, to see if there would be any further reaction. “Um, you can keep the photo – I’ve got a copy. If you like.”
“Thank you.”
Harry felt he had to ask. “Did you, er, remember anything? Or feel anything?”
Stefan looked away. “No.”
“Sorry.” Harry put his hand in Stefan’s.
………………………………………..
After they’d grabbed something to eat, they headed back to Stefan’s flat. The mood was still a bit subdued, but Harry couldn’t help feeling a tingle of excitement as they got nearer.
If he’d been expecting Snape to grab him the minute they walked in the door, though, he was disappointed.
“Coffee?” Stefan asked, brusquely.
“Er, yeah, OK. If you’re having one.”
Stefan didn’t answer, just headed to the kitchen and put the kettle on, pouring himself a tumbler of whiskey after he’d done so. Harry felt deflated.
“Look, if you’re tired we could just call it a night…” he suggested uncertainly.
“As you wish.”
Oh, bloody hell. “I don’t want to go, but you don’t seem all that keen on me being here.”
Stefan regarded him intently for a long moment. “Come here,” he said finally.
Harry did so, and found himself being gently kissed. Relief flooding him, he relaxed into Stefan’s arms. “Thought you’d gone off me or something,” he muttered when they broke for air.
Stefan stroked his hair. “I regret I have been somewhat out of sorts this evening. Perhaps my choice of play was to blame.”
Harry smiled. “Well, it wasn’t exactly romantic, was it?”
“Is that what you want, Harry? Romance? I’m not sure I am the best person to provide that.”
Harry grinned a little lopsidedly. “Don’t be daft. You take me out to the theatre, we go out for meals, you’re always pleased to see me – how much more romantic could it get?”
Snape smirked. “Let us all be grateful for low standards.” He kissed Harry again, more deeply this time.
Coffee forgotten, they both sank down onto the sofa. When, much later, Harry finally left to return to Grimmauld Place, the awkwardness of earlier had been entirely forgotten.
…………………………………………..
Harry’s good mood stayed with him all through Saturday, even in the face of a spectacularly boring potions essay. Funny how he’d always hated lessons with Snape – he was almost nostalgic for them these days: the new potions master, a scrawny, stuttering man called Professor Bardus who had less chin than Harry had previously thought physically possible, had clearly modelled his teaching style on Professor Binns.
Lessons with Snape might have been humiliating, infuriating and sometimes painful – but at least they were never boring.
He caught Ron and Hermione exchanging knowing glances as they caught him whistling as he washed up after dinner.
But what did he care? It wasn’t like it was a crime to be happy.
……………………………………………..
On Sunday morning, Harry was ready to go out and see Stefan almost before Ron had emerged, bleary-eyed, from his room. Harry overtook him on his way down the stairs.
Ron didn’t seem too impressed with Harry’s plans for the day. “Bloody hell, Harry, are you going to see that Steve bloke again? We hardly ever see you these days!”
“Ron, you see me all week.” Harry grinned mischievously. “Any more of that and I’ll start to think you’re jealous!”
“What? No way - oh, very funny.”
Harry laughed. “Anyway, I thought you’d be glad of a little time alone with Hermione.”
Ron grimaced. “Yeah, but it’s a bit – you know. She spends half her time studying, the other half looking up Snape’s bloody case, and the rest of the time she’s telling me she wants to wait till we’re married. I tell you mate, it’s bloody frustrating!”
“Blokes, Ron. They’re the only way to go,” Harry told him, grinning, and set off for Stefan’s.
………………………………………………………..
This time, they’d arranged to see each other Sunday, both of them accepting that once a week wasn’t going to be enough. They’d made vague plans to take the tube into the centre of London and have a wander round, and Harry was relieved to see that the rain looked like holding off. He’d never been to Covent Garden, and was hoping he could persuade Stefan to take a stroll in that direction.
When Stefan let him in the flat and kissed him, Harry couldn’t work out what was different, at first. Then he realised – Stefan didn’t taste of whiskey. Harry smiled inwardly at himself. Well, obviously, as it wasn’t even lunchtime.
It seemed Stefan wasn’t averse to a trip to Covent Garden, and Harry felt like a kid as they wandered through, gawping at the street performers. He managed to resist asking Stefan if he could go on the old-fashioned merry-go-round, though.
“I’m a little surprised you haven’t been here before, living as you do in London,” Stefan commented.
“Well, I haven’t lived here long. And you know I spend most of my time at school. I always used to spend the holidays at my aunt and uncle’s in Surrey, and they never took me anywhere.”
Stefan frowned. “They were not well off?”
“Nah, they were fine – nice house and everything – they just didn’t like me, that’s all. Whenever they went on holiday I’d have to go and stay with old Mrs Figg down the road.”
“But you went to live with them when you were a baby, did you not? I fail to see why they should have had such an apparently irrational dislike of you.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s – well, it’s complicated. Family stuff,” he lied. “They just didn’t like my parents, so they didn’t like me. End of.”
Stefan’s face darkened. “I should have hoped that adults would be able to look past such things, when dealing with a child.”
Harry didn’t quite know what to say to that.
They had just passed the Royal Opera House, and Harry had noticed Stefan looked a bit wistful. “Are you into opera, too?” he asked to change the subject.
“Ballet is performed there as well, and yes, Harry, I am into both. However, you may be relieved to learn I am unlikely to be introducing you to either unless I manage, against all odds, to find some kind of paid employment.”
Harry coloured. “Um, I know I’m not working, but I’ve, er, got a bit of money my parents left me – “
Stefan gave him a sharp look. “I hardly think they would approve of you frittering it away on evenings out. And particularly not with the company you are keeping at present.”
“What, you think they wouldn’t have approved of, well, us?” As soon as he’d said it, Harry realised how stupid that sounded. He coloured again. “Forget I said that.”
Stefan seemed amused, thankfully. “I may not be able to remember anything of your parents, Harry, but I am able to make a guess based on the general prejudices of my contemporaries. Most parents, I believe, would be less than overjoyed to learn that their son has homosexual leanings. And even the liberal-minded ones would be likely to have misgivings over such a large age gap. The fact that I attended school with them would only add to their discomfort.”
He paused, suddenly looking sombre. “Does that disturb you? To think that you may be going against their wishes?”
“I – “ Harry looked away. “When you put it like that, well, yeah. But I’d like to think they’d have wanted me to be happy. Whoever that meant me being with.”
Stefan’s voice was so soft, Harry almost missed his next question. “And do I make you happy?”
“Yeah.” A strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry looked Stefan in the eye. “Yeah, you do.”
……………………………..
There were plenty of places around to buy sandwiches, so they picked one that didn’t look too pricey and had lunch down by the Thames, taking a stroll along the river afterwards, dodging hordes of tourists. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this content. Stefan seemed relaxed too.
Given the number of topics that were off-limits to them, Harry was amazed that they didn’t run out of conversation, but somehow they didn’t even come close.
He still had butterflies in his stomach, however, as they headed back to Stefan’s flat.
…………………………………………
By common, if unspoken, consent, they’d headed straight for the bedroom, where Snape had kissed Harry, then started to undress him. Heart pounding, Harry had hastened to reciprocate, glad as he did so that Snape was in muggle clothes with a feasible number of buttons.
Once all their clothes were carelessly strewn upon the floor, Harry lay back on the bed, feeling increasingly nervous. This was the first time he’d been completely naked with Snape. The first time he’d seen Snape naked. He felt utterly exposed, weird visions running through his head of Snape laughing at him, mocking him like he used to at school and telling him to get his kit back on if that was all he had to offer.
Snape smiled his strange, not-quite-smile, and leant down to caress Harry’s face. “Beautiful.” Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? He wanted to get his leg over.
Looking at Snape, Harry felt very small in comparison. In every possible way. OK, so he’d known Snape’s cock was bigger than his, he’d seen that before. Held it. Felt it pulse as Snape came in his hand. But to see him leaning over Harry like that – Harry felt he was being measured against the older man, and found wanting.
Snape’s arms were longer, leaner. His chest was hairier, somehow more masculine in his lines. His face – there was nothing soft about that face; it was all hard lines and shadows of stubble. A man’s face.
There was only one jarring note, and Harry’s hands seemed to move without consulting him as they reached up and untied Snape’s hair so that it fell around his face. Better.
Snape smiled again at that, and lowered his body onto Harry’s so he could kiss him. Harry felt little sparks of electricity everywhere their skin touched, and unconsciously bucked upwards, seeking more contact, more pressure. “Hmm, impatient again. But I have other plans for you tonight,” Snape breathed.
Abruptly he was gone, rummaging in a bedside drawer. Harry blinked as he saw Snape was holding a jar of something and – a candle? “Um, are you going to light that?” he asked somewhat apprehensively.
“Mmm, there are certain… games one can play with a lighted candle, but no. Tell me, Harry, have you ever had anything – or anyone – inside you?”
Harry swallowed. “No. I’ve, um,” he hesitated, then ploughed on, “I’ve put a finger up there. Once or twice. When I’m – you know.”
“Indeed.” Snape had an approving look on his face. “Then this will not be wholly strange to you. Pull your knees up.”
Harry complied, then gasped as Snape dipped a finger in the jar and then began to circle Harry’s hole with his now slippery digit. It felt… better than Harry would have expected. A lot better. After a delicious while of this, Snape slicked up the candle with the lubricant and pressed it gently inside Harry’s arse. He moved slowly, thrusting the long, tapered candle a little further each time.
Suddenly, he reached a spot that made Harry gasp. He’d read about the prostate, but his own rather limited explorations had led him to wonder if he even had one. Well, that little question seemed to be cleared up quite nicely.
“Touch yourself,” Snape ordered, and Harry obeyed, wrapping a hand around his cock as Snape continued thrusting the candle inside him, hitting his prostate nearly every stroke. God, that felt amazing, out of this world. Harry moaned, even as he wondered who’d done this to Snape in the past, because surely it must be something he remembered, even if he didn’t remember that he remembered?
Snape was fisting his own cock now, his eyes boring straight into Harry’s, and Harry could hardly even think any more. When Snape closed his eyes, threw back his head and started to come, it was all too much and Harry came too with an incoherent cry, feeling like his whole body was clenching then releasing. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had.
Afterwards, they just lay there, holding each other.
……………………………………….
When Harry got back to Grimmauld Place, he was a bit surprised to find Ron was still up, nursing a butterbeer in the kitchen.
“’Lo mate. You didn’t have to wait up, you know!”
Ron just muttered something indistinct in reply, ending with a wave of his butterbeer at Harry. “Want one?”
“No, ta, I’m off to bed in a mo. You OK, though?” Harry stopped, suddenly concerned. “You haven’t had a fight with Hermione, have you?”
“Nah, we’re good.” Ron played with his glass for a minute. “So, you had a good day, then?”
Harry didn’t realise just how much he was grinning as he answered, “Yeah. We had a great day.”
Ron seemed intently interested in the grain of the wooden table. “So, you sleeping with him then?”
Harry felt his face go hot. “Er, yeah.”
There was a tiny puddle of condensation left on the table by Ron’s beer glass. He was drawing patterns with his finger in it. “Doesn’t it, you know, hurt?”
Harry blinked. “Um, we haven’t done, er, that, yet.”
Ron looked up in surprise. “So what have you done?”
“Well, you know,” Harry temporised. No way was he going to describe this afternoon’s activities to his friend. “Um, hand jobs. And stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Um, yeah. Stuff.” Harry was suddenly very glad he hadn’t accepted that butterbeer. “Look, I’m really tired. Think I’ll go to bed. Night.”
“Night,” echoed Ron gloomily, as Harry fled.
******************************************
Stefan sprawled on the sofa, whiskey in hand. He refused to loll about in bed, regarding Harry’s vacant pillow in maudlin fashion. The TV was on, with the sound off. He found the progression of images, stripped of the inanities they invariably spouted, oddly soothing.
The day had been… as near perfection as one was ever granted in this sorry world. The memory of the previous Friday’s contretemps fresh in both their minds, the mood between them had been tender. It troubled him.
Harry was becoming… increasingly important to him.
It was unwise.
Logic told him that the boy would not stay with him forever. At the moment, all was new to him. Fresh. Exciting.
It would not always be so.
How long could he continue to be fascinated by a man with no past?
With no self?
………………………………………..
Chapter 5
Author:
drachenminaWord Count: ~20,600 (Complete, 5 chapters)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Summary: Severus Snape survived Nagini’s bite, but as punishment for his crimes, he has had his memories excised and has been exiled from the wizarding world. Harry can’t resist the opportunity to get to know Snape without their past getting in the way. But what will happen if Snape regains his memories?
Warnings: Object insertion
Harry is 18 in this fic.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter 4
Harry tried to keep his mind on his studies, that week at school, but it wasn’t easy. School was feeling like another world to Harry, lately. Real life was him and Stefan, and adult conversations, not worrying about homework and teachers taking points. Even quidditch seemed a bit, well, childish these days.
Harry had looked out a picture of his mum to show Stefan. He hadn’t been able to find one of her on her own, and had eventually settled on one of her with his dad. Not one with Harry as a baby in it. That would just be too weird.
He had to admit to himself, he was curious as to how Stefan would react to the picture of his dad. Would he remember hating him?
When Friday night eventually condescended to come round, knocking on Stefan’s door felt almost like coming home to Harry. He grinned at the scowling figure who opened the door. “Sorry I’m late. Have I got time to come in for a mo’, or do we need to head straight out?”
Stefan regarded him stonily, but Harry thought he could detect a glimmer of a smile in those dark eyes. “One moment only.”
As soon as Harry was over the threshold, he found himself grabbed in much the same way as last Sunday. “Tardiness, Harry, must be punished,” Snape hissed into his ear as he pressed Harry against the door, one hand kneading his arse, hard. Harry could feel himself hardening instantly – and groaned as the pressure was suddenly withdrawn. “Time to go.”
“Prick-tease!” Harry gasped.
Snape smirked. “I told you punishment was in order, did I not?”
Harry grinned back. “Bastard.”
……………………………………..
“So what are we going to see tonight?” Harry asked, once they were on the tube.
“You’d probably call it another queer play. It’s by Christopher Marlowe, a contemporary of Shakespeare’s who most definitely was queer, and concerns, to a large part, the relationship of Edward II and his lover, Piers Gaveston. It’s a history, I should warn you, so there will be few laughs in this one.”
Harry smiled. “Still trying to educate me?” Bugger. Should he have said that?
Stefan was looking thoughtful. “I suppose my manner is somewhat pedagogic at times. Perhaps I was a teacher, once?” The scowl was back.
Harry tried to cheer him up. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll get your memories back.” He paused. “And anyway, it’s not so bad, is it? I mean, your life now? With me?”
“You, Harry, are not always with me.”
Harry looked away. “Yeah, well. I won’t be at school forever.”
“And what will you do when you leave? You mentioned law enforcement. You must be aware that the police are not exactly renowned for their enlightened attitude to homosexuality. I should advise extreme caution before announcing your preferences to any of your colleagues.”
“So? That’s nothing to do with you and me.”
Stefan seemed exasperated. “You must see that it will become extremely difficult for us to continue our… association. In God’s name, Harry, you haven’t even told Hermione!”
“I’m not ashamed of you, all right?” Harry snapped. “It’s just – look, I know what she’ll say. She’ll think I’m, I’m taking advantage of you and – look, it’s difficult, all right?”
It was their stop, so they got off the tube, keeping an uneasy silence until they’d reached street level. As they turned down the street leading to the theatre, Stefan put his hand on Harry’s arm.
“Harry. I did not mean to put pressure on you to reveal our relationship. Believe me, I quite agree as to the unlikelihood of my niece approving. Although I would judge her reasons somewhat differently.” His manner was stiff, and Harry felt his anger melt away at the touch.
He turned to Stefan. “Look, I’m sorry I blew my top about it. It’s been a hard week.” He bit his lip. “I missed you, you know.”
Stefan looked at him with that curiously blank expression Harry was coming to realise meant he was in the grip of some strong emotion.
“And I you.”
……………………………………………
The play was… interesting. To be honest, Harry could have done with something a lot more light-hearted, more like the previous week. Edward II was all about politics and people getting captured and killed, and Harry had had quite enough of that in real life lately.
He hadn’t been at all keen on the gory bits. They’d been sat right at the front, and it had been a bit of a shock, to say the least, when the king’s lover Piers Gaveston had had his eyes put out by a pair of what Harry was pretty certain were anachronistic ballpoint pens, and fake blood had spurted out almost to the audience.
Stefan had seemed to sense Harry’s discomfort, although he obviously couldn’t remember that he’d also recently been in a war, and had discreetly covered Harry’s hand with his own. Suddenly Harry had felt a lot more OK about things.
He’d also thought the king a bit quick, to say the least, to get over Gaveston’s death. “I mean, one minute he’s all, oh lovely Gaveston, shall I never see thee again, and the next it’s Spencer, sweet Spencer, I adopt thee here,” he complained to Stefan afterwards. “And everyone kept going on about how unnatural it was, Edward liking blokes.”
“To many people, Harry, it was and still is.” Stefan looked like he was about to say more, but Harry suddenly remembered he’d brought the picture of his mum and dad. Hermione had helped him make a copy of it that didn’t move.
“Um, I just remembered – here’s that photo I mentioned. That’s my mum and, well, my dad.”
Stefan looked intently at the picture. “You resemble your father greatly,” was all that he said.
“Um, yeah, everyone says that. But I’ve got my mum’s eyes. Her name was Lily.” Harry waited, suddenly tense, to see if there would be any further reaction. “Um, you can keep the photo – I’ve got a copy. If you like.”
“Thank you.”
Harry felt he had to ask. “Did you, er, remember anything? Or feel anything?”
Stefan looked away. “No.”
“Sorry.” Harry put his hand in Stefan’s.
………………………………………..
After they’d grabbed something to eat, they headed back to Stefan’s flat. The mood was still a bit subdued, but Harry couldn’t help feeling a tingle of excitement as they got nearer.
If he’d been expecting Snape to grab him the minute they walked in the door, though, he was disappointed.
“Coffee?” Stefan asked, brusquely.
“Er, yeah, OK. If you’re having one.”
Stefan didn’t answer, just headed to the kitchen and put the kettle on, pouring himself a tumbler of whiskey after he’d done so. Harry felt deflated.
“Look, if you’re tired we could just call it a night…” he suggested uncertainly.
“As you wish.”
Oh, bloody hell. “I don’t want to go, but you don’t seem all that keen on me being here.”
Stefan regarded him intently for a long moment. “Come here,” he said finally.
Harry did so, and found himself being gently kissed. Relief flooding him, he relaxed into Stefan’s arms. “Thought you’d gone off me or something,” he muttered when they broke for air.
Stefan stroked his hair. “I regret I have been somewhat out of sorts this evening. Perhaps my choice of play was to blame.”
Harry smiled. “Well, it wasn’t exactly romantic, was it?”
“Is that what you want, Harry? Romance? I’m not sure I am the best person to provide that.”
Harry grinned a little lopsidedly. “Don’t be daft. You take me out to the theatre, we go out for meals, you’re always pleased to see me – how much more romantic could it get?”
Snape smirked. “Let us all be grateful for low standards.” He kissed Harry again, more deeply this time.
Coffee forgotten, they both sank down onto the sofa. When, much later, Harry finally left to return to Grimmauld Place, the awkwardness of earlier had been entirely forgotten.
…………………………………………..
Harry’s good mood stayed with him all through Saturday, even in the face of a spectacularly boring potions essay. Funny how he’d always hated lessons with Snape – he was almost nostalgic for them these days: the new potions master, a scrawny, stuttering man called Professor Bardus who had less chin than Harry had previously thought physically possible, had clearly modelled his teaching style on Professor Binns.
Lessons with Snape might have been humiliating, infuriating and sometimes painful – but at least they were never boring.
He caught Ron and Hermione exchanging knowing glances as they caught him whistling as he washed up after dinner.
But what did he care? It wasn’t like it was a crime to be happy.
……………………………………………..
On Sunday morning, Harry was ready to go out and see Stefan almost before Ron had emerged, bleary-eyed, from his room. Harry overtook him on his way down the stairs.
Ron didn’t seem too impressed with Harry’s plans for the day. “Bloody hell, Harry, are you going to see that Steve bloke again? We hardly ever see you these days!”
“Ron, you see me all week.” Harry grinned mischievously. “Any more of that and I’ll start to think you’re jealous!”
“What? No way - oh, very funny.”
Harry laughed. “Anyway, I thought you’d be glad of a little time alone with Hermione.”
Ron grimaced. “Yeah, but it’s a bit – you know. She spends half her time studying, the other half looking up Snape’s bloody case, and the rest of the time she’s telling me she wants to wait till we’re married. I tell you mate, it’s bloody frustrating!”
“Blokes, Ron. They’re the only way to go,” Harry told him, grinning, and set off for Stefan’s.
………………………………………………………..
This time, they’d arranged to see each other Sunday, both of them accepting that once a week wasn’t going to be enough. They’d made vague plans to take the tube into the centre of London and have a wander round, and Harry was relieved to see that the rain looked like holding off. He’d never been to Covent Garden, and was hoping he could persuade Stefan to take a stroll in that direction.
When Stefan let him in the flat and kissed him, Harry couldn’t work out what was different, at first. Then he realised – Stefan didn’t taste of whiskey. Harry smiled inwardly at himself. Well, obviously, as it wasn’t even lunchtime.
It seemed Stefan wasn’t averse to a trip to Covent Garden, and Harry felt like a kid as they wandered through, gawping at the street performers. He managed to resist asking Stefan if he could go on the old-fashioned merry-go-round, though.
“I’m a little surprised you haven’t been here before, living as you do in London,” Stefan commented.
“Well, I haven’t lived here long. And you know I spend most of my time at school. I always used to spend the holidays at my aunt and uncle’s in Surrey, and they never took me anywhere.”
Stefan frowned. “They were not well off?”
“Nah, they were fine – nice house and everything – they just didn’t like me, that’s all. Whenever they went on holiday I’d have to go and stay with old Mrs Figg down the road.”
“But you went to live with them when you were a baby, did you not? I fail to see why they should have had such an apparently irrational dislike of you.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s – well, it’s complicated. Family stuff,” he lied. “They just didn’t like my parents, so they didn’t like me. End of.”
Stefan’s face darkened. “I should have hoped that adults would be able to look past such things, when dealing with a child.”
Harry didn’t quite know what to say to that.
They had just passed the Royal Opera House, and Harry had noticed Stefan looked a bit wistful. “Are you into opera, too?” he asked to change the subject.
“Ballet is performed there as well, and yes, Harry, I am into both. However, you may be relieved to learn I am unlikely to be introducing you to either unless I manage, against all odds, to find some kind of paid employment.”
Harry coloured. “Um, I know I’m not working, but I’ve, er, got a bit of money my parents left me – “
Stefan gave him a sharp look. “I hardly think they would approve of you frittering it away on evenings out. And particularly not with the company you are keeping at present.”
“What, you think they wouldn’t have approved of, well, us?” As soon as he’d said it, Harry realised how stupid that sounded. He coloured again. “Forget I said that.”
Stefan seemed amused, thankfully. “I may not be able to remember anything of your parents, Harry, but I am able to make a guess based on the general prejudices of my contemporaries. Most parents, I believe, would be less than overjoyed to learn that their son has homosexual leanings. And even the liberal-minded ones would be likely to have misgivings over such a large age gap. The fact that I attended school with them would only add to their discomfort.”
He paused, suddenly looking sombre. “Does that disturb you? To think that you may be going against their wishes?”
“I – “ Harry looked away. “When you put it like that, well, yeah. But I’d like to think they’d have wanted me to be happy. Whoever that meant me being with.”
Stefan’s voice was so soft, Harry almost missed his next question. “And do I make you happy?”
“Yeah.” A strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry looked Stefan in the eye. “Yeah, you do.”
……………………………..
There were plenty of places around to buy sandwiches, so they picked one that didn’t look too pricey and had lunch down by the Thames, taking a stroll along the river afterwards, dodging hordes of tourists. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this content. Stefan seemed relaxed too.
Given the number of topics that were off-limits to them, Harry was amazed that they didn’t run out of conversation, but somehow they didn’t even come close.
He still had butterflies in his stomach, however, as they headed back to Stefan’s flat.
…………………………………………
By common, if unspoken, consent, they’d headed straight for the bedroom, where Snape had kissed Harry, then started to undress him. Heart pounding, Harry had hastened to reciprocate, glad as he did so that Snape was in muggle clothes with a feasible number of buttons.
Once all their clothes were carelessly strewn upon the floor, Harry lay back on the bed, feeling increasingly nervous. This was the first time he’d been completely naked with Snape. The first time he’d seen Snape naked. He felt utterly exposed, weird visions running through his head of Snape laughing at him, mocking him like he used to at school and telling him to get his kit back on if that was all he had to offer.
Snape smiled his strange, not-quite-smile, and leant down to caress Harry’s face. “Beautiful.” Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he? He wanted to get his leg over.
Looking at Snape, Harry felt very small in comparison. In every possible way. OK, so he’d known Snape’s cock was bigger than his, he’d seen that before. Held it. Felt it pulse as Snape came in his hand. But to see him leaning over Harry like that – Harry felt he was being measured against the older man, and found wanting.
Snape’s arms were longer, leaner. His chest was hairier, somehow more masculine in his lines. His face – there was nothing soft about that face; it was all hard lines and shadows of stubble. A man’s face.
There was only one jarring note, and Harry’s hands seemed to move without consulting him as they reached up and untied Snape’s hair so that it fell around his face. Better.
Snape smiled again at that, and lowered his body onto Harry’s so he could kiss him. Harry felt little sparks of electricity everywhere their skin touched, and unconsciously bucked upwards, seeking more contact, more pressure. “Hmm, impatient again. But I have other plans for you tonight,” Snape breathed.
Abruptly he was gone, rummaging in a bedside drawer. Harry blinked as he saw Snape was holding a jar of something and – a candle? “Um, are you going to light that?” he asked somewhat apprehensively.
“Mmm, there are certain… games one can play with a lighted candle, but no. Tell me, Harry, have you ever had anything – or anyone – inside you?”
Harry swallowed. “No. I’ve, um,” he hesitated, then ploughed on, “I’ve put a finger up there. Once or twice. When I’m – you know.”
“Indeed.” Snape had an approving look on his face. “Then this will not be wholly strange to you. Pull your knees up.”
Harry complied, then gasped as Snape dipped a finger in the jar and then began to circle Harry’s hole with his now slippery digit. It felt… better than Harry would have expected. A lot better. After a delicious while of this, Snape slicked up the candle with the lubricant and pressed it gently inside Harry’s arse. He moved slowly, thrusting the long, tapered candle a little further each time.
Suddenly, he reached a spot that made Harry gasp. He’d read about the prostate, but his own rather limited explorations had led him to wonder if he even had one. Well, that little question seemed to be cleared up quite nicely.
“Touch yourself,” Snape ordered, and Harry obeyed, wrapping a hand around his cock as Snape continued thrusting the candle inside him, hitting his prostate nearly every stroke. God, that felt amazing, out of this world. Harry moaned, even as he wondered who’d done this to Snape in the past, because surely it must be something he remembered, even if he didn’t remember that he remembered?
Snape was fisting his own cock now, his eyes boring straight into Harry’s, and Harry could hardly even think any more. When Snape closed his eyes, threw back his head and started to come, it was all too much and Harry came too with an incoherent cry, feeling like his whole body was clenching then releasing. It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever had.
Afterwards, they just lay there, holding each other.
……………………………………….
When Harry got back to Grimmauld Place, he was a bit surprised to find Ron was still up, nursing a butterbeer in the kitchen.
“’Lo mate. You didn’t have to wait up, you know!”
Ron just muttered something indistinct in reply, ending with a wave of his butterbeer at Harry. “Want one?”
“No, ta, I’m off to bed in a mo. You OK, though?” Harry stopped, suddenly concerned. “You haven’t had a fight with Hermione, have you?”
“Nah, we’re good.” Ron played with his glass for a minute. “So, you had a good day, then?”
Harry didn’t realise just how much he was grinning as he answered, “Yeah. We had a great day.”
Ron seemed intently interested in the grain of the wooden table. “So, you sleeping with him then?”
Harry felt his face go hot. “Er, yeah.”
There was a tiny puddle of condensation left on the table by Ron’s beer glass. He was drawing patterns with his finger in it. “Doesn’t it, you know, hurt?”
Harry blinked. “Um, we haven’t done, er, that, yet.”
Ron looked up in surprise. “So what have you done?”
“Well, you know,” Harry temporised. No way was he going to describe this afternoon’s activities to his friend. “Um, hand jobs. And stuff.”
“Stuff?”
“Um, yeah. Stuff.” Harry was suddenly very glad he hadn’t accepted that butterbeer. “Look, I’m really tired. Think I’ll go to bed. Night.”
“Night,” echoed Ron gloomily, as Harry fled.
******************************************
Stefan sprawled on the sofa, whiskey in hand. He refused to loll about in bed, regarding Harry’s vacant pillow in maudlin fashion. The TV was on, with the sound off. He found the progression of images, stripped of the inanities they invariably spouted, oddly soothing.
The day had been… as near perfection as one was ever granted in this sorry world. The memory of the previous Friday’s contretemps fresh in both their minds, the mood between them had been tender. It troubled him.
Harry was becoming… increasingly important to him.
It was unwise.
Logic told him that the boy would not stay with him forever. At the moment, all was new to him. Fresh. Exciting.
It would not always be so.
How long could he continue to be fascinated by a man with no past?
With no self?
………………………………………..
Chapter 5
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Their date and the sex were absolutely perfect ... and seeing how the next part is the last one, I really fear what's going to happen once Snape remembers.
Well, I'll go read it now.
no subject
As always with your fics, it is excellently done,great dialogue, fascinating, emotive and erotic, what is not to like!
I too am rather anxious about the last chapter; dare I read on and risk finding an unhappy ending. Well, I suppose I'd better gird up my loins and brave it ....though if you make me cry at the end of chapter five then sorry and all that, but I'm afraid I'll have to kill you - very slowly.
no subject