Whisperes of Intent 2
Harry turned to stare up into the completely unfamiliar, but breathtakingly handsome blond wizard's face. The stranger was so good-looking that Harry suspected a glamour must be at work. No normal human was that perfect without magical assistance. The guy made Muggle movie stars seem plain, he glowed so brightly.
"Yes?" Harry cautiously responded.
"I couldn't believe it when I saw you sitting here. I've wanted to meet you for so long. I'd heard you stop in here once in a while. Never thought I'd get so lucky as to actually meet you." As if remembering his manners, the fast-talking, athletic blond stuck out his right hand and introduced himself, "Brate Collins."
"Brate," Harry acknowledged, not taking the hand.
Collins let it drop without issue. His smile brightening, to a truly blinding level, Collins continued, "Look, I know this is going to sound very forward, but would you like to . . . hook up? I've read so much about you that I feel I know you, and, I promise you won't be disappointed."
The smile Collins graced him with would have melted icebergs.
If Harry had seen this man before he'd started talking to Snape, he might have been the one making that kind of advance. As it was, he was hard pressed to keep the anger out of his voice as he responded, "Excuse me, but did you happen to notice that you just interrupted a private conversation I was having?"
Collins' stunning blue eyes flickered Snape's way. The utterly dismissive expression that followed his glance turned that attractive face into something truly ugly. In a tone that wasn't quite low enough to be inaudible to where Snape was sitting two feet away, Collins stage whispered. "You can do better than that, Harry. The geezer's old enough to be your father."
The absolute stupidity of people never ceased to amaze Harry.
Seeing Snape stiffen, Harry quickly answered before his former teacher could curse the moron, "First off, that 'geezer' is an old friend of mine. Secondly, if it weren't for him, Voldemort would never have been defeated. And lastly, if you think I'd have the poor taste to sleep with someone so utterly boorish, you're sadly mistaken. Get out of here, before I let the 'geezer' here teach you a thing or two about manners and duelling."
Collins' face blanched at the word 'duelling', and then filled with colour as he skulked away.
"You didn't have to do that on my behalf, Potter," Snape said in the irritated tone Harry remembered from his school years.
"I didn't," Harry replied. "You can't imagine that I'd be interested in someone that rude?"
"Manners are not usually in high demand here," Snape said in a less aggressive tone. "He was very handsome."
"He was wearing a glamour, and, even if he weren't . . . . One one-night-stand is very much like another. It wouldn't have worked out anyway," Harry answered.
"How's that?" Snape enquired, seeming genuinely interested.
"It's gotten so I've almost developed a radar for picking out the ones I'll have trouble with – "
"Radar?" Snape asked, clearly unfamiliar with the Muggle device.
"It's a Muggle machine that detects airplanes and missiles long before they're visible to the naked eye," Harry quickly explained.
"And you have this radar for . . . wizards you're not compatible with?" Snape questioned.
"Well, it usually turns out to be most wizards. You know what it's like. You get to a certain point in the proceedings and it always becomes a tussle to see who will be on top," Harry said, only belatedly realizing that his brain had once again parted ways with his mouth and that he was sitting here talking sex with his former teacher.
But Snape didn't appear scandalized or even shocked. Holding his gaze, Snape replied in a strangely inflected tone, "No, I'm afraid I don't."
"Don't what?" Harry asked, feeling like he was losing track of the conversation. How could Snape not know? Every wizard knew.
"Don't know what it's like to tussle over who will be on top, as you so elegantly phrased it," Snape replied.
"But how can you not know?" Harry tried to keep his voice level. Snape wouldn't be here if he weren't gay, and every gay wizard had to deal with the same inhibitions when it came to penetrative sex.
Snape merely raised an eyebrow and stared at him expectantly.
It took a long time for the penny to drop, but when it did, Harry could feel his cheeks turn to flame. "Oh."
The corners of Snape's mouth twitched up in what might have been a stifled smile at his reaction.
Harry considered what he'd learned. There was only one reason why Snape wouldn't know about those dominance issues – if it weren't something he required. Snape had always seemed such a control freak to him that Harry couldn't imagine him not preferring to top. Wizards who didn't want to take the dominant role in bed were rare. Harry realized that were this anyone other than Severus Snape, he could probably have had his pick of partners every night he came in here. Even without changing his appearance, Snape would have been immensely popular. Harry knew it was the man's abrasive personality that kept him sitting here alone night after night like Justin said he did.
Snape seemed completely unperturbed by their topic of conversation. Watching Harry out of those bottomless black eyes, he took a sip of the gold-coloured drink on the table before him.
As the silence stretched between them, Harry wasn't sure what to say next. Knowing which position Snape preferred in bed was more than he'd ever thought he'd want to know about Snape. Sixteen years ago, he would have had a definite yuck response to this kind of illumination.
Only, Harry was surprised to find that there was no repulsion factor at all. To the contrary, he was . . . intrigued.
The discovery had thrown him off centre. He felt unaccountably agitated. His pulse was racing madly, his breathing shallow, the room suddenly seemed unnaturally hot. Absolutely flabbergasted, Harry recognized his physical symptoms for what they were. He hadn't felt like this in so long that he'd all but forgotten what it felt like to be aroused.
Harry knew that in light of their tumultuous past, the idea that was flitting through his mind was completely insane. He had to be totally mental to even consider what he was thinking . . . only, it had been so horribly long since he'd felt any true excitement that he couldn't ignore it when he did, regardless of the unsuitability of its source.
Before he could think and panic, Harry took a deep breath and asked as casually as his thundering heart would allow him, "Did you come here tonight to find a partner for the night?"
"That is what we are all here for, is it not?" Snape replied, seeming more on guard, as though he were anticipating ridicule. But Snape still didn't snap and tell him that it was none of his business why he was here, as would have happened years ago.
Encouraged by that small victory, Harry forced himself to hold that dark gaze as he asked, "I guess spending the night with me would be out of the question?"
The silence that followed his question felt like it were frozen in ice.
Dear God, he'd just propositioned Severus Snape. What was he thinking? Harry's brain short circuited as he realized that he'd actually given that insanity voice. He held his breath, waiting for the explosion, fully aware that he deserved whatever Snape dished out to him.
Snape merely stared at him for a long moment before hissing, "Are you attempting to be humorous?"
Feeling the blood drain from his face and his heart and breathing thud to a painful stop, Harry shook his head. "No. I meant it."
Those dark eyes were scouring his face so intently that Harry could almost believe that Snape was attempting to read his thoughts. There was still no explosion. Finally, Snape said, "You expect me to believe that you seriously wish to . . . spend the night – with me?"
"I know it's absolutely insane, but . . . yeah, I do," Harry replied, still unable to believe that he was actually having this kind of conversation with Severus Snape.
Harry withstood the resulting scrutiny, holding Snape's gaze.
"Given our less than shining history, you must understand that I have to ask you why?" Snape said into the bubble of silence that surrounded them. Three feet away, there was still music and laughter, but their table seemed isolated in its own dimension of tension.
Abruptly, Harry realized how vulnerable Snape's admission of his sexual preferences had left him. Sex was often about a lot more than getting laid. Some men used it as a weapon, others as a bargaining tool. Harry could almost touch the other man's suspicion, the fear that Harry might be planning to use this as a way to get back at Snape for all the years of humiliation he'd suffered in Snape's class. It would be easily enough done, Harry thought, recognizing that Snape would probably never sleep with him simply to forestall such a situation.
Harry tried to come up with an argument that would circumvent Snape's considerable self-preservation instincts, but he wasn't good with words. All he had was the pathetic, inadequate truth, which he didn't want to share. Only . . . he was asking a level of trust from Snape that was unprecedented between them. Surely, he could give Snape something in return, even if it were embarrassing and enough ammunition to ensure years of humiliation should Snape decide to use the information against him, which he no doubt would.
Gulping down his fear, Harry softly confessed, "You saw the way that Brate guy treated me. Every time I come in here, that's what it's like. It's gotten so I don't . . . feel anything anymore, but . . . when you told me what you liked to do in bed, that stirred something. I know you have no reason to trust my motives, but I honestly did want to . . . try. I just figured that since we were here for the same thing, why not give it a go?"
The reasons as to why not were too many to count, Harry recognized as he waited for Snape to point that very fact out to him.
But Snape didn't belabour the bloody obvious. He simply sat there watching him for what felt like eternity before saying, "My place or not at all."
Snape still looked as though he expected to be laughed at any second.
Too shocked for words, all Harry could manage was a stiff nod.
Snape stood up. Harry followed suit. As he looked up into that familiar, stark-featured face, he was once again reminded of their difference in height. He'd forgotten how damn tall Snape was.
Snape reached out and took hold of his arm. Harry felt the power draw around him, and seconds later, they were Apparating away.
The wall sconces and hearth lit as they rematerialized in the open space in the corner of a charming sitting room. There was a huge fieldstone hearth along the far wall with a long green sofa, two brown armchairs, and several dark wood tables before it. The corner opposite the one they'd Apparated into had a huge mahogany desk and chair in it. Every other wall was lined with overburdened book cases.
As Harry glanced around his surroundings, he saw that the only decoration, if it could be called that, was a single framed picture of Albus Dumbledore on the mantle. But despite the lack of knickknacks and clutter, the room was oddly warm and welcoming, nothing like what he would have imagined Snape to inhabit.
Once he'd taken in his environment, Harry turned to look at his companion. He had no clue as to how to even approach Snape now that they were alone. He couldn't believe that Snape had actually agreed to this.
Snape was watching him with that same suspicious expression.
Their gazes met, and something like a challenge sparked in those black eyes.
Harry looked up as Snape stepped into his personal space. He wasn't sure what to expect. Kisses were never a part of these kinds of encounters.
Harry groaned as Snape's yellow-tinted hand cupped him through his trousers. He'd been half-hard since Snape had confessed that he preferred not to top. He went from half-interested to raging in a heartbeat. He could tell that Snape was using the touch to check that he was genuinely interested, but Harry didn't really care why Snape was squeezing him. All that mattered was the sensations that blazed through him.
Snape obviously knew what he was doing. That long-fingered hand had precisely the right pressure, not too hard, but nothing cloying or teasing about it. Snape's touch was firm and confident, and Harry soared.
"Very impressive, Potter," Snape drawled; a little breathlessly, Harry thought.
His own breathing was embarrassingly erratic for this stage in the proceedings. Maybe it was the sheer insanity of doing this with someone who should have been off limits or perhaps it had merely been so long since Harry had experienced anything like real arousal that he didn't know how to handle it; all he knew was that his heart was racing at an alarming rate and he couldn't think.
Snape's hands moved to slip Harry's open black wizards robe from his shoulders and then moved to his waist to fumble Harry's trouser fastenings open.
Harry gasped as the cool air of the room caressed his overheated flesh. He could feel Snape's gaze on his genitals like he would another man's touch. Then Snape was sliding down to his knees and Harry lost all ability for rational cognition as his straining cock was absorbed into the wet heat of Severus Snape's mouth.
Barely able to believe what he was seeing, Harry watched that dark head bend over his groin. He reached down and flicked open the clasp holding Snape's hair, and an instant later, his lower belly was quivering as the fall of black hair brushed against it.
Snape really knew how to use his mouth; Harry had to give him that. He'd had many a blow job in his jaded past, but rarely had anyone used their tongue on him with quite the enthusiasm and artistry that Snape did. That slick tormentor found the sensitive spot on the underside of his penis and pleasured it till Harry thought his entire body would explode from the delight that rocked through him.
Snape seemed to sense exactly when the stimulation became too much, for he drew back mere seconds before Harry was ready to come.
Harry's rubbery legs gave out from under him, and he sank down onto the brown carpet, facing Snape.
Their gazes met again. To Harry's utter astonishment, Snape looked as wild with desire as Harry felt.
Dragging in short, shallow breaths like he'd just chased a suspect on foot for six miles, Harry watched as Snape shrugged his own robe off his shoulders and then undid his black trousers.
Harry didn't know if he'd ever seen skin as pale as that revealed when Snape impatiently shoved his pants and underwear down. Snape's cock was a startlingly dark contrast against his fish-belly white stomach. It was long, thick, and so red with need that it made Harry's mouth water just to look at it.
Harry couldn't help but reach for that beautiful prize. Snape grew even larger in his hand as he palmed that bright flesh and began to pump.
After several minutes, Snape abruptly pulled away from his hand.
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but before he could voice a single word of complaint, Snape pressed a small brown jar into his right hand and then shifted on the floor until he was on his hands and knees, facing away from Harry.
Harry gulped as he recalled what Snape had implied he liked back in the bar.
Shaking with the kind of need he hadn't felt since his teenage years, Harry reached out with his left hand to shove Snape's jacket and shirt tails up out of the way so he could see the man's arse.
The skin there was just as pale as his belly, whiter than fresh-fallen snow. Snape's butt had little flesh on it, and was rather flat, but it was still surprisingly attractive. Harry swallowed hard as he took in the sight, because he couldn't remember a single time that someone had offered him this so easily, with no negotiations beforehand.
Harry trembled as he worked the lid off the jar Snape had given him. He sank the fingers of his left hand into the cool, white cream. Removing a large glob of it, he warmed it in his palm and then transferred it to his right middle finger.
His hand slid into the dark mystery of the cleft between Severus' cheeks, finding the budded entrance there like a Muggle heat-seeking missile. He slicked the round bud with the lubricant, and then carefully slipped his middle finger up inside Snape.
The groan Snape released as that slender probe penetrated him slithered through Harry like a stroke to his cock.
Tight. Snape was so incredibly tight around even just his finger that it made Harry wonder if he'd even really done this before. But then he remembered how Justin had said that he'd only seen Snape leave Whispers with a partner once, and Harry realized that Snape probably didn't have sex very often.
Harry took his time. The shocked grunt Snape gave when Harry's finger flicked over his prostate rocked through him. Harry worked that secret spot, delighting in the sounds his efforts pulled from the normally restrained Snape.
When it felt like Snape had loosened up some, Harry pulled his finger out, added more of the warmed lube to it and a partner, and then carefully inserted two fingers up into Snape. Two fingers were twice as good as one, for both of them, if the cry Snape gave as Harry started to work him were anything to go by.
It took a long while before Snape was stretched enough to permit easy intercourse, but Harry didn't mind. He'd rarely had a partner who allowed him this much freedom in this particular area.
Finally, Snape felt loose enough. Which was a really good thing, because Harry was so turned on that he could barely see straight at that point.
Harry stuck his fingers back in the jar of fresh-scented cream and then quickly slathered the stuff on his cock. With a renewed sense of unreality, he positioned himself, overwhelmed by the awareness that he was about to fuck Severus Snape.
Then his cock slid past that guarding muscle, and it was all tight warmth and wild pleasure, with no room for either thought or awkwardness. Snape was an incredible, tight heat gripping every inch of him.
Snape gasped as Harry's cock slid over his prostate. Loving the sound, Harry pulled back and did it again, and again. There was no describing how incredible this felt. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced pleasure this intense, had felt this welcome inside anyone. That the person giving him this unprecedented gift would be Severus Snape was inconceivable.
Bracing himself up with his left hand on Snape's hip, Harry slid his right around Snape to collect that lovely dick into his hand.
It felt just as amazing as it had before, fitting Harry's palm as though it had been designed to specification. His hips and hand finding a mutually satisfying rhythm, Harry began to thrust, pulling all the way out before reclaiming that perfect tract. Snape moved with him like they'd been doing this for years, like their bodies knew each other from the inside out. Every time Harry would push in, Snape's butt would hump backwards to meet him, and when Harry pulled out, Snape's hips would rock forward to meet Harry's moving hand on his cock.
Snape was making these tiny, pleading noises that sounded like they were being torn out of him against his will. His head was thrown back, his long black hair flowing around his pale shoulders like a black silk curtain. And he was gasping like he couldn’t catch his breath, like whatever sensations he was experiencing were beyond his ability to handle.
Never before had Harry had a partner so in tune with him. This was more an erotic dance than a fumbling first time. That Snape could be so gloriously sensual, so utterly open to the experience blew away every preconception Harry harboured about him.
All too soon, Harry felt his balls tighten as they slapped against that flat arse. Seconds later, his nerve endings exploded with pleasure as his cock convulsed deep inside Snape.
At almost the same instant, the cock in his hand gave up its load, spraying Harry's hand and Snape's belly with the generous, sticky outpouring.
The pleasure seeming to take everything he had, Harry collapsed across Snape's back. When Snape didn't fold beneath him, Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's chest. Even under three layers of bulky jacket, shirt, and undershirt, Snape's chest was still unusually slender.
Needing something more, Harry buried his face in the crook between Snape's neck and shoulder and greedily licked the sweet skin there.
Snape shuddered in reaction. The channel gripping Harry's now deflated cock constricted around him, and to Harry's utter shock, he felt himself go hard again. Not knowing what to do, he just stayed there, wrapped around Snape. Then Snape pushed back at him, giving his cock more friction, and Harry lost all control.
Straightening back up, Harry took hold of Snape's hardening shaft and started rocking his hips again for an amazing second go round.
This encounter felt no less satisfying than the first. Harry's entire body thrilled with every forward thrust. Each time Severus' channel squeezed his cock, the resulting burst of delight that howled through Harry's system was nearly transcendental. Snape seemed equally aroused by what they were doing, were the rock hard cock in Harry's moving fist any indication.
Not surprisingly, this time took longer, but the build-up was piercingly sweet. Harry tumbled over into orgasm again, sinking back down on Snape's back while the man's cock exploded in his hand.
Feeling the intimate motions of Snape's back rising and falling with each breath he took and that heart beating madly beneath his chest, Harry simply stayed frozen in that comfortable position, letting Snape hold him up.
Harry couldn't believe it when he felt Snape give him another squeeze. He wasn't sixteen anymore – hell, had he ever come like that at sixteen? – he should have been done for the night. Maybe for the week. But against all reason and previous experience, Harry hardened again.
Deciding that this night must be some weird, erotic dream, Harry straightened back up and began to thrust again, slow and lazy this time. The shaft in his hand did not get hard again, but Snape's bum moved to eagerly meet his every thrust. When Harry came this time, it was a gentle, warm completion rather than the previous bone-melting explosions. Harry couldn't even tell if he produced any semen. All he knew was that it felt sublime.
This time when Harry gave his weight to Snape, Snape crashed to the floor.
They lay there frozen on the soft, brown rug, their bodies still locked in that sticky union as they struggled for breath.
Harry sighed in regret as his perhaps forever-limp cock slipped out of Snape. He knew that he'd never have another night like this, that this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. As much as he'd savoured it, Harry really wished he could have prolonged it. But not even at the height of teenage randiness could he have gotten it up a fourth time in one night.
After a long moment, Snape rolled over onto his side, facing him.
A shiver passed through Harry as their gazes met. He could see the same awkwardness, the same disbelief that he was experiencing reflected in those inky black eyes.
Harry hadn't know what he'd expected when he'd gone home with Snape, but it certainly hadn't been the explosive sexual chemistry they'd found.
When he felt he could spare the breath, Harry began, "That was . . . . "
His words trailed off into embarrassed silence as he realized that he couldn't finish the sentence without sounding like a sentimental idiot.
He'd never seen Snape look the way he looked now, all warm and rumpled, hair askew, cheeks still flushed with pleasure. He couldn't take his eyes off his face.
Instead of scorning him as an utter fool, as part of Harry instinctively dreaded would happen, Snape gave a strangely inflected, "Indeed."
That horrible silence fell between them again.
Recognizing that if he didn't move now, he might just lay here for the rest of his life, Harry forced himself to sit up. Snape did the same beside him, as he'd known he would.
When Harry climbed to his feet to rearrange his clothing, Snape was right beside him.
His trousers up and fastened, Harry summoned his robe from the floor and shouldered into it. He could feel Snape's dark gaze following his every move.
This was why it was never a good idea to have one-night-stands with people he knew, Harry realized. The awkwardness afterwards was enough to kill a man.
Even Snape seemed completely thrown by what had occurred between them. In the past, an out-of-sorts Snape would have instantly translated into a shouting Snape, but he seemed more shocked than angry to Harry.
Harry could appreciate the feeling. It wasn't supposed to have been like that.
If this had been any man other than Severus Snape, Harry would have given voice to the conflicting feelings he was experiencing, would have let the other man know how much he'd moved him and asked to see him again. But . . . this was Snape. Harry knew Snape wouldn't want to hear any of that, not from him, so he left it unsaid.
Recognizing that manners required that he say something before Apparating away, Harry stumbled over, "Er, thanks. I, er, guess I'll see you around."
Something that might have been resignation flashed through Snape's eyes before it was quickly masked. His voice almost totally uninflected, Snape replied, "Doubtless."
Unable to stand the tension, Harry swallowed hard and said, "Well, good night, then."
He didn't know what he'd hoped Snape would say, but the softly voiced, "Good night, Potter," wasn't it.
With a final nod, Harry Apparated home.
*~*~*
Despite his best efforts to purge the memory, that night with Snape was all Harry could think about. He tried to tell himself that sex was just sex, but he'd never had sex like that in his life. His body reverberated with the fierce sensations, and, even though he was at work, the instant Snape crossed his mind, he'd go instantly hard.
Harry knew that the wisest thing he could do was to put that night firmly behind him, because if a one-night-stand with Snape could mess him up this bad, there was no telling what anything more would do. But Harry had never been wise.
What he'd been was numb and disenchanted. To learn that he could feel, that he could have such explosive chemistry with another human, was nearly more than he could handle. Numb was safe. Reality was all about disenchantment. If he didn't hope, if he didn't dream, then he couldn't be hurt.
In his saner moments, Harry knew that there was nothing he could gain by seeing Snape again. Doubtless all a second encounter would do would be to shatter the illusions he was fostering, because, for God's sake, how could he possibly have chemistry with Snape? The idea was more than insane; it was ludicrous.
Snape would no doubt laugh in his face if Harry came skulking back to his door for a second go-round. For, seriously, where could this possibly go?
Harry tried to tell himself that it was the novelty that had made that night so hot, that it was the idea of doing it with someone who should have been out of bounds that was so titillating rather than Snape himself. The man was ugly and obnoxious. Harry had known that for years . . . only, Snape hadn't seemed at all ugly when they were lying there on the floor all rumpled and flushed after sex, nor had he been all that obnoxious that night. Prickly, yes, but Snape could no more be sweet and charming than a dragon could. For Snape, he'd been damned pleasant that night.
But just because Snape had been unnaturally forbearing with him on Friday night, didn't mean Snape would want to ever see him again. They'd both needed to get laid, that was all there was to it. To make something more out of a satisfying one-night-stand was just asking for trouble. Harry knew that.
Which was why he found himself tentatively knocking on the thick wooden door of Snape's Exmoor home the next night, because he knew he'd be asking for trouble, Harry thought with a sneer as he stood there shivering in the early January freeze. Maybe he just needed Snape to laugh in his face for him to be able to get on with his life.
The door swung open. Snape's sour, irritated expression gave way to one of complete shock when he saw who it was on his doorstep, before being schooled into its usual bland set. "Potter?"
Snape wasn't wearing his robes or jacket. He was in black trousers and shirtsleeves. The rolled up arms of his white shirt revealed the dark mark on his left arm and Snape's wiry muscled forearms, which somehow struck Harry as being unbelievably sexy. It was at that point that Harry recognized how truly doomed he was.
"Er, hello," Harry stammered, having no idea what to say. Maybe it was courage that had brought him here, or perhaps desperation, but whatever it was, it deserted him completely under that dark gaze.
To Harry's shock, Snape stepped back, opening the door wide in silent invitation.
The door closed behind them and Harry followed his surprised host back to the sitting room. There was an open book on the arm of the chair closest to the hearth and a steaming mug of what looked like milky tea on the nearby end table.
As Snape turned to face him, Harry had no idea what to say, how to even begin to explain his presence here.
There was something in Snape's guarded expression that made Harry suspect that Snape was undergoing a similar crisis. But neither of them spoke of it.
Harry wasn't sure who moved first. The next thing he knew, Snape's hands were pulling his dark blue jumper up to get at the button of his blue jeans, and Harry's own hands were scrambling to undo Snape's trousers.
His entire being seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he was bared to the warm air of the sitting room.
Snape's cock was just as magnificent as he remembered, big and dark and hungry. Somehow it seemed even more erotic when viewed around the open trousers and pushed-up shirt end. Harry palmed Snape's moist shaft as Snape's yellow-stained fingers took possession of his own.
Once again, the pressure felt perfect. Snape squeezed him like he knew him from the inside out.
Harry returned the favour. The surprised sounding gasp Snape gave made him think that his efforts were equally effective. Wanting to hear that sound again, Harry stood up on tiptoes and latched his mouth onto that long, pale throat. A man as thin as Snape should have had a scrawny neck, but, although slender, Snape's throat was graceful and well formed.
Snape made a small, startled-sounding cry as Harry began to suck the soft skin below his ear. Clearly, the man was ultra-sensitive there. Harry nuzzled his way over to the pronounced Adam's apple, leaving a trail of little, red marks in his wake.
All the while, their hands were working each other's shafts, escalating the pleasure.
As the heat and the passion built to unbearable levels, they staggered backwards until they came up against Snape's huge desk.
Harry blinked as that small brown jar of cream he remembered from last night nudged his ear. When he took his hands off Snape long enough to fish the jar out of the air where it was floating, Snape turned and quickly pushed everything off the top of his desk to the floor.
Startled by the sound of breaking glass, Harry looked down at the mess of fallen parchments, books, and vials that had crashed on the brown rug on the far side of the desk, but then Snape was bending over the desk's gleaming, polished mahogany surface and Harry lost awareness of everything but that splendid arse on offer. The black pants and shirttails were concealing most of it, though. He pushed the shirt up, barely taking in the scarred lower back, then tugged Snape's trousers downwards until they pooled at his ankles.
Harry stroked the creamy skin of those flattish cheeks, loving how they felt under his palms. Gently grasping them, he gave a careful squeeze that drew a piercing moan out of Snape.
Harry grabbed hold of the lube and fumbled it open. Snape was just as perfectly tight as he recalled him being last night. Seeing that long body bent over the desk with trousers tangled at his feet, hearing the amazing sounds Snape made as his fingers breached and explored him . . . Harry had never known anything this wildly erotic.
Though the want was so bad that his heart was pounding in a deafening beat and he could barely breathe, Harry took his time convincing that tight channel to loosen up enough to accept him. He knew how rare a gift this was, how unheard of it was for a wizard to open himself up to another this completely. That Snape could give him this kind of surrender was mind-boggling, and Harry had no intention of taking it for granted or hurting Snape in his over-eager rush to completion.
Finally, Severus felt receptive. Harry slathered a generous helping on his own cock, carefully positioned himself, and slid home. That was what it felt like, coming home. No one had welcomed him like this. There had never been a body that moved so in sync with his own or seemed to complement his needs so well.
His hand slipped around Severus to appropriate his cock, giving the hungry length the attention it was crying for.
Harry had thought last night a fluke born of the novelty of fucking his nasty potions teacher. Tonight taught him different.
Snape was every wild dream he'd ever had. They moved together like they'd been born for this union, like their entire lives had been lived simply to bring them to this place of perfect harmony.
Harry moved cautiously in and out of Snape. Snape was keeping his butt up high in the air, leaving a safe space between his groin and the hard desk edge, but Harry knew how easily a careless move on his end could send Snape crashing into that ungiving surface. So he kept hold of Snape's hip with his left hand, making sure he didn't thrust hard enough to throw them off balance.
Even as he monitored himself, Harry could feel his brain liquefying under the sheer brilliance of the delight coursing through him. He was beyond lost. Harry felt like his whole world was exploding around him as he came deep inside Snape.
Seconds later, the shaft in his hand convulsed and Snape's gleaming desk was splattered with spurt after spurt of semen. Snape came so hard that it seemed to Harry as if the man ejaculated a year's worth of cum.
Harry sank against Snape, burying his face in that dark hair, nosing through it until he got to the soft, vulnerable nape of Snape's neck. He licked the skin there, feeling Snape shudder in reaction.
A moment later, Snape squeezed him, and Harry felt himself grow hard again.
This round wasn't nearly as wild as last night's second coupling, but Harry rather enjoyed the slower, easy pace. That, too, was something with which he was unfamiliar. His one-night-stands were always rushed and furtive. He'd never met a wizard who luxuriated in being taken the way Snape seemed to, and that was just so not in keeping with what Harry thought he knew of Snape's character that it was difficult to see this passionate lover as the nemesis of his youth.
This climax was a warm, tingling affair rather than the earth-shatteringly erotic one he'd experienced before. Snape barely seemed to produce any semen at all this time, but that was okay. The sounds he made more than demonstrated how much he was enjoying himself.
Orgasm claiming the last of his energy, Harry collapsed onto Snape. He lay there breathing in Snape's warm scent and the more tantalizing musk of sex until Snape gave a tentative push up at him.
Realizing that Snape must be having trouble breathing bent over the desk like that with his weight on his back, Harry quickly stumbled up. He bent to pull up his blue jeans, even as Snape was turning to fish his trousers up from around his ankles.
Once again, Harry hadn't a fucking clue as to what he should say. There wasn't an etiquette manual on the planet that included post-coital conversation with someone you were fairly certain you hated.
Only, Harry didn't hate Snape. Not now. What they shared had nothing to do with anger or revenge or the millions of other unpleasant factors that could have coloured the sex between them. He wasn't sure what it did have to do with; all he knew was that it wasn't hate.
Snape was watching him. Those normally sallow cheeks were still pleasantly flushed, his expression mild and only a little guarded.
"I didn't expect to see you again," Snape said into the silence.
Harry nodded. "I know. It doesn't make a bit of sense, but . . . it's good between us, isn't it?"
Harry braced himself for all manner of rejection.
Snape seemed taken aback by his candidness. After a long pause, he gave a totally wary, "Yes," watching him as though he expected ridicule.
Okay, Harry thought to himself, they were both obviously freaked out by this, but both . . . interested, in spite of themselves. Taking a deep breath, Harry admitted, "I didn't know if you would want to see me again so soon – or at all."
Snape nodded. "I, too, thought the possibility of another such . . . night, unlikely."
"Looks like we were both wrong," Harry said.
"Indeed," Snape answered. He'd been standing straight and stiff as a prisoner facing an execution squad, but at Harry's words, Snape relaxed, leaning his butt back against the semen-splattered desk. He looked more human than Harry had ever seen him before, more approachable.
"Do you think . . . I mean, would you be willing . . . ?" Harry faltered, having no idea how to phrase the question he wanted to ask.
Snape held his gaze and said in a low, tentative tone that clearly revealed his nervousness, "If you were to find yourself at loose ends, you would not be unwelcome here, Potter. I'm home most nights."
Harry couldn't help the grin that claimed his face. "Thanks. That's . . . splendid. I look forward to seeing you again."
"When you're at loose ends," Snape answered.
"Yes, when I'm at loose ends," Harry said, still grinning like an idiot. "Till then, take care."
Snape nodded. "Good night, then."
"Good night," Harry replied, Apparating home with a strange sensation of butterflies in his stomach that had nothing to do with his mode of transportation.
*~*~*
Harry found himself at loose ends the next five nights straight. Remarkably, Snape made no protest about his taking advantage of the unexpected offer. During that time, they made it on every possible surface in the sitting room, and a couple that should have been impossible.
But when Friday morning dawned, Harry found himself in the grips of an unexpected dilemma. The sex was fantastic, like nothing he'd ever known, but . . . the minute they were alone together, they ended up all over each other. As wonderful as that was, Harry really wanted to learn a little bit more about the man he was fucking. With the way things were now between them, he didn't even know if Snape were working freelance or were employed by one of the larger research companies.
So, early Friday morning before he left for work, Harry firecalled Snape. "Severus?"
They spoke so infrequently that the name still felt strange on Harry's lips. As he manifested in Snape's hearth, Harry looked out at the familiar sitting room. Snape was nowhere to be seen.
Harry was just about to give up when a door at the far end of the room that he supposed was Snape's bedroom opened and Snape strode quickly to the hearth. He wasn't fully dressed yet.
Long and lean, hair still damp from the bath, Snape was an oddly sensual sight. Harry's gut clenched when he saw Snape buttoning his white shirt over a crisp white undershirt. Since when was watching someone get dressed sexy?
"Potter?" Snape sounded curious rather than annoyed.
"Hi." Words left his brain as he stared at Snape. He'd never understood the phrase 'dumbstruck' before, but that was definitely the only definition for what he was experiencing as he gaped at Snape's unexpectedly sensual appearance. "Sorry to disturb you so early, but, I, er, was wondering if you had plans tonight?" Harry stammered out before his courage could desert him.
He'd startled Snape again, although Harry could tell that the other man was trying very hard not to show it.
"No, I haven't any plans. Why do you ask? You don't usually . . . ." Snape's words trailed away, as though, he, too, didn't know how to address what they did together at night.
"I know. I just . . . the minute we're together, we always end up . . . in a clinch, and I just thought it'd be nice to see you before we, er . . . well, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner? There's this restaurant called Alfonso's on the corner of Diagon Alley and Widdershins Place that's fantastic. What do you think?" Harry hoped that Severus had been able to understand what he'd said; the words came out in such a nervous rush. He felt like he was fourteen again and inviting Cho to the Yule Ball.
Snape wasn't even attempting to conceal his shock. "You wish to be seen in public with me?"
That wasn't the response he was anticipating. Harry was pretty certain at this point that Snape wouldn't scorn him for asking a question that would have been utterly unthinkable a week ago. He didn't know if Snape wanted to have anything to do with him that didn't involve sex, and he wouldn't have been surprised by a rejection to his dinner invitation, but he didn't understand the 'being seen in public' comment. What it indicated about Severus' previous relationships was fairly disturbing.
Harry met those dark eyes. He could almost feel how hard Snape was working at holding back his suspicion, how carefully he was schooling his features.
Hoping he wasn't about to ruin everything, Harry softly admitted, "I, er, would like to see more of you . . . if that's agreeable to you. We both have to eat, so I figured we might as well do it together. But if the idea makes you uncomfortable, we don't have to. We can just – "
"No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable and, as you say, we both have to eat," Snape answered, his shock still an almost palpable presence.
Hoping to ease Snape's nervousness, Harry smiled. "Fantastic. Does seven work for you? We could meet out in front, if you know where the restaurant is. If not, I could meet you here and we – "
"No, I know where Alfonso's is," Snape answered. "Seven o'clock is fine."
"Good. I'll see you at seven, then," Harry said, still unable to believe that Snape had agreed without an argument.
"Potter?" Snape called as Harry was about to pull back into his own hearth.
"Yes?" he asked, hoping Snape hadn't changed his mind.
For a moment, it seemed as though Snape had forgotten what he was about to say, or perhaps reconsidered whatever he'd planned, but then he seemed to force himself to say, "Thank you."
Confused by the grave tone Snape gave those two words, Harry gave a shy smile and said, "Believe me, the pleasure's all mine. I'll see you at seven."
Because Severus still had a shell-shocked look about him, Harry reached out and gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. What he really wanted to do was kiss that uncertainty away, but he didn't know how Severus would feel about that and didn't want to push things too far. Giving Severus another smile, Harry reluctantly pulled back to his own place and hurried to meet the day.
*~*~*
At exactly seven pm, Severus Apparated to the front of Alfonso's.
Harry, who'd been waiting on the busy, sleet-battered street since a quarter of, relaxed the instant that sombre, black-garbed figure appeared.
"Hello," Harry said, reaching out to touch Severus' arm.
"Potter," Snape replied with a guarded nod. He seemed nervous.
Harry could sympathize. He'd been debating the wisdom of this all day. The sexual chemistry they'd discovered was incredible. He didn't want to do anything to destroy it, and he knew that all it would take would be one of their old rows. But he still wanted to try to get to know this man who brought him such pleasure every night.
"Thanks for coming. I took the liberty of reserving us a table," Harry said, falling into step beside Snape as they moved towards the entrance.
"Harry!" the restaurant's portly, balding owner, Alfonso, exclaimed as they stepped in out of the foul weather.
"Hi, Al," Harry grinned, his stomach growling as he caught a whiff of the delectable, garlic-scented aromas filling the room. This was Harry's favourite London restaurant. The food was beyond compare, and the ambiance pleasantly hokey. Harry loved the human-faced, animated tomatoes painted on the ivory walls and the real grapevines dangling from latticework overhead.
"So good to see you again. And you've brought a guest tonight!" Alfonso's round face lit with delight.
"This is my friend, Severus Snape. Severus, this is Alfonso. He makes the best chicken Parmesan on Earth," Harry said.
"Harry is too kind," Alfonso denied. "My mother made the best chicken Parmesania; bless her soul. I make the second best. If you'll come this way, please."
Alfonso led them to the table Harry had requested, the one right in front of the blazing fireplace. There was a fresh cut rosebud in a small vase on the red and white chequered tablecloth and a merrily dancing votive candle in a crystal holder. The heat of the nearby fireplace quickly dispelled the chill of the sleety night.
Once they were seated, Alfonso gave them their menus and said, "Maria will be by in a moment to take your drinks order. If there's anything you need that's not on the menu, just let me know."
"Thank you, Al," Harry said as the rotund wizard made his way to the kitchen.
Harry looked over to his companion. Severus was gazing curiously around the crowded restaurant. He was dressed in his usual black robes, jacket, and suit, with his long black hair contained in a neat ponytail. Harry couldn't pick out a single thing about Severus that was different from the way he'd appeared in Whispers last Friday. Severus was just as sombre, with that unmistakable air of menace and danger that had always clung to Snape. But for some reason when Harry looked at Severus tonight, none of the usual adjectives passed through his mind. Perhaps it was merely an effect of the flickering candle and firelight, but words like sensual, striking, and mysterious were crowding out the usual insults.
"You come here often, I take it," Severus said when he'd finished taking in his surroundings.
Harry nodded. "Yes. It's one of the few places I feel comfortable. Do you like it?"
"I'll withhold judgment until the food arrives," Severus replied.
Harry chuckled.
"Speaking of food, what would you recommend?" Severus asked.
Alfonso's youngest daughter, the dark-haired, lovely Maria, arrived with a bread basket and took their drink orders. The next ten minutes passed in a pleasant discussion of the menu. Once their dinner choices were passed on to the kitchen, silence fell between them.
"Er, I was wondering what sort of medicinal potions you've been working on?" Harry asked.
Severus appeared startled. After a brief pause, he answered, "I've been researching a tumour reduction potion for the last six months. Before that I was working on a cure for pneumonia. That was my most recent patent."
"Are you working freelance or at one of the research labs?" Harry questioned.
"I'm associated with Greymoore Labs," Snape named the most prestigious and lucrative potion making company in the Wizarding World, "but I do my research in a private lab in my basement."
Harry hadn't really given it much consideration, but he realized now that Snape's house was large enough for him to have a considerable lab in the cellar.
"You mustn't see anyone from one end of the week to the next, in that case. It sounds lonely," Harry couldn't stop himself from commenting.
"I found the solitude comforting after the trials," Snape said.
Harry was very conscious of the verb tense Severus used. Found, not find. For all that he could tell, with the exception of his rare trips to Whispers, Snape lived totally alone in his house with his potions and his books. Even for the most determined curmudgeon, the isolation had to be hard.
Their meals arrived then, interrupting the awkward pause.
Severus had followed his example and ordered Harry's favourite, chicken Parmesan. Harry had to smile at Severus' expression as Maria put the fragrant plate down in front of him. He could tell that Severus was trying to look unimpressed, but the steaming, cheese and tomato sauce covered chicken was hard to resist.
The silence lost its tension as they began to eat. They'd slowed down to something approaching mere ravenous when Severus looked across the table at him and softly stated, "I appreciate the effort you're making tonight, but I'm afraid I'm not very good at socializing, Potter."
Harry considered the dozens of possible responses. The most tempting was a denial, but they were both too conscious of the strained silences between them tonight for Harry to even pretend ignorance. Deciding that honesty was probably his best bet, Harry replied in an equally subdued tone, "You don't have to be social. I just wanted to spend some time with you that didn't involve – what we've been doing this last week, not that there's anything wrong with what we've been doing. Are you enjoying yourself or is this a tremendous trial?"
Harry was genuinely curious, because he couldn't tell for sure from Severus' expression exactly how the other man felt about their date.
Severus' dark gaze moved around the romantically lit restaurant, coming to rest on Harry. "This evening has been . . . surprisingly enjoyable."
"Then what's the problem?" Harry asked.
"I realize that my company is . . . less than scintillating," Severus said. "Surely, you would be more comfortable with someone your own age who would – "
"Fawn over me, sleep with me because of my headlines, and then leave disenchanted because I failed to live up to their fantasy?" Harry broke in, letting Severus see how much the typical reaction to the media hype bothered him. "You haven't heard me complain, have you?"
"No, I don't understand it, but you've been surprisingly . . . forbearing," Severus answered.
"There's been nothing to be forbearing about," Harry insisted. "I know who you are. I wasn't expecting you to grow a whole new personality for my amusement. We're not shouting or being horrible to each other. That's all that counts."
Severus' brow rose almost to his hairline. A heartbeat later, his dark gaze lowered to his mostly empty plate. "I don’t understand what you want from me, aside from . . . what we've been doing lately. That I understand. This is . . . confusing."
Harry gulped as that surprisingly open gaze met his own again. After the amazing sex they'd had, how could Severus be confused by his wanting to get to know him better? Had no one ever dated Snape or courted him? Had his life always been nothing but work and anonymous sex?
Harry abruptly recalled the odd significance Severus had placed on his thank you this morning. In retrospect, it really did seem as though Severus had been overwhelmed at being asked out, unnaturally so. But despite the obvious, stressful novelty of the experience and his natural suspicion of anyone making friendly overtures to him, Snape had still found the courage to come, so their seeing each other socially had to mean something to him, too.
Harry swallowed hard. "I guess I want to get to know the man you are now. He seems very different from the Severus Snape I remember."
Snape took a sip of his wine and answered, "That isn't necessary for what we do together."
"Maybe not, but you asked what I wanted," Harry reminded.
"May I ask why you'd be interested in . . . such a learning experience?" Snape questioned.
Harry was shocked to realize that Severus was serious. After the sex they'd had this week, Harry had thought the answer to Snape's question would be self-explanatory, but maybe Severus wasn't accustomed to anyone wanting more than sex from him.
Staring into those bottomless black eyes, which were watching him as if waiting for a lie, Harry knew he couldn't say his interest was born of the sex. He had a strong feeling that sex was all anyone had wanted from Severus over the years. While it might be true that the passion they'd found was a great motivator for his wanting to get to know Snape, it wasn't the entire truth. So he offered something more personal, something Severus could use against him, were he so inclined.
"Because I'm not unfamiliar with loneliness myself, and for the last week, I've felt . . . less alone," Harry admitted, wondering if he were making a mistake. It just felt wrong to confess to any type of weakness before Snape.
But Snape didn't rip into him. Instead, Severus shifted in his seat and glanced down at the candle between their two plates. Finally, he voiced a low, uncertain, "Because of me?"
Harry nodded, his throat tightening up. He knew being this blunt with another man could easily lead to the end of whatever type of relationship they'd had. Most gay wizards ran from the idea of emotional attachment and commitment the way Muggles would from a prospective lover announcing he had a fatal STD. Harry knew the score. He realized he was violating rule number one here by being so honest about the effect Severus had had on his life.
But Severus was so far outside the norm that he didn't appear to notice the unforgivable faux pas Harry had committed. Instead of running or mocking Harry for his childish candidness, both of which Harry would have fully understood, Severus said in a quiet tone, "I'm not . . . accustomed to any of this. Be warned, Potter, this could be a disaster in the making."
Taking courage in the fact that Severus was warning rather than berating him, Harry said, "I'll take my chances. You've been fantastic so far."
The compliment was obviously a surprise. Seeming far more relaxed, Severus gave a snort and a self-deprecating, "I've been totally out of my depth, as we both well know."
"If it's any consolation, I'm not used to dating anymore, either," Harry offered.
"Dating – " Snape's head snapped up. He looked like the word had ambushed him.
"Well, I don't know what else to call it. I realize we're doing things a little backwards, starting where other people end up, but if it's enjoyable to us both, what difference does it make?" Harry asked, trying to keep things light.
Perhaps his bluntness panicked Severus, for he became very prickly as he insisted, "I don't date, Potter. The very idea is ludicrous."
"Why?"
"Why – what?" Severus snapped. "Why I don't date or why the idea is preposterous?"
"Both, I guess," Harry answered.
"Have you suffered a head injury of which I'm unaware?" Snape demanded. "That is the only explanation I can conceive of for your current attitude."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry kept a tight hold of his temper.
"It means that you, of all people, know who and what I am."
Before last week, Harry would have never needed to question why Snape didn't date. Recalling his reaction to what Justin had told him in the club, his shock that Snape would be able to find someone to have sex with at all, he felt abruptly ashamed.
But this wasn't about him. This was about Severus. Trying to understand just what he was dealing with here, Harry softly questioned, "So you don't date at all – ever?"
"Never," Severus stiffly replied.
"Is this a new development or – "
"Must you really ask that question? Do I strike you as having been any more popular in my youth than I am in middle age? What man in his right mind would want to date someone with my cantankerous personality and, shall we say, less than stunning appearance?" Snape sneered the word 'date' out like it was an obscenity.
Harry felt his heart twist in a sympathy that he knew Severus would despise. His own relationship problems could all be traced back to his celebrity status, but what must it be like for someone like Snape, who was considered loathsome by most? How must it feel to know that you were that . . . undesirable?
Harry took a deep breath, caught Severus' angry glare and answered, "I can't vouch for my soundness of mind, but I would."
"You would what?" Severus didn't quite snarl.
"Like to date you, if you were willing. Tonight hasn't been so bad, has it?" Harry asked.
Severus was regarding him as if he'd taken complete leave of his senses, which perhaps he had. The fact that they were here at all, together on a date, was insane to start with.
After a long moment of watching his face, the peevish, pinched look left Severus' candlelit features. Seeming utterly thrown, Severus gave a negative shake of his head.
"Don't look so shocked," Harry said. "We've already established that I'm suffering a head injury of unknown severity."
Severus didn't respond to his attempt to lighten the moment. "The shock is unavoidable. I suppose that I just never considered that anyone would find my company . . . enjoyable."
Severus' ruthless self-honesty was staggering. Harry hardly knew how to respond to it.
"Well, I certainly never thought I would," Harry answered at last.
To his delight, the ends of Severus' lips twisted upwards in a shy, appealing smile before his face smoothed into its usual bland expression.
Something seemed to pass between them as they stared at each other in the ensuing pause in the conversation. It was like what happened at night. They didn't say anything, because there simply weren't enough words in the dictionary to encompass the bizarre situation they found themselves in. Yet, there was some kind of communication going on all the same.
Harry could almost feel how painful the effort Severus was making to be sociable was when he remarked, "Do you enjoy your work as an Auror?"
That was all the opening Harry needed. He mightn't be any less freaked out than Severus was, but due to his celebrity status, he'd had a lot more experience in answering questions when off balance. Severus' forced foray into small talk gave him conversational fodder for the remainder of the meal.
By the time their coffee and dessert had arrived, Severus appeared almost relaxed. To Harry's surprise, the other man had actually seemed to enjoy listening to him talk. But then, if a person were alone as much as Severus was, any voice other than his own was probably a novelty.
Damn, but the man was sexy, Harry thought, surreptitiously studying those striking features. He didn't know what it was about Severus that made him suddenly realize that. Severus was still dressed as conservatively as a monk, cloaked in black from chin to toe. Severus' attitude wasn't the least bit suggestive or flirtatious. He was as buttoned up and repressed as ever, only . . . tonight Harry could feel an almost magnetic pull to him.
As Harry took in that long form, he wondered if the sensual air he was picking up had been there all along and he'd simply failed to notice it or if it were a new development, perhaps related to him. He hoped it were the latter, because he really wanted to try to make Severus happy. He was beginning to realize that no one else had ever bothered about Severus.
The man had never dated. He knew, without needing to ask, that Snape had no friends. Harry could hardly wrap his mind around a life that lonely.
Well, that was going to change. Sitting there, watching Severus eat the last of his tiramisu while that dark gaze roamed the restaurant, taking everything in as though he were memorizing it in case he never experienced something like this again, Harry was resolved to introduce Severus to some of the joys he'd missed out on.
His fingers ached to undo Severus' ponytail and send all that long black hair spilling over his shoulders.
Their gazes met and held. Harry felt as if he were falling into those bottomless, inky depths, drowning in desire. Recognizing a similar heat in Severus' eyes, Harry started in his chair.
Alfonso's was not the place to end up locked in a clinch. He knew how reserved Severus was. That kind of public display would only embarrass him, even if Severus were as caught up in the heat of the moment as he was.
Seeing Maria enter the dining room, Harry caught her eye and gestured for the bill.
Severus reached for the bill when Maria brought it over, but Harry beat him to it. "This one's mine. You can pay next time."
"Next time?" Severus questioned.
Harry raised his brow, holding Severus' gaze until his companion flushed and looked away.
"Thank you, Maria. And please extend our gratitude to your father. The chicken Parmesan was as wonderful as ever," Harry said as he put a bunch of galleons down on the tray she held. Harry knew that two would have been more than sufficient for the meal, but food that perfect deserved proper acknowledgment.
Side by side, they left the restaurant.
Wincing as the sleet blasted them, Harry took Severus' arm outside the door. A heartbeat later, they'd rematerialized in Severus' sitting room.
After the assault of cold and stinging sleet, the room felt wonderfully warm and welcoming. Harry sighed in relief.
Severus' hand was still on his arm. Harry glanced up into Severus' face and didn't look away. For a week now, he'd been hungering to kiss Severus, resisting the urge because he wasn't sure Snape wanted anything that intimate between them. Most of the men Harry slept with didn't care to kiss. But Severus' lack of resistance to his overtures tonight made Harry bold.
Holding that dark, beautiful gaze, Harry reached up, cupped the back of Severus' head and gently guided him downwards.
Severus' eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't pull back.
Recognizing that a disaster was about to occur if he didn't move fast, Harry quickly turned his face to the side, avoiding the painful smash of noses by mere seconds.
Their lips brushed. Severus' were thin and dry, but they didn't resist as Harry's mouth covered them. For a moment, it was as awkward as everything between them was. But then Severus seemed to melt against him and Harry knew that everything would be all right.
Severus' mouth opened to him at the first swipe of his tongue. Severus tasted of the sweet dark espresso that had finished up their meal, tiramisu, and something dark and compelling that was particular to Severus. Harry drank deep of that sweet fountain.
A sense of triumph flashed through Harry when he felt Severus' fingers card through his hair, urging him closer.
As they kissed, Harry eased Severus' wizards robe off his shoulders. Pleased, he felt Severus do the same with his own.
When the need for oxygen forced them apart long minutes later, Severus appeared charmingly flushed.
"Is that the bedroom over there?" Harry asked in a breathless whisper as they gulped in air.
Severus nodded.
"Can we move in there and get more comfortable?" Harry requested, wondering if he were intruding on Severus' privacy too much. For the last week, they'd never left the sitting room. For all Harry knew, Severus might want to confine their activities to one room.
But Severus gave another ready nod and guided Harry towards the closed door.
The bedroom was just as comfortable as the sitting room. The green-canopied, four-poster bed was enormous, but then, Severus was an extremely tall man.
There was another smaller hearth in here, which sprung to life the moment they entered the room. The two nightstands flanking the bed were buried under piles of books, all three of the remaining walls lined with bookcases.
"Are there bookcases in the loo, too?" Harry couldn't help but joke. It was strange, but it was only now that he realized he'd never even used the bathroom here. He'd just had sex with Severus and left.
"The humidity would hardly be conducive to preserving the books, but . . . there is a small periodical rack in there. Would you care to see it?" Severus asked in what Harry shockingly recognized as a playful tone.
"Maybe later," Harry replied, unable to believe how turned on he was by this hidden side of Snape. He reached out and started undoing the buttons on Severus' jacket.
That was another thing he wanted to change tonight. Although they'd opened each other's shirts, normally things moved so fast that their clothes remained on, if wantonly undone. Harry wanted to take his time tonight, to explore every inch of Severus in the comfort of a bed rather than the rushed couplings over furniture that had been happening all week.
Harry could feel the tension in the long body he was caressing increase as he peeled layer after layer of clothing away, but Severus made no move to halt him. Finally down to Severus' crisp white undershirt and trousers, Harry eagerly reached for the fastening on the trousers. To his delight, Severus' fingers moved to fiddle with the button of his own black trousers.
Harry bent to assist in the removal when Severus tugged his blue jumper and white undershirt upwards. He didn't miss the pause Severus gave before doing the same when Harry pulled his companion's undershirt up. As Severus bent to take it off and the white cotton material snaked up his slender torso, Harry got his first good look at Severus' back, which was criss-crossed with scars that could only have been made by a whip. He'd felt those marks and caught glimpses of one or two of them over the last week, but this was the first time Harry had openly viewed them, without a shirt covering most of them.
Harry's stomach lurched in horror as he took in the extent of the scarring. Those gruesome pink lines seemed to cover every inch of Severus' back.
There was something like uncertainty in Severus' gaze as it met his own when he straightened back up. "Voldemort was not a very forgiving master."
If he hadn't already killed the fiend once, Harry would have done it for this. Gulping back his horror, he did everything he could to keep his reaction off his face as he softly asked, "He did this to you during the first or second war?"
"The second," Severus replied, still watching him as if he expected him to balk. "His sanity was . . . questionable then. I suppose my own was as well."
So, this had been done to Severus when Harry had been his student. Harry wasn't foolish enough to believe that these scars had nothing to do with himself. He knew that Voldemort had lived to destroy him back then. Having a minion so close to his enemy who somehow constantly failed to destroy or bring that enemy into his clutches must have made Voldemort irate. Dumbledore had always told him that Snape had made great personal sacrifices for their cause that made his loyalty to the Order unquestionable, but it was only now that Harry began to appreciate just what his old headmaster had been speaking of.
But how could Dumbledore have asked this of Snape? For that matter, Harry thought, how could Dumbledore have required Snape to publicly murder him with an Unforgivable, an act that was bound to have landed Snape life in Azkaban? It was only his own intervention that had kept Snape out of prison. Over the years, Harry had been forced to re-evaluate Albus Dumbledore's motives for much of what the old man had done and he'd come to terms with most of it, but this . . . this seemed unpardonable. Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to send one of the men he commanded into a situation where he knew his operative would be tortured, no matter what was at stake.
Looking at those ghastly scars, Harry felt ashamed for all the years he'd doubted and hated this man. Granted, Snape's attitude had inspired most of that distrust and enmity, but all Harry could see now was what Severus had suffered for their cause.
"We were all a bit mental back then," Harry said, instinct telling him that making any kind of fuss over these horrible tokens of torture would be a mistake. "How could we not be?"
Then Harry reached out and drew the half-dressed man into his arms. He'd intended to kiss Severus to try to get them past the awkward situation, but Harry found himself hugging Severus instead. He waited for Severus to pull back in revulsion at the grossly sentimental gesture, but after a moment of shocked tension, Severus' arms tightened around Harry and he buried his face in Harry's bare shoulder.
Shocked himself by Severus' acceptance, Harry stood still for a long moment before daring to relax. He ran a flat palm over the indented, scarred back. The presence of those scars told him that Severus had never sought treatment for them, but had let them heal naturally, without magic. Harry had to wonder if Severus had ever even told Dumbledore what he'd suffered for their cause. In some ways, Harry hoped that he hadn't, because infantile as it was, he would still like to think well of their beloved leader, for all that his childish, blind loyalty to the man had faded over time.
They stood locked in that oddly comforting embrace for a long, pleasant time, with Harry just stroking Severus' back as the taller man clung to him.
Harry tried to give name to the warm, protective feeling that welled up inside him, but he'd never felt anything like it before. All he knew was that he really enjoyed holding Severus this way.
Finally, the quality of the embrace seemed to change. Severus' hands began to move over Harry's bare back in caresses that were more arousing than comforting.
Harry turned his head to nuzzle the tender skin behind Severus' left ear, raising his hand to undo the leather string holding Severus' hair back. His face was buried in the resulting silken cascade. He stayed that way, breathing in Severus' scent, letting the heat and humidity surround him.
Severus turned his head and the warm, heavy curtain veiling Harry's face shifted. Cool air replaced the sensuous blanket of Severus' hair on Harry's cheek and, to Harry's delight, a moment later, Severus' mouth found his.
This kiss was slow and deep and as warm as the hug had been. Harry felt Severus' fingers carding through his messy hair, no doubt creating even more disorder.
When they parted for air, Harry stepped back and undid his trouser zipper, quickly shucking them and his boots and socks off. When he looked back to Severus, that dark gaze was fixed upon his nude form.
Harry glanced down, wondering what Severus found so engrossing. His years on the amateur Quidditch league had left him trim and fit, but he was still barely of average height. He always felt like a shrimp when he got naked with another man, and Severus' slender length wasn't helping that any, but something in Severus' eyes made him feel less self-conscious.
"You now," Harry gently prodded when it seemed Severus would simply stand there staring at him all night.
Severus slowly undid his trousers, slipping them down the endless length of his nearly hairless legs. They tangled at his shoes, the resulting struggle taking a few minutes to sort out. When Severus straightened back up, there was no mistaking the trepidation in his eyes.
Their bodies were very different. Aside from the similar equipment, they were nearly complete opposites. Harry's own body was compact and downed with soft body hair, while Severus' long, lean form was nearly flawless in its smoothness. Severus had a dark patch of springy curls at the base of his cock, and a hint of hair peeking out at his underarms, but other than that, he was all pale perfection. Well, aside from the scars on his back and the dark mark on his left forearm, Harry mentally amended. He knew that Severus was sensitive about both of those, and could almost feel how difficult it was for Severus to stand naked before him.
Recognizing that he needed to smooth things over, Harry gave a soft smile and an appreciative, "Look at you. I might never let you put on another piece of clothing again."
Severus appeared to rally enough to give a silky, "Indeed."
"Yeah, indeed," Harry said, chuckling as he stepped closer. His hands made contact with that lush skin and his laughter died.
It was inconvenient to have to stand on tiptoes to initiate a kiss, but Harry barely minded as he did so this time. His naked front brushed Severus', and then they were pressed together. They mightn't have been an exact match, what with Harry's own erection pressing into Severus' thigh, and Severus' poking his stomach, but all that hot skin felt incredible.
Harry shuffled them back towards that huge bed. Severus moved smoothly, seeming willing to follow wherever Harry led.
A minute later, Harry found himself nestled on top of Severus, their groins happily crushed together. The resulting kiss was even better than the last.
Harry moved his lips from Severus' mouth to his neck, commencing the nuzzling kisses that he'd learned destroyed Severus' restraints. It was no different tonight. All resistance seemed to leave Severus as the long body beneath Harry shuddered in reaction.
But things were a little different tonight. They were naked in a luxurious bed. Rather than falling into that familiar, passionate rush to completion, Harry took his time, learning Severus by taste inch by slow inch.
Severus' hands and mouth latched onto any part of Harry that came in range, but for the most part, he seemed overwhelmed by Harry's gentle attentions.
When Harry's mouth closed on a tender pink nipple, Severus gave a startled gasp that turned into a whimper as Harry commenced sucking. Loving how Severus shook beneath him at his every move, Harry took his time, dismantling Severus' nervous system with every gentle touch and caress he could think of.
The barely convex slope that was Severus' pale, tender belly seemed especially vulnerable to sensation, and those nearly hairless inner thighs became one of Harry's favourite playgrounds. His tongue and lips learned them all, claiming every inch of Severus as his own.
That was how it felt, like he was marking Severus as his. His mouth never left a single hickey or bruise – there was no way he was going to despoil all that beautiful pale flesh with adolescent territory marking, but it still felt like Severus ceded ownership of every single cell to him.
That was what it was, Harry recognized. For the last week, they'd gone at it like dogs in heat. Severus had let him take him as often as he pleased, but there had always been barriers. Severus had always held a part of himself back, guarding himself. But tonight all those walls were gone, and he was touching a part of Severus that he suspected no other man had gotten close to or even seen a glimpse of.
This Severus didn't fight to remain silent, didn't hold himself apart from the loving. He moaned and sighed in glorious abandon as Harry worshipped the body so generously offered to him.
When Harry's mouth closed around that needy shaft, Severus' entire body seemed to convulse in reaction. Harry had never had a lover who actually writhed under his attentions, but there was no mistaking Severus' tossing as anything but.
For the past week, they'd sucked each other only long enough to get hard enough to proceed to the next level of fucking, but even though Severus attempted to push his head away so that they could fall back into those familiar patterns, Harry hung on. Playing dirty, he flicked his tongue against that ultra-sensitive spot on the underside of Severus' cock. All the fight seemed to go out of Severus then as he cried out under the resulting sensation.
Another minute or two, and Harry felt the velvety balls in his right palm draw up tight to Severus' body. Severus stilled, and then that jaw-breakingly thick cock was spurting its salty gift into Harry's throat.
Harry swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. Severus seemed to spray a lifetime's worth of semen into Harry's mouth before collapsing bonelessly against the green duvet.
Only when Severus deflated did Harry pull back. He looked up to where Severus' head was pillowed on the white pillowcase, his long hair a wild tangle across its length. He was just in time to see Severus' eyes open.
Severus appeared almost . . . lost as their eyes met. With all his guards gone, he seemed shocked, bewildered, and horribly vulnerable. He looked as if he were lying there just waiting to be hurt.
Taking a deep breath to calm his own frantic body, Harry shifted position and cautiously laid his mouth on Severus'. Harry let all those warm, protective feelings he'd experienced when embracing Severus earlier flavour the kiss. He felt blasted open himself; he could only imagine how devastated Severus must be feeling.
After a moment, Severus' hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him in close as that slender mouth opened to him. It was a long time before Harry pulled back for air. When he did, the panic seemed to have left Severus' gaze. In its place was something new and fragile, a glow that Harry had never had directed at him before.
Sensing how easy it would be to shatter this moment, Harry held still, willing that glow to last.
Eventually Severus broke eye contact, his gaze moving to the nearby nightstand. A muttered spell had the drawer opening, then a small brown jar floated up and over to Harry.
Harry fetched the jar out of the air, before giving Severus a questioning glance.
Severus was still flushed with traces of that blown-away expression lingering in his still open face. After a moment, Severus spread his thighs.
Harry gave a helpless grunt as his erection lost the hard muscle it had been pressed against as his hips fell between Severus' splayed legs.
Shaking with need, Harry opened the jar and drew a generous amount of the white cream onto his fingers. Shifting a bit, he reached between Severus' legs, feeling around until he found what he was looking for.
Severus was as tight as he'd been their first night together. Harry didn't know if it were nerves or if Severus really were that tight naturally, but it was almost like taking a virgin every time.
Tonight was no different. Harry had to work to make that wonderfully snug passage open up to him. They'd never done it face-to-face before. This was the first time he was able to see Severus' expression as he moved his fingers inside him. The only description he could come up with was incandescent. That wonderful glow was back tenfold.
As their gazes touched, Harry had the horrible feeling that this was another thing that most of Severus' previous partners either skipped or rushed through. He knew how easily it could happen. Severus' harsh personality defied tenderness, and most wizards weren't interested in anything but fucking when they encountered someone willing to bottom.
When he felt Severus was loose enough, Harry quickly coated his own cock. He hardly ever did it in this position, so there was a moment of awkwardness as he moved between Severus' legs.
To his relief, Severus brought his knees up to his chest, tilting his butt upwards for easy access. Taking hold of Severus' bony hips, Harry positioned himself and carefully nudged into Severus. He'd never been as conscious of anything as he was that dark gaze watching his every move.
The resistance was greater face to face, the penetration deeper. It was a slow glide inwards. Harry looked up at Severus' face, hoping that he wasn't hurting him, and found himself snared by those glittering black eyes.
He literally felt like he was falling into Severus' gaze. Only, it wasn't dark and bottomless like it always seemed. Tonight it was warm and embracing. As Harry sank deeper into Severus' body, pressing in until his pelvis bone and balls were crushed tight to Severus' butt, he'd never felt more welcomed anywhere.
Harry strained forward for a kiss, but he was too damn short to make the stretch. Severus' hand left his shoulder to cup the back of his head, and then Severus was straining up to meet his mouth.
Their lips locked onto each other. Severus gave his cock an internal squeeze, and then Harry began to move, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips. In and out, over and over, they rocked together for what felt like an eternity.
More than the mere physical pleasure, Harry was nearly overwhelmed by his emotional response. Those warm protective feelings were back, only they had sharp edges now, hooks that were digging into his heart and soul, anchoring him to this man and moment as he'd never been tied to anyone or anything in his life.
Harry knew he didn't want this feeling to end, ever. This wasn't like anything he'd ever known. There was a tender quality to it, a totally impossible innocence, that was ripping him to pieces inside. But it was a good kind of destruction, the kind that made way for new growth.
Severus' fingers tensed on his shoulders, those neatly trimmed nails digging into the skin. A heartbeat later Severus broke the kiss with a cry, spraying his warm seed onto Harry's chest.
The tight channel gripping him quivered in reaction to Severus' orgasm, the sensation pushing Harry over the edge. Burying his face in the nook of Severus' shoulder and neck, Harry groaned as his body shook with pleasure. He felt liquefied. Like every bone had melted under the blazing ecstasy, and all that he was rushed into Severus as spurt after spurt of delight rocked through him.
When it was over, he collapsed on top of Severus. Severus spread his knees wide apart so that Harry landed on his chest rather than on his bony legs. Then those long legs wrapped intimately around Harry's waist and Harry was cocooned in that beloved scent and warmth.
Harry gave a mental start at the adjective his pleasure-blasted mind had chosen to define Severus' familiar smell and heat. Beloved. He'd never been close enough to anyone to employ that word before. As weird as it was to even consider using it to define Snape, there was no way Harry could deny the truth throbbing through his veins with every rushed beat of his heart.
'Beloved' fit. It wasn't something he could ever tell Severus, but it was true and Harry didn't even try to deny it as he laid there totally drained, waiting for the world to realign around him as he fought for each breath.
The oxygen finally seemed to return to the room. Thinking that Severus might like to sample some of it without eight stone weighing down his chest, Harry shifted most of his weight onto the mattress, leaving only his right side resting gently against Severus.
Only afterwards did Harry realize that it was unusual that Severus hadn't pushed him off before that. However, when he glanced up at Severus' face, Severus appeared as overwhelmed as he felt.
Normally, as soon as they ended, they'd be at it again. Tonight was different. Harry felt like every ounce of his energy and magic had been transferred into Severus when he came, and Severus' weary, wary expression seemed to indicate that he was suffering a similar drain.
This was when Harry would usually clear out, when the sex was over for the night, as it now seemed to be.
Severus seemed to be waiting for him to do just that; although the tension gripping his body and the tight set of his face told Harry that it wasn't something Severus particularly desired.
They'd broken through a lot of barriers tonight, gone places that neither of them had ever imagined visiting, at least not together. Harry figured that smashing down one more wouldn't be that big a deal. Or at least he hoped it wouldn't. He felt so open right now that a rejection might crush him.
Reaching out to brush the long hair clear of Severus' eyes, Harry softly asked, "Can I stay?"
"What?" Severus appeared completely distracted by the touch.
Encouraged by that helpless reaction, Harry explained, "Can I stay the night here with you?"
Even after what they'd shared, Severus seemed surprised by the request. Total shock passed across those strong features before they were schooled to their usual bland set. Severus might be able to control his expression, but he could do nothing about hiding what his eyes revealed.
Even before Severus opened his mouth to speak, the shocked pleasure in his gaze gave Harry his answer.
"If you must," Severus answered, trying for a nonchalance he never achieved.
Grinning, Harry bent down to kiss those pursed lips. It was supposed to be a fast, chaste thank you, but when Harry finally emerged for air a long time later, they were both breathless.
Settling his head on the pillow beside Severus', Harry slung an arm and leg intimately over his companion before letting his eyes sink shut. He thought he could feel Severus staring at him as he drifted off to sleep.
*~*~*
Even before he was fully conscious, Harry was aware that he was under observation. After being an Auror for so long, his self-preservation instincts were as honed as his reflexes. Yet, even as he acknowledged that he was being watched, part of him relaxed as he breathed in the familiar scent on the pillow his nose was squashed against. He couldn't ever recall having known anyone well enough to recognize their scent on the sheets, but even after only a week, Severus' scent was becoming a comforting constant.
Harry cracked an eyelid open. Sure enough, Severus was lying on his side several inches away, observing him from across the pillow as though he were the most fascinating sight in the universe. Even half-asleep, Harry couldn't help but note how good Severus looked with his hair all mussed from sex and his naked form peeking sensually out from under the duvet. Unfortunately, Harry's favourite bits were covered.
Grinning, because it felt incredibly decadent to wake beside a lover, Harry croaked out a raspy, "Good morning."
"Mmmmm," Severus gave a non-committal reply.
"Did you sleep at all?" Harry asked.
"Some. I'm not accustomed to sharing a bed," Severus admitted.
Failing to find any true irritation in Severus' voice, Harry said, "Neither am I."
"Yet, you slept like the dead," Severus observed.
Harry smiled. "Guess you wore me out."
To his delight, Severus' cheeks filled with colour. Clearly unsure how to handle this, Severus glanced away.
Loving this unexpected, bashful side of Severus, Harry leaned in to kiss Severus' cheek, wanting to spare the man his morning breath. But Severus' hands rose to frame his face, and the next thing Harry knew, his mouth was being taken in a deep, wet kiss. Neither of them had brushed their teeth yet or performed a teeth cleansing charm, so they were both predictably rough. Still, it was a taste Harry thought he could get used to. He was still a little awed that Severus would initiate the kiss. Up until now, he'd been the one to begin most sexual contact.
He didn't resist as Severus drew him closer, guiding him until he was nestled on top of him. Severus was a somewhat bony cushion, but Harry loved the heat and intimacy of it. Still locked in the kiss, their groins settled carefully together in a sensual press. Harry began to rock his hips, and the world swirled around him as the gentle motion set off blast after blast of delight.
He'd never had a sleepy morning lie in with a lover. Hell, for that matter, he'd never had a lover, not one like Severus, who welcomed him every night and didn't require him to live up to his press. This was . . . wonderful, absolutely perfect.
His body apparently agreed, because within moments, he was spraying his seed over their tight pressed bellies. Since Severus immediately followed suit, Harry didn't feel an apology necessary.
Severus was regarding him as though he expected one to be demanded of him. He looked as though he couldn't quite believe his own temerity.
"God, you're amazing," Harry sighed once they managed to rip their mouths away from each other. To his relief, the worry instantly left Severus' eyes, to be replaced by that light Harry had noticed last night. He wondered if his own reaction were that obvious, and he suspected that he was probably much worse since he'd never been good at hiding his feelings.
"That head injury was quite serious, wasn't it?" Severus shocked him by joking. Beneath his outer cool, Severus looked like he was ready to burst from excitement.
"Sure feels serious from where I'm lying," Harry replied, the words taking on another meaning entirely as they escaped his lips.
Severus' eyebrows tried to climb off his forehead as he obviously absorbed the deeper meaning.
Recognizing his mistake, Harry tried to back paddle with, "Ignore me. My brain doesn't start functioning until my first coffee."
Everything feeling deadly serious at the moment, Harry held his breath, awaiting his fate.
After the longest pause in the history of the universe, Severus offered a painfully self-conscious, "Yet, truth so often seems to escape when we are not at our best."
Severus looked as panicked as Harry felt, even though his face was locked in that non-expression.
The tightness in Harry's chest slowly unfurled as he untangled what the words were really saying. Snape had courage; Harry had to hand it to him. Every time Harry did something stupid and expected Severus to bolt, Severus surprised him by handling it. It meant a lot to him that Severus would offer him that comfort after he'd so stupidly babbled out something that every wizard over the age of fourteen knew better than to voice.
Harry knew the ball was back in his court. He could laugh the whole thing off. That would be the wise thing to do. Instead, he held Severus' gaze and offered a quiet, "Yes, it does."
Right choice.
Though the emotions were clearly too much for Severus to openly address, the way the tension seemed to seep out of his tight-held form spoke volumes.
"Er, what are your plans for the day?" Harry asked, hoping to put things back on a normal footing, as if there were any such thing after waking up in Severus Snape's bed.
Severus drew in a deep breath. "Beyond working in the lab, I hadn't any." Seeming to be mentally reminding himself that conversation was a two-way affair, Severus visibly forced himself to ask, "And you? What are your plans?"
"I play in an amateur Quidditch league. We practice every other Saturday morning. I'll, er, need to get moving soon," Harry said, wishing he could beg off the Quidditch, but he'd been injured two weeks ago and missed the last game.
"Yes, of course," Severus replied, his eyes shifting away, but not before Harry saw the regret in them.
Hoping he wasn't making another tactical error, Harry found himself asking, "Would you like to come watch? A lot of the blokes bring friends and family down. It'll be cold as hell and we'll doubtless freeze our balls off, but I thought we could have lunch afterwards and then maybe take in a show or something."
"A show?" Severus questioned.
"I sometimes go to the Muggle theatre. Hermione used to like it. She said a little culture never hurt anyone. I guess I grew used to going," Harry offered defensively, waiting for the scalding diatribe on what passed for Muggle culture that he knew Snape would have given years ago.
For all that he knew that Severus was a half-blood like Seamus Finnigan, Severus had never publicly owned up to it, choosing, like so many of his house, to scorn Muggle ways.
After a tense pause, Severus quietly said, "I've never been to a Muggle play."
"Would you like to go?" Harry asked.
Severus gave a slow nod.
"Perfect," Harry said, grinning because he really hadn't believed Severus would go for it.
"You do realize that you could ask me to go pet grindylows with you and I would gladly accompany you at this point, don't you?" Severus said, not nearly as disturbed by the fact as he should have been. "Clearly, you are not the only one suffering a serious head injury."
Laughing at Severus' affronted, yet amused, expression, Harry said, "I'll ask the lads to be careful not to send any bludgers your way in that case. Come on. We have to get dressed."
An hour later, Harry was leading Severus across the open sunny field where his team practiced. The goal posts weren't up yet, but it looked like most of the team and their guests were assembling at the far end of the wind-blown field.
Severus' black robes were flapping around him like a tall ship's mainsail. Harry's own blue Quidditch robes were equally airborne.
"Hey, Harry," Robbie Marstan greeted as Harry and Severus approached the group.
If Harry had a friend at all in the world these days, it was most probably the amiable Marstan. The tall, muscular blond was like an enormous puppy. Muggle born and reared, he shared a lot in common with Harry.
"Hi, ya, Robbie," Harry said, his arm resting on Severus' elbow. "This is my friend, Severus Snape. Severus, Robbie Marstan."
Robbie's blue eyes widened in shock as he recognized Severus. Snape was still as infamous these days as Harry was famous. To Harry's relief, the shock gave way to Robbie's usual, ready grin as he said, "Hello."
"Mr. Marstan, I've heard a lot about you," Severus said with a surprisingly courteous nod.
Startled, Harry realized that he'd babbled on about Robbie for some time at dinner last night. The really surprising part was that Severus would remember. Harry turned a soft smile on his lover, before turning back to his fellow Auror.
"Call me, Robbie, please," Robbie said, sticking out his hand. "Good to meet you, Severus."
Harry held his breath. He knew Severus wasn't fond of this kind of social gesture. But to his amazement, Severus accepted Robbie's hand, a grave expression on his face as he shook it.
"Betsy," Robbie yelled at the laughing mob a couple of yards away. "Come over here and meet Harry's friend."
Robbie's Muggle sister, a plump blonde woman with a ready smile like her brother's, crossed to join them, along with half the team.
"It's so good to meet you!" Betsy enthused. She was obviously completely unaware of Severus' press. "Harry's never brought anyone to a game before."
The next ten minutes passed in a blur of hellos as Severus was introduced to the team and their accompanying friends and relations. To Harry's relief, everyone was punctiliously polite. Most of his team were friendly towards Severus, if openly curious about his presence here.
"All right, you layabouts! Let's get started," Richardson, the dark haired team captain, called.
"Will you be all right with this crew?" Harry whispered to Severus before joining his team.
Severus nodded. "I assure you, I am quite capable of taking care of myself."