Gleanings - Chapter Three
Jun. 10th, 2008 10:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drachenminaTitle: Gleanings
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drachenmina
Word Count: ~26,600 total
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, *past Snupin*
Warnings: Slight BDSM
Chapters One and Two
Chapter Three
Harry wished he had the courage to ask Snape about him and Remus. Just how – together – had they been, before (if he’d interpreted the letter correctly) Remus had got cold feet and called it off. Had they kissed? Had they done… other stuff? He tried to imagine the younger Snape he’d seen in the Pensieve, face contorted in passion as the younger Remus… what? Kissed his neck, maybe, and rubbed Snape through his robes? Took him properly in hand and jerked him off?
Or (and here, Harry was glad that Snape wasn’t around to notice his flush or indeed, the bulge appearing in his trousers) had Remus gone down on his knees and taken Snape’s long, thick cock (Harry was sure it was that – Snape was just one of those people you really couldn’t imagine having been short-changed in that department) into his mouth and sucked… Harry thought he’d better stop speculating right now or he was going to come in his pants like a bloody thirteen-year-old.
After a few days had passed, Harry didn’t reckon Snape had forgiven him for reading his letter from Remus – he wasn’t sure Snape ever actually forgave anyone anything – but he reckoned he was probably as close as he was going to get.
Which brought him round, sort of, to the question he’d asked himself earlier. Did Snape fancy him? It was so hard to tell – Snape still spoke to him like he hated him, although Harry had noticed these last few days that his heart wasn’t really in it any more. Some of the insults were almost affectionate.
But did you even have to like someone to fancy them? Harry had heard of this sort of thing, of course – characters in his aunt’s soaps who hated each other always seemed to end up shagging – but did it ever really happen like that?
Harry tried to imagine himself fancying someone he hated. Malfoy sprang immediately to mind. Could he fancy Malfoy? Harry tried to imagine Malfoy with his kit off, Harry running his hands down Malfoy’s smooth, hairless chest, kissing those pouty little lips – urgh. No way.
Well, maybe it was just a physical repulsion in his case. Harry had never really gone for blonds. Now, who else had he hated?
The trouble was, apart from the Dursleys (and he had so many issues with the thought of fancying one of them he didn’t know where to start) the only person – male person – he’d ever really hated was… Snape. And OK, Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but again he had way too many emotions wrapped up with that little lot to start playing mind games with himself about them.
So… Snape. Thing was, although he’d hated the bloke while he was at school, it had been based on a total misunderstanding of the man. He’d thought things were so black and white, when he was a kid. He’d thought Snape the embodiment of all things evil – hell, for years he’d been far more real a bogeyman to him than Voldemort had – and he’d thought the sun shone out of Dumbledore’s wrinkly old arse.
Both of which viewpoints had gone through a radical re-think after the truth had finally come out. Oh, the things that had originally made him hate Snape were still there – he could still be petty and vindictive as hell – but somehow, they didn’t bother Harry any more, now that he knew that underneath all the defensive behaviour was a genuinely good, brave man.
So, for the purposes of discovering if you could fancy someone you hated, there probably wasn’t a lot of point trying to see if he could get a hard-on by imagining Snape with his robes off.
Except, Harry found himself wanting to do it anyway. And feeling guilty, like he was invading Snape’s privacy again.
Oh, bugger it. It wasn’t like he was going to find out, was it?
So… mmm, he’d be thin, obviously, you could tell that even with all the layers he always wore, even when nipping out to the loo in the middle of the night, for God’s sake. He’d definitely have a hairy chest (Harry liked a hairy chest on a bloke), maybe just starting to grey. Harry took a deep breath. Yep, definitely some interest there from the general direction of his pants.
He’d have scars too, probably. All that time as a Death Eater – or pretending to be one – had to have left some traces. Harry found he didn’t want to dwell on that, and he let his mental gaze fall. Down past imaginary-Snape’s flat, even concave stomach, to his cock.
Bloody hell, imaginary-Snape was well hung! Well, thought Harry with a smirk, even he’d heard what they said about men with large noses.
Harry’s jeans were way too tight now so he undid them hurriedly, his hand curling round his gratefully freed cock. Oh, yes. Snape’s cock would be large and thick. Dark with blood, it’d point straight up at Harry, daring him to touch it. And he wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing, was he? He’d drop to his knees and show Snape’s cock he wasn’t afraid of it. He’d take the head into his mouth, and – here Harry faltered, not too sure how blowjobs were actually supposed to go, once you’d done the obvious bit of getting your mouth round it – and Snape would love it, he rallied. He’d be crying out for more, yelling Harry’s name, and suddenly his come would be spurting into Harry’s mouth… ahhhh!
Harry came, panting, his wrist aching a bit. Oh God. His best wank session ever, and it’d been over Snape.
He was doomed.
And it was all completely beside the point because he still hadn’t worked out if Snape could possibly fancy him. But it was definitely looking like Harry wanted him to.
Over the next few days, Harry watched Snape like a hawk, trying to see if he could find some sign of interest in him.
Nothing.
The only thing he was certain of was that Snape got noticeably more irritable, probably as a result of Harry’s constant observation. Harry was crushed. Should he – make a move, and see what happened?
Huh. Most likely, what would happen was that he’d end up hexed halfway to Hogwarts. In any case, Harry wasn’t sure he even knew how to make a move, his entire experience to date consisting of one excruciating attempt to ask a girl out, and a rather more successful impetuous grab-and-kiss.
He couldn’t see either of those approaches working with Snape.
Then, as Snape mentioned casually that he’d be having one of his not-infrequent nights out on Friday, a nasty thought hit Harry right in the gut. What if Snape already had someone?
Someone who wasn’t Harry.
Someone who was more his age, maybe. Less volatile. More accepting. Not so immature.
More like Remus had been, in fact.
The more Harry thought about it, the more it twisted his insides up in knots. He had to know. He could just ask Snape, he supposed…
Yeah, right. He could imagine how that’d go:
Him: Oy, Snape, you shagging anyone?
Snape: Sadly no, Potter, I am kept far too busy plotting the long overdue demise of a certain annoying child with no respect for the privacy of others. Which will be imminent, by the way.
That’s if he didn’t just hex him on the spot for gross impertinence.
Although, it wasn’t that unreasonable that he take an interest in Snape’s relationships, was it? Seeing as he was Teddy’s other parent?
Yeah, right. Snape’d see through that one with his eyes closed.
Something a little more subtle was needed…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Since Snape had already said he was going out on Friday, Harry casually mentioned he was planning on having Ron and Hermione round, “and maybe a couple of other people, if they can make it.” He was fairly certain there’d be no chance Snape would change his mind and stay in once he’d heard that.
In fact, the only person he’d invited was Hermione.
Snape hadn’t yet gone out when she arrived, and Harry hopped from one foot to the other nervously, listening with only half an ear to Hermione’s greetings as she emerged from the Floo. He strained to catch any sound of Snape’s departure.
“Harry?” Hermione was looking at him in concern. “You look awfully distracted.” She smiled, encouragingly. “Now, why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what it was you wanted to talk to me about.”
Yes! Harry heard the front door slam. Snape had gone!
“Um, babysitting. I need you to babysit Teddy for me. Right now. Bye!” Harry fairly ran out of the house, desperate not to lose sight of his quarry. He’d reluctantly decided against using his cloak – it was all very well for sneaking round places like Hogwarts, but if they went somewhere crowded, he’d end up being constantly jostled, and the last thing he needed was some pub-goer loudly telling his mates some git had spilled his pint and then disappeared, literally. As he followed Snape, Harry cast a subtle notice-me-not charm. People would know there was someone there, but they wouldn’t – Snape wouldn’t – pay him any attention or recognise who it was. He hoped.
Thankfully, Snape didn’t walk far, as Harry was finding trailing him a lot harder than he’d thought it would be. He walked into a pub not far from King’s Cross and ordered a pint. Harry waited until he’d gone off to find a seat before getting his own drink – after all, a bloke in a pub without a drink was just asking for attention. Harry took his lager shandy to the far end of the bar, where he could sit on a stool and watch Snape without looking too obvious.
Snape didn’t seem to be meeting anyone, Harry thought with relief – or if he had been, they’d stood him up. A couple of blokes nodded to him, like he was a regular here. Which made sense really, because after he’d been there a while Harry had finally cottoned on to the fact that it was a gay pub.
Blokes were – well, propositioning other blokes, and every now and then a couple of them would leave together. Harry tried not to think about what they might be going off to do. He wasn’t sure the notice-me-not charm was proof against a raging hard-on.
Harry tried to slouch down behind the beer taps as he noticed Snape coming up to the bar again, empty pint glass in hand. Expecting him to simply get another drink, Harry was horrified when he saw him put a hand on the shoulder of some spotty git sitting on his own. Snape spoke into the lad’s ear for a minute, and acne-boy grinned and nodded, whereupon they both headed out the back door of the pub.
Harry practically fell off his barstool in his hurry to follow.
The door led to a dark alleyway, empty except for a couple of overflowing bins. Snape and his pickup were nowhere in sight. Harry slapped the wall in his frustration and turned to go –
- only to find himself slammed against the filthy brickwork by an irate Snape. “Looking for someone, were you Potter? Fancied a quick thrill catching your old professor with his pants down, hmm? Let me guess. Not quite sick enough to get up to anything sordid in an alleyway yourself, but just sick enough to want to watch?”
“No!” No, he didn’t want to watch Snape getting sucked off or fucking someone or whatever the hell it was he liked to do with boys in alleys.
And his cock wasn’t getting hard just at the thought of it.
Snape straightened up and moved away enough so that Harry could breathe again, and he braced himself for another diatribe. But all Snape said was, “You are supposed to be looking after our son. I suggest you do so.”
Feeling like he was eleven again, and had been caught sneaking round Hogwarts after hours, Harry apparated back to Grimmauld Place and told a relieved and rather annoyed Hermione her baby-sitting duties were over.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Snape didn’t come back for hours. Harry didn’t like to think what he was up to, all that time. Of course, he reasoned, it would be totally like Snape to stay out on purpose just to piss Harry off, and that thought made him feel a bit better.
He’d actually gone upstairs and was about to get ready for bed by the time Snape eventually came back in. Harry heard him coming up the stairs, more by the creaking of the stairs themselves than by the sound of his footsteps, which were as soft as ever. He hesitated, then thought, hell, he hates me already, how much worse can it get? and crossed the landing to Snape’s room.
Harry knocked, but didn’t wait for a reply as he wasn’t sure he’d get one. Snape had just taken his shoes off, and stood up when Harry walked in. “What do you want now, Potter?” His voice was tired, rather than bitter, which was possibly a good sign.
“It’s not sick. Two blokes together, I mean. It’s not sick, it’s just different, that’s all.”
“Ah. Do I detect Miss Granger’s influence here?”
“No, actually. I’ve never thought there was anything wrong with being gay. Uncle Vernon always used to go on about poofs and queers almost as much as he did about wizards and I always thought, anyone he hates can’t be all bad. And what’s the big deal, anyway? It’s not like we’re forcing anyone else to go round snogging blokes!”
Snape actually laughed at that, and Harry began to strongly suspect that wherever he’d been for the last few hours, it was probably licensed premises. “So. I am to understand, Potter, that you view sexual activity between men as perfectly normal. Tell me, what are your views on spying on said sexual activity?”
Harry flushed. “Look, I’m sorry about that, OK? I just wanted to find out whether you were up to anything dodgy - you know, dangerous. After what you said about Hampstead Heath - ” And I wanted to know if you had a boyfriend, he didn’t add.
“So now you know, Potter. I merely exchange your company for that of that of other men who share my proclivities and find me equally unattractive.”
Harry was shocked at the bitterness in Snape’s voice. How many had he had, to be saying something as revealing as that? It gave Harry the courage to step forward, saying, “I don’t find you unattractive.” He held his breath.
Snape seemed to erupt in fury. “Will this mockery never cease? I have eyes, Potter, and it may surprise you to learn that I occasionally employ them to glance in a mirror. I have no idea what you expect to gain from this charade – “
“It’s not a bloody charade! You talk like you’re the bloody elephant man, and it’s a load of crap - ”
“Enough!” Harry stepped back involuntarily as Snape moved towards him. “If you are not mocking me, you are deluded. I suppose both are equally likely. Well, I believe I hold the cure for either eventuality.” That saying, he began to tear his clothes off, in front of a stunned Harry.
“Look at me, Potter,” he said a little more calmly, and swaying only slightly, when he was fully undressed. “Is this what you want?”
Harry did as he was told, and looked at him. He supposed he was expected to run away screaming, but he was Harry bloody Potter; he’d seen far scarier things than a naked Snape.
Not many of them recently, of course.
Actually, Snape unclothed looked pretty much as Harry had imagined he would. You could tell even with his kit on how skinny he was, and the scars were only to be expected. As far as Harry knew, Snape didn’t take a lot of exercise, so he hadn’t been expecting a muscular physique. In fact, there was a wiry strength to the man that surprised Harry.
Unable to stop himself, Harry looked down. Just as he’d pictured it, Snape’s cock was long and thick, even totally flaccid. He looked up, straight into Snape’s eyes. Was this what he wanted? Part of his anatomy certainly seemed to think so, as Harry stepped forward, telling himself that at least he was pretty safe from Snape hexing him – if he’d had a wand on him, Harry would definitely have seen it.
Thinking he was probably dead just as soon as Snape sobered up, Harry nevertheless took another step forward until he was almost touching the naked man in front of him. “Yeah, I want this.” He took a deep breath. “I want - you.” His right hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and a death wish to go with it, as it inched forward and wrapped itself lightly around Snape’s cock.
Snape gasped, and began to harden instantly. Harry could feel his own heartbeat speeding up as the cock in his hand rose.
“Potter…” Snape began.
“Yeah,” Harry grinned in response, feeling a little light-headed. He was in Snape’s room, holding his cock. Right. That was the sort of thing that happened every day. He swallowed, and began to stroke, gently. Snape gasped again, and repeated, “Potter…” Then his hands came up, and began to undo Harry’s shirt.
OK, definitely light-headed now, Harry thought, followed by, so that’s why shirts have buttons, as he watched, mesmerised, as Snape’s impossibly long and slender fingers deftly undid each one, like a couple of albino spiders performing some intricately choreographed dance. Snape pushed the shirt back on Harry’s shoulders, and he wondered if he was supposed to let it slip off altogether, but to do that he’d have to take his hand off Snape’s cock and he wasn’t sure if it was safe to let go yet.
Harry’s left hand decided it wanted in on the action, and came up and around Snape’s neck. The git was unbending, and even if Harry stood on tiptoe he knew he wouldn’t be tall enough, so he said, “Kiss me!” Snape looked a bit nonplussed at that, but eventually leant down and pressed his lips against Harry’s.
It was nothing like kissing a girl. Snape tasted of whiskey and felt like stubble, and Harry strongly suspected Ginny had had a lot more experience kissing than Snape had, which didn’t make sense, given that he was so much older. Did he not like kissing? He didn’t seem to mind doing it with Harry, though.
Harry’s glasses got in the way, so he tore them off left-handed and flung them away any old where, figuring he could always do a Reparo later. “Better,” Snape breathed into his mouth, making him smile.
The kissing was great but Harry’s cock was telling him that something was missing. He fumbled with his belt buckle with his left hand. Snape seemed to notice his struggles, for abruptly Harry’s right hand was left bereft as Snape sank to his knees, easily undid Harry’s jeans, pushed them down and God! sucked Harry’s cock down whole.
“Gnh!” said Harry, articulately. Snape’s hand was on his balls, rolling them around, then slipping behind to circle his hole with one finger. Harry was unprepared for it to suddenly slip inside him. “Gah!”
Snape stopped sucking and looked up at him. “You wish me to stop?”
“No! Fuck, no. Just – not used to it. But don’t stop.” Snape was looking at him oddly, so Harry nervously carried on talking. “Um, maybe we should move to the, um, bed?”
Snape nodded and straightened, and Harry hurriedly kicked off his jeans and followed him to the bed. Once there, he wasn’t sure what to do. If Snape was going to fuck him (and he almost came, then and there, at the thought) should he be on his hands and knees?
“Lie on your back. Knees up.” Fuck. Had he been thinking out loud?
Snape was opening one of the bedside drawers. He took out one of the jars Harry had seen earlier. Harry flushed as he realised what must be in it. Sure enough, Snape scooped out a dollop of the stuff and used it to slick down his fingers. Harry’s heart was beating wildly at the thought of where those fingers were going to be in a minute. Snape’s dark eyes never left his as he shifted until he could reach Harry’s arse comfortably with his hand, whilst his mouth – fuck, his mouth was back on Harry’s cock and it felt fucking amazing.
Snape’s finger slipped easily into Harry’s arse this time, impaling him further and further. Snape must have sensed how close Harry was getting as he took his mouth off Harry’s cock, ignoring Harry’s involuntary cry of protest. He added another finger to Harry’s entrance, and Harry could feel the stretch now as he moved them about, and then suddenly he moved them just right and Harry cried out again, it was so absolutely bloody fucking fantastic. “Do – do that again,” he pleaded.
Snape’s answer was to add a third finger to the mix, and that was definitely a bit uncomfortable, but Harry didn’t care, he was so desperate for Snape to hit his prostate again. And then he did, and it was too much and oh, God! Harry was coming, coming in huge thick spurts of spunk all over his belly without anything even touching his cock.
When he came back to himself, Harry began to wonder if Snape was going to be mad at him for coming so soon. “Are you going to kill me now?” he asked, only half-joking.
“No, Mr Potter. I am, however, going to fuck you.” Harry shivered. Snape had the jar again and was slicking up his cock with the stuff. It looked way too large to fit into Harry. Once again, Snape answered his unasked question. Surely he was too pissed to be using Legilimency? “Yes, it will hurt. But not for long, I trust.”
Unbelievably, Harry could feel his cock stirring faintly with signs of renewed interest in the proceedings. He swallowed. “Um, you’ve done this before, right? Because, you know, I haven’t exactly… “
“Yes.” It was almost a hiss, and despite his nervousness, Harry was definitely getting hard again.
“Should I, um, do something about this?” Harry indicated the mess he’d left on his belly.
“No. Leave it.” Snape reached over with one dextrous hand, and began to sweep his fingers through Harry’s spunk, moving it around his belly, massaging it into his chest. Harry gulped as Snape’s fingers, slick with come, circled his nipples, and gasped as the fingers were replaced with a tongue that proceeded to thoroughly lick him clean.
“So, um, how do you want me to, er…?” Harry asked when Snape seemed to have finished his snack.
“Stay on your back. Raise your knees to your chest – that’s right.” Snape hoisted Harry’s legs over his shoulders. Harry felt ridiculously vulnerable. It didn’t help that Snape simply knelt there in front of him, just looking at him, for a long moment.
Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision, and moved forward, angling himself so that Harry could feel the head of that thick cock pressing against his arsehole. Snape pushed harder, and Harry could feel it straining at his entrance until, abruptly, it breached him. He gasped. The feeling of Snape’s cock inside him felt weirdly significant in a way his fingers hadn’t.
Snape stilled, breathing harshly. “’S OK, you can - move,” Harry told him. Snape did so, slowly, and Harry felt himself gradually stretched and filled. Filled by Snape.
He risked a look up at Snape’s face, then, and saw an expression he couldn’t decipher in those dark eyes. Harry wondered, for a moment, what this meant to Snape. Was it more, or less, than fucking a stranger in some alley? Harry hoped it was more, and began to regret not waiting until Snape was sober.
Of course, there was a serious possibility he’d have died of old age before he got any action, in that case.
Then Snape began to move, and all introspection fled, to be replaced with a feeling of oh God, this is amazing and why the hell haven’t I done this before? Snape was hitting his prostate with every other thrust and Harry couldn’t help himself, he somehow worked a hand in between them and started to fist his own cock.
Snape seemed to like that and speeded up. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead onto Harry’s face. Harry licked it away, the salty taste only seeming to amplify his arousal. He was sure it was bad manners or something to come twice before your lover had come once, but he reckoned Snape’d get over it as he felt his balls tighten and he was coming again, rather less copiously than before.
Snape stilled, and for a crazy moment Harry thought he was about to rip into him verbally for his appalling bedroom etiquette, but then he shuddered, and Harry realised the older man was coming too. He could feel Snape’s cock pulsing inside him, and it felt so right, like a sort of completion, and he grabbed Snape’s head and pulled him down roughly, kissing him deeply.
Harry’s legs were starting to seriously complain about the positions he was forcing them into, so regretfully, he let go of Snape, who gazed at him silently for a moment, then pulled out and moved to one side. Harry let his legs fall to the bed with a sigh of relief, and turned to his lover. “That was, that was – well, bloody amazing, really.”
Snape didn’t speak. Was he regretting it? Was he about to come over all Snapelike and tell Harry to piss off?
Bugger that. Harry stretched his arm around Snape’s unyielding figure, and snuggled in tight. “Night,” he said drowsily, and fell asleep smugly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next morning, Snape was still in bed with him but Harry didn’t get a chance to enjoy it as there was a very small, very loud figure bouncing around at eye-level calling “Hay! Bapa!” Teddy had got out of his cot again.
They still hadn’t worked out how he did it, although Harry’s private theory was that he morphed himself skinny and slipped out through the bars – after all, why bother climbing if you didn’t have to? Harry smiled at the boy, and started to get up.
Urgh. There was something crusty all down the backs of his thighs, and his arse appeared to be stuck to the sheets. Harry realised he looked, and pretty much felt, like something the cat had dragged in and thrown up on. “Um, hold your little horses, Teddy. Harry’s got to clean up a bit.”
Teddy giggled. “Yeah, easy for you to laugh, mate.”
There was a grunt from the other side of the bed. Harry braced himself, and then risked a greeting. “Um, morning?”
Snape stared at him unnervingly.
“I’ll, I’ll go and make the coffee then, shall I?” Harry peeled himself away from the bed, wincing a little, and scooped up Teddy, immediately wrinkling his nose. “Urgh. With a quick detour to the changing table, yeah mate?”
Trying not to breathe too deeply, Harry set about his morning duties.
By the time Snape emerged, Harry had had time to do a quick cleansing charm on himself and pull some clothes on, which made him feel at least slightly armoured against whatever Snape was going to throw at him. Harry was feeling increasingly guilty about his actions the night before – after all, he hadn’t been drunk.
He devoutly hoped that Snape had been too drunk himself to notice this.
Snape stalked into the kitchen in what Harry privately called his vamp-mode, with silent tread. If it hadn’t been for the glare burning a hole in his shoulders from behind, Harry wouldn’t have known he was there.
“Right, so, um, coffee. Here.” He handed Snape a mug – or rather, set it down on the table just inside Snape’s reach, uncertain if the other man was going to bite him this morning.
Snape blinked, which Harry supposed was all the thanks he was going to get.
This was killing him. “So. Um. Are we, um – you know?“
Finally Snape spoke. “Are we what, precisely, Potter?”
Good question. “Are we OK? About last night? And, um, does that mean that we’re, you know – fuck, you probably don’t, do you? Are we together, now? ‘Cause I think I’d like us to be. If you want to. If you’re not actually thinking about casting an Unforgivable on me right now.” He trailed off. Snape was still just staring at him. “Can you stop that? The staring thing, I mean. It’s really freaking me out.” Harry felt like a total bastard when Snape looked away abruptly.
“Potter.” He paused. “Harry.”
“Hay!” Teddy squealed from his high chair. Harry was grateful to him for breaking the tension. Snape actually smiled – well, not smiled, really, but he certainly un-frowned a bit.
“Harry. I am – unpractised with relationships.”
“Yeah, well me too. We could practise together. I mean, we spend a lot of time together anyway – “
“So this is to be a marriage of convenience, as it were?” The frown was back.
“No! I just meant,” Harry paused. What had he meant? “I meant, we know we can get on together OK, and last night – you do remember last night, by the way? ‘Cause I think you were a bit pissed – anyway, last night was, well. Fantastic. And you haven’t hexed me yet, so I’m hoping you didn’t think it was totally horrible, even though I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. And that can only get better, can’t it? With practice. So we should, um. Practise.”
“Potter?”
“Mmm?”
“Shut. Up.”
Harry did so, with a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It’s because I’m not him, isn’t it?” he asked dully when the silence had got too loud to bear.
“What? Potter – this, whatever it may be, is not about Remus. You appear to be under the misapprehension that I have spent the last twenty years pining for him. I assure you I have not.”
“So why – why Teddy?”
“There is a difference, Potter, between recognising one’s obligations and undying love.”
“So – so it’s just me, then? What am I – too young, too stupid, too me?”
Snape sighed. “All of the above, probably. But think, Potter – how do you suppose Teddy will react, should we embark on some sort of relationship? I trust I do not need to tell you just how unlikely it is that we will be able to part on good terms – “
“So we won’t part, then, OK?”
“How fortunate I am to be living with a boy whose mere pronouncement of a desire has the power to make it fact.”
“That’s nothing to how lucky I am to be living with a bloke who’s a total git,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Look, you seem to be saying, let’s not do anything in case it might end badly. Well, too late. In case your memory’s a bit fuzzy – maybe it’s old age, or something - we already did something. And as far as I can recall, which is probably better than you, it went pretty much OK. And, and maybe if we get together, it won’t last. But maybe it will, OK? It’s not like we haven’t proved we can live together, raise a child together – if you look at it that way, we’re practically bloody married already.” Harry paused to draw breath. “Don’t you want to be happy?”
Snape looked at him, and Harry was certain he was about to hear a diatribe on his arrogance and presumption in assuming he could be the one to make Snape happy. But instead, all Snape said was, “Why?”
“Uh? Why what? Why would you want to be happy?”
Snape sighed. “No, you little fool. Why do you want this?”
Harry was – floored, for a moment. He’d been so focussed on why Snape might or might not want to have a relationship with him, he hadn’t taken a moment to analyse his own desires. He suspected he might not have been very good at it in any case: he tended to leave that sort of thing to Hermione, as a rule.
But he had to say something, and he didn’t reckon “because I do” was going to cut it.
Harry could feel himself flushing. “I – look, I just like you, OK? Now I’ve got to know you properly. I mean, you’re great with Teddy, and you’re even nice to me – sometimes - these days. And last night was bloody brilliant. I, um, I think you’re my type, if I’ve got one – I mean, I tried thinking about shagging Malfoy once, and it was a right turn-off, I can tell you. And I just think it could be, um, nice. Us together.”
Harry trailed off. There was so much wrong with that little speech he didn’t know where to start – telling the bloke he’d been fantasizing about someone else, describing their possible relationship as nice… He cringed instinctively, waiting for the sarcasm to start.
“Potter.” Snape sounded exasperated. “You have, as usual, entirely failed to think this through. Even if I allow there may be some chance that a relationship between us might not be totally doomed, Teddy will not always be as young, as innocent, nor I hope as inarticulate as he is now. Do you honestly imagine that if we have any sort of relationship we will be able to hide it from him? He will notice, Potter, and then he will talk. That is what children do.”
“So? I don’t have a problem with him knowing his dads – care for – each other, and I don’t give a toss what anyone else thinks! And face it, who’s he going to tell? It’s not like he’s going to be mixing with other wizarding kids much – it’s going to be hard enough to get him into Hogwarts, let alone anywhere before that.”
“So. You are content, then, for your friends – for the Weasleys – and for anyone else whom they may see fit to inform to know that you are embroiled in a perverted relationship with a man twice your age?”
“It’s not – OK, OK, I get what you’re saying. But d’you really think they’re going to be that appalled? Don’t you think they’re going to want me – us – to be happy?”
“People who want you to be happy, Potter, invariably wish you to do so in a manner that is congenial to them.”
“God, you’re cynical. People aren’t always as bad as you think.” Harry bit his lip, then walked up behind Snape’s chair, putting his arms around the man. Snape tensed, but didn’t move to dislodge Harry’s hold. Harry held his breath until the bony shoulders suddenly relaxed and a hand came up to clasp one of his.
“So. You are resolved upon this folly, then.”
Harry grinned. “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” He bent down to kiss the older man’s cheek, and found himself unexpectedly grabbed and pulled down to sit on Snape’s lap. A hand moved up to stroke his cheek.
“Is there no cure for this madness?”
“’Fraid not.” Harry kissed him.
“Then Merlin save us all, as it appears to be contagious.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter Four
Author:
drachenminaWord Count: ~26,600 total
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, *past Snupin*
Warnings: Slight BDSM
Chapters One and Two
Chapter Three
Harry wished he had the courage to ask Snape about him and Remus. Just how – together – had they been, before (if he’d interpreted the letter correctly) Remus had got cold feet and called it off. Had they kissed? Had they done… other stuff? He tried to imagine the younger Snape he’d seen in the Pensieve, face contorted in passion as the younger Remus… what? Kissed his neck, maybe, and rubbed Snape through his robes? Took him properly in hand and jerked him off?
Or (and here, Harry was glad that Snape wasn’t around to notice his flush or indeed, the bulge appearing in his trousers) had Remus gone down on his knees and taken Snape’s long, thick cock (Harry was sure it was that – Snape was just one of those people you really couldn’t imagine having been short-changed in that department) into his mouth and sucked… Harry thought he’d better stop speculating right now or he was going to come in his pants like a bloody thirteen-year-old.
After a few days had passed, Harry didn’t reckon Snape had forgiven him for reading his letter from Remus – he wasn’t sure Snape ever actually forgave anyone anything – but he reckoned he was probably as close as he was going to get.
Which brought him round, sort of, to the question he’d asked himself earlier. Did Snape fancy him? It was so hard to tell – Snape still spoke to him like he hated him, although Harry had noticed these last few days that his heart wasn’t really in it any more. Some of the insults were almost affectionate.
But did you even have to like someone to fancy them? Harry had heard of this sort of thing, of course – characters in his aunt’s soaps who hated each other always seemed to end up shagging – but did it ever really happen like that?
Harry tried to imagine himself fancying someone he hated. Malfoy sprang immediately to mind. Could he fancy Malfoy? Harry tried to imagine Malfoy with his kit off, Harry running his hands down Malfoy’s smooth, hairless chest, kissing those pouty little lips – urgh. No way.
Well, maybe it was just a physical repulsion in his case. Harry had never really gone for blonds. Now, who else had he hated?
The trouble was, apart from the Dursleys (and he had so many issues with the thought of fancying one of them he didn’t know where to start) the only person – male person – he’d ever really hated was… Snape. And OK, Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but again he had way too many emotions wrapped up with that little lot to start playing mind games with himself about them.
So… Snape. Thing was, although he’d hated the bloke while he was at school, it had been based on a total misunderstanding of the man. He’d thought things were so black and white, when he was a kid. He’d thought Snape the embodiment of all things evil – hell, for years he’d been far more real a bogeyman to him than Voldemort had – and he’d thought the sun shone out of Dumbledore’s wrinkly old arse.
Both of which viewpoints had gone through a radical re-think after the truth had finally come out. Oh, the things that had originally made him hate Snape were still there – he could still be petty and vindictive as hell – but somehow, they didn’t bother Harry any more, now that he knew that underneath all the defensive behaviour was a genuinely good, brave man.
So, for the purposes of discovering if you could fancy someone you hated, there probably wasn’t a lot of point trying to see if he could get a hard-on by imagining Snape with his robes off.
Except, Harry found himself wanting to do it anyway. And feeling guilty, like he was invading Snape’s privacy again.
Oh, bugger it. It wasn’t like he was going to find out, was it?
So… mmm, he’d be thin, obviously, you could tell that even with all the layers he always wore, even when nipping out to the loo in the middle of the night, for God’s sake. He’d definitely have a hairy chest (Harry liked a hairy chest on a bloke), maybe just starting to grey. Harry took a deep breath. Yep, definitely some interest there from the general direction of his pants.
He’d have scars too, probably. All that time as a Death Eater – or pretending to be one – had to have left some traces. Harry found he didn’t want to dwell on that, and he let his mental gaze fall. Down past imaginary-Snape’s flat, even concave stomach, to his cock.
Bloody hell, imaginary-Snape was well hung! Well, thought Harry with a smirk, even he’d heard what they said about men with large noses.
Harry’s jeans were way too tight now so he undid them hurriedly, his hand curling round his gratefully freed cock. Oh, yes. Snape’s cock would be large and thick. Dark with blood, it’d point straight up at Harry, daring him to touch it. And he wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing, was he? He’d drop to his knees and show Snape’s cock he wasn’t afraid of it. He’d take the head into his mouth, and – here Harry faltered, not too sure how blowjobs were actually supposed to go, once you’d done the obvious bit of getting your mouth round it – and Snape would love it, he rallied. He’d be crying out for more, yelling Harry’s name, and suddenly his come would be spurting into Harry’s mouth… ahhhh!
Harry came, panting, his wrist aching a bit. Oh God. His best wank session ever, and it’d been over Snape.
He was doomed.
And it was all completely beside the point because he still hadn’t worked out if Snape could possibly fancy him. But it was definitely looking like Harry wanted him to.
Over the next few days, Harry watched Snape like a hawk, trying to see if he could find some sign of interest in him.
Nothing.
The only thing he was certain of was that Snape got noticeably more irritable, probably as a result of Harry’s constant observation. Harry was crushed. Should he – make a move, and see what happened?
Huh. Most likely, what would happen was that he’d end up hexed halfway to Hogwarts. In any case, Harry wasn’t sure he even knew how to make a move, his entire experience to date consisting of one excruciating attempt to ask a girl out, and a rather more successful impetuous grab-and-kiss.
He couldn’t see either of those approaches working with Snape.
Then, as Snape mentioned casually that he’d be having one of his not-infrequent nights out on Friday, a nasty thought hit Harry right in the gut. What if Snape already had someone?
Someone who wasn’t Harry.
Someone who was more his age, maybe. Less volatile. More accepting. Not so immature.
More like Remus had been, in fact.
The more Harry thought about it, the more it twisted his insides up in knots. He had to know. He could just ask Snape, he supposed…
Yeah, right. He could imagine how that’d go:
Him: Oy, Snape, you shagging anyone?
Snape: Sadly no, Potter, I am kept far too busy plotting the long overdue demise of a certain annoying child with no respect for the privacy of others. Which will be imminent, by the way.
That’s if he didn’t just hex him on the spot for gross impertinence.
Although, it wasn’t that unreasonable that he take an interest in Snape’s relationships, was it? Seeing as he was Teddy’s other parent?
Yeah, right. Snape’d see through that one with his eyes closed.
Something a little more subtle was needed…
Since Snape had already said he was going out on Friday, Harry casually mentioned he was planning on having Ron and Hermione round, “and maybe a couple of other people, if they can make it.” He was fairly certain there’d be no chance Snape would change his mind and stay in once he’d heard that.
In fact, the only person he’d invited was Hermione.
Snape hadn’t yet gone out when she arrived, and Harry hopped from one foot to the other nervously, listening with only half an ear to Hermione’s greetings as she emerged from the Floo. He strained to catch any sound of Snape’s departure.
“Harry?” Hermione was looking at him in concern. “You look awfully distracted.” She smiled, encouragingly. “Now, why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what it was you wanted to talk to me about.”
Yes! Harry heard the front door slam. Snape had gone!
“Um, babysitting. I need you to babysit Teddy for me. Right now. Bye!” Harry fairly ran out of the house, desperate not to lose sight of his quarry. He’d reluctantly decided against using his cloak – it was all very well for sneaking round places like Hogwarts, but if they went somewhere crowded, he’d end up being constantly jostled, and the last thing he needed was some pub-goer loudly telling his mates some git had spilled his pint and then disappeared, literally. As he followed Snape, Harry cast a subtle notice-me-not charm. People would know there was someone there, but they wouldn’t – Snape wouldn’t – pay him any attention or recognise who it was. He hoped.
Thankfully, Snape didn’t walk far, as Harry was finding trailing him a lot harder than he’d thought it would be. He walked into a pub not far from King’s Cross and ordered a pint. Harry waited until he’d gone off to find a seat before getting his own drink – after all, a bloke in a pub without a drink was just asking for attention. Harry took his lager shandy to the far end of the bar, where he could sit on a stool and watch Snape without looking too obvious.
Snape didn’t seem to be meeting anyone, Harry thought with relief – or if he had been, they’d stood him up. A couple of blokes nodded to him, like he was a regular here. Which made sense really, because after he’d been there a while Harry had finally cottoned on to the fact that it was a gay pub.
Blokes were – well, propositioning other blokes, and every now and then a couple of them would leave together. Harry tried not to think about what they might be going off to do. He wasn’t sure the notice-me-not charm was proof against a raging hard-on.
Harry tried to slouch down behind the beer taps as he noticed Snape coming up to the bar again, empty pint glass in hand. Expecting him to simply get another drink, Harry was horrified when he saw him put a hand on the shoulder of some spotty git sitting on his own. Snape spoke into the lad’s ear for a minute, and acne-boy grinned and nodded, whereupon they both headed out the back door of the pub.
Harry practically fell off his barstool in his hurry to follow.
The door led to a dark alleyway, empty except for a couple of overflowing bins. Snape and his pickup were nowhere in sight. Harry slapped the wall in his frustration and turned to go –
- only to find himself slammed against the filthy brickwork by an irate Snape. “Looking for someone, were you Potter? Fancied a quick thrill catching your old professor with his pants down, hmm? Let me guess. Not quite sick enough to get up to anything sordid in an alleyway yourself, but just sick enough to want to watch?”
“No!” No, he didn’t want to watch Snape getting sucked off or fucking someone or whatever the hell it was he liked to do with boys in alleys.
And his cock wasn’t getting hard just at the thought of it.
Snape straightened up and moved away enough so that Harry could breathe again, and he braced himself for another diatribe. But all Snape said was, “You are supposed to be looking after our son. I suggest you do so.”
Feeling like he was eleven again, and had been caught sneaking round Hogwarts after hours, Harry apparated back to Grimmauld Place and told a relieved and rather annoyed Hermione her baby-sitting duties were over.
Snape didn’t come back for hours. Harry didn’t like to think what he was up to, all that time. Of course, he reasoned, it would be totally like Snape to stay out on purpose just to piss Harry off, and that thought made him feel a bit better.
He’d actually gone upstairs and was about to get ready for bed by the time Snape eventually came back in. Harry heard him coming up the stairs, more by the creaking of the stairs themselves than by the sound of his footsteps, which were as soft as ever. He hesitated, then thought, hell, he hates me already, how much worse can it get? and crossed the landing to Snape’s room.
Harry knocked, but didn’t wait for a reply as he wasn’t sure he’d get one. Snape had just taken his shoes off, and stood up when Harry walked in. “What do you want now, Potter?” His voice was tired, rather than bitter, which was possibly a good sign.
“It’s not sick. Two blokes together, I mean. It’s not sick, it’s just different, that’s all.”
“Ah. Do I detect Miss Granger’s influence here?”
“No, actually. I’ve never thought there was anything wrong with being gay. Uncle Vernon always used to go on about poofs and queers almost as much as he did about wizards and I always thought, anyone he hates can’t be all bad. And what’s the big deal, anyway? It’s not like we’re forcing anyone else to go round snogging blokes!”
Snape actually laughed at that, and Harry began to strongly suspect that wherever he’d been for the last few hours, it was probably licensed premises. “So. I am to understand, Potter, that you view sexual activity between men as perfectly normal. Tell me, what are your views on spying on said sexual activity?”
Harry flushed. “Look, I’m sorry about that, OK? I just wanted to find out whether you were up to anything dodgy - you know, dangerous. After what you said about Hampstead Heath - ” And I wanted to know if you had a boyfriend, he didn’t add.
“So now you know, Potter. I merely exchange your company for that of that of other men who share my proclivities and find me equally unattractive.”
Harry was shocked at the bitterness in Snape’s voice. How many had he had, to be saying something as revealing as that? It gave Harry the courage to step forward, saying, “I don’t find you unattractive.” He held his breath.
Snape seemed to erupt in fury. “Will this mockery never cease? I have eyes, Potter, and it may surprise you to learn that I occasionally employ them to glance in a mirror. I have no idea what you expect to gain from this charade – “
“It’s not a bloody charade! You talk like you’re the bloody elephant man, and it’s a load of crap - ”
“Enough!” Harry stepped back involuntarily as Snape moved towards him. “If you are not mocking me, you are deluded. I suppose both are equally likely. Well, I believe I hold the cure for either eventuality.” That saying, he began to tear his clothes off, in front of a stunned Harry.
“Look at me, Potter,” he said a little more calmly, and swaying only slightly, when he was fully undressed. “Is this what you want?”
Harry did as he was told, and looked at him. He supposed he was expected to run away screaming, but he was Harry bloody Potter; he’d seen far scarier things than a naked Snape.
Not many of them recently, of course.
Actually, Snape unclothed looked pretty much as Harry had imagined he would. You could tell even with his kit on how skinny he was, and the scars were only to be expected. As far as Harry knew, Snape didn’t take a lot of exercise, so he hadn’t been expecting a muscular physique. In fact, there was a wiry strength to the man that surprised Harry.
Unable to stop himself, Harry looked down. Just as he’d pictured it, Snape’s cock was long and thick, even totally flaccid. He looked up, straight into Snape’s eyes. Was this what he wanted? Part of his anatomy certainly seemed to think so, as Harry stepped forward, telling himself that at least he was pretty safe from Snape hexing him – if he’d had a wand on him, Harry would definitely have seen it.
Thinking he was probably dead just as soon as Snape sobered up, Harry nevertheless took another step forward until he was almost touching the naked man in front of him. “Yeah, I want this.” He took a deep breath. “I want - you.” His right hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and a death wish to go with it, as it inched forward and wrapped itself lightly around Snape’s cock.
Snape gasped, and began to harden instantly. Harry could feel his own heartbeat speeding up as the cock in his hand rose.
“Potter…” Snape began.
“Yeah,” Harry grinned in response, feeling a little light-headed. He was in Snape’s room, holding his cock. Right. That was the sort of thing that happened every day. He swallowed, and began to stroke, gently. Snape gasped again, and repeated, “Potter…” Then his hands came up, and began to undo Harry’s shirt.
OK, definitely light-headed now, Harry thought, followed by, so that’s why shirts have buttons, as he watched, mesmerised, as Snape’s impossibly long and slender fingers deftly undid each one, like a couple of albino spiders performing some intricately choreographed dance. Snape pushed the shirt back on Harry’s shoulders, and he wondered if he was supposed to let it slip off altogether, but to do that he’d have to take his hand off Snape’s cock and he wasn’t sure if it was safe to let go yet.
Harry’s left hand decided it wanted in on the action, and came up and around Snape’s neck. The git was unbending, and even if Harry stood on tiptoe he knew he wouldn’t be tall enough, so he said, “Kiss me!” Snape looked a bit nonplussed at that, but eventually leant down and pressed his lips against Harry’s.
It was nothing like kissing a girl. Snape tasted of whiskey and felt like stubble, and Harry strongly suspected Ginny had had a lot more experience kissing than Snape had, which didn’t make sense, given that he was so much older. Did he not like kissing? He didn’t seem to mind doing it with Harry, though.
Harry’s glasses got in the way, so he tore them off left-handed and flung them away any old where, figuring he could always do a Reparo later. “Better,” Snape breathed into his mouth, making him smile.
The kissing was great but Harry’s cock was telling him that something was missing. He fumbled with his belt buckle with his left hand. Snape seemed to notice his struggles, for abruptly Harry’s right hand was left bereft as Snape sank to his knees, easily undid Harry’s jeans, pushed them down and God! sucked Harry’s cock down whole.
“Gnh!” said Harry, articulately. Snape’s hand was on his balls, rolling them around, then slipping behind to circle his hole with one finger. Harry was unprepared for it to suddenly slip inside him. “Gah!”
Snape stopped sucking and looked up at him. “You wish me to stop?”
“No! Fuck, no. Just – not used to it. But don’t stop.” Snape was looking at him oddly, so Harry nervously carried on talking. “Um, maybe we should move to the, um, bed?”
Snape nodded and straightened, and Harry hurriedly kicked off his jeans and followed him to the bed. Once there, he wasn’t sure what to do. If Snape was going to fuck him (and he almost came, then and there, at the thought) should he be on his hands and knees?
“Lie on your back. Knees up.” Fuck. Had he been thinking out loud?
Snape was opening one of the bedside drawers. He took out one of the jars Harry had seen earlier. Harry flushed as he realised what must be in it. Sure enough, Snape scooped out a dollop of the stuff and used it to slick down his fingers. Harry’s heart was beating wildly at the thought of where those fingers were going to be in a minute. Snape’s dark eyes never left his as he shifted until he could reach Harry’s arse comfortably with his hand, whilst his mouth – fuck, his mouth was back on Harry’s cock and it felt fucking amazing.
Snape’s finger slipped easily into Harry’s arse this time, impaling him further and further. Snape must have sensed how close Harry was getting as he took his mouth off Harry’s cock, ignoring Harry’s involuntary cry of protest. He added another finger to Harry’s entrance, and Harry could feel the stretch now as he moved them about, and then suddenly he moved them just right and Harry cried out again, it was so absolutely bloody fucking fantastic. “Do – do that again,” he pleaded.
Snape’s answer was to add a third finger to the mix, and that was definitely a bit uncomfortable, but Harry didn’t care, he was so desperate for Snape to hit his prostate again. And then he did, and it was too much and oh, God! Harry was coming, coming in huge thick spurts of spunk all over his belly without anything even touching his cock.
When he came back to himself, Harry began to wonder if Snape was going to be mad at him for coming so soon. “Are you going to kill me now?” he asked, only half-joking.
“No, Mr Potter. I am, however, going to fuck you.” Harry shivered. Snape had the jar again and was slicking up his cock with the stuff. It looked way too large to fit into Harry. Once again, Snape answered his unasked question. Surely he was too pissed to be using Legilimency? “Yes, it will hurt. But not for long, I trust.”
Unbelievably, Harry could feel his cock stirring faintly with signs of renewed interest in the proceedings. He swallowed. “Um, you’ve done this before, right? Because, you know, I haven’t exactly… “
“Yes.” It was almost a hiss, and despite his nervousness, Harry was definitely getting hard again.
“Should I, um, do something about this?” Harry indicated the mess he’d left on his belly.
“No. Leave it.” Snape reached over with one dextrous hand, and began to sweep his fingers through Harry’s spunk, moving it around his belly, massaging it into his chest. Harry gulped as Snape’s fingers, slick with come, circled his nipples, and gasped as the fingers were replaced with a tongue that proceeded to thoroughly lick him clean.
“So, um, how do you want me to, er…?” Harry asked when Snape seemed to have finished his snack.
“Stay on your back. Raise your knees to your chest – that’s right.” Snape hoisted Harry’s legs over his shoulders. Harry felt ridiculously vulnerable. It didn’t help that Snape simply knelt there in front of him, just looking at him, for a long moment.
Suddenly he seemed to come to a decision, and moved forward, angling himself so that Harry could feel the head of that thick cock pressing against his arsehole. Snape pushed harder, and Harry could feel it straining at his entrance until, abruptly, it breached him. He gasped. The feeling of Snape’s cock inside him felt weirdly significant in a way his fingers hadn’t.
Snape stilled, breathing harshly. “’S OK, you can - move,” Harry told him. Snape did so, slowly, and Harry felt himself gradually stretched and filled. Filled by Snape.
He risked a look up at Snape’s face, then, and saw an expression he couldn’t decipher in those dark eyes. Harry wondered, for a moment, what this meant to Snape. Was it more, or less, than fucking a stranger in some alley? Harry hoped it was more, and began to regret not waiting until Snape was sober.
Of course, there was a serious possibility he’d have died of old age before he got any action, in that case.
Then Snape began to move, and all introspection fled, to be replaced with a feeling of oh God, this is amazing and why the hell haven’t I done this before? Snape was hitting his prostate with every other thrust and Harry couldn’t help himself, he somehow worked a hand in between them and started to fist his own cock.
Snape seemed to like that and speeded up. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead onto Harry’s face. Harry licked it away, the salty taste only seeming to amplify his arousal. He was sure it was bad manners or something to come twice before your lover had come once, but he reckoned Snape’d get over it as he felt his balls tighten and he was coming again, rather less copiously than before.
Snape stilled, and for a crazy moment Harry thought he was about to rip into him verbally for his appalling bedroom etiquette, but then he shuddered, and Harry realised the older man was coming too. He could feel Snape’s cock pulsing inside him, and it felt so right, like a sort of completion, and he grabbed Snape’s head and pulled him down roughly, kissing him deeply.
Harry’s legs were starting to seriously complain about the positions he was forcing them into, so regretfully, he let go of Snape, who gazed at him silently for a moment, then pulled out and moved to one side. Harry let his legs fall to the bed with a sigh of relief, and turned to his lover. “That was, that was – well, bloody amazing, really.”
Snape didn’t speak. Was he regretting it? Was he about to come over all Snapelike and tell Harry to piss off?
Bugger that. Harry stretched his arm around Snape’s unyielding figure, and snuggled in tight. “Night,” he said drowsily, and fell asleep smugly.
The next morning, Snape was still in bed with him but Harry didn’t get a chance to enjoy it as there was a very small, very loud figure bouncing around at eye-level calling “Hay! Bapa!” Teddy had got out of his cot again.
They still hadn’t worked out how he did it, although Harry’s private theory was that he morphed himself skinny and slipped out through the bars – after all, why bother climbing if you didn’t have to? Harry smiled at the boy, and started to get up.
Urgh. There was something crusty all down the backs of his thighs, and his arse appeared to be stuck to the sheets. Harry realised he looked, and pretty much felt, like something the cat had dragged in and thrown up on. “Um, hold your little horses, Teddy. Harry’s got to clean up a bit.”
Teddy giggled. “Yeah, easy for you to laugh, mate.”
There was a grunt from the other side of the bed. Harry braced himself, and then risked a greeting. “Um, morning?”
Snape stared at him unnervingly.
“I’ll, I’ll go and make the coffee then, shall I?” Harry peeled himself away from the bed, wincing a little, and scooped up Teddy, immediately wrinkling his nose. “Urgh. With a quick detour to the changing table, yeah mate?”
Trying not to breathe too deeply, Harry set about his morning duties.
By the time Snape emerged, Harry had had time to do a quick cleansing charm on himself and pull some clothes on, which made him feel at least slightly armoured against whatever Snape was going to throw at him. Harry was feeling increasingly guilty about his actions the night before – after all, he hadn’t been drunk.
He devoutly hoped that Snape had been too drunk himself to notice this.
Snape stalked into the kitchen in what Harry privately called his vamp-mode, with silent tread. If it hadn’t been for the glare burning a hole in his shoulders from behind, Harry wouldn’t have known he was there.
“Right, so, um, coffee. Here.” He handed Snape a mug – or rather, set it down on the table just inside Snape’s reach, uncertain if the other man was going to bite him this morning.
Snape blinked, which Harry supposed was all the thanks he was going to get.
This was killing him. “So. Um. Are we, um – you know?“
Finally Snape spoke. “Are we what, precisely, Potter?”
Good question. “Are we OK? About last night? And, um, does that mean that we’re, you know – fuck, you probably don’t, do you? Are we together, now? ‘Cause I think I’d like us to be. If you want to. If you’re not actually thinking about casting an Unforgivable on me right now.” He trailed off. Snape was still just staring at him. “Can you stop that? The staring thing, I mean. It’s really freaking me out.” Harry felt like a total bastard when Snape looked away abruptly.
“Potter.” He paused. “Harry.”
“Hay!” Teddy squealed from his high chair. Harry was grateful to him for breaking the tension. Snape actually smiled – well, not smiled, really, but he certainly un-frowned a bit.
“Harry. I am – unpractised with relationships.”
“Yeah, well me too. We could practise together. I mean, we spend a lot of time together anyway – “
“So this is to be a marriage of convenience, as it were?” The frown was back.
“No! I just meant,” Harry paused. What had he meant? “I meant, we know we can get on together OK, and last night – you do remember last night, by the way? ‘Cause I think you were a bit pissed – anyway, last night was, well. Fantastic. And you haven’t hexed me yet, so I’m hoping you didn’t think it was totally horrible, even though I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. And that can only get better, can’t it? With practice. So we should, um. Practise.”
“Potter?”
“Mmm?”
“Shut. Up.”
Harry did so, with a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “It’s because I’m not him, isn’t it?” he asked dully when the silence had got too loud to bear.
“What? Potter – this, whatever it may be, is not about Remus. You appear to be under the misapprehension that I have spent the last twenty years pining for him. I assure you I have not.”
“So why – why Teddy?”
“There is a difference, Potter, between recognising one’s obligations and undying love.”
“So – so it’s just me, then? What am I – too young, too stupid, too me?”
Snape sighed. “All of the above, probably. But think, Potter – how do you suppose Teddy will react, should we embark on some sort of relationship? I trust I do not need to tell you just how unlikely it is that we will be able to part on good terms – “
“So we won’t part, then, OK?”
“How fortunate I am to be living with a boy whose mere pronouncement of a desire has the power to make it fact.”
“That’s nothing to how lucky I am to be living with a bloke who’s a total git,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Look, you seem to be saying, let’s not do anything in case it might end badly. Well, too late. In case your memory’s a bit fuzzy – maybe it’s old age, or something - we already did something. And as far as I can recall, which is probably better than you, it went pretty much OK. And, and maybe if we get together, it won’t last. But maybe it will, OK? It’s not like we haven’t proved we can live together, raise a child together – if you look at it that way, we’re practically bloody married already.” Harry paused to draw breath. “Don’t you want to be happy?”
Snape looked at him, and Harry was certain he was about to hear a diatribe on his arrogance and presumption in assuming he could be the one to make Snape happy. But instead, all Snape said was, “Why?”
“Uh? Why what? Why would you want to be happy?”
Snape sighed. “No, you little fool. Why do you want this?”
Harry was – floored, for a moment. He’d been so focussed on why Snape might or might not want to have a relationship with him, he hadn’t taken a moment to analyse his own desires. He suspected he might not have been very good at it in any case: he tended to leave that sort of thing to Hermione, as a rule.
But he had to say something, and he didn’t reckon “because I do” was going to cut it.
Harry could feel himself flushing. “I – look, I just like you, OK? Now I’ve got to know you properly. I mean, you’re great with Teddy, and you’re even nice to me – sometimes - these days. And last night was bloody brilliant. I, um, I think you’re my type, if I’ve got one – I mean, I tried thinking about shagging Malfoy once, and it was a right turn-off, I can tell you. And I just think it could be, um, nice. Us together.”
Harry trailed off. There was so much wrong with that little speech he didn’t know where to start – telling the bloke he’d been fantasizing about someone else, describing their possible relationship as nice… He cringed instinctively, waiting for the sarcasm to start.
“Potter.” Snape sounded exasperated. “You have, as usual, entirely failed to think this through. Even if I allow there may be some chance that a relationship between us might not be totally doomed, Teddy will not always be as young, as innocent, nor I hope as inarticulate as he is now. Do you honestly imagine that if we have any sort of relationship we will be able to hide it from him? He will notice, Potter, and then he will talk. That is what children do.”
“So? I don’t have a problem with him knowing his dads – care for – each other, and I don’t give a toss what anyone else thinks! And face it, who’s he going to tell? It’s not like he’s going to be mixing with other wizarding kids much – it’s going to be hard enough to get him into Hogwarts, let alone anywhere before that.”
“So. You are content, then, for your friends – for the Weasleys – and for anyone else whom they may see fit to inform to know that you are embroiled in a perverted relationship with a man twice your age?”
“It’s not – OK, OK, I get what you’re saying. But d’you really think they’re going to be that appalled? Don’t you think they’re going to want me – us – to be happy?”
“People who want you to be happy, Potter, invariably wish you to do so in a manner that is congenial to them.”
“God, you’re cynical. People aren’t always as bad as you think.” Harry bit his lip, then walked up behind Snape’s chair, putting his arms around the man. Snape tensed, but didn’t move to dislodge Harry’s hold. Harry held his breath until the bony shoulders suddenly relaxed and a hand came up to clasp one of his.
“So. You are resolved upon this folly, then.”
Harry grinned. “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” He bent down to kiss the older man’s cheek, and found himself unexpectedly grabbed and pulled down to sit on Snape’s lap. A hand moved up to stroke his cheek.
“Is there no cure for this madness?”
“’Fraid not.” Harry kissed him.
“Then Merlin save us all, as it appears to be contagious.”
Chapter Four
