grrgoyl

grrgoyl @ 2010-06-19T12:39:00

2010-06-19T18:39:44Z

Title: Night Magic
Author/Artist: grrgoyl
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None. This is probably the most vanilla NC-17 you'll ever read.
Disclaimer: I wouldn't be working two jobs if I were JK Rowling. No infringement or disrespect intended, not a dime being made off these characters.
Summary: Hogwarts' favorite son has returned. Severus couldn't care less. Really, he couldn't.
A/N: I'm a long-time reader and admirer of many Snarry fics. I thought I'd try my hand at one. The experience was much harder than expected and has given me a new-found respect for authors. Also I hate this title but try as I might couldn't think of another.

( ::Night Magic:: )

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Apple and Facebook are dead to me

2010-05-19T18:43:56Z

Remember when I said I always felt like people were eyeballing my stuff? Relax, nothing has happened to Rogue Leader (what I named my bike). I discovered someone hacked into my iTunes account and rang up four separate charges totalling about $200.

The irony is I never buy anything from iTunes, but when you install the program they ask for your bank information. I now know from kavieshana that you can bypass this step. As always, I learn too little too late.

First I called my bank and got my card deactivated, leaving me with no access to the $27 left in the account -- which will be gone and then some as soon as the $78 payment plan clears, any day now. They assure me they'll put the money back once they complete their fraud investigation -- although the woman actually said they were seeing a "spike" in iTunes fraud lately, so I shouldn't think an investigation would take very long.

Apple.com's message boards are full of complaints of this happening (still more at other sites if you Google "iTunes fraud"), so it seems odd there's nothing in the news about it. For some of you, you heard this breaking story here first.

I tried deauthorizing my computer from iTunes but I either forgot my log-in info (entirely possible) or the thief changed it on me (which many are reporting). So I emailed Apple (who blocked my card in response -- not before making the helpful accusation that sometimes it's the user's fault in not having a strong password. Explain then if you can how one victim reportedly works in IT and knows all about strength of passwords, and still got hit (for about $7,000 -- guess I can't complain too loudly).)

One iSycophant tried to defend his beloved master. "It makes no sense that people are hacking accounts just to steal music. They're obviously using Apple as a mask for the real security leak." No, what they're doing is using the loot to buy iTunes cards and selling them at half their face value for an easy profit, sometimes even on eBay. Simplistic, yet never occurred to Mr. iLoveSteveJobs.

Why hasn't Apple done anything to alert people to this worldwide scam? One commenter says they're too busy counting their iPad profits to bother with disgruntled customers. Another pointed out how they hide behind their "terms of use" that denies liability in cases like these. So they just keep raking in the money from the fraudulent purchases, it's all good from their end. It boggles the mind that Apple, arguably one of the most profitable companies of forever, can't stay on top of security issues. Maybe spend less money on marketing so heavily, is just one suggestion. Thank god I only have the iPod and have resisted their attempts to make my life depend on all of their products.

Their emails throughout this process have begged me to reconsider cancelling completely so I can continue using their DRM material on my computer. I've never bought a single thing from iTunes, and have uninstalled it and am now using WinAmp quite happily. Fuck you, Apple. And I never want to hear the "i" word in my house again.

~*~

Apple isn't the only company I'm not speaking to. Not that I've ever been such an enormous fan of Facebook, but recently I've decided their site is just impossible to use if you want to do anything beyond post banal updates on the latest thrilling development in your day, like "going to the store, ran out of milk!" Elaine and 12 others like this

I was tracked down by a girl from high school who I barely remembered, but we must have been close because when I opened a yearbook one of her senior portrait photos with a personalized message fell out. I friended her back -- I'm never on there so it's no hardship.

Then a week later I received a similar request from "Porter Pennington." Try as I might I could remember no Porter Pennington, though Tery and I took great pleasure in mocking the pretentiousness of the name for hours. I couldn't see a profile pic for Porter, and trying to search by name resulted in 38 hits, all of which were either underaged slutty girls in bars or drag queens.

Trying to narrow my search by region was when I decided Facebook is truly retarded and I wanted nothing more to do with it; refining by "Lebanon" (my hometown), Connecticut (my home state) or even New England (do I need to explain?) only turned up streets in America with those names: Lebanon Court, Connecticut Blvd, New England Avenue. Really, Facebook? Do you really think people prefer to search by street name than state or town?

My friend Harold convinced me it was a phishing scam, though what data they're hoping to gain through Facebook is a mystery (but I'm a little naive about the capabilities of internet criminals, obvs).

Not to mention Facebook is threatening to tear our family apart, because my younger sister didn't friend a cousin we'd never heard of before my mother reconciled with our aunt. An email went out demanding to know why, hurt feelings, etc. You aren't required to friend anyone, and that's as it should be, or else I'd be BFFs with Porter Pennington by now.

~*~

I actually found a creature more annoying than any dog at the hospital this weekend: Sydney the cockatoo, not especially pretty by even cockatoo standards, and for some reason let out this ear-splitting, heart-stopping squawk about every five minutes. Yeah, I want THAT in my house. He finally stopped around midnight when I stormed into the aviary and totally lost my shit in his face, screaming at the top of my lungs and covering every inch of his cage so he couldn't peek out the bottom. I think that last was what did it more than my complete breakdown.

One dog who isn't annoying (and I know I've mentioned him before here but he really bears repeating) is my Wee Willie the Basenji. I had him again last weekend, and he remembered me and immediately snuggled up when I eventually lay down. We spooned and I whispered my undying love into his ear. He is absolutely the best dog in the whole entire world.

Pictured: The Best Dog in the World

Speaking of the hospital (and really, when aren't I?), I know the day shift people aren't the brightest bulbs in the pack, but I did a literal double take when I saw what was clearly an Airedale labeled on her cage card as a German shepherd. O. M. G.

German shepherd

Absolutely not a German shepherd

Tery says that's the problem with kids today -- aside from being whippersnappers, they also have no attention to detail because they usually have the internet to fall back on for information. When they don't, sadly this is the result.

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grrgoyl @ 2010-05-06T23:45:00

2010-05-07T05:45:46Z

Title: The Spy Who Was Left Out in the Cold
Author/Artist: grrgoyl
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 23,700
Warnings: dubcon, bottom!Snape, EWE, flagrant liberties with Latin
Disclaimer: Harry Potter et. al. belongs to Ms. Rowling. No disrespect intended to anyone
Summary: Harry takes it upon himself to save a comatose Snape from Azkaban. But when his professor starts having wet dreams, he calls out the last name Harry ever expected (besides his own). How can Harry resist solving the mystery?

Author's note: This is a plot I've been wanting to read for ages but it hadn't been written yet, so I decided to try my hand. It took me in some surprising directions, and I'm forever thankful that my beta kavieshana was willing to follow me; as well as speak up when she wasn't. Her patience and inhumanly fast reading skills are invaluable to me. And thanks to my non-Harry Potter-reading girlfriend for one important suggestion that got me out of a bind, and for putting up with my obsession.

~Chapter 1~

Harry Potter thought he had seen everything. After all, by the age of 17 he had fought a troll, outwitted a dragon and killed a basilisk, to say nothing of surviving several confrontations with, and then defeating, the darkest wizard of his time.

But none of it prepared him for the sight that greeted him as he stood outside the former Professor Snape's cell in Azkaban prison.

The once-Potions master wore the standard issue garb made of a thin, coarse, itchy material that looked like it did nothing whatsoever to protect from the pervasive, bone-deep chill. His hair, which had always been greasy at the best of times, was now also filthy and matted. It had gone beyond lank into bedraggled. His eyes had become sunken and dull, any spark of intelligence long since extinguished. The watery, salty gruel he was fed had shrunk his frame from thin to gaunt. His skin looked clammy, and so pale that his students who once speculated whether he was a vampire would have thought him a habitual sunbather by comparison, were they to see him now.

He was barely recognizable from the last time they had stood face to face. After witnessing what at the time he believed was Dumbledore's murder, Harry had wasted a lot of time tracking Snape down in what he had told himself was an urgent need to avenge the Headmaster, but what he knew deep down was relief at having a more attainable, less intimidating goal than killing Voldemort.

It was quite a shock to him when, as they faced off in a remote clearing in the Forbidden Forest, Snape shielding Malfoy with his body, as Harry cast his first hex suddenly Fawkes materialized seemingly out of nowhere to intercept it.

The phoenix had then banked sharply and strafed Harry's head, his razor talons missing him by inches. Harry had focused on protecting himself, unwilling to openly attack the previously friendly creature (unsure if he even could; he felt the bird was as old, if not as powerful as Dumbledore), and the Slytherins had quietly effected their escape. Only then did Fawkes relent and similarly vanish.

Harry, thoroughly dispirited, had spent the rest of the afternoon puzzling over what had gotten into Fawkes. Was it possible to Imperius a phoenix? What chance did they have if Voldemort could turn their own allies against them at will? Then it came to him: Dumbledore had once said that Fawkes only acted when someone demonstrated great loyalty to the Headmaster. Since the bird was attacking Harry in defense of Snape, it wasn't hard to deduce what that meant.

It meant that Harry, and most of the wizarding world, had totally misjudged Snape. And that perhaps there was more to Dumbledore's death than met the eye, which really wasn't all that surprising to anyone who had met the cunning old man.

But before he could get the news out to the general populace, the war had literally exploded overnight and Harry had rather more pressing things to attend to.

Once Voldemort was dispatched he had turned his energy to fighting for the Potions master's freedom vehemently and tirelessly, but it had still taken years for the stubborn Wizengamot to agree to review the files. The fact that the Death Eater-turned-spy had eluded capture for nearly a year after disappearing from the floor of the Shrieking Shack didn't speak volumes for his innocence.

But an inquiry was finally opened, the evidence incontrovertible, bringing them to this point here in Azkaban.

Harry barely managed to stifle his shocked gasp at the condition of his old professor. Seeing the extent the man he knew to be a hero had suffered, Harry's fists clenched at his sides in fury. Bloody useless politicians. He would have made them all pay if he wasn't already engaged in a struggle of his own to reassure them he didn't want to take Voldemort's place.

Well, he was here now and by Merlin he planned to make it right. His determination even outweighed his fear of entering a building full of his personal boggarts, the dementors. Escorted by Ministry officials, of course.

Beside Harry, Cornelius Fudge coughed nervously and unrolled a small scroll. "Severus Snape, as a duly appointed representative of the Ministry of Magic, and by order of the Wizengamot, I hereby declare you cleared of all charges and released from your sentence."

At the pause, Harry glared at him irritably until he finished. "And on behalf of the wizarding world, I would like to thank you for your services rendered to the side of the Light and your efforts above and beyond the call of duty."

He need not have bothered, however. Through both speeches Snape had sat motionless, staring at the floor, his face concealed by a curtain of stringy black hair. He gave no indication he had even heard the Minister. Even when the cell door had been unwarded and opened, he didn't move.

Fudge looked helplessly at Harry and the small entourage of officials. Harry rolled his eyes at the man's uselessness. He strode forward and put a tentative hand on Snape's shoulder. "It's over. You're a free man now."

In response Snape suddenly slumped forward. Harry's Seeker reflexes saved him from falling on his face. He got underneath one arm and held him around his waist.

"Perhaps we should mobilicorpus..." Fudge began.

"No! He's been humiliated enough. I won't have him levitated out of this place like a piece of furniture." Harry's eyes blazed with anger.

Harry being a full grown young man, and Snape being a pitifully emaciated shell of a previously scrawny man, it was no trouble at all for Harry to walk him outside supporting most of his weight for him. Snape seemed mostly unconscious, but his feet shuffled slowly next to Harry.

They arrived at the Apparation point. Fudge asked, "Where are you...?"

"St. Mungo's," Harry snapped, punctuating the statement with the most deafening crack he could muster.

~xXx~

Harry sat nervously in the waiting room. It seemed like Snape's evaluation was taking a worrisome amount of time, but of course Harry had no frame of reference.

At last he was called into the room. Snape sat motionless on the edge of the bed, still staring at the floor.

"How is he?" Harry asked, unable to keep the trepidation out of his voice.

The mediwizard was obviously striving to look compassionate, but was only achieving tired and slightly overwhelmed.

"He's malnourished and mildly hypothermic, which is to be expected. His autonomic functions are normal. It's just his mental status that concerns me."

"Okay," Harry dug deep for patience and civility. "Once more in English please."

"He'll live. But he's not all there."

Harry sighed. "Slightly more specific now."

"He's suffering from what Muggles call disocciation. A common defense mechanism when the body is exposed to intolerable conditions. Essentially he's retreated into his mind, so deeply that he's near catatonic...errr, basically unreachable."

"You said 'near cat...' whatever. Does that mean he can snap out of it eventually?"

"Anything's possible. He does seem to be at least minimally aware of his environment. We'll admit him to the ward here and..."

"No," Harry cut him off. His mind was racing. He had seen the conditions on the ward; only slightly better than Azkaban, only without the intentional cruelty. He couldn't stand the thought of Snape spending one more second in an institution, even one designed to help.

True, they never got along, even if their hatred had mellowed into just mild distaste. But Harry knew exactly what sacrifices Snape had made to see Voldemort fall and he deserved better, regardless of Harry's personal feelings. It was just as simple as that.

He didn't see anyone else volunteering, so he knew what he had to do.

"I'm taking him home with me. I'll take care of him myself," Harry announced resolutely.

"Of course that's your prerogative, Mr. Potter, but it will be a lot of work. Are you certain you can handle it?" the healer asked.

"Just give me some instructions and I'll do the rest," Harry insisted, absolutely convinced this was the best course of action.

"Fine," the doctor gave in, seeing the determination in Harry's eyes. "I can set you up with a visiting nurse who can help out until you get the hang of it on your own."

"I'd appreciate that," Harry relaxed, realizing he actually didn't know the first thing about being someone's caregiver.

~Chapter 2~

So it was that Severus Snape came to live, at least temporarily, at Twelve Grimmauld Place, which was long since out of service as Order Headquarters since Voldemort's demise.

That first night by the time Harry had apparated them home and guided Snape upstairs with his slow, shuffling gait, he was too exhausted to do more than cast a basic cleaning charm and put the man to bed.

He couldn't tell how well Snape had slept, since next morning he seemed to be in precisely the same position he had left him in.

He had fixed them breakfast, only to find that Snape couldn't even feed himself. He ate when Harry spoon fed him, a laborious and messy process that got Harry wondering if maybe he did sign on for more than he could handle.

He left Snape sitting in the parlor and set about transfiguring the downstairs study into a bedroom for him, to save using the stairs, until the visiting nurse arrived.

When she did, she reminded Harry very much of Pomfrey, with a clipped, no-nonsense air about her. She gave Snape a proper bath with Harry watching and trying furiously not to blush. He silently thanked Merlin he was gay and wouldn't have the issues with a naked man that a straight bloke might. And given Snape's skeletal figure and their long adversarial history, inappropriate arousal didn't seem likely either.

Snape, in his current state of mind, didn't seem to mind the complete indignity in the slightest.

~xXx~

They fell into a routine after a time: Harry would rise in the morning and fix breakfast before fetching Snape. Then the tedious process of feeding Snape; he had discovered, though he was eager to get through it, that it was actually a lot less messy and more effective when Harry took his time about it. Harry imagined mothers with newborns went through the same learning process. Thus with Harry's diligent care, Snape was actually starting to put some weight back on.

Sometimes Harry would adjourn them to the parlor where he would read to Snape. More often as the weather started getting warmer he would move him outside to sit in the sunshine while Harry worked on his garden.

Through it all Snape remained as unresponsive as ever. The healers had been maddeningly unhelpful with their prognosis -- he could snap out of it any time. Or he could stay that way for the rest of his life. Harry's hope was that perhaps restoring as much normalcy to his professor's life as he could might somehow hasten the former. The latter was something he really preferred not to think about.

Then afternoon tea and more chores, sometimes with Snape but usually without, since Harry had to go about his life at some point as well. Then dinner, a bath (Harry was taking some pride in how matter-of-fact this task had become) and either more reading or perhaps some Muggle telly (Harry had amassed a very respectable DVD collection).

Ron and Hermione, being such good mates, offered to help out at every opportunity despite having three little ones of their own. Harry was appreciative, but he had developed a strange feeling of possessiveness over his patient, not to mention a distinct reluctance to let anyone else see him in such a dependent state. Most of all he had a great sense of well-being from fulfilling this responsibility, like the last trace of Voldemort's evil was being erased, like the final remnant of the horrible war, where so much had gone wrong, was being set right.

Harry couldn't explain it. He just knew that, even if Snape never recovered, Harry would not let him down again.

~xXx~

Harry was working in the garden when the motion-sensing charm he'd set over Snape went off.

It wasn't that Snape wasn't free to come and go as he pleased; it was just that since arriving at Grimmauld Place he hadn't moved a muscle without Harry's prompting or supervision, and Harry was afraid of him suddenly developing some initiative but still being too unaware of his surroundings to avoid hurting himself. He could have cast Immobilus, except that required sustained concentration and Harry had discovered how important a few hours of mindless relaxing activity were after weeks of tending to Snape singlehandedly.

Harry ran to the bedroom where he'd left Snape (having told himself it was the same as the man taking a nap), stopping in the doorway when he realized he was still in bed just where Harry had put him. He was moving about quite a bit, however, sort of squirming and tossing his head side to side slowly.

He was also making small sounds, sounds that convinced Harry after listening for a minute that Snape wasn't having a nightmare but rather a completely different sort of dream. Sounds that, when recognized, first stopped his heart and then started it racing very fast.

Snape was making tiny, almost furtive gasping noises, his breath occasionally hitching in his throat as he panted. As Harry watched, the Potions Master's back arched, exposing his pale, slender throat to the air, his hips rotating unevenly and his fists clenching in the blanket. The bulge in his trousers was as unmistakable as his movements.

Harry knew it was wrong, spying on the man while he was in a clearly aroused state and just as clearly oblivious to his environment. He was also utterly incapable of tearing his eyes away. Hearing that deep, cultured voice, which had previously only ever sneered criticism or barked orders, now making those vulnerable, breathy, sighing sounds, went straight to Harry's cock. Made him finally see the man as human. Made him wish he was doing things to cause those delicious, low-pitched groans of pleasure.

The thrashing slowly built in intensity until suddenly he stopped, his entire body went taut and his face smoothed into an expression of absolute bliss. Harry stifled a gasp as the transformation seemed to remove 20 years off his features, and for a moment Harry saw what he must have looked like as a younger man, not necessarily handsome, but striking and surprisingly desirable. A dark patch bloomed at his groin and spread outward. As Snape's body relaxed and he lowered himself back down to the bed, his breathing slowly evened and his black hair clung to his face in sweaty patches.

Harry waited a moment to be sure he was still in his usual state of unawareness, then cast a quick cleaning charm on him and hurried down the hall to the loo to see to his aching erection.

~xXx~

Although nothing else about Snape's behavior seemed to change, these episodes of wet dreams (as Harry thought of them, for lack of a better word) continued, even seemed to escalate, to Harry's confusion and dismay. He at first found it difficult to reconcile his long-established hatred for this man with his new feelings of desire. Yes, Harry was lonely and horny, but this was Snape, greasy git, great black bat, and overall bastard extraordinaire...and the sexiest fucking thing Harry had seen in a long time, a thought that had him worried he might be going round the twist.

Harry struggled between the guilt of invading the space of the intensely private man, and the feeling that he'd never get enough of seeing him transported into ecstasy, usually without a single touch.

But the urge to touch was gradually winning out over the guilt. Harry had given up putting off his own satisfaction and had taken to stroking himself through his clothing, timing his climax to match Snape's, but it wasn't long before even that wasn't enough. Every waking moment was spent thinking about his guest, picturing him in various states of arousal, and growing more and more desperate to join him in bed. Harry was finding it harder to see the harm, since likely his partner wouldn't even know he was there.

One night Harry had too many Firewhiskeys and not enough inhibitions. When he felt the familiar tingle in the charm, he followed the well-worn path to the doorway and, throwing caution to the winds, passed into the room. Snape was whimpering low in his throat, had just started twitching and shifting. Holding his breath, Harry eased onto the bed next to him. He dared to slide a little closer, leaning in to catch Snape's scent.

As the older man's excitement gradually built, Harry grew bolder, pressing his erection against Snape's hip. The contact felt exquisite, even through two layers of fabric. Harry couldn't repress a low moan.

To his astonishment, Snape seemed to react to the sound, turning his head to face Harry. His eyes remained closed, however, so Harry risked lightly running his hand over his chest and down his stomach. Snape started panting loudly, arching up into Harry's touch. Harry longed to do so much more he imagined it was causing him physical pain.

Snape's hips began thrusting aggressively upward, and Harry could see his straining arousal. He couldn't stand another minute of this. He closed his eyes, said a silent prayer to Merlin, and placed his hand over the bulge. The firm length felt incredible in his hand, and he slid it up and down experimentally, grinding his own cock harder against Snape's side.

Snape's moans had suddenly become more gutteral, and to Harry's shock were morphing into actual words, the first words he'd heard him speak since retrieving him from Azkaban. "Oh god.....yes....please..." Snape was whispering. Harry glanced up and was even more shocked to see his eyes open, staring at Harry through a haze of lust.

"Snape?" he asked uncertainly, his hand slowing.

"Don't stop. Please...James....don't stop....."

Harry skittered backwards across the bed, falling onto the floor, his jaw hanging wide open.

~Chapter 3~

They sat at the Granger-Weasley kitchen table, surrounded by children in varying stages of breakfast. If Harry hadn't been accustomed to much larger Weasley gatherings, the din might have been intolerable.

"I can't really say why, Hermione. Just trust me, it's important that I find a way to see Snape's memories," Harry pleaded.

"I trust you, Harry," his friend worried her bottom lip, "Of course there are plenty of ways to go about it, but I doubt you'll like any of them."

"Try me," he insisted.

"Well there's Legilimency..."

"No good," he cut her off. "I'm pants at it, even when I can make eye contact."

"Right," she continued, "There are spells that forcibly extract memories to view in a Pensieve without someone's consent..."

"There are??" Harry was horrified at the thought.

"I warned you you weren't going to like it. A lot of memory magic is somewhat Dark, at least anything useful in your situation. We are talking about messing around in someone's brain."

Harry sighed in resignation. "You're right. But what about Healers? Don't they need to peek inside sometimes to help treat people?"

Harry could almost see the proverbial lightbulb click on above her head. "You might be on to something! Let me see what I can find and get back to you." She was positively aglow at the prospect of homework. He was glad he could provide a distraction from her motherly duties, as just at that moment the cleverest witch of her time was splattered with a handful of mush pumpkin and peas.

~xXx~

Harry found himself studying Snape absentmindedly more and more. The man he used to consider frustratingly inscrutable had now become a full-blown enigma.

What had happened back then? Harry had always thought Snape hated his father, primarily because the Potions Master had never missed an opportunity to tell him so, but clearly if Snape was imagining or remembering James in bed with him there had been something else going on.

Of course, James was a fairly common name, if not the most common. There was the possibility it had nothing to do with the elder Potter. Except Harry had heard all his life how much he resembled his father, so he doubted it was a coincidence. Unless Snape was so out of it he was only seeing what he wanted to see.

It was always a weakness of Harry's that he just couldn't walk away from a good mystery.

Snape had returned to his erotic episodes as if the incident with Harry had never occurred. Harry had tried to ignore him, but had slowly returned to his lonely voyeuristic wanks in the doorway. He was too afraid to rejoin him in bed, however. He hoped Hermione came through for him soon.

~xXx~

"It's called a transference spell," Hermione explained. "Essentially you transfer your consciousness into Snape's. It's a bit like Legilimency only it's maintained by touch rather than eye contact. For that reason it used to be preferred by Healers for patients that might be unconscious or otherwise unable to make eye contact."

"Hang on, what d'you mean 'used to be'?" asked Harry.

Hermione looked as if she wished Harry hadn't been quite so perceptive. "It's become frowned upon by some advocacy groups who feel it's unethical to use on patients who can't give their consent."

"What bollocks! Even though the point is to help the patient?" Harry snorted. Hermione just shrugged, no doubt thinking about all the unpopular social movements she had had a hand in. "Oh well, good thing it's just Snape and no one cares if he lives or dies," and Harry couldn't quite keep all the bitterness out of his voice.

"You're a good friend and he's very fortunate to have you, Harry," she beamed at him.

Harry hid his less than selfless motives by hugging her, afraid she would read them on his face like a book. Then he pulled back. "But wait. It can't be as easy as just touching someone or everyone would use it all the time, wouldn't they? What aren't you telling me?"

She averted her eyes. "You're right. There's a potion as well. Mostly it's fairly basic ingredients, but the crucial one is the mingled essence of both people. Which as near as I can ascertain means a bodily fluid of some kind."

Harry blanched at that, but wanted to be clear. "What do you mean, like tears or saliva?"

"Those would work too..." Hermione replied faintly, and it was clear she really didn't want to take this line of questioning much further.

"Well, how much...fluid are we talking about here?" Harry pressed.

"By my calculations from the book I found, a size 10 beaker."

Harry got even paler. It would take a month to collect a beaker of spit or tears, assuming he found a way to extract them. And he wasn't keen on the idea of drinking any amount of the man's urine or blood. Which left only one option that he could think of...

Hermione could see the thought process. "I'm sorry, Harry. I looked everywhere I could. This really seems to be your best shot, if you still want to go through with it."

He hugged her again, mostly to hide his blush as he reached his decision. "Thank you, 'Mione. Could you just write out the ingredients and brewing instructions for me in remedial level English?"

~xXx~

Naturally Harry had put it off. He had debated every aspect of both sides of the argument endlessly with himself until he was sick to death of thinking about it (never sick enough to forget the idea, however). He had re-read Hermione's neatly printed directions so many times he had them memorized.

But it was plain that there was far more to his father's history with Snape than he had realized, and it didn't seem very likely that Snape would ever volunteer the information himself, assuming he ever became coherent again. Even if he did, Harry wouldn't have the first idea how to initiate that particular conversation with a man that barely tolerated his presence in the same room.

Thus, like the proverbial cat, Harry's curiosity ultimately got the better of him. Again.

He had gathered the simple ingredients easily, they were all quite common. It was just this last one that he found so daunting.

He had no idea how much semen was produced by the average adult male at one time -- well, he had an idea, just not in terms of a specific measurement. He also had no idea how long the substance would stay viable for the purposes of the spell, or if that was even a consideration. He knew one thing for sure -- there was no way on this green earth that he could ever ask Hermione these questions without retreating into his own disocciative state of mortification, and he'd be no good to anyone there.

So, if he was going to do this it would have to be done quickly and it would have to be done right the first time, because he didn't see how he'd ever summon the courage to try twice.

~xXx~

He got up early on the big day to start brewing right away. He knew from experience that rushing through it would most probably result in a botched job.

He set the cauldron up in the kitchen and completed all the preliminary steps. The potion needed to be already well underway before getting to the crucial final stage. Again, he didn't know if he could get the required amount in one go, but the other ingredients were available and affordable enough that the wasted effort wouldn't set him back too badly.

By late afternoon, he simply couldn't put it off a second longer. He had spent most of the day deciding on a technique. Detached and clinical seemed too cold, and frankly not possible; he wasn't really trained as a Healer. However, the alternative, some kind of artificial intimacy, didn't seem very appealing either. He supposed he'd have to wing it somehow.

He grabbed his #10 beaker (surely the oddest accessory he'd ever brought to the bedroom) and headed to Snape's room.

Snape appeared to be sleeping, but Harry just couldn't tell anymore since he seemed to be in a perpetual half-dream state all the time now. He set the beaker on the bedstand and carefully lay down next to the Potions master.

Snape turned towards him instantly, reaching for his chest. "Mmmmm, James?"

The seductive invitation in that voice instantly tipped the scales away from medical objectivity. Again Harry was thrown by the thought that Snape felt anything but pure hatred for his father, but getting to the bottom of that mystery was the whole reason he was doing this.

"Shhhh, I'm here Severus," he murmured, adding in a whispered undertone, "I want you." Well. That wasn't so far from the truth, at least.

Snape sighed. "God, I've waited so long..." The tone of vulnerability and yearning in that honeyed voice reminded Harry what had started this insanity to begin with.

"I know," Harry played along. "Come here." He wasn't sure what to say. He felt sick. He had imagined this so many times, but now he just couldn't wait to get it over with.

Snape unhesitatingly leaned in and kissed Harry. His lips were soft and warm, his tongue demanding entrance. Harry wanted to lose himself in that kiss, except Snape wasn't kissing Harry, he was kissing James, and Harry just couldn't forget that fact.

To hide his distress, he slid down to Snape's neck, licking and nibbling tenderly. Snape seemed just as happy with this attention and didn't try to kiss him again.

He slowly unbuttoned Snape's shirt, burrowing his face into his chest, always moving downward. Snape, eyes still closed, fumbled to do the same for Harry. Harry caught his hands and moved them back down to his sides. "No, love. Tonight is just for you." His cock screamed for the attention as much as his mind denied it. God, he wanted it, but he couldn't afford to get distracted.

He unfastened Snape's trousers to find him more than ready for him. He pulled out Snape's cock, the first time he'd seen it erect. The man had been dealt some unfortunate cards in the looks department, but this part of him was absolutely perfect. A good length, not too thick, and cut, the way Harry preferred.

Harry salivated at the sight, but he had decided using his mouth would be too risky. He didn't want to waste a drop, and he didn't know if mixing it with his spit would affect it in any way (again, he'd sooner face Voldemort a second time than ask Hermione that question either).

He didn't see anything wrong in using it to get things going, however. He wrapped his hand around the base and Snape tensed, whimpering low in his throat. Harry tentatively licked around the base of the head and Snape arched up so violently he nearly threw Harry off the bed.

"God! James!" he cried out, bringing Harry jarringly back to the reality that he didn't even exist for Snape, let alone turn him on. Harry felt his prick wilt, and he grew determined just to see this through.

He pumped him in long, firm strokes, swiping his tongue around the shaft occasionally and halfheartedly, feeling the tiniest bit like a whore. It didn't take long though, which was hardly surprising; Snape's mental sex life was quite active, but who knew how long since an actual physical one had existed.

Harry scooped up the beaker and caught every drop as it spilled out of him. Snape gasped and groaned, a show of appreciation Harry simply couldn't bring himself to enjoy. The fluid fell about a fingersbreadth short of the halfway mark, but Harry decided it would have to be enough. He absolutely couldn't go through this again.

As Harry finished buttoning his trousers, Snape tried to pull him up for another kiss, but Harry resisted. "Shhhh, sleep now Severus. I'll be here when you wake up," he improvised. Snape fell immediately into the unsettlingly motionless state he normally occupied.

He retreated into the bathroom to collect his own contribution. Considering his state of mind, it took a distressingly long time to get it up, never mind finish the job. He thought of other lovers, his most exciting encounters, anything but Snape who would rather be with his dead father than Harry.

He eventually succeeded and gently stirred their fluids together. He carefully decanted the precious liquid into the bubbling cauldron. After stirring the prescribed amount of times anti-clockwise, he took it off the fire to cool for an hour.

He spent three-quarters of that hour in the shower, standing under the hottest stream of water he could stand, until his skin was bright red. He thought of absolutely nothing.

~Chapter 4~

Harry returned to Snape's room dressed, with the potion at the ready. It seemed to be the recommended color and consistency, a thin pearly liquid. Harry supposed he'd know soon enough if it was a success or not.

Harry again lay beside Snape in bed. He performed a simple sticking charm on their hands, to ensure maintaining contact that Hermione had stressed repeatedly was critical.

He downed the potion in a hasty gulp, surprised that the bitterness and saltiness he expected from the semen was nicely neutralized by the infusion of honey and wheat paste the recipe called for. This more or less confirmed Harry's longstanding suspicion that Snape's potions didn't have to taste as vile as they did.

He placed the empty beaker on the nightstand, drew his wand and whispered, "Transferus!"

The world went black in an instant, quite unlike the swirling, colorful descent that characterized entering a Pensieve. Only slowly did Harry become aware again.

He woke up walking, only he wasn't exerting any effort. He was walking down one of the halls of Hogwarts, in between classes if the bustling crowd around him were any indication. He gradually became aware that Snape was near him -- no, that wasn't quite right. He was next to Snape, moving with him as though tethered like a balloon. It was an extremely disorienting feeling that he hoped he got used to soon.

This Snape was barely recognizable as the boy he'd seen in the Pensieve that awful day -- the nose was still prominent, the hair still long and black, the eyes intelligent and quick and black as ichor. But he looked considerably less downtrodden, less dour, as if life's harsh lessons were still yet to be learned. His face was still unlined and open, almost confident. Harry thought it looked good on him.

Just as slowly he noticed the presence of feelings and thoughts that weren't his own: Trepidation, disdain, and the slightest twinge of anticipation. Harry deduced this was Snape's state of mind.

There, down the hall, a glimpse of a boy -- dark tousled hair, large spectacles, coolly dispassionate hazel eyes roaming over the flow of students. A boy that could only be Harry's father.

Despite the suspicions that brought him here, he was still a little surprised to note Snape's heart beating a little faster, his stride quickening almost imperceptibly, his gaze greedily focused on James as if he didn't care who else saw.

As they drew nearer Snape altered course ever so slightly to pass closer to him. In one smooth, obviously practiced motion James passed a piece of paper to Snape in the space of a heartbeat, so quickly Harry might have missed it if not for his privileged view. Snape's eyes flickered over the note even faster, but still took in the words "south corner outside great hall lunchtime."

Snape grinned, his face alight with excitement and happiness. Were Harry capable of independent motion, he would have fainted dead in his tracks.

~xXx~

He followed Snape to the Great Hall for lunch -- not as if he had much choice. Apart from the older robe styles, nothing much seemed different from his own meals there. Snape sat facing the Gryffindor table, a habit it seemed he kept even as a professor.

Harry knew the exact moment James entered the room. Snape zeroed in immediately, his heart skipping a few beats. Harry still couldn't believe it. James took his own seat facing Snape, but seemed to be caught up in the conversation of his housemates (Harry instantly recognized the younger, less scarred versions of Sirius and Remus on either side).

But every once in awhile, when his friends were preoccupied, he'd lock his gaze on Snape, running his tongue maddeningly slowly across his lips. The look in his eyes was that of slow-burning hunger, a hunger that disregarded the plate of food in front of him.

Harry felt a thrill run up Snape's spine and he seemed frozen in place, his cock throbbing, his own plate forgotten. Harry began to suspect why he stayed so thin even living at Hogwarts for nine months of the year.

Harry saw James excuse himself and leave the Hall, strolling unhurriedly with a leisurely arrogance Harry had seen many times in Draco Malfoy. Snape waited a few agonizing beats before following him at a somewhat less leisurely pace.

He made it halfway across the inner foyer when strong arms grabbed him, yanking him into a hidden alcove behind a statue of a satyr. He gasped as he was shoved roughly against the wall. Harry's instincts put him on high alert and he cursed his incorporeal state. As he wondered if he could manage some wandless magic, James pressed against Snape and whispering hotly in his ear.

"Did you miss me?" he breathed, thrusting his hips hard against the other boy's.

"Oh god, James, you know I did," Snape moaned, eyes closed and breathing ragged. The Gryffindor's mouth covered Snape's greedily, and he surrendered joyfully to the onslaught.

Joyfully? That was never a word Harry expected to associate with this man.

They rutted together, still with Snape pinned against the wall, until James reached down and cupped Snape through his trousers. One firm squeeze and it was over, Snape crying out helplessly. Harry practically followed suit just watching.

One quick kiss on the lips, a sly grin of satisfaction, and James was gone. Snape leaned against the wall, a dazed look on his face. His state of mind was unmistakable, however -- pure happiness.

Snape kept that appointment, and many others; sweaty, groping snog sessions in the dark, usually with James pressing Snape eagerly against a wall, rubbing each other through their clothes, with Snape making more of those delicious panting groans (Silencing charms were third-year curricula).

All in all, it was far more action than Harry had seen in seven years there. Probably his father had the benefit of not being the Chosen One.

He thought it would be odd watching his dad have one off, but he never really knew the man, making it that much more impersonal. Plus he really did look so much like Harry (especially with his eyes closed) that it was easy to imagine it was himself doing those wicked things to Snape, an image Harry liked very, very much.

For Snape's part, he always left these encounters walking on air (despite having sticky undergarments). He seemed to live only for these quick little trysts. In a word, he seemed utterly besotted.

Harry was beyond confused.

~xXx~

It seemed fairly clear Snape and the elder Potter were an item, if you could call sneaking around in dark corners and abandoned classrooms and pretending to ignore each other the rest of the time "an item." Well, not completely ignore -- James was the master of stealing sultry looks across a room, long enough to whet the Slytherin's appetite but not long enough to get caught.

As for Lily, Harry occasionally saw her here and there in class and at meals, but direct interaction with James, romantic or otherwise, seemed nonexistent. Harry began to wonder how he was even born.

Something must have gone horribly awry at some point to transform this burning infatuation Snape had into a hatred so deep-seated it spanned generations. The most obvious answer was James noticed Lily eventually and tossed Snape over for her.

Harry felt satisfied enough with this explanation to put an end to this experiment, except just at this point James seemed to want to meet Snape particularly urgently, directing him to a classroom down a long unused wing of the castle, dusty and deserted. Harry could sense a heightened state of anticipation in Snape.

So far he had never seen the boys do more than grope each other. One glorious Hogsmeade weekend there'd been more time with the majority of students gone and therefore some hasty (but still enjoyable) soixante-neuf was indulged in. Harry wondered if it had ever progressed further. He wondered if this meeting so far away from their usual spots would provide a clue.

Snape pushed open the door to the room, his face lighting up when he saw James leaning casually against a table. Before he took another step, however, Harry suddenly heard a soft "Petrificus!" from somewhere to the right, and Snape was frozen.

He strained to see his attacker but was unable to turn his head. Sirius Black strode lazily into view, loosely flipping his wand between his fingers.

"As I live and breathe, it is Snivellus," he drawled. "I owe you an apology for not believing you, James."

"I warn you, Black, release me or I'll..." Snape growled through gritted teeth.

"You'll what, Snivvy?" Sirius challenged him. "Run and tell Dumbledore I interrupted you and your boyfriend sneaking around breaking school rules?"

Snape locked eyes with James, who didn't speak, only smiled lovingly at Snape. Almost as if he didn't even see Sirius. Harry thought this was a bit strange.

"You make me ill, Snivellus," Sirius went on. "The thought of you forcing your vile body on poor James, when he could have anyone in the school.."

"You should talk, Black," Snape sneered. "The girls you rape -- and please don't expect me to believe any of them are with you by choice -- are victims of bestiality."

Sirius's face darkened suddenly, "You filthy little snake! I'll teach you a thing or two about rape!" And with that he shoved Snape roughly against a table. The Slytherin let out a small "oof" as the air was knocked out of him.

"Help me with him, James," Sirius ordered, and his friend serenely moved to do so. Snape was positioned bent over on his stomach with his arms outstretched in a wide V.

Harry could only watch in horror, his brain whispering, "No, no, please no..." He could feel the hatred rolling off Snape in waves, but neither of them could do a thing about it.

With a flick of his wand Sirius murmured, "Denudo!" and Snape's clothing vanished completely. Snape's eyes widened, and Harry thought he saw the first trace of fear in them. "Do you like that, Snivvy? Because I can assure you the girls seem to. When we're done here maybe you can compare notes."

"Get stuffed, you limp dicked mutt!" Snape cursed defiantly, despite having no other weapon but words.

"I promise you I'm not the one getting stuffed tonight," he grinned, and Harry wanted desperately to be able to punch him flat in the nose. "And that's not the only thing you're wrong about..." he added, pressing his groin hard against Snape's arse. "We're gonna have ourselves a spit roast!" He crowed in his best Texas accent, which wasn't very good.

Snape paled. "This is your last chance, Black..." He seemed to be struggling to move his arms, futilely.

Sirius yawned theatrically. "James, I think we've heard enough from the Slytherin. Can you find a better use for his mouth?"

The other boy, who had been watching all this silently, smiled down benevolently at Snape as he lowered his trousers. Sirius did the same, slowly stroking himself as he watched James pull out his cock as if in a trance and teasingly rub it over Snape's lips. Snape let out a sob as he was forced to take it into his mouth at James's exquisitely unhurried pace.

Sirius, even clearly possessing the upper hand, couldn't stop goading. "I wish I could be at that end, Snivvy. I'm sure that ugly mouth of yours is quite talented. You must be good at something, after all." He had started smoothing his hands over Snape's lower back and arse cheeks, rubbing soothingly, as if Snape were a wild animal. "But I know better than to put anything in there that I'd like to get back. No, what I'm after is in here..." Now he was massaging the cheeks, spreading them and exposing the tiny puckered hole to his curious gaze.

Snape moaned in protest around James's prick. "Now, none of that, Snivellus. We Gryffindors share and share alike. That's what makes us superior to you snakes. My mate's fucktoy is my fucktoy." He wet a finger and stroked Snape's anus experimentally, and the other boy involuntarily jerked in surprise. "Hmmm, you like that too. More in common with the ladies."

He picked up his wand again, placing the tip at Snape's entrance, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to see what would come next -- but he seemed incapable of looking away. But he whispered only "Ablutio," and Harry relaxed -- as much as he could while watching this.

Sirius leaned over Snape to breathe into his ear, "Because ickle Swyverins never wipe demselves," while simultaneously sliding one finger into him. Snape sucked in a sharp intake of breath that started a coughing fit, dislodging James from his mouth.

It didn't stop Sirius, however, who added a second finger soon after. He began laughing, and Harry thought he'd never hated anyone as much as he hated his godfather at that moment. "Oh, Snivvy! When you cough like that your fuckhole feels like it's trying to push me out! Almost as if you aren't loving every minute of this!"

Snape's fit slowly subsided, and James gently replaced his member in his mouth, cupping the back of his head possessively. Harry wasn't sure which was more disturbing, Sirius's gleeful brutality or his father's silent complicity, as if nothing at all out of the ordinary was going on.

Sirius pulled his fingers out, declaring, "I'm sorry, Snivvy. I don't know what the hell I was thinking, trying to get you lubed up like a chick. I forgot guys don't need all this foreplay. Time for the main event!" he chortled, slathering a jelly-like substance generously all over his prick and wiping the excess down Snape's crack. He spread the cheeks wide, lined himself up and slid in to the hilt with one abrupt movement.

Tears sprang to Snape's eyes and his mouth dropped open, but he was determined not to give Sirius the satisfaction of knowing the pain he was in. He panted around James's cock as Sirius reluctantly pulled slowly out, only to thrust back in quickly.

Sirius's eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned approvingly. "Oh my god, James, why haven't you done this yet? I may never go back to twats. Soooo... fucking....tiiiiiiiiight...." Grunting and red-faced, Harry thought he'd never looked more like a beast.

He had started out moving slowly, but it didn't last long. Sliding in and out, he was accelerating gradually but steadily. And he wouldn't shut up. "Snape," he gasped erratically, and Harry's head snapped up at hearing his actual name from him, "I swear your hole is sucking me in. You're a greedy little bottom, aren't you? You do this for all your mates, don't you?"

He evidently decided his energy was wasted on talking and focused instead on thrusting, bending his knees and pounding into Snape, balls spanking his arse rhythmically. Snape couldn't repress his moans, nearly gagging as every forceful bump pushed him helplessly onto James, taking his lover's cock deeper and deeper down his throat.

Harry knew he couldn't take this anymore. That is, he thought he couldn't, until he slowly attuned to Snape's feelings again. Degradation, humiliation, but those were just undercurrents, like an electrical wire thrumming through him. Drowning those out, however, was...arousal. But not like any level of arousal Harry had ever felt. Intense, mind-bending, primal, savage. Animal. If the humiliation was a spark, the arousal was a lightning bolt, shooting down Snape's spine with every snap of Sirius's hips. Snape was loving every minute of it. Snape was a bottom?

Harry didn't have much time to process this. He started feeling fear of a different kind. If Sirius realized his taunts had the ring of truth, Snape's mortification would be unbearable. If it got out to the students, his remaining time at Hogwarts would be a living hell. The kind of hell that might drive a young man to do something stupid, like join the Death Eaters.

Snape's neglected cock stood ramrod straight against his stomach, but thankfully Sirius seemed too caught up in his own enjoyment to take notice.

But none of this explained Snape's relationship with his father, who had thrown his head back as he fucked Snape's mouth energetically. Snape was slammed back and forth mercilessly between the boys, a rag doll for their use -- and practically losing consciousness with pleasure.

Suddenly they stopped, almost simultaneously, letting out long gutteral moans as they both climaxed. As the semen dribbled out at both ends, Snape spurted on the table, collapsing in relief.

"Ha! James, look!" Sirius barked as he pulled out of the exhausted Slytherin. "He enjoyed it! Guess today's lesson wasn't about rape after all."

Still James said nothing, just smoothed the hair off Snape's sweaty face and beamed angelically at him. Was his father under Imperius? What the hell was wrong with him?

Sirius didn't stick around long after dressing (presumably also similar to his time with the ladies), but James cradled Snape's head in his lap and stroked his hair for a long time. They didn't say a word. Why wasn't Snape furious with James?

Harry was starting to worry this little journey would leave him with more questions than answers.

~xXx~

Not much seemed to change afterwards. The incident was never mentioned again by anyone, and Harry was surprised by the seeming out-of-character integrity Sirius apparently possessed after all.

Harry was so busy puzzling over everything he'd seen, wondering at this history that he never in a thousand lifetimes would have imagined, that he didn't even notice that things had changed.

All the while Harry had been in Snape's memories time had blurred by, Harry assumed skipping over the mundane details and getting to the highlights. It hadn't been unusual to find himself suddenly weeks or months later than the last memory (as best Harry could determine lacking any context at all aside from weather).

Thus on yet another occasion when Snape was waylaid in an alcove, Harry noticed nothing out of the ordinary after watching it countless times.

Again Snape was pressed against the wall (which never failed to send a thrill up his spine) and his assailant moved in for the kill. On this go-round Snape was pinned face first, the other boy's body covering his back. Teeth attacked his neck at the junction with the shoulder, sliding up to take in an earlobe. Snape whimpered softly, pushing back against his lover's hips. Hot breath whispered seductively, "Did you miss me, Professor?"

Professor?? Harry strained to see better in the gloom. Snape twisted around to face the other boy, except Snape wasn't a boy any more. And the other boy's eyes were no longer hazel, but a vibrant green Harry was quite familiar with.

"You know I did, Harry," he murmured before claiming the young man's lips with his own.

Harry stumbled backwards. His mouth dropped open, but he only thought of one thing to say. "Finite Incantatem!"

~Chapter 5~

Harry awoke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in bed. He didn't have much time to collect his wits, because Snape started stirring beside him.

Harry scrambled to his feet as if Snape had bit him. "What did you do to me?" he yelled as the man groggily sat up for the first time in months. "What did you do to me, you bastard?"

Snape was straining to focus on him, and croaked, "Potter?"

Harry ought to have been thrilled in this improvement in his patient, but he could only concentrate on the memory he'd seen. "How did you do it? Imperius doesn't work on me, so maybe a potion? Maybe Amortentia? Some obscure Dark potion to help you seduce young boys, you greasy pervert? And then you Obliviated me, didn't you?"

Snape wasn't in a hurry to provide answers to any of these questions, and Harry had had too much. "I can't be here right now. I feel sick." And he stormed downstairs.

It was suppertime but Harry wasn't remotely hungry. He sat at the kitchen table and fixated on his anger. He couldn't believe he had felt sorry for Snape, had taken him in, cared for him, after how many years of unknowingly being molested by him. What kind of man did that to a child? Well, a servant of Voldemort, obviously. Harry gave himself a headache fighting to remember a single detail of his abuse. It was extremely unsettling now knowing there might be huge gaps in his memory.

How did Dumbledore not know? How did Snape carry on right under his nose? How many others besides Harry were there?

More importantly, what should he do now? Report him to the authorities? Send him back to Azkaban? Turn him out into the streets, at the bare minimum.

Suddenly he heard a loud thump from upstairs, followed by a muffled curse. Snape must be moving about up there. It seemed to be awfully quiet now, though. Perhaps he fell and couldn't get up.

Serves him right, Harry thought spitefully. Should just let him die up there. Except that would be letting him off too easily. Harry's sense of justice demanded that Snape face up to his crimes, if only to him.

When more time had passed with no further sounds from upstairs, Harry grudgingly headed up to check on him. He found him lying on his back in the bathroom staring at the ceiling.

"Having some trouble, Professor?" Harry asked, tone laced with sarcasm.

"I'm fine, Potter, don't bother yourself," his voice was raspy from disuse.

"Don't be ludicrous. You can't just lie on the floor. I've done a bit more for you than just help you around, you know, so don't be such a git."

"Yes, well, for that you have my unending gratitude," though truthfully he didn't sound particularly grateful. "Now I would like you to just leave me alone."

"Not before you explain to me what I saw in your memories..."

At that Snape turned towards Harry, face ashen. "My what?" he asked in a low, deadly tone.

Harry realized his method of obtaining his information put him on somewhat shaky moral ground, but there was a big difference between seeing someone's memories without permission and pedophilia. Wasn't there?

"Your...your memories," Harry refused to back down.

"And how, pray tell, would you have seen my memories? Another field trip into my Pensieve, perhaps? You really have a shameless lack of respect for the privacy of others, don't you Potter?"

Harry blushed but wouldn't admit any wrong. "Don't change the subject, you fucking arsehole. I saw... look, we're not having this discussion with you sprawled on the floor. Let me get you back to bed."

Snape looked away, eyes closed, but nodded his head once sharply.

It took some doing, but Harry managed to stagger with Snape's dead weight back to the bedroom and drop him on the bed. Snape had almost no strength, probably from atrophying for so many months.

Once positioned sitting upright at least, Snape cleared his throat painfully. "Might I...might I have a glass of water?" When Harry just glared, Snape swallowed once and squeezed out, "Please?"

Knowing all that went into that one word for this man, Harry relented and Accio'ed a drinking glass. He watched as Snape gulped the cool liquid (he seemed sincerely grateful this time) and waited for him to finish.

~xXx~

He seemed to be taking an exceptionally long time to finish his water, even demanded a refill, but Harry supposed it was possible he was really that thirsty. Or it was Snape being as bloody-minded as he used to be, which Harry would normally see as a sign of progress towards recovery. But for now there were sizably more pressing issues at hand.

"Well?" Harry ground out finally. "Are you going to tell me why you have memories of me snogging you before I bring you to the aurors?"

"Not until you tell me how you saw what you think you saw. Or do I need to explain to you that my head is private property that you've absolutely no business traipsing around in?" Snape snarked back.

Harry lowered his angry gaze. He knew he couldn't claim an undisputed high road here. "I did a...transference spell. To try to find out what was going on with you. I didn't have a choice! You were slipping away. I needed to try something to pull you back to consciousness." Not completely true, but Harry knew enough about Snape that an answer of "pure nosiness about your love life" would not go over well at all.

"I see," Snape murmured, "and what made you think wandering around in my mind like a caveman with a sledgehammer would achieve that?"

Harry couldn't hide a smirk. "Well, we're sitting here talking, aren't we?" Then he remembered he was angry. "Look, don't change the subject. I saw your memories...I saw you and my father...and Sirius...and me. I saw me kissing you like we were bloody soulmates. I don't remember ever doing that so you've got about sixty seconds to explain before I drag your sorry arse back to the dementors where I bloody well should have left you in the first place!"

At the mention of the dementors Harry saw that twinge of fear back in Snape's eyes. He hung his head, black hair falling forward in a curtain, hiding his features (other than his nose). He sighed deeply and whispered, "They weren't memories. They were fntss." The last word was said barely above a breath. Harry thought Snape might have had the faintest blush as he said it.

"What was that?" Harry pressed.

"I SAID THEY WERE FANTASIES," Snape thundered. "My god, Potter. You ought to consider a career as a dementor since you like to torture people so much."

"Fantasies?" Harry repeated weakly, also barely above a breath.

"Yes, fantasies. If I wanted to retreat from the hell on earth my life was in Azkaban, it certainly wouldn't have been into my actual memories. Might as well have stayed conscious as do that. Fortunately I've always had a rather active fantasy life, and enough skill as an Occlumens to keep it from the dementors. But why am I telling you? You had a front row seat. Are you happy now that I finally have no secrets from you whatsoever? Might I be left in peace at last?"

Harry was gobsmacked, and could only mutter, "I'm...I'm sorry," before fleeing the room for the second time since Snape woke.

~xXx~

To both of their dismay, Snape was still entirely too weak to think of leaving just yet, as dearly as he wished to. Thankfully he could manage some of the more private daily activities, but still relied heavily on Harry to move about. His mind recovered much more quickly, and Harry was starting to think maybe he preferred the catatonic Snape; that Snape didn't criticize and snap at every little thing Harry tried to do to help.

He didn't seem remotely grateful for all Harry had done, and continued to do, for him. Harry supposed that could be blamed on the whole trespassing in his memories (fantasies) thing, but on the other hand knowing Snape he might just as easily behave this way spell or no spell.

Some days Harry snapped back and would leave entirely. This was only in extreme cases, because returning home to find the man naked and collapsed on the floor after trying to crawl from the tub always shamed Harry into remembering his oath to himself to do right by him.

In the quiet times in between, Harry was aware he was making a conscious effort not to examine the fact that Snape apparently fantasized about him while he was at school too closely. True, Harry had wanked to the sight of the man in bed more times than he could count, but the thought that Snape would ever cross that line with a student, even just mentally, was a bit disturbing. And considering the feat of getting through breakfast without flinging flatware was still a rare triumph, it seemed doubtful there'd ever be a good time to bring such a topic up with his surly house guest.

Practically the worst part of the whole mess was having to tell Hermione of his success while doing some significant editing. Lying certainly was a lot of hard work.

"Oh Harry, that's fantastic!" she beamed. "You must report this to the Ministry!"

"I don't think that's such a good idea, 'Mione" Harry paled.

"But think of all the patients that might benefit from it! Harry, you could change the whole face of psychiatric medicine!"

"Terrific, something else to make me famous..." he muttered under his breath. More loudly he said, "I'm really not sure my spell was what brought him back."

She looked puzzled. "But wasn't that the purpose of performing it?"

"Yes!" he answered a little too quickly. "I'm not sure it didn't work, but I'm also not sure it did. Does that make sense?" he implored her with his eyes to just drop it.

"I suppose so..." she said unconvincingly. "Anyway, how is he now?"

"Ugh. Strong enough to be a pain in my arse, but not enough to get out on his own and give me my life back." Harry hated to complain, especially when this was all his idea, but he was still only human.

Ron was bouncing his youngest on one knee, trying to spoonfeed her. "Bloody hell, Harry," he said. "You've already killed Voldemort. How many more sacrifices do you need to make, mate?"

"Language, Ronald!" she glared at him. Turning back to Harry, she patted his arm sympathetically. "Professor Snape really is lucky to have you as a friend."

~xXx~

Harry thought as friends went, Snape left a lot to be desired. He was moody, combative and obstinate. Harry had chronic headaches from gritting his teeth so much to avoid ending up in a screaming match with him every other hour, it seemed.

Bit by bit he progressed, however, to the point where Harry felt comfortable leaving him alone for longer and longer periods of time. His garden was in a sad state of neglect, not to mention other parts of the house. He kept reminding himself getting Snape healthy and independent again was a worthwhile trade-off for all the work he'd have to do later on his property, but some days the tension was so high between them he wished his conscience would just give it a bloody rest.

One morning, three or four months into his recovery, Harry woke to find Snape leaning heavily on the doorframe watching him. Harry practically jumped out of his skin in surprise. "Christ, you startled me," he exclaimed.

Snape ignored the outburst. He asked quietly, "Why are you doing this, Potter? Why are you helping me?"

Harry saw nothing wrong with telling the truth. "Because no one else would. Because you deserve better after all you did in the War. Because Dumbledore would have wanted me to."

Snape said nothing, only blinked twice, nodded and carefully shuffled away.

~xXx~

One afternoon Harry returned from grocery shopping to find Snape gone. At first he thought the Potions master was ignoring his greeting and started putting food away. When he finished he climbed the stairs to offer him lunch despite his irritation, to discover he was alone in the house. Only then did he notice the telltale whiff of Floo powder in the living room.

Before he could give any thought to where Snape might have buggered off to, he suddenly felt emotions coming faintly through the transference spell; he suspected his connection to Snape's state of mind might not have been severed completely, however, most of the time the feelings he picked up were irritability and annoyance, and he couldn't be certain they weren't just coming from himself. What he was reading now, however, was most definitely not from him: panic and fear.

Exhibiting the quick thinking that saved him more than once during the war, Harry cast a powerful long-range locator spell, finding Snape near the neighborhood of Spinner's End. Of course, where else would he go? But obviously something had gone wrong and Harry thought it more than likely he needed some help. He still hadn't got a replacement wand so Flooing and potion brewing were about the only magic he was capable of.

With a loud crack Harry Apparated to Snape's location, finding himself in the middle of an angry mob. They were surging towards the edge of the village, most of them screaming and cursing. Harry heard cries of "Death Eater!" and "Murderer!" The only things missing were pitchforks and torches, but it was midday and this wasn't a farming town.

At the front of the tide Harry could make out the familiar profile of his professor being pushed along. From his stiff gait Harry guessed he was bound somehow, and there were fists in his hair that jerked his head back roughly with every step.

Hot anger surged through Harry, which immediately translated into a fiery blue ring that blasted a clearing around him in the crowd, and got everyone's attention instantly. Harry could hear whispers among the people nearest him who had recognized him first, "Harry Potter!" and "The Chosen One!"

Harry turned furious green eyes on Snape's captors. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" his voice rang out.

One of the large, dull-looking men holding Snape shoved him so he landed on his knees in the gravel, and eyed Harry challengingly, "We think we're finally seeing some justice brought to a filthy murdering Death Eater pig!"

Harry brazenly started walking towards the man, noting with satisfaction some of the less brave townsfolk stepping backwards to make way. "What d'you mean 'finally seeing justice'? This man served his time in Azkaban and was fully pardoned by the Ministry."

The man stepped between Harry and Snape, not cowed in the least. "A lot of these good people lost loved ones to Voldemort and his scum. For them the only justice is death for the lot of 'em. Azkaban's too good for 'em. Kill 'em all, we say. Who are you to stop us?"

"If you don't know who I am, you're even thicker than you look," Harry flung. "Now step away from him."

"Oh, I know who you are, son. Those animals took your family too. I would think you'd be helping us." As Harry moved closer, the big man aimed his wand at Snape's neck. Snape only looked at the ground, his dirty hair plastered to his face.

"This 'animal' is Professor Severus Snape, and he did more than me to bring about Voldemort's defeat. He sacrificed more, he risked more, and you all should bloody well be on your knees thanking him. I won't tell you again. STEP AWAY FROM HIM."

The man's lips curled into an ugly sneer. "Mr. Potter, much obliged to you for killing that snake-faced bastard, but this here does not concern y...." he didn't get to finish his sentence, because he had suddenly been tossed like a ragdoll up into the air and over several rooftops. Harry hadn't so much as lifted his hand.

The men surrounding Snape turned their wands on Harry fearfully. Harry glanced at them and they wilted like licorice. The crowd gave him a much wider berth as he strolled up to their prisoner. Harry grabbed him by the shoulders, murmured in his ear, and helped him to his feet. He looked around at the townsfolk and said sweetly, "You've made a very wise choice," then Apparated them both with a deafening crack and a small green mushroom cloud, for good measure.

~xXx~

As soon as they arrived back at Grimmauld Place, Snape immediately collapsed again. Harry knelt and assessed him. He looked plenty battered and bruised, but he didn't think anything was broken. He was clearly visibly shaken though.

Harry cast Finite Incantatem to remove the body bind on him, then murmured gently, "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

Harry got him upstairs to his bathroom, whereupon Snape rasped, "I wish to be alone." Without a word Harry closed the door behind him as he left.

Once the adrenaline wore off, Harry realized he was ravenous and made himself a generous portion of lunch. As he ate he contemplated what had happened. He wasn't that concerned about retribution from the crowd. Snape was a pardoned man, Harry had done nothing wrong. And Snape would be safe here in the still Unplottable ex-Order headquarters.

However, it did throw a monkeywrench in Harry's plans of having Snape eventually move on and getting his own life back to his version of normalcy. It seemed fairly obvious the wizarding world wasn't going to let Snape off as easily as the Ministry had, if one could consider years in Azkaban in a catatonic state "easy." However, the truth remained that Snape didn't deserve to be treated like a criminal, and clearly not enough had been done to make his part in the war publicly known.

Did Harry have to write a book? This might be another problem for Hermione to solve.

Snape shuffled into the kitchen, dressed but with his hair still wet. The dirt was gone but he had some good-sized bruises about his face and neck. He didn't look at Harry as he said quietly, "It appears I owe you thanks, Potter."

There was no vitriol in the words, but Harry still thought he seemed decidedly uncomfortable. "Don't be ridiculous. I've barely begun to repay you for all the times you've pulled my fat out of the fire," he chuckled lightly.

Snape looked at him intently. "Nonetheless. Thank you. It was exceedingly foolish of me to try to travel alone. I suppose I thought I could do so without being noticed."

Harry felt that flare of self-righteous anger again. "It wasn't foolish. You have every right to travel where you want, unnoticed or not. You're a free man. No one has the right to attack you like that."

Snape started to make himself a cup of tea and Harry spotted the smallest tremor in his hands. "Don't be naive, Potter. The Dark Lord made his followers do horrific, unspeakable things that won't be forgiven or forgotten quickly. Ministry pardon or not, people will continue to want revenge for quite awhile."

"You said 'his followers.' Did...did you do horrific unspeakable things?" Harry asked in a hushed voice, afraid of the answer.

Snape's gaze bored into him unflinchingly. "Yes. One didn't reach the inner circle by keeping one's hands clean."

"But that's just it! You had to do those things to get Voldemort's trust! To help the Order! To help Dumbledore..."

Snape's eyes blazed. "Stop trying to make me into some sort of saint! Yes, for the Order eventually, but at the beginning I did those things because I enjoyed them. Because I hated Muggles, because I believed in the Dark Lord, because it made me feel powerful." Snape looked down, his hands still shaking. "You should have left me to the tender mercies of the mob."

Harry stared at him for a few moments. He got up to leave, stopped next to Snape, laid a firm hand on his shoulder, squeezed. "No. I shouldn't have."

Long after he had left the room, Snape placed his hand over the spot in amazement.

~Chapter 6~

After Snape's near-lynching, things seemed to be easier between them. Snape, perhaps realizing how much he actually did need Harry, had overnight lost most of his customary snappishness and impatience. At first Harry found it unsettling -- after all, the man had been unpleasant for as long as Harry had known him, it seemed the natural way of things -- but over time he learned to relax and enjoy being around him without a potential screaming match lurking around every corner, which was after all an exhausting way to live.

During the day Harry would putter around the garden or make repairs around the house. Snape was content brewing in the makeshift lab he'd put together, using ingredients Harry would pick up on his weekly outings. No mention was made again of Snape leaving the house, a situation that would have driven Harry spare if he were confined inside, but Snape didn't seem to mind.

Some days Harry would visit Ron and Hermione, keeping them updated. Hermione thought Harry's idea of a book or some way to publish the extent of Snape's contribution to the war was a splendid idea, and even offered to ghost write for him. Harry didn't see when she'd find the time, but supposed she probably missed writing essays and theme papers since graduation. Harry didn't pretend to understand that level of craziness, but was grateful nonetheless.

At night Harry and Snape had taken to working their way through his DVD collection. Snape seemed endlessly fascinated by the Muggles' own brand of magic, and tended to favor stories of men who had been wronged somehow and returned to exact revenge, like The Crow and V for Vendetta, the more violent the better.

Harry also had a few films acquired for their intense scenes of men together, not porn but just short of: The Velocity of Gary and Velvet Goldmine. Harry would unobtrusively focus on Snape during the sexy bits, gratified when he could hear the other man's breathing become shallow and quick. He fancied afterwards he could hear the sounds of furtive bedsprings creaking through the door those nights, and could imagine the delicious gasping noises Snape used to make.

It was after a film like this when the lights came on and Snape started to leave that Harry cleared his throat nervously. The other man looked at him quizzically.

"Umm...Snape," Harry began. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"I assume you mean beyond that one?" Snape rejoined instantly, and Harry flushed slightly at the little joke. "What is it?"

"It's just...and please tell me to piss off if you want...I keep wondering about...seeing myself...you know, in your fantasies..." Harry hoped and prayed this wouldn't destroy the tentative peace they'd managed to create, but he simply had to know.

Snape stiffened at the mention of Harry's intrusion, but didn't explode as he would have once upon a time. To Harry's surprise, he looked at the floor but answered thoughtfully, "Yes, you deserve an explanation." He went silent for such a long time Harry feared he was composing a lie, but he waited patiently.

"As you've no doubt deduced, my years at Hogwarts were far from easy. I was hugely unpopular, scorned, ridiculed. But I still had the hormones of a teenage boy, and I was terribly lonely," he paused again and Harry stayed silent. He could see the young Snape in his head, imagine the years of solitude while being surrounded by hundreds of his peers leading normal, happy lives.

"I had the extreme misfortune of finding myself attracted to your father. Everyone was, he was the exact opposite of me: handsome, witty, charming, athletic, the whole package. I hated him. I wanted him, but I hated him.

"He wasn't cruel to me at first. In fact, was downright decent, privately. It wasn't until Black realized what great sport it would be to torment me every hour of every day, then James joined in. I hated him most of all for not having enough vaunted Gryffindor courage to stand up to Black and admit he didn't think I was really that bad."

Harry didn't know what to say. The revelation that his father hadn't hated Snape from the word go was unexpected.

"So the teasing went on, but my foolish heart never stopped wanting James, though it did suffer a crushing blow after the...incident...you glimpsed in my Pensieve. When he saved me from Black's hilarious werewolf prank, I had a faint hope everything would change, that perhaps we might one day be friends. But by then of course he'd fallen for Lily, it was obvious he was straight as a wand, and then Voldemort came along and put a stop to everything.

"Then you came to Hogwarts, and you looked so much like him that for a second I was instantly eleven years old again, setting eyes on him for the first time. I won't lie and pretend I didn't have inappropriate thoughts while you were a student, but please believe I would sooner cut out my eyes than act on them. I did monstrous things as a Death Eater, but not that. Never that."

Harry believed him. But he was bothered by this last part of Snape's confession. "So...the only reason you fantasized about me was because I look like my dad?"

At the hurt expression on Harry's face, Snape looked slightly chagrined. "How would you feel if there was someone you had lusted after for as long as you could remember, someone you thought you could never have or for that matter see again, and suddenly someone else appeared one day the absolute spitting image of them? I don't think anyone would be capable of not having a wishful thought or two."

"Then why were you such a bastard to me? Why did you make my life so miserable?" Harry only partially succeeded in keeping the anguish from his voice.

"You were a child, Potter! Having those thoughts and feelings for James carry over to you, to treat you with any degree of...favor, would only invite temptation. To protect myself, to protect you, I had to push you as far away as I could."

"Well, you did a damn good job of that," Harry muttered darkly. "And now that I'm not a child? Are you tolerating me because of your feelings for James now?"

Snape's face seemed to lose some of its harshness. "Not at all," he looked down uncertainly. "You've shown me kindness that I haven't known since Albus," his friend's name caught in his throat. "You have a generosity of spirit James never did. Lily did, though. You are truly the best of both your parents, and a young man I feel they would be proud of."

Harry considered this for a moment. He looked up and Snape was watching him silently. "That means a lot to hear you say that. But...do you have inappropriate thoughts now?" Harry ventured, "because...I do. About you, I mean."

Snape seemed to have stopped breathing as Harry swallowed once and slowly leaned toward him, pressing his lips carefully against Snape's. He expected fireworks. He expected the passion of the moment to sweep over them and take care of everything, lead them to a happily ever after in the bedroom. He got neither, of course, because those things usually only happen in movies. He got Snape frozen stiff in shock, his lips not even moving.

Harry sat back feeling like a total berk. He cleared his throat too loudly. "Right. Sorry. I'm going to turn in now. See you in the morning?"

Snape nodded rather numbly and watched him leave. Harry didn't hear him close his bedroom door until much, much later.

~xXx~

That put an end to the gay romance movies. Harry had suggested they play chess after dinner now, which he enjoyed despite losing every single game. It gave them a chance to talk a bit, at least. On more than one occasion Harry would look up suddenly and catch Snape staring intently at his mouth, but Snape would always look away. They never discussed the kiss, and Harry was determined not to look that idiotic again.

Almost two weeks had passed before one night, as Harry started setting up the board, Snape touched his wrist to stop him. "I would like to watch a film tonight, if that would be agreeable."

"Of course," Harry said. "Anything in particular?"

"I believe it's my turn to choose." Harry waved at the wall of shelves and took his seat on the couch.

Snape studied the cases for a moment, as Harry tried not to guess where he was headed, vacillating between intense curiosity and wanting to be surprised.

He was very surprised indeed when Snape's choice proved to be Brokeback Mountain, one of the most romantic gay movies of all time. Harry's heart hammered in his chest. Was Snape dropping a hint? Should Harry make another move tonight?

He spent the first fifteen minutes watching not the movie but the bare inch of space separating their hands on the sofa, desperately trying to summon the courage to close the gap. That inch might as well have been a mile.

It wasn't until after the lovers reunited in the hotel that Harry noticed Snape wasn't watching the movie either, but rather gazing at him. "Snape? Are you not enjoying the movie?"

Harry was relieved that Snape didn't look away. "I...wouldn't mind if you kissed me again. If you still wished to, that is."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Oh..." (don't be an idiot, don't be an idiot, he thought furiously) "...I very much wish to."

Like that, the gap was closed and Harry was once again leaning in close. This time when their lips met Snape's came alive, tentatively, softly kissing back. His lips were chapped and there was nothing artful about the kiss, but Harry got his fireworks nevertheless. Or at least wand sparks.

Knowing now that he was welcome, Harry wasn't afraid to shift closer, deepening the contact. He brushed his tongue gently across Snape's lips and they parted instantly, elicting a quiet moan from the other man that sent a shiver down his back. They tenderly explored each others' mouths and Harry slipped his hand up to cup the back of his neck, sliding up into his hair.

Suddenly Harry felt like he couldn't get close enough. He needed to feel more of Snape. Before making the mistake of thinking too much about it, he twisted and hoisted a leg over Snape's, ending up sitting in his lap. He pulled away from the kiss, expecting to be ejected, but Snape's eyes were dilated to an even darker shade of black than usual, he was flushed and breathing through his mouth. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and pulled him in, sealing their lips again.

Harry felt like he was on fire. He couldn't remember a first kiss with any other lover feeling as hot as this. He slid forward to rub his groin against Snape's, gratified to feel him just as hard and hot. He gyrated his hips, and with a deep groan Snape slid his mouth down to Harry's throat, sinking his teeth in roughly and making Harry feel lightheaded.

"Oh god, Severus...!" Harry cried out, shoving his hand between them and fumbling with Snape's trousers. He barely had enough room to reach in and grab Snape's prick. Four quick strokes later and Snape was coming, burying his face in Harry's neck to muffle his gasping cries.

Harry barely had time to register his feelings of disbelief and triumph that he had made Snape come so easily when Snape had released him and started shifting his hips, indicating Harry was to get down. Harry complied, watching him in confusion, but Snape seemed to be unwilling to meet his eyes as he buttoned up.

"Sev...Snape? Is something wrong?" The older man seemed very flushed, even more than could be accounted for by their exertion.

"You may use my given name," he said, looking up at last, though not looking happy. "I apologize for...being so quick. My experience leaves something to be desired."

"Please don't worry about it," Harry said, wanting to run his fingers through Snape's hair or some other comforting gesture, but sensing the wall between them back in place as if the last fifteen minutes hadn't happened. The only thing that kept him from complete frustration was the assurance he could at last use Severus's first name.

"Did I hurt you?" Snape asked, extending a hand to examine Harry's neck where he had used his teeth, possibly in an effort to change the subject.

Harry rubbed the spot self-consciously. "A bit, but in a good way." At Snape's knitted brows, he added with what he hoped was a reassuring grin, "It was actually really fucking hot."

Snape returned the grin somewhat weakly. Harry, afraid of ending up back on square one, decided to again take the initiative and leaned in for a kiss, slow and tender, not too demanding but not too chaste either. This brought his groin back into contact with Snape's leg, reminding the other man of some unfinished business.

"You...still require attention," Snape looked at him concernedly.

"No, I'm fine," Harry suddenly felt embarrassed. He was planning to finish himself off later in his bedroom.

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter. I may be guilty of many horrible deeds in my past, but being a selfish lover is not one of them."

He leaned in to resume their kiss, for the first time making the first move which normally would have delighted Harry, except for one thing. "If you ever want to get in my pants, you'll never call me 'Mr. Potter' again. Alright?"

"Very well, Harry," Snape put special emphasis on his name, "I'll indulge you because I very much wish to...'get in your pants.'"

Harry let him complete the kiss this time, grinning against Severus's lips. "That's better mmph," Feeling reckless, he added, "You mean these pants here?"

Drawing back, he made sure he had Severus's attention as he trailed his own hand down to his flies, performing a little mini-striptease. His cock twitched when he saw Snape's jaw actually go a little slack, his eyes riveted to the spot. He slowly pulled down his zip, lifting his hips to shuffle his trousers and pants down below his knees.

Snape seemed frozen, so Harry reached over and took him by the wrist, moving his hand to settle around Harry's cock. This seemed to break the spell, and he looked up at Harry's face in surprise. Harry's eyes had become half-lidded at Snape's touch, as his cock fully hardened again.

Snape swallowed harshly and turned his gaze back to his hand. He seemed utterly fascinated as he slowly stroked up and down, holding it loosely as if afraid of hurting Harry. Harry closed his fingers around Snape's to the tightness he needed, and gasped as his grip obeyed.

At Harry's gasp Snape again turned his attention to his face as he slowly fisted him. Harry was fighting not to let his eyes roll back in his head, because he couldn't get enough of the look of childlike wonder on Severus's face.

Then Severus got adventurous and swiped his thumb across the slit, and Harry's eyes did roll back then, as well as his head. "Ohhhh, god, Severusss..."

Harry pulled the other man close and kissed him fiercely, pleased when Severus reciprocated his passion. He broke off and whispered near his ear, "Severus, want you...so much...."

Severus again kissed his way down to Harry's collarbone, biting down as he squeezed Harry's cock and sped up his strokes. Harry's breathing turned to short, sharp pants as his hips started pumping upwards. "Severus...so good...I'm c...coming..."

Severus slowed as Harry started spurting onto his belly, but he didn't let go until Harry went soft and sank back into the cushions. He lay there for long minutes not moving. When he finally mustered the strength to open his eyes, Snape was staring at him, unsure what to do.

"Wow," Harry whispered, pulling his clothes back on. "If that's what it's like when you're out of practice, I'm not sure I'll survive this relationship for longer than a month."

At Snape's mute stare, Harry faltered. "That is...I didn't mean relationship necessarily..."

"It's late," Snape said at last. "Perhaps we should turn in."

"Of course. Ummmm...thank you for an enjoyable evening?" At Snape's curt nod Harry realized nothing else was in the offing and headed to his bedroom quickly and more than a little mortified.

~xXx~

The next morning at breakfast was tense, and Harry thought he knew why.

"Look, Severus," he began, hoping the invitation regarding first names still stood. "About last night...I didn't mean to freak you out with the word 'relationship.' This can be as serious or as casual as you want it..."

"You misunderstood me, and I don't want to begin this...whatever-this-is...with half-truths and misconceptions."

Harry's heart jumped a little at the word "begin," which he felt possibly implied more than a one-night handjob.

Snape took a deep breath and another sip of his tea, appearing to steel himself for a less than enjoyable discussion.

"My consternation last night was not at your choice of words -- though I have my doubts over your apparent eagerness to enter into any sort of commitment with a man twice your age. I was actually debating telling you what I am about to, what I no doubt should if you are to make an informed decision."

Snape's grave demeanor naturally made Harry jumpy, and he couldn't stop from interjecting. "Look, unless you're going to say you're really a lady, which clearly you aren't, there's no need..."

"Damn it, let me finish!" Snape barked irritably, and Harry kicked himself inwardly for not recognizing he had slipped into professor mode. "What you need to know is, when I said my experience left something to be desired, I meant it left everything to be desired." When this failed to clear the clouds from Harry's face, he exasperatedly yelled, "Oh for Merlin's sake...I'M A VIRGIN, POTTER."

This only brought Harry to a new level of confusion. "What? How's that possible? No offense, but a man your age?"

"This may come as a shock to you, but when you aren't handsome, muscular and the Saviour of the wizarding world, and viewed as an agent of evil to boot, offers tend to dwindle rather than increase with age."

Well, Harry thought, this certainly explained why Snape was looking at his cock like it was the first Christmas present he'd ever received. He also regretted that it was so quick and dirty. But he still found it impossible to believe that last night was his first time doing anything ever.

"What, not even a quick grope in the boy's room? No Death Eater orgies? Nothing?" Harry knew he was probably treading on thin ice, but he felt utterly gobsmacked.

"No, nothing" Snape ground out through his teeth. "I'm singularly unqualified to deal with affairs of the heart, or of the flesh, and as such I feel that your...attention...would be better directed somewhere more suitable. Assuming you were planning to persist in this madness, that is."

Harry was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions: Foremost pity, which he knew would kill any chance with this man beyond salvaging if he showed it. But besides that he was feeling a slowly growing excitement. The thought of introducing Severus to erotic pleasure, a world that he'd evidently only imagined in his fantasies, was appealing beyond belief. A little backwards perhaps given their ages, but those were the cards they had been dealt.

Not that Harry had done everything under the sun himself, but he had a respectable share of lovers in his past, and felt he knew enough to at least make a good start of it. And what he didn't know perhaps they could discover together.

"Will you answer one question for me?" Harry asked seriously.

"I assume you mean beyond that one?" Snape smirked, reminding Harry of the last time he'd fallen into that trap, what seemed like a year ago before everything had changed so completely.

"You twat," Harry countered goodnaturedly. "Just tell me, are you attracted to me?"

Snape turned slightly pink and looked into his teacup. "I believe you've seen ample evidence to know the answer to that."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I swear, Severus, you make everything as difficult as possible. Please just answer, yes or no."

Snape wouldn't take his eyes off the table, but he spoke quietly. "Yes. Merlin help me, I am."

Harry's heart almost burst through his chest. He rose and walked around the table to stand in front of the Potions master, putting his hand under his chin to turn his face upwards. He bent down and captured his lips in a deep, searching kiss, long enough for both of them to become breathless.

He straightened up when Snape was flushed and dazed, and said only, "Then I plan to persist in this madness" before leaving the room.

~xXx~

Harry's confident pledge didn't last long after that. He suddenly found himself without the slightest idea what to do next.

His experience with men had pretty exclusively involved pick-ups at a club, guys more or less around his own age, and (as far as he knew) 0% virgins. They were also, with very few exceptions, encounters of the no-strings-attached, sex-only variety.

Harry felt that, as Snape's first (Merlin, he still couldn't believe it), he should probably make an effort to make it more special. Snape had no history to know for sure, but he just didn't seem the type to do casual one-offs. Least of all with someone he saw over breakfast every morning. It seemed all too easy for things to go pear-shaped if Harry didn't proceed with caution.

But they'd already been intimate, so to try to backtrack to candlelit dinners and innocent hand-holding seemed a bit silly. It would be so much easier if Harry knew what Snape expected and wanted. It was probably unlikely that Snape, being new to the whole romance thing, even knew himself.

Harry sighed. As with every other moment he'd known Snape since first stepping into Hogwarts, it was all hopelessly more complicated than it needed to be.

So Harry did nothing, frozen by indecision. Try to court Snape, or stop overthinking everything and just jump him again?

There was no doubt what Harry's libido wanted. Every night he quietly wanked under the covers to the memory of Snape's hand tentatively wrapped around him, of Snape sinking his teeth into his neck, of Snape's muffled little gasps as he came for the first time from Harry's touch (while conscious, Harry amended).

Every night Harry would dream of taking Severus in his arms, kissing him, pushing him down and making love to him. He dreamed of all the things he wanted to show Severus, from the vanilla to the kinky, all the things he wanted to explore that he was always too shy or too detached to do with other men. Always in his dreams these encounters unfolded with utmost effortlessness, natural and easy, with no doubt or nervousness.

By day all of these thoughts seemed increasingly farfetched. It never seemed to be the right time for a romantic gesture, let alone heated passion. Harry would watch the man for some sign of how to approach him, but the Potions master seemed to go on as if nothing remotely intimate had ever occurred between them. The longer this went on, the more Harry's confidence and bravery dwindled, until he had stopped searching the stern face for anything to give him hope.

~xXx~

One night they were playing chess, as they had returned to doing. Harry realized the activity of movie-watching would remind him too painfully of that wonderful night when all the pieces seemed to fit into place so easily, and then never again since.

In the middle of their fifth game (Snape's victories over Harry were usually quick and decisive, so consequently the games never lasted very long), Harry was waiting for Snape to make his move when to his surprise he made a move of a different sort altogether.

Staring intently at the board, Harry realized Snape was taking an uncharacteristically long time for his turn. He looked up sharply to find Snape watching him uncomfortably, practically flinching.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked worriedly.

Snape paused a few seconds before answering his question with a question. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, of course not," Harry said, confused.

"Ah. I see." Snape's face became shuttered and pinched. Harry panicked; he hadn't seen him this closed off since before he had saved him from the lynch mob.

"What do you see?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice from rising into an undignified squeak, but his throat suddenly felt too tight.

"I had wondered why your interest in me had so abruptly waned after our discussion. Since I am evidently not responsible, it's obvious you've had second thoughts. I commend you on your uncustomarily rational thinking. I won't make things difficult for you." Severus had delivered this speech looking at the table, as if he didn't deserve to be sitting at it.

Harry felt like screaming. "You have no idea how difficult you make things!" At Snape's shocked expression, Harry went on. "Not on purpose or anything. I just don't know what you want from me. Do you just want sex? Do you want to date first? Are we boyfriends? Lovers? Friends with benefits?"

Snape looked stunned by this tirade. Then to Harry's surprise he appeared to relax and clucked his tongue at him. "It seems, Mr Potter, as was true throughout much of your academic career, you really do better when you don't allow your brain to interfere."

Once Harry worked out his meaning, his face broke out in a dazzling grin. A grin which turned predatory as he slowly rose and stalked around the table, coming to stand in front of Severus where he remained seated. "What did I say about 'Mr Potter'?" He was going for menacing, but it came out sultry instead. He lifted Snape's chin with two fingers and kissed him roughly, possessively, thoroughly. When he finally straightened up again they were both panting.

"Bed. Now." Harry growled, lifting Snape out of his seat by his shirt. He was gratified to see the other man's eyes darken with lust.

"Whose?" Snape managed to ask.

"Don't care," Harry replied urgently, leading the Slytherin by the hand upstairs.

They opted for Snape's because Harry's was covered with dirty laundry. Harry kissed Snape backwards to within safe distance, then pushed him onto the bed. Snape landed with an audible gasp, looking up at Harry, cheeks flushed fetchingly.

It was strange for Harry to be taking charge so much; he was used to being more evenly matched with his partners. But Severus's inexperience was a fact and Harry had to work with it. Besides, the older man didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

Harry would have liked to go slowly, savor every inch of the man, but he was afraid of it being over all too quickly like last time. And he was determined to at least have a taste.

Unless...feeling very Slytherin indeed, Harry performed some wordless magic, thinking Staminus. Underhanded to be sure, but he hoped Snape would forgive him after reaping the benefits -- or better yet never find out. He simultaneously murmured a spell and a half dozen candles flickered into life around the bed, casting a warm glow on the two men.

Harry climbed on top of Severus, kissing him and rubbing against him. He'd always loved the feel of a nice hard cock sliding along his own, even through clothing. Snape was writhing underneath him, completely responsive, but silent. That wouldn't do.

Harry buried his face in his neck, licked up to his ear, whispered into it, "I want to hear you, Severus. The sounds you make drive me crazy..." Snape's breathing audibly sped up at that, and he nodded.

Harry stood, looking down at the older man flushed and panting. In the candlelight he looked almost beautiful. Harry indicated for him to sit as he knelt between his thighs. Harry kissed him deeply as he unbuttoned his shirt. Snape lifted his hands to start on Harry's, but Harry pushed them down again. "Relax. Tonight is all about you."

He pushed the shirt off Snape's shoulders, revealing his pale thin chest. Harry kissed down the center, detouring to take his left nipple between his teeth. Snape gasped quietly as he cupped the back of Harry's head. Harry's fingers moved down and expertly went to work on his trousers.

He slipped his hand inside and gently squeezed the hot length, hearing a deep "Ohhhh" rumbling in Snape's chest. Harry tugged the trousers down, and Snape lifted his hips to assist. Next came the pants (tighty whities -- Harry would have to see about making him into a boxer man), and then Snape sat there totally naked.

Harry turned an appraising eye on him. Snape started to move his hand to cover himself but Harry slapped it away. "I want to look at you. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Severus." The older man shifted uncomfortably but allowed him to stare.

Harry reached up and captured his lips again. He broke off the kiss and murmured, "Remember, I want to hear you." With a hand in the middle of his chest Harry urged him to lie flat. Then Harry bent to collect his prize, something he'd been waiting for for a long time.

Severus's cock was at full attention, a fine length, dusky pink turning to red at the tip, with thick veins all over. Harry pushed Snape's thighs farther apart, lowered his head and rubbed his face along the inside of them, like a cat marking his territory. He deeply inhaled the rich musky scent. God, it felt like forever since he had done this.

He looked up to check in with Snape. His head was thrown back with his forearm covering his eyes. Harry could make out a faint blush spreading down his neck.

Harry blew gently across the slit glistening with pre-come, and Snape let out a low whimper. Then he flicked his tongue over it and Snape gasped. The salty fluid danced on his tongue and he instantly wanted more. As well as a lot more noise from Severus.

He took the head in his mouth smoothly, giving it a good suck, then suddenly swallowed him down to the root. Snape let out a low groan that shot straight to Harry's cock.

Slowly Harry slid his mouth up and down Snape's cock, holding it firmly between the "O" of his lips, giving it a nice suck on every other upstroke. He cupped his balls in one hand, stroking them softly. Unhurriedly he fellated him, as if he could do it all night; at that moment he felt like he could, especially if Snape kept making those delicious sounds.

Snape had thrown both arms off to either side of him, as if hanging onto the duvet for dear life. His fists clutched at handfuls of fabric, tenting them up and beating them down again. His whimpering gave way to gasping and panting. It was uneven, harsh, punctuated by tiny, high-pitched sobs that Harry was already a little addicted to. In comparison to Snape's usual rigid self-control, this was practically him screaming in ecstasy.

Harry increased the speed of his strokes just a bit, now gripping the base of Snape's length with his free hand and squeezing as he sucked. He looked up to see Snape watching him raptly. Harry flashed him a devilish smirk, then closed his eyes and teasingly licked him with exquisite deliberateness from root to tip, swirled his tongue around the slit and sucked him back inside with a low, vibrating moan. He wanted Severus to see how much he was enjoying every second of this.

This earned him an "Oh, god..." from the Slytherin as his head fell back onto the bed again. His hips started thrusting helplessly upwards, and Harry held his head still and let him fuck his mouth, guiding him with one hand.

On sudden inspiration, Harry slid one finger into his mouth alongside Snape's cock, thoroughly wetting it. He pulled it out and reached up behind Snape's balls as his hips jerked rhythmically off the bed. He slipped it between his arse cheeks, applying slight pressure until he found the small entrance, and pushed inside to the first knuckle.

Snape reacted like he was struck by lightning. His hips went stiff in midair, his hands tightened on either side of Harry's head to hold him in place and he made tiny, rapid thrusts into Harry's mouth, letting out panting, breathy "Ah....ah....ah....ah"s with every movement. Harry did his best to hold on for the ride, holding his finger unmoving inside him so as not to hurt him accidentally.

Suddenly Snape froze on an upward thrust and he seemed to stop breathing, his fists clenched in a death grip that almost tore through the duvet, and Harry tasted the hot burst of come against the back of his throat. He sucked him in hard, swallowing down every drop eagerly and removing his finger.

Snape collapsed gracelessly, hair plastered to his forehead. Harry climbed up onto the bed beside him, trying his best to stop a smug grin from creeping across his face. The feeling of accomplishment he had from utterly dismantling this man's stoicism and self-restraint was better than any blowjob he'd received. Almost.

As Snape's breathing evened out again, he spoke, eyes still closed, "Five points to Gryffindor."

Harry propped himself up on his arm, "Five? That was worth at least fifty!"

The corner of Snape's mouth quirked up slightly, "Perhaps, but my mouth is literally incapable of forming those words."

Harry leaned over him and pressed his lips to that obstinate mouth. "We'll have to work on that. Because at this rate it will take ten years to earn back all the points I've lost Gryffindor."

Snape actually chuckled at that, before his eyes slipped closed and he began snoring softly. Harry kissed his damp forehead tenderly, then quietly finished himself off under the covers, the sound of Snape's voice gasping in climax still echoing in his ears, before also succumbing to exhaustion.

~xXx~

Harry awoke the next morning with the sun in his eyes and pressed snugly against Snape's back. The older man was fast asleep curled in his arms. Harry reckoned it might be his new favorite way of waking up.

Harry also had his usual morning erection poking at Snape's backside. He groaned inwardly as he imagined how sweet it would be to bugger his former professor, but he couldn't be sure that was the way Snape leaned yet -- although now knowing the scene he'd witnessed in the Pensieve to be a fantasy and not a horrible rape caused him to have his suspicions.

Still, Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up next to a warm body, and at this moment his cock wasn't concerning itself with the finer points of their still fragile, budding...whatever-this-was.

Snape stirred slightly, letting out a soft little sigh that did funny things to Harry's heart. He encircled the older man's chest more tightly in a possessive embrace.

Regardless of his innocent intentions, the fact remained that Harry's cock liked its current position very, very much, and Harry couldn't resist pressing a little harder against Snape's bony arse. He rubbed it up and down a few times experimentally, which felt bloody fantastic. He buried his face in the nape of his neck, panting quietly as he made slow, circling thrusts.

Snape "Mmmmmmmm"ed and shifted a bit. Harry started to draw back uncertainly, but the Slytherin held his arms fast and seemed to push back against him. Harry held him close and pressed slow kisses along his neck.

He seemed still half asleep, but willing to rethink that status. He arched his head up to give Harry better access to his neck. Harry exuberantly demonstrated his agreement with this action by sinking his teeth in lightly, knowing how much he loved it when Severus did that to him.

Snape responded with an audible gasp, writhing against Harry's cock, which felt really bloody fantastic. With his right hand, he grasped Harry's wrist and dragged it insistently down his body to his groin, which was unquestionably wide awake. Then he pulled Harry's other wrist in the opposite direction, taking his thumb into his hot, wet mouth and sucking it slowly.

It might as well have been his cock for the effect this had on Harry. He'd never considered his fingers an erogenous zone, but god, at the moment it felt like his thumb was a direct conduit to his prick.

It was in this way, Harry stroking Severus's cock to the same rhythm as he frotted against his arse, with Severus matching the pace as he fellated his finger, that they both came hard with sobbing cries as the pleasure rocked through them.

Harry cast a silent cleaning charm and they both slowly sank back into unconsciousness, Harry's arms still wrapped around Severus protectively.

~Chapter 7~

So it went for a solid week. Every evening would begin innocently enough, but always end in bed (or even on the couch, on a few memorable occasions). Harry felt pretty content, and assumed that Severus felt the same.

Until one morning over breakfast Severus seemed tense and irritable. Harry couldn't imagine why. The previous night they'd had a spot of souixante-neuf that still had Harry feeling slightly afterglowy. Yet here Snape was slamming flatware around and growling under his breath at the Daily Prophet -- not loudly enough for Harry to demand an explanation, but not quietly enough for Harry to ignore completely. Harry thought the best thing was to leave Snape alone and let him get over it in his own time.

Harry had forgotten Severus had never been one to quietly work through his issues and spare those around him.

After he had slammed his teacup onto the saucer almost hard enough to break it, Harry decided to intervene. "Is there something wrong, Severus?"

"Not at all, Harry," he answered, too sweetly to be sincere. "Only I've been wondering lately what exactly made you realize you were attracted to me."

Harry turned pale and tried to hide behind his own teacup. "Nothing in particular. Why do you ask?"

"'Nothing in particular'?" Severus sneered, and Harry knew he'd made a tactical error. "You would have me believe you just woke up one morning, looked at me and decided out of the clear blue that I was the man of your dreams?"

"Well, not exactly..." Harry mumbled into his tea.

"'Not exactly.'" He mimicked in a deadly tone. Harry hadn't seen him this savage since his last Potions class. "Years from now, when people ask how such an ugly, evil old git as myself managed to land such a handsome young man, whatever am I supposed to tell them?"

Tears pricked the corners of Harry's eyes and he blinked them back fiercely. "Why can't you just trust in this? Trust in me?"

Snape looked almost pityingly at him, as if Harry was an utter simpleton. "It could be convincingly argued that the only reason I'm still sitting here is due to my distrust of virtually everything and everyone. I'm not about to change the practice now."

Harry stood, feeling unsteady on his feet. "Then I truly feel sorry for you," he whispered before walking past him out of the room.

~xXx~

What followed were weeks of, not a complete silent treatment, but good as. They communicated in grunts and two- to three-word sentences, the bare minimum any two people needed to co-habitate, if not happily. Harry felt as if he were living with a complete stranger, some bloke he met on the street who needed a room. They navigated the house in an intricate ballet, choreographed to eliminate practically any chance of contact.

Harry hated every minute of it.

He should just send Snape away, and would have, if the Spinner's End incident hadn't demonstrated how unsafe the wizarding world still was for his professor. And try as he might, he couldn't imagine Snape lasting much longer among the Muggles.

Grimmauld Place was still Snape's best haven, and regardless of how much of a prick he was being, Harry's Gryffindor honor still demanded he keep his vow to himself.

Except Snape wasn't being a prick, and Harry knew it. His question was perfectly reasonable -- Harry had made the first move from the very beginning. How could Snape not be suspicious after their adversarial history to one day find Harry throwing himself at him?

Not to mention the injustice of Harry knowing all Snape's secrets while keeping most of his own rankled him terribly.

Since he didn't know how much longer he could tiptoe around in his own house, Harry resolved to answer his question.

~xXx~

He decided there would be no better time than one late afternoon when Snape was reading a potions journal in the front room, basking in some weak sunlight trickling through the window.

Harry stood in the doorway, watching him for a few minutes. He always seemed like a completely different man when he wasn't aware he was being watched (although Harry doubted this was one of those times. More likely he was ignoring Harry).

Harry rapped lightly on the wall, and thankfully Snape deigned to look at him on this occasion. "Are you busy?" Harry asked, just to be safe.

"You can see perfectly well that I'm not," Snape tetched, though it lacked any real sting. Perhaps the sunshine mellowed him out.

Harry crossed the room and took a seat across from him. "You're absolutely right. You deserve to know why I suddenly had a change of heart towards you."

"I know I do," Snape said matter-of-factly and even a bit smugly. Harry thought of how tense the house had been these past weeks and was determined to remain civil. He took a deep breath. Snape was already upset with him, he could hardly make it worse.

"It was while you were comatose. I...accidentally found you talking in your sleep. Well...moaning in your sleep. You sounded like you were having...a really good time." Snape's left eyebrow practically crawled off his face, it was raised so high.

"You sounded unbelievably sexy. Plus it was the first time I'd seen you not being spiteful or snarky. The first time you seemed more human. It was a huge turn-on. Believe me, no one was more surprised than me."

Snape seemed to be contemplating his confession. Finally he spoke. "So you're only attracted to me because of how I sound during sex?"

God, that sounded awful, and Harry understood where he got that impression, given how many times Harry had asked to hear him when they were fooling around. "At first yes. But now we've gotten a chance to get to know each other better, and I enjoy spending time with you, even platonically. No, you're not handsome -- you'd never believe me if I said you were anyway. But there are still things about you that I think are...beautiful."

Snape's head snapped up sharply at that word. "Joke's over, Potter," he growled.

Harry looked confused. "There's no joke. I think you've seen plenty of evidence of how I feel about you physically..."

"That doesn't mean much when desire can be brewed in a cauldron," Snape retorted.

"Yes well, you've made your opinion of my brewing abilities abundantly clear," Harry replied.

"Or bought at any apothecary," Snape came back just as quickly.

"I didn't..."

"Or simulated with a spell," Snape went on relentlessly.

Harry snapped. "Stop, will you knock it off?" Harry crossed the room to kneel in front of him, his hands on either side on the arms of the chair. "My feelings for you are real. I know you've had a rough time, and I know you have every reason not to trust anyone, but I wish you could see past that just this once and take a chance here."

Severus looked at Harry, straight into his eyes. At first Harry thought he was trying to read his intentions more closely, but then he became aware of his mind gently brushing against Harry's; not as invasive as true Legilimency, just the subtlest of touches. Harry might not have noticed it at all if not for those hellish evenings in Snape's office.

Fair enough, Harry thought, after all the ways I've violated his privacy, and he relaxed, willing Snape to look his fill. He became an open book, gazing back into the bottomless black eyes. Really beautiful eyes, he realized. Intense, fierce, intelligent, and fearless -- all the things he saw in Snape that drew him to him.

At last Snape drew back. "You aren't lying." He sounded faintly astonished.

Harry's expression softened. "Severus, I'm the Saviour of the wizarding world. Do you think I have a shortage of suitors? Yet I choose to be with you. It's a quite conscious choice, and not one I make lightly."

Snape stared at him as if seeing him for the first time, a wan smile starting to form. However, Harry wasn't finished yet.

"Hang on, there's more. What I told you about performing the transference spell to keep you slipping away was rubbish. I didn't go into your memories expecting to be able to wake you up." Snape's brow was knit, but he let Harry continue.

"The truth is, when you were doing all that moaning, you said my father's name. It sounded like you might have been lovers. Since you'd always led me to believe you hated him, surely you can see what kind of irresistible mystery that created for me. I didn't think you'd ever tell me yourself, assuming you ever woke up, so I violated your mind purely for selfish reasons. That was inexcusable and I would understand if you didn't forgive me."

Harry's head was bowed when he finished. There. He'd laid all his cards on the table. Except for his method of obtaining the ingredients for the transference potion, but he really felt strongly he shouldn't push his luck any further, assuming it wasn't already too far. Besides, Snape was a Potions master -- there was a good chance he already knew perfectly well what Harry did and was cutting him some slack.

Again Snape seemed to mull things over before speaking. "I suppose if you could forgive me for the thoughts I had while you were a student, I could forgive your need to know why I was moaning your father's name. I would probably do the same were our positions reversed." Harry looked up again, hope gleaming in his eyes. "What actually concerns me more is the fact I was talking in my sleep at all -- a dangerous habit for a spy."

Harry grinned, relieved beyond measure that it seemed like everything might work out. "Well, it wasn't an ordinary sleep. I'm sure it would never have happened if you weren't so far gone inside yourself."

"Perhaps..." Snape looked at Harry. "So what happens now?"

"Now...I'm hoping we go back to where we left off. I really miss the way things were." Harry hoped that slightly lustful smirk Snape was currently wearing meant he felt the same. Harry slowly crawled up from the floor onto Snape's lap, much like the night of their first kiss. He smoothed Snape's hair back to either side of his face, pressed their lips together softly.

It wasn't long before Snape was reaching up to cup Harry's head, pulling him in closer. And it wasn't long after that Harry started to feel his interest spreading downwards. He rubbed against Snape's groin, pleased to feel it was mutual. He gyrated against him until they were both out of breath. Then he pulled back before they went down the same familiar path. After their ordeal, Harry wanted to make this time very special.

He kissed a trail down to Severus's ear, catching the lobe lightly between his teeth, hearing the other man's short gasp. He murmured to him quietly, "I want to fuck you. Do you want me to?" He was taking a chance, but between the fantasies and what he had noticed about his lover's body language when they did other things, he thought it was a safe gamble.

Judging from the flushed look and sharply dilated pupils, darker than Harry had ever seen them, he thought his gamble was about to pay off.

Snape licked his lips nervously, nodded. Harry rose, taking him by the hand and leading him upstairs.

Harry's mind was racing. Knowing this would be Severus's first time, he thought of all the things he wished his first lover had done, if only Harry had the nerve to admit to him he was a virgin. For starters, he would have liked him to take a bit more time to prepare Harry. He would never forget the pain of being taken that first time, and he was determined to spare Severus that.

It was also terribly impersonal, a one-night stand. He was more than a little drunk and truthfully wouldn't be able to pick the guy out of a lineup. That was how he had wanted it -- a virtually anonymous encounter, just to get it over with. Then after a few more similarly meaningless hook-ups, Harry tried topping and realized that was even better.

He cared enough for Severus that he'd happily bottom for him, if that was what he wanted. But for someone's first time it was usually better for the experienced person to be in control.

They had arrived at the bedroom and Severus's anxiety was clearly written all over his face, although he was obviously doing his best to hide it. Harry cupped his cheek and placed a tender kiss on his lips. "Don't be nervous, Severus. I promise I'll make it good for you." His reassurance didn't seem to help as much as he'd hoped, but at least Snape looked a little less like a deer in the headlights.

Perhaps sweet and tender wasn't what was needed right now. Harry remembered Snape's fantasies and what had seemed to be a recurring theme. Without warning, he gave Snape's shoulders a shove, pushing him up against the wall. At first Snape looked like he was going to shove back, but he must have read Harry's intentions in his eyes, because he froze instead, waiting for Harry's next move.

Which was to pin him there with his body. The height difference might have been tricky if Snape wasn't perfectly willing to allow it, and Harry was compact but more muscular. He held Snape's arms up by the wrists, moving in for a more demanding kiss, grinding his hips against Snape's forcefully.

When Harry finally drew back Snape's chest was heaving and his face and neck were flushed. He leaned his head forward, trying to recapture Harry's mouth; not enough to break Harry's grip on his wrists however. Harry found himself more excited than he could ever remember by Snape willing to hand over all control to him. Trusting Harry to not only not hurt him, but to give him pleasure. Harry wouldn't disappoint him.

Still holding his wrists, Harry brought them down to his sides, then behind Snape's back. Distracting him with a kiss, he maneuvered him over to the bed. They stood face to face. Harry began shucking his clothes off as Snape watched. In moments he was starkers as Snape's eyes traveled up and down his body.

He stepped in closer, starting in on Snape. Fortunately he had long ago abandoned the restrictive formal teaching wear with a thousand buttons, and wore a normal shirt with only six or so. He placed a slow kiss first on his neck, then on his shoulder as he slipped the garment off him.

He held Snape's dark gaze as he slid his hands down to his waist and unfastened his trousers. He let them fall to the floor along with the pants. Then he gently pushed Snape down onto the bed, following soon after to straddle him.

Harry leaned over him, again gripping Snape's wrists up to either side of his head. "How am I doing so far?" he grinned down at him.

Snape smirked back. "No complaints yet."

"Good," Harry's face turned serious. "I feel I should ask your permission for what I want to do next though." Snape looked quizzical so Harry continued, "I want to tie you up..." at Snape's slight alarm, he hastily finished, "...just your wrists. I...thought you'd like it. Because of, you know..."

"Because of my fantasy," Snape finished. He looked up at Harry, thought about it. "I'm not opposed to the idea." At Harry's relief, he warned, "Which doesn't mean I'd like to be brutalized and humiliated."

"Of course not. I'm relieved, actually, I honestly don't think I could do that, even just playing," Harry smiled. "Trust me, Severus. The feeling of being restrained can be extremely erotic. I really think you'll enjoy it."

Snape said simply "I trust you, Harry." Those four words held such profound meaning for Harry he might as well have said the "L" word. Harry leaned in to kiss him again, carefully crossing his arms over each other, breaking the kiss to murmur, "Incarcerus." Thin silver ropes appeared, twining around Snape's wrists securely. Snape tested their strength, seemed satisfied and watched Harry expectantly.

Harry looked down at his bound lover appraisingly, liking what he saw very much. To show his approval he thrust his cock against Severus's, and both men gasped. Harry licked a stripe down Severus's chest to his right nipple, running his tongue around it sensually. Severus squirmed a bit but watched in fascination.

Harry continued down, dipping into Severus's bellybutton, then all the way down to his cock. He took the stiff member deep into his mouth in one movement, and Snape arched up as far as his bonds would allow. Harry swirled his tongue around him, sucked him down once, twice, hard and slow, then pulled back with a devilish grin.

Severus opened his eyes at the interruption, still panting with want. Harry stood and grabbed him by the hips, urging him to roll over onto his stomach. Doing this made his bound arms uncross. Harry tucked some pillows under his hips and pushed his legs farther apart, rendering him utterly exposed with his arse high in the air.

Stepping back to appraise his work, Harry couldn't repress a long moan. "God, Severus, if you could see how you look..."

Snape was flushed, a deep stain that traveled halfway down his chest. "I feel totally ridiculous," he muttered, sounding a bit disgruntled.

"No, not ridiculous. I could eat you alive..." Harry wanted to drink in the sight of the feared Potions Master arse-up just for him, but supposed he shouldn't push his luck with the man's patience. He ran his hands down his back and over the cheeks, unable to resist giving one a resounding slap.

Snape started at the unexpected blow, tugged at the ropes but they held fast. "Potter..." he growled, low and threatening.

Harry slapped the other one at that, "Ah ah, Professor. What have I said about calling me that?" Snape stopped struggling but Harry could see his tension strung across his shoulder blades like a bowstring. He regretted taking liberties and went back to sliding his hands over his back gently.

He kissed the reddened flesh, rubbing his cheek against it. He really did want to eat him alive, and was warring with a very strong need to pin the helpless man, thrust into him violently as he had seen Sirius do in his fantasy. But he couldn't do that. He would never betray Severus's trust, least of all just to satisfy his own carnal desires.

Instead he gently kneaded the cheeks, massaging and spreading them apart with every pass. He felt a sudden urge to do something, something he'd never considered doing with another man, but now it seemed to beckon to him as strongly as the call to penetrate and fuck ever had.

Concentrating, he whispered, "Ablutio," and heard Severus gasp as he felt the effect of the spell. Then Harry tentatively licked Severus's entrance, running his tongue over and up repeatedly. He was somewhat relieved to discover it didn't really taste like anything, certainly no more objectionable than a cock. It was just flesh, but licking it was producing a whole new timbre of gasps and cries from his lover, so he went about it more enthusiastically.

He wriggled his tongue inside the tiny pucker, making Severus mewl. Harry couldn't believe he'd heard that right, but he wasn't about to stop to analyze. He fucked the older man with his tongue, alternating the penetrating action with sucking at the hole, sometimes grazing his teeth against it; Severus apparently loved it all, if the way he was straining to shove back into his face was any indication.

Harry rimmed him until his tongue started to feel sprained. Severus was gasping into the pillow, thrusting his arse back shamelessly, forgetting that he felt ridiculous a short while ago.

Harry silently Summoned a jar of lubricant, coating his fingers liberally. He slowly slid his index finger in first, deep into the tight heat. So that Severus wouldn't feel that Harry was singlemindedly focused on his anus, he rose up and knelt beside him as he moved the digit in and out slowly. He pressed his erection against Severus's flank and murmured close to his ear, "God, Severus, you are so incredibly sexy." The other man was practically insensible already, and only let out a low moan. "I can't wait to sink my cock deep inside you, fuck you hard, make you totally mine..." A sobbing gasp at this, as the Slytherin started pushing himself back onto Harry's finger.

Harry carefully added his middle finger, moving maddeningly slowly, "Easy...I'm going to take you slow, let you feel every inch of me sliding in and out of your sweet little hole, make you beg me to let you come..."

A small part of Harry worried that he might be going too far into what might be considered humiliation, but Severus was still meeting Harry's thrusts and moaned, "Yess....pleassssse..."

Harry could feel the ring of muscle gradually letting him in more and more, and knew it had to be soon. With another dab of lube, he inserted his first three fingers in. Severus stopped rocking backwards and seemed to tense up a bit. Harry moved even slower, twisting his fingers on the pull-back. To distract him from the uncomfortable feeling of fullness Harry pressed his body against him in what he hoped was a comforting way. "Shhhhh, don't worry...not until you're ready. I want you begging for mercy, but in a good way, my beautiful Severus..."

The quiet but urgent words and patient preparation must have done the trick, because Harry's fingers were suddenly moving much easier and Severus had regained enough coherence to whisper, "Now Harry...I...think I'm ready."

Hearing that deep, cultured voice say such a simple, yet dirty in this context, phrase practically made Harry lose control right then and there. He bit his lip and hung on; there was no way he would disappoint Severus tonight.

"Are you sure, Severus? It's not too late to change your mind," though Harry sincerely hoped he didn't.

"Yes, just get on with it, will you?" he snapped. Harry knew he was just nervous so forgave him being a bit on edge. He was going to offer more words of encouragement, but thought it perhaps best that he obey the man.

With one final kiss on his shoulder, Harry turned his attention down. Snape gave a tiny gasp as he carefully withdrew his fingers. Harry was so on edge himself that at the last minute he cast a small numbing charm on his own cock -- it had been a long time since he'd been inside anyone, least of all someone he wanted so much to please. He covered himself with a ludicrous amount of lubricant, applying the same amount twice over to Severus's hole.

He nudged his entrance with the blunt head and the older man grunted. Slowly he pushed inside, watching for any signs from his lover. At about a third of the way Severus hissed a sharp intake of breath and he stiffened. Harry stopped instantly. He rubbed small circles on his lower back, murmuring, "It's okay, just relax into it. Breathe slow and relax, push back against me."

Gradually he felt Severus relax a bit -- perhaps not completely, but enough that he could continue. He pushed in farther, feeling the inner ring of muscle let him in. By now he was more than halfway sheathed, and numbing charm or no, Harry had to desperately call up thoughts of Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, Dolores Umbridge, anything to take his mind off the exquisitely tight heat surrounding him. Severus had the tightest arse he'd ever fucked on anyone, and Harry had taken a respectable enough sample to know.

He couldn't resist the urge to thrust much longer, and experimentally tried with tiny movements which Severus seemed to like. He was rocking slightly, pushing back to meet him, though still tentatively. But then on one stroke they both misjudged and moved too far. Harry suddenly slammed all the way in, which felt like stumbling into heaven, but Severus cried out loudly and threw his head back.

"Oh god, Severus, I'm sorry!" Harry started to pull out but was surprised to feel Severus clamp down on him.

"Don't you dare," he gasped. "Hit something..."

"Oh," Harry gripped his hips and lined up at what felt like the same angle, "you mean this?" and with the last word he thrust all the way in again, making Severus again arch up and cry out.

"Oh god," he panted, "fuck, right there," he ground out on the next two thrusts, "yes, please..."

Harry slid in and out slowly, reveling in the appreciative outbursts of his lover, nailing the same spot again and again. Gradually he picked up speed in response to Severus's rocking, which became more aggressive as his discomfort was replaced by pleasure.

Harry was moving forcefully, thrusting with abandon. He stopped thinking about Umbridge because now his world was nothing but the achingly sublime rhythm they had fallen into.

Severus was straining at his ropes, burying his face deeper into the pillow so he could get his arse higher into the air and closer to Harry. He was repeating something over and over, and Harry finally made the words out: "Fuck me...fucking me...fucking me....yes...yesss...fucking me..."

"Oh god, Severus....so...fucking...gooooooood," Harry moaned. He reached underneath him, grabbed his stiff member, pumped three times and Severus was spurting, jerking back against Harry, clamping around him even tighter than before.

Severus collapsed under him in a jumble of sweaty limbs. Harry was too close, too close, couldn't stop if Voldemort himself burst into the room. He pounded into Severus's limp body furiously until he too came with a long, harsh cry.

Harry fell on top of Severus, who still hadn't moved. After some minutes when his heartbeat had returned to normal, Harry rolled off. With a whispered, "Finite Incantatem" the ropes vanished from Severus's wrists. They looked red and chafed from Severus twisting and pulling on his bonds. Harry was overcome with a feeling of tenderness and protectiveness he'd rarely felt before; a feeling he'd never thought to associate with Severus Snape, but by now he was used to his life turning down roads he never saw on the map. He massaged the wounded skin and kissed it softly.

At long last Severus opened his eyes and looked at Harry. His expression was unreadable.

"Are you okay in there?" Harry gazed at him worriedly.

"That was...nothing like what I expected," he said quietly.

"I hope that's a good thing?" Harry asked. "I mean, sorry about going at you when you were done, but I couldn't help myself."

"No, no, I didn't mind that. Not that I had the strength to stop you if I did."

"Oh god, I never wanted to rape you...!"

Severus placed one hand over Harry's. "Believe me, I've seen enough rape and torture to last a lifetime, and that most certainly was neither."

Harry relaxed, intertwined his fingers with Severus's. "Well, I hope I made it good for you. I don't think I've ever been someone's first before."

"I thought it would hurt more," Severus admitted.

"It could have, if I didn't know what I was doing. Unfortunately my first top was a little...eager."

Severus toyed with Harry's fingers pensively. "I'm sorry to hear that. Thank you for...a pleasurable experience."

Harry turned on his side to face him. "When you put it that way it sounds like a one-time thing." Severus only looked at him. "Don't you dare get all tight-lipped on me again! Is this all you wanted from me or not?"

"I would like more. I didn't wish to presume..."

Harry threw his arms around his shoulders, "You are so infuriating! You may presume! What else can I do to make it clear to you I'd like you to stick around?"

Severus cupped Harry's neck, ran his hand down to his chest, as if making sure he was still real. "I warned you I have no experience in these matters. And nothing I want comes without a price, I've learned."

Harry clasped his hand on his chest, "Well, I come at a price as well. I expect you to make a token effort to make me happy too."

"A token effort?" Severus's lips quirked, "I suppose I can safely promise that."

Harry rolled on top of him grinning, nipped playfully at his neck. "You're a right bastard, you know that?"

Severus helped himself to an armful of Harry. "I've been told once or twice."

~EPILOGUE~

Severus did stick around, and even succeeded most of the time in making Harry happy. As his confidence grew in the bedroom Harry gave him a few turns on top, though he eventually confessed to a decided preference for the bottom, which Harry didn't mind obliging at every opportunity.

In the day to day, for the sake of Severus's sanity Harry had helped him set up a mail order potions business which did well, known worldwide for producing exceptionally high quality and potent brews. It kept Severus plenty busy enough to not mind hardly ever leaving Grimmauld Place, not that he had any overwhelming urge to see other people if he could.

Harry hired Justin Finch-Fletchley, who turned out to have quite the magic touch with the wizarding stock market, and handily turned the Potter fortune into a multi-national corporation. Harry appointed Dean Thomas to the Board of Directors, allowing Harry the freedom to come and go as he pleased, since it pleased him most of the time to do neither and work in his garden.

Before they knew it a whole year had passed. Harry had difficulty picking an anniversary date given the strange beginning they'd had, but he settled on the day of their second kiss, the one that Severus had actually responded to.

Severus cooked dinner that night, Harry's favorite (shepherd's pie and treacle tart for afters; his tastes hadn't changed much from school, in food anyway). Afterwards as Harry tidied up, Severus read a potions journal, seemingly oblivious to Harry's anxious darting glances.

"Ummm, Severus?" Harry finally stammered.

"Mmmmmm?" he hummed from behind the magazine.

"I don't know whether you know what today is..."

"It's Tuesday. I hope that puts your mind at ease."

"That's not what I meant! It's..."

"Our anniversary," he lowered the magazine. "I did cook your favorite meal, in case you hadn't noticed."

"How did you know what date I picked...?"

"I didn't. However, I am aware it was roughly one year ago give or take a few weeks. And you've been as nervous all day as a first year at the Sorting Feast, so I surmised you had chosen today."

Before Harry could pick his jaw up off the floor, Severus flipped to the back of his magazine and pulled out an ornate gold leaf envelope. "Happy anniversary, Harry."

Harry carefully ripped it open, pulling out "An autographed Josef Wronski card??" Severus wore a small smile. "How...?"

"I regrettably owe Ronald Weasley a sizable favor now."

Harry gave him a kiss that promised to make that debt not so odious. Drawing back, he murmured, "Guess we both owe a Weasley a favor then."

He retrieved Severus's gift from inside a cabinet. He watched him unwrap it impatiently, a book: "The Spy Who Was Left Out in the Cold" by Hermione Granger-Weasley. Severus looked at Harry puzzledly.

"Please don't be angry. I gave Hermione all the files regarding the war, all the evidence of your work for Dumbledore, Order business, Pensieve memories -- excluding the ones about my mum -- eyewitness testimonies, everything I used to get you out of Azkaban." Severus was staring at the book, sitting far too still.

"The public deserves to know! You deserve to not be imprisoned in your own home like a criminal the rest of your life! And what's more," Harry turned to the front of the book, "the Wizengamot agrees. They received advanced copies. They're endorsing it 100%." The first page bore the official Wizengamot seal of approval.

Severus looked up with shining eyes. Harry found a cream-colored envelope inside the pages and handed it to him. "It's time to start living in the light."

Severus opened it with shaking hands, revealing an invitation on heavy vellum to his Order of Merlin presentation ceremony. "First class," Harry whispered. "No one deserves it more than you."

"It's tonight," Severus observed.

"Yeah. I didn't want to give you too much time to try to get out of it, if you decided to be bloody-minded."

Severus pulled Harry into his lap, lay the paper on the table. He encircled his arms around his waist, lifted his face to kiss him deeply. Breaking off, he murmured, "Yours is the only light I care about."

Harry smirked, "Careful, professor. You're getting soft on me."

The Slytherin shifted slightly underneath him. "Not all of me."

Harry pressed back against him. "Thank god for that."

They were a bit late for the ceremony.

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