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Saturday, June 12, 1999 ---- 9:45 a.m.
"So strange to think that just a year ago, I was down there with them," said Harry, staring out the window in the upstairs rooms as students streamed down the path to Hogsmeade to catch the Express. "It seems like a lot longer than a year's gone by."
He felt his hand clasped by Severus, tightly. "You're older by more than one additional year, in a great many ways."
Harry kept his gaze trained out the window, though he raised it to look at the Quidditch pitch in the distance, and then the rolling green hills beyond. The lake he'd made wasn't visible from here, but he knew just where it was. He flew over it most days, practicing old manoeuvres and trying to develop new ones. Quidditch was looking to be his only job, for the next year at least, and Harry wanted to be ready. More than ready. He'd held his own this year, he thought, but so much about coaching had been new that he'd not done much more than that. Next year, he was determined, things were going to be different.
He was going to run the finest Quidditch programme in Europe, and see what he could do to foster talent for the professional leagues. There were a few students with the potential to make it to that level, and Harry was going to see to it that they had every chance to get there.
For a moment, he wondered if Severus ever had similar feelings for those students particularly gifted in potions, and found himself a little bit startled to realise that he had literally no idea. Apart from complaining about the content of essays, and the inevitable slew of potions accidents that happened every year, Severus didn't talk much about his own job. Maybe he thought Harry wouldn't want to know, since it would involve talking about brewing.
"You know, you can tell me what you're working on when you go down the hall to mince and chop and stir," he suddenly said. "It's not like I can't stand hearing about your potions work, Severus. You've never even really said much about how the transparent cauldron is coming along."
"Oh, it provides 'happy brewing,' certainly."
Harry grimaced in a good-natured way. "I wonder how much longer that stupid advert's going to run."
"You didn't set a time limit in writing?"
"Didn't think of it. I know, I know, not too cunning." Harry shrugged. "Could I have, though? Considering you had to sign my employment contract for next year, I kind of doubt it. What did you do last year, sign one and never even tell me?"
"Last year Albus technically engaged you as an intern, which doesn't require a written contract."
Harry glanced to the side. "Why not just do that again?"
"I thought you'd rather be treated like a full adult," said Severus, a little stiffly. "I regret that it's not possible in every respect."
"Yeah, I know you do. It's all right, Severus. I mean, it doesn't even matter. It's the job I want, this time. The job I chose."
"Yes. You'll do quite well at it, I think."
"You bet I will." Harry smiled, wondering how they'd got onto him, again. "Back to your happy brewing, then. What are you working on, these days?"
"You'd really like to know?" Severus' lips curled upwards, just slightly. "I'll show you, then." He led the way down to his lab.
The transparent cauldron in use was really quite startling to see, Harry thought, bending down close to it. The splotchy potion in there was boiling at the bottom but not the top, which Harry had never imagined could happen, but that showed how little he knew about brewing.
As the potion boiled, he could see swirls of colour inside the cauldron, slowly but steadily mixing. From the top, though, the process was much less obvious. Definitely, Harry could see that having a transparent cauldron would be make a massive difference to a real brewer.
Or even to a student, really. He wondered how long it would be before they became standard issue. Hmm, though probably the first-years would still need to start with a cauldron they could properly see even when it was empty.
"So what is it, anyway?"
"At the moment, not much," admitted Severus, shrugging as he leaned against a counter, his watchful eyes trained on the cauldron-shaped mass of brew. "I haven't got it working quite right. But it's supposed to cure the thestrals of an annoying dental problem Hagrid keeps mentioning. It needs work."
"You already know what you're going to try next?"
"Oh, yes," said Severus, his voice more enthused than usual, though the effect was subtle enough that Harry thought most people wouldn't mark it. "I've worked my way through twelve species of the moonvine we collected, so now it's time to begin testing them in combinations."
"That's a lot of different combinations."
"Why are you suddenly so interested in talking about potions?" Severus asked, pushing off from the counter. His eyebrows drew together as he studied Harry. "I've avoided that with you. For good reason."
"Yeah, I know you have." Harry glanced around, thinking about the time he'd been in this room, Severus trying to help him cram for his N.E.W.T.s. What a complete disaster.
On the other hand, it all seemed like an age ago, too. And unimportant. Harry didn't think he'd ever love potions the way Severus did, but what did that matter? Severus loved them. He shouldn't feel like he had to cut that part of himself off, just because Harry was about.
"Brewing's a part of your life," he said, trying to explain. "We talk Quidditch, don’t we? I know it's not your favourite thing, but you listen to me go on about it. I just think . . . you can go ahead and be yourself around me, Severus. All of yourself."
Severus, Harry thought, looked slightly staggered by that, for some reason. Did he really think Harry so very immature?
Looking back, Harry realised that the other man had a lot of reason to, actually. How many times had Harry said I hate you, when he didn't, really? He'd just hated what was happening; he'd hated Severus' role in it. He'd been angry.
Severus had been angry at Harry too, that last time, but he'd said that, instead of claiming to hate him. He'd been the more mature one, definitely. Of course, Severus had also lost his temper and cast Compulsio, but it was pretty hard to resent that. Harry had been out of control, that day. He'd needed help. Maybe not that kind, but Severus had done the best he could.
And that was all anyone could do. Their very best.
Had Harry been doing his best, though, with Severus? Making the man think he'd better not so much as mention brewing? Well, Harry couldn't remedy the past, but he could do better in future. Starting right now, too. Spotting a relatively clear stretch of counter, Harry hopped up onto it and settled in. "So, thestral medicine. That sounds challenging. I'll keep you company while you work on it. And yes, I'll be quiet when you need to concentrate. Just say shhh or something."
Severus stood there as if bemused. Like he didn't know what to think, let alone say.
Harry smiled to prod him. "Severus? Your potion?"
Severus finally glanced over at it. "It won't need attention until the colour has completely stabilised, but then I should begin adding the mashed lynx tongue."
"So, mash some." Harry didn't offer to do it himself. He knew what that might lead to, as he'd almost certainly either purée it or leave it too chunky for Severus' liking. Besides, he thought, laughing inside, lynx tongue really stank if you got too close. But Harry was perfectly happy to sit and watch as Severus did the prep work. It was kind of good, actually, to know that they could get along all right, even in a potions lab.
Severus took a bit of something red and slimy from a stay-fresh box, and bent over to open one of his lower cabinets to fetch out a mortar. When his robes stretched taut over his arse, Harry almost whistled. But then he caught sight of what else was stowed in that particular cabinet.
Gleaming red cans. Twenty-three in all, Harry knew, and probably still as chilled as the day Harry had first found them. Severus might not have twice-filled powers, but his spell-casting was not to be doubted.
For a moment, Harry just sat and stared past Severus at the few cans he could see, and then it was like something inside him yawned, stretched, and finally, woke up. Something that had been sleeping, for a long, long time.
He felt unbearably thirsty, in that special way that only a Coke could really satisfy. "Um . . . mind if I have one of those, then?" Without waiting for a reply, Harry summoned one and levered the metal tab on top until the can popped open. A satisfying fizzing sound filled his ears, and before it had a chance to die down, Harry took a long, cold drink. Then he wiped his mouth with his hand, and grinned.
"These really are brilliant. Did I ever say thanks, Severus?"
Severus had stood up, startled when the can had flown past him. A mortar and pestle was in his hand. "You did," he drawled, looking at Harry, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, just a bit.
"Oh." The way Harry remembered it, he hadn't been very appreciative. But no matter. "You know what I'd like to try? Rum and Coke. Now that's supposed to be brilliant." He lifted his wand to do another Accio, but Snape's deep voice stopped him.
"No alcohol consumption in the lab. If you want that sort of drink, you'll have to--"
"No," said Harry, lowering his wand. "That can wait. I want to stay with you."
Tuesday, June 15, 1999 ---- 2:20 p.m.
Over the next few days, Harry spent quite a bit of time with Severus, watching him brew. The transparent cauldron really was quite interesting, but that wasn't the real attraction, of course. Harry just wanted to be around Severus. It was nice to just sit perched on a counter, talking to him and drinking a Coke. Harry didn't even mind the times when Severus needed to count stirs or layer spells, or otherwise concentrate on the potion instead of the conversation. He just said shhh, and Harry would watch him move about the lab, tending to his brews. Gave him time to admire the man's long legs and when he caught a lucky glimpse through those voluminous robes, his arse.
Now, soaring away from the castle and toward what he'd started to regard as his own private lake, it occurred to Harry that he was spending a lot more time with Severus than he had to. Huh, and wasn't that a thought.
Because in a certain sense, he did have to stay with Severus. Not in the lab for hours at a stretch, true, but in a more general sense. What he wanted, or didn't want, was pretty much beside the point, since he had no real choice about his life.
He'd thought once that he would have one. That moment in the hospital wing, that one instant when it had seemed like his own heart had stopped beating, just the same as Severus' had a few moments before. That one, perfect moment when a single word had wrapped itself around him like a warming charm.
Free.
For just a minute or so, he'd actually believed it had happened. So what if it was supposed to be impossible? His entire life had been made up of the impossible, hadn't it? Nobody can survive the Killing Curse . . . not true at all, when you came right down to it. He was living proof that the impossible could come true.
And so this now, too. One more impossible thing had happened. He was free. He'd been set completely free . . .
The shock of that had been so great that he'd hardly been able to think about what it would all mean, but one thing had been crystal clear.
He'd be able to choose for himself, now. What he wanted. Who he wanted.
And then, before he'd even had a chance to even begin to decide what those answers might be, the questions themselves had come crashing down in ruins, when Severus kept him from doing something as simple as lighting a candle. Stoppering up his magic with almost no effort at all. With just a single thought. Shattering the fantasy. Shattering him.
He wasn't free, after all. Severus hadn't really died; he had just come awfully close.
And Harry, of course, was still a slave.
Terrible, that in that first moment of soul-splitting pain, of loss like he'd never felt before, Harry's first thought had been: but if Severus had died for keeps, I would be free, now.
He hadn't let that show. Not on his face, and not in his voice. It had been an awful thought, after all. Almost evil. Harry had never wanted anyone to die for him before, and the idea that Voldemort could take that from him, too, that Voldemort could reach out from beyond the grave to ruin not just what Harry was, but who he was . . . that was almost too much to bear.
Harry had shut it out, had told himself that it hadn't happened, that he couldn't be the kind of person who would think a thing like that. But he had been, he knew.
Maybe it was only natural to feel that way, to wonder over the other possibilities. It wasn't as though he actually did want Severus dead. Far from it.
No, he wanted Severus alive. He couldn't even imagine the other, not really.
But the real question wasn't whether he had wanted Severus to live; it was about what Harry had wanted for himself, during that brief moment when he thought he'd been set free.
He'd never really answered that, had he? First, he hadn't had any time to decide, and then, it had seemed like the answer couldn’t possibly matter. So he'd stopped thinking about it.
But now, flying low and slow over the surface of the lake he'd forged, Harry wondered if that had been a mistake. What if he had been set free, that day in the hospital wing? What would he have done with himself, afterwards? What would he have wanted?
Would he have stayed on with Severus, of his own free will?
Harry flew lower and lower, his trainers skimming the surface of the water as he tried to answer that. The answer might not matter, but it seemed important, all the same. Important, but hovering just out of reach, and for good reason. How should he know what he would have done? Was a question like that even answerable?
Perhaps not, thought Harry, swerving as he approached the edge of the lake, then continuing to cross it again from a different direction. How could he be certain of what he would have done nearly six months earlier? The real question, he supposed, was all about the here and now.
Would he stay with Severus today, if he had a choice? Suppose he were to be suddenly set free, by some magical means other than death? That would never happen, Harry knew, but what if it did? Would he say a quiet farewell to Severus and strike out on his own? Visit him on weekends, keep in touch?
Or would he turn to him and say that he'd like to be bonded again? Not in slavery, this time, true. He'd never choose that. No, not in slavery, but in--
Harry's whole body jerked in realisation, and as it did, his broom abruptly careened out of his control, straight down into the waters of the lake, where he soared downwards like he was flying still, the broom dragging him down into the clear blue depths.
For a moment, he was simply too shocked to react, but then he pulled up sharply, and the broom responded. More sluggishly than he would have liked, but it did react, and Harry made his way back up, flying through the water until he reached the surface.
Gasping for air, he twisted onto his back, the Firebolt clutched in one hand as he lay there, floating, lips parted, eyes clenched shut against the bright sun overhead. He felt like an absolute imbecile. What on earth had happened? Something wrong with the Firebolt, maybe . . . well, it had been a little while since Harry had trimmed off any frayed bristles and made sure the rest were lying flat . . .
Finally, when he didn't feel so much like he'd had the wind knocked out of him, Harry rolled over in the water and mounted the broom again. Kicking off was pretty difficult, but after a couple of false starts, he managed, and paying attention to nothing but his flying, this time, he made his way over to the edge of the lake.
Sitting down cross-legged, Harry looked down at himself and had to laugh. For once, some drying charms were definitely in order. At least he still had his wand, tucked securely in the pocket of some jeans Severus seemed to think were awfully snug on Harry. Good thing they were; his wand hadn't fallen into the water when he'd taken that plunge.
So then, where had he been? Harry tried to think back, because of course now that he was safe on dry land, that question was back, clanging through his head even more loudly than before.
Oh, right. What would he do now, if he were somehow to become free and able to choose for himself? Would he want to stay with Severus?
Harry's nostrils flared, because all at once, it seemed to him that the answer to that was bloody obvious. Of course he'd want to stay with Severus! They were lovers, weren't they? Not to mention all the fantastic sex.
But as he sat on the shore thinking that over, it struck him that there was a lot more going on between them than just the sex, good as that was. They spent time together, didn’t they? A lot of it. And they talked. Sometimes, lying naked and sated in bed together, they talked for hours.
Harry didn't think of himself as a slave, not when he was alone with Severus, just the two of them. He couldn’t avoid realising he was one, particularly when the press harped on it--stories about him seemed to come and go in cycles, now--but by and large, he didn't feel like a slave, these days.
That had been true for a while. A long while, but it was different, now.
He felt relaxed. At ease. Comfortable with the future, finally. No evil wizards wandering Britain while the entire country looked to him to deal with them.
He just felt . . . normal, he realised. And when had he ever felt that way, before? He had Severus to thank for it, he knew. He had given Harry what he needed, just as he'd sworn he would. All the important things in life. A real home, one where he felt accepted. Appreciated. Someone he could rely on to stand by him in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer and all that. Severus would. Harry knew that, as surely as he knew his own name.
It was like . . . it was like . . . Severus was his family, now. His partner, or his bonded, as Albus had termed it.
When Harry thought of it like that, he realised he had everything he'd ever wanted. It had all just come in a different form than he'd expected. A man instead of a woman. A job he knew he was going to love, though not the one he'd planned to have. A family that actually included Ron and Hermione, too. And for his home,Hogwarts.
The first real home he'd ever had. The only one he'd ever really wanted. He'd thought he'd have to leave it, but now, this way, it could be his home forever.
Something about that just seemed right to Harry. Of course it did. He was happy with Severus. He'd rather be bonded in love than in slavery, but he did want to be bonded one way or another, and he was, and--
Harry's whole body jerked again, but this time, he didn't lose his train of thought.
Love, he realised, even more shocked than when he'd plummeted through the water. Is that what it is, what I feel for Severus? Love?
That question was even worse than the last one, because when it came right down to it, Harry didn't think he had any way to know what love really was. Not this kind of love. He loved Hermione as a friend, and Ron almost like a brother, and Sirius like the father he'd never had . . . and of course he loved his parents even though he couldn't really even remember them. He loved the idea of them, anyway, and the memories that other people had given him, even if James hadn't been so perfect.
After all, Harry wasn't perfect, either.
But romantic love? Harry didn't know what that was. He just knew that he liked the way Severus moved when he danced, and he liked the little crinkles he got around his eyes when he was doing something nice for Harry . . . which was pretty frequently, actually. And he liked the way Severus smelled, and the feel of his hair, and he liked being with him, spending time together, sometimes chatting and sometimes just sitting quietly, reading together. And he really did love the way Severus had been so patient with him, all along, ever since he'd found out how inexperienced Harry was, and . . . and . . . Harry really couldn't imagine being with anyone else, ever.
Or even wanting to.
Well, hell, thought Harry finally, feeling winded again although he'd hardly moved a hair. I might not know what love is, but that sounds like it comes bloody close.
No wonder he'd been asking Severus to talk about his potions, and wishing he would share more about his younger years. Harry loved the man, so he wanted to know everything about him. Simple as that. Now that he thought of it like that, it all seemed so obvious.
Yes, Harry would stay with Severus if he were given the choice. Of course, he'd like to actually have that choice. But he could live with the fact that he wasn't ever going to have it. He'd accepted that, months ago, really, and that was before he knew he was in love. Or before he had been, maybe, because for the life of him Harry couldn’t figure out when it had all started.
Friends with benefits, he remembered telling Ron, and Ron had almost laughed at him, and had said that thing about how Snape had been looking after Harry, just after his birthday . . . no, not looking after him. Looking at him, in some way that Ron had found hard to believe . . .
Yeah, Harry thought, nodding, because he felt like he'd finally got it. Severus loved him too. A little, at least, just like Harry had started to think. Severus had to love him, right? Even if it was just a tiny, tiny bit. Otherwise, he couldn’t have got so ridiculously jealous over Hermione. Most of that had probably been sexual, but not all of it, because what Harry and Severus shared wasn't just sexual.
They wouldn't hold each other afterwards, would they, if sex was all there was to it? Severus wouldn't come out to the pitch and send Bludgers careening at Harry so he could practice his new manoeuvres in a more realistic setting. Harry wouldn't feel like he was dying to tell Severus some exciting news he'd just learnt, not if what they had was strictly sexual.
Maybe he'd been so slow to figure it out because compared to where he and Severus had started with each other, just becoming friends had seemed such a massive accomplishment. Impossible, in fact.
But then, Harry's whole life had been made up of the impossible made real.
Standing up, Harry dusted off his arse. All right, so he loved Severus. Good . . . that was really good. He'd much rather spend the rest of his life with a man he loved than one he didn't. And Severus almost certainly loved him, too. It was ruddy obvious, when he thought back over all the things the man had done for him. Things he hadn't had to do, at all. Little things.
Severus had explained them away once by saying that of course he wanted to keep Harry happy. It was only in his best interests, he'd said, because even after they crossed powers and defeated Voldemort, he hardly wanted a sulking teenager living with him.
Yeah . . . he'd been smooth, Harry gave Severus that. The man could probably talk his way out of anything. But Harry saw through it, now. Nobody could be strategic all the time, not even the head of Slytherin. Severus wasn't known for his warm kind-heartedness, was he? Yet he was that way with Harry, most of the time. The only times he wasn't were when he had good cause. Very good cause.
But if it was all just some kind of . . . act to keep Harry placated, Severus wouldn't be able to keep it up. Not consistently, not for so long.
He obviously loved Harry. The proof was there, in all the things he'd done.
Harry frowned as he started walking along the shore of the lake, broomstick in hand. Yeah, Severus really had done a lot for Harry, and in a way, that was the rub. Because Severus hadn't ever said I love you, and why was that?
Probably because he'd done so bloody much for Harry, that if Harry ever said, I love you, too, Severus would think that Harry was confusing love with gratitude. So maybe Harry should say it first.
No . . . same problem.
Besides, like Severus had said, a spell was worth a thousands words. Certainly, it was worth more than three. That's how Severus had handled it all along . . . or for however long he'd been in love. That was probably the Slytherin way to think about it. You did things for the other person, if you really loved them. That meant more than words.
So what could Harry do for Severus?
The last time he'd asked himself that, he had just been acting out of gratitude. He knew the difference, and it was different now. He didn't want to offer Severus some kind of thanks. No, he wanted the man to know he was appreciated. Respected. Liked. Loved.
Yeah, it was entirely different, and this time, he wasn't going to come up with something as completely lame as offering to help mark essays. That wouldn't show Severus what Harry thought of him, what Harry wanted now, what he knew he wanted.
Who he knew he wanted. Or whom, as Severus would say, a slight smirk playing about his lips.
Harry grinned as he mounted the Firebolt, because that really settled it, didn't it? Only a man in love could find having his grammar occasionally corrected a little bit endearing. And for Severus to do it without slashing Harry to ribbons with that razor tongue of his . . . oh, yeah. That man was definitely in love, and it was just up to Harry to make him believe that Harry was, too.
Or at least, that Harry would choose him again, if he could. Willingly choose him, because they were good together, and a life with Severus sounded like a damned fine thing, all around.
How to do that, though, how to do that . . . Harry kicked off and flew. It was true, what he'd told Severus that once. He did do his best thinking while flying. And to solve this . . . yeah, he was definitely going to need any advantage he could get.
Thursday, June 17, 1999 ---- 8:30 p.m.
"No peeking, now," said Harry. "We're almost there. Keep your eyes closed."
Severus almost asked why, again, but Harry had been cagey on that point the last three times he'd asked it, so he'd allowed himself to be led by the both hands, Harry obviously walking backwards to lead him.
He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but then, that had been true for most of the day. Harry had been acting very oddly, coming and going at strange times, and then when Severus had suggested a dinner out, almost panicking, saying he wasn't hungry, which had triggered a pulse of energy in Severus' mind.
Harry had sighed, then, and asked for a headache potion, before he said, "All right, that isn't true; I am a little hungry. But I'd rather wait dinner, all the same."
Severus had given him the headache potion, of course; he hardly wanted to see Harry in pain, but he'd realised then and there that something quite odd was going on. "Why would you want to delay a meal if you're peckish, already?"
"I just do," said Harry stubbornly. "And I want you to go and work in your lab until I come and get you. All right?"
So obviously, Harry had something planned. Severus had very little idea what, though it stood to reason it would include a late dinner. Severus didn't like surprises much, and he almost demanded that Harry tell him what was going on.
But then he caught a glimpse of anxiety in those green eyes. Anxiety and longing, and the impulse to ruin Harry's surprise, whatever it was, completely left him.
He'd gone and worked on the thestral potion as promised, time passing slowly as he stirred the congealing mass. Lonely in the lab, today. No Harry. Well, that was frequently true, but Severus was missing him more than usual, today. Probably because he wanted to find out just what Harry was up to, out there, with his constant trips upstairs and back.
Finally, Harry had come in, standing quietly beside him. "Is it stable? Can you leave it for a while?"
Severus tapped his wand to the flame beneath the cauldron, and it flickered and died, then turned to Harry.
"Close your eyes."
He rolled them, instead. "You cannot be serious."
Was that his imagination, or did Harry almost bat his eyes?
"Please."
"Oh, very well," said Severus, making sure it sounded properly grumbly.
And so now here he was, eyes closed tight, being pulled slowly along the corridors of his own quarters, just as though Harry didn't know that Severus had lived here for twenty years and knew every inch, every turn?
They were in the reading room; he understood that even before Harry steered him over to the dining table in the alcove and helped him sit down in a straight-backed chair. He heard the scrape of another chair, and then Harry's voice, right next to him. Sounding tremulous, somehow.
"All right, then. Open your eyes."
When Severus did, all he saw was an empty table. "Yes?"
Drawing his wand with a nervous little smile, Harry quickly tapped the table three times.
A single goblet and place setting appeared, along with a crystal plate that hovered for a moment before slowly drifting down to rest atop the table. At the same time, several dishes popped into existence, each of them bearing delicacies already divided into bite-sized pieces.
An odd array of food, really, thought Severus as he glanced from dish to dish. Avocado, and truffles, and some sort of mixed salad containing nuts, among other things.
And in the goblet, Severus knew from smell alone, pineapple juice infused with fresh vanilla. That was enough to cue his memory.
"For some reason this all seems rather familiar," drawled Severus, turning to face Harry, who glanced away but then looked back.
"More to you than me. I can't remember it so well."
"Then, how . . ." Severus lifted a hand to indicate the variety of food on the table. "You researched the invocation?"
Harry laughed, very slightly. "That seemed a waste since you'd already done all the work. No, I just asked the elves what they made for your special feast."
"And you recreated it. Why?"
"It's been exactly a year. June seventeenth . . . oh, come on. You can't tell me you didn't notice the date today. I don't believe that for a second."
Severus had noticed; of course he had. But he hadn't thought to mark it in any special way. He hadn't expected that Harry would want to. "You want to celebrate? Yourslavery?"
"No, I want to celebrate our binding," said Harry calmly. "And I want to do it every year, and we're both pretty young, so that's going to mean a lot of years." He smiled, then. "Haven't you ever heard of an anniversary?"
Severus drew in a breath, feeling a little bit like he'd drunk a fouled potion. He couldn't seem to think straight. Harry's words were clear enough, but they seemed nonsensical. His binding was an enslavement, after all.
But perhaps this was all just Harry's attempt to show Severus that he'd learned to fully accept his slavery. Even that seemed odd, as Severus had known that for some months, now. Harry made it very plain. He didn't whinge or sulk; he rarely even complained. He spoke about the future without bitterness, and that future always included Severus.
Severus didn't know what to say, but felt strongly that he'd better say something. Harry seemed to be waiting. Not precisely on tenterhooks, but still, somewhat anxiously. "So June seventeenth is our anniversary, it is? And you've recreated the ritual meal so I can . . . feed you, again?"
"Oh, it's you who gets fed this time, Severus," said Harry, suddenly sounding a lot more relaxed. "And bathed, don't forget. Though that ritual bath wasn't really very much about bathing at all, was it?"
Mention of the bath had Severus' cock stirring to life, though the implication in Harry's words was rather startling. "We're playing at invoking again, only this time, I'm the supplicant?"
"Well, I think we both know that you'll never really be that. But you know how the invocation's supposed to demonstrate that the master wizard will take really good care of his slave?" Harry took both his hands, and looked him squarely in the eyes. "You've done a great job at that, for a solid year now. And I know you'll keep on. But I want to feed you tonight, as . . . like a symbol, of the reverse. I'll take care of you, too, and meet your needs. We're partners. Lovers."
Severus' eyes searched the depths of Harry's gaze. He understood, but he didn't. Or rather, he didn't know why Harry thought any of this had been necessary. Harry wasn't saying anything that wasn't already evident. "Yes, lovers," he finally said, trying not to sound as baffled as he felt. "If . . . if you feel you haven't been an equal partner, as much as I can possibly arrange, then--"
"You don't get it at all, do you?" said Harry softly. "Listen. I'm trying to say . . . well, sorry, I guess. I know I've been utter crap to you this past year. Sometimes, at least. And stupid as this might sound, I only recently figured out that you have needs too, and I ought to start meeting them."
Oh. Oh. Harry prattling on about how Severus should talk about his potions work suddenly made a good deal more sense. "You don’t have to--"
Harry laid a finger crosswise against his lips to silence him. "Maybe we should make you keep to that no-talking rule."
"I can talk. No witnesses," retorted Severus. Rather cleverly, he thought.
"Fine, you can talk. But stop it with the you-don't-have-to rubbish. Of course I don't have to. You think I don't know that? I want to, Severus. I want to do better by you, and it seemed to me that this would be a good way to start. It worked for you, after all."
That last bit was pure cheek, but Severus found he didn't mind it. Or maybe he hardly even noticed it; the rest of what he'd heard seemed so much more significant. Harry wanted to do better. Harry wanted to meet his needs. Harry felt comfortable with him, even despite the slavery. Or maybe, even . . .
"You're happy with me," said Severus, but not as a question.
"Yeah. I'm very happy." Harry nodded. "And it's not just like, I'm happy with you, you know. It's more like, I'm happy to be with you. We work, you know? We just do."
Severus swallowed. Harry was happy? Truly happy? He remembered waking up almost a year ago and wishing with everything he was for that to be possible, someday. For it to become true. And now it had?
"You're not just content?" asked Severus, his voice so rough that he immediately cleared his throat.
Harry gave him a strange look. "Have I seemed just content?"
"Not for some time."
"Well, there you have it, then."
Severus tightened his hands on Harry's then, realising that he wanted to contribute something to the anniversary celebration. "How closely did you want to follow the invocation? Do you want to tie my hands behind my back?"
"I don't think we need to go that far, as long as you can behave and let me do the honours, eh?" With that, Harry picked up julienned strip of honeyed ginger, and lifted it to Severus' lips. "You let me take care of you, for once."
Severus could have told Harry that he'd already been doing that. What else had killing the Dark Lord been, after all, but Harry taking care of Severus, and everyone else as well? But he was content instead to let Harry do this for him, too. No . . . he was happy.
"Juice?" asked Harry, lifting the goblet.
Severus' pulse raced. Drinking during the ritual meal had been far more intimate than eating. Particularly considering the way Harry had been behaving, with his deepest, most honest sexual desires laid bare for both Severus and the witnesses to see.
He opened his mouth, welcoming the warm brush of Harry's, and lapped at Harry's tongue, drinking the juice directly from his mouth.
And afterwards, he found he had very little to say except to echo Harry himself. "Mmm. Really good juice."
Harry laughed, and gave him another drink, and Severus kissed him even more languidly, more sensuously, that time.
"Oh, God," said Harry, his voice shaking as he pulled back. "That's really . . . I don't know how you managed to stand it, me kissing you like that. I'm about to come on the spot."
"Yes, you're at quite the disadvantage." Severus smirked. "I'd had my libido dampened by the potion I'd consumed. But you'll just have to suffer through it."
"It wasn't a problem for you? I remember things, but they're sort of blurry."
"You were so wanton, so blatantly tempting, that it was indeed a problem," drawled Severus. "But perhaps not so much in the physical sense. And that was even worse, I think. To want you, that much and that fiercely, and know that there was absolutely no possibility of any release? Now that was suffering."
Harry grinned. "Yeah, I can imagine. Come on now, we have to eat all this food before we're allowed to enjoy the bath part of the evening."
Severus licked and nibbled at Harry's fingers every time food was offered, occasionally sucking them completely inside his mouth, then releasing them to lave them base to tip, base to tip.
He stopped, though, when Harry got desperate enough to try slipping a hand down into his jeans. "No, no, none of that," said Severus, deciding he would eat the next few bites more normally. "You can't spend yourself. Tonight's for me."
A little bit startling, how openly eager he sounded.
Harry picked up a fork and ate some braised endive, looking like a man who was trying his best to calm his cock down.
For his part, Severus couldn't resist a little teasing. The verbal kind. "Perhaps your hands should be tied again, even if we have reversed roles. To help them behave."
Harry's gaze shot to his, the colour a brilliant sparkling green. "One more smart remark and I'll change my mind and tie you, after all." Harry suddenly raised his eyebrows. "What was I thinking, anyway? You aren't supposed to be sitting there fully clothed. Where's your mark, eh? It should be on display."
"My mark." Severus knew that Harry didn't mean the Dark Mark, long inactive now, but the word still sent an unpleasant shiver through him.
"Yeah, 'cause if you're mine, shouldn't I get to mark you, too? Same place, I think. Off with your robes, your tunic, your shirt . . ."
Severus unbuttoned them with shaking fingers, wondering if Harry was really suggesting what it seemed. He wouldn't deny Harry if it would make him happy, but for his own part, he didn't much care for the idea of a ring pierced through his nipple. A permanent mark upon his body called to mind too strongly the last time he'd allowed that, to his great regret. Of course, he wouldn't regret bearing Harry's mark, but still . . . no, he simply didn't find the thought erotic.
He should have known to trust Harry, though. He should have known that Harry understood him well enough never to propose what Severus had been thinking.
"So, this one?" asked Harry, a little smile playing about his mouth as he pinched Severus' left nipple, rolling the tiny bud of flesh between thumb and forefinger. "Or the other?" He repeated the treatment on the right nipple.
Severus felt his breath catch. "I . . . well, if I'm the supplicant tonight, then surely that decision is up to you."
"Oh, you're supposed to answer when we play the questions game, Severus. How can I decide on my own? I need to know which one is more exquisitely sensitive."
Severus gasped more loudly as Harry continued to play with his nipples. Sensation building in his cock, he finally admitted, "The right, I think, the right . . ."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Sometimes I think we are more opposites, you know. And you know, they say that opposites attract . . ."
"Yes, they do." Severus was having a little trouble concentrating. "But in other ways we're very alike, Harry--"
"Yeah, we both like topping best. A good thing we're also both so good at taking turns. All right then, the right."
No flash of metal, no flick of wand to prepare the skin, because Harry wasn't piercing him. He was bending his head down to Severus' chest and sucking the chosen nipple into his mouth, and caressing it lovingly with teeth and lips and tongue.
Severus' cock sprang to full attention, and he gripped the arms of his chair in an effort to keep quiet. But that was just a reflex, an instinct. He'd learned more and more in the past few months about how much Harry liked to hear him, when they were making love. Severus still had to remind himself not to stay quiet; it didn't come naturally to him.
But whenever he did remember to let go, he tried his best to do it. "Ahhh," he moaned, the noise almost a low hiss as his hands relaxed on the chair. "Yes. Good. I love it--"
But then the noises he was making began changing, because what Harry was doing was changing. No more teasing, now; Harry had latched onto a tiny bit of skin just above his nipple, and was pulling hard on it. Drawing hard, lips and tongue suctioning him now, until the sensation was almost annoying, until it built up to actual pain.
Exquisite pain, though.
Severus shifted in the chair, leaning his head back, and howled.
Perhaps that had been a signal of some sort; at any rate, Harry stopped then, and moved back as if to study his handiwork. Severus looked down to see a dark purplish blotch upon his chest.
"Not permanent, though," quipped Harry, picking up a truffle to feed to Severus. "I'm afraid I'll have to do that again every now and again. But you don't mind, do you? You are in fact mine?"
"Yours," breathed Severus, still recovering from the onslaught to his senses. Or perhaps the shock of all of this. He would never have believed that Harry would ever want to re-enact any part of the invocation ceremony, not even in reverse. How could it not call to mind painful memories? How could it not represent--
"You're over-thinking everything. I can tell," said Harry with a straight face.
Severus laughed. "You're right. I'll just enjoy myself instead."
"Now, that was some damned good advice someone once gave me. Juice?"
They kissed their way through it until the goblet was drained, then finished the rest of the titbits remaining on the table, Harry feeding Severus directly from his hand.
And apart from the sheer sensuality of the experience, Severus learned something else. It truly was lovely to have Harry taking care of his needs, to rest secure in the knowledge that they would be met. To surrender control, and have complete faith in his partner . . .
He hoped he'd given that to Harry, over this past year.
Judging by Harry's willingness to do all this tonight, though . . . Severus had to think that Harry did feel truly comfortable with him.
When the meal was over, Harry trailed a finger over the inside of the goblet, and then smeared a streak of juice on Severus' chest. And then he lapped it up, and said, "Oh, look at that. I think you need a bath . . ."
Severus needed no more prodding than that, to rise from his chair.
Harry led him again, walking backwards, holding Severus' hands, though this time he didn't insist on Severus' eyes being closed.
The bath was full already, charmed to stay warm, the colour a swirling, pearly one. Not quite the same as it had been at the invocation, but somewhat close. Severus blinked. "You even brewed a potion? To make the water slick?"
Harry gave him a quick look. "No. I'd have needed help and that would've ruined the surprise."
"You could learn to brew if you wanted to," said Severus as Harry began to unfasten Severus' trousers. His cock sprang free, fully erect, almost throbbing. "You're more than clever enough."
"Oh, I have more brains than a palm frond, after all?" Harry's light-hearted tone said he didn't resent the old days any longer. Or not as he once had. "Well, if I want to learn, I'll certainly let you know."
"Did you buy something ready-made, then?" Severus turned to stare doubtfully at the water.
"Well, I couldn't ask you to brew it, could I?" Harry started in on his own clothing.
"Please don't tell me you bought this from those cretin friends of yours."
Harry smiled widely, wriggling his jeans off as he looked at Severus. "Well, I knew Fred and George weren't the types to sell information about me. You know, how the Chosen One must like water sex, since he's been buying some pretty kinky potions--"
"No, they'll just talk about it to each other until they're overheard. Either that, or they'll keep quiet because there's an unexpected jinx built in--"
"Oh, relax. I didn't go to them. I ordered by owl and used the Hogwarts' general account. Paid it back, of course."
Well, that was better, but Severus still didn't hold much store by ready-bought.
"And I tested it last night while you were hard at work. Good thing I nicked some Frictionate, or I might never have managed to get back out of the tub."
"Stealing from my potions lab again, I see," drawled Severus.
He must have got his own tone just right; Harry just grinned. "Well, if I want Dragon's Happy I'll definitely ask, but I thought you wouldn't mind, in this case."
Fully naked now, Harry dabbed the Frictionate onto Severus first, then himself. Then, with a flick of his wand, Harry made the ferns surrounding the pool part, and side by side, Harry and Severus descended down into the pearl-coloured water.
It was slick, Severus realised at once. Where his hip was brushing against Harry, the skin felt actually oiled, though the water wasn't oily in the least.
Harry drew him over to sit down on a low bench, and straddled him, legs on either side of Severus' own as he placed both his palms flat against Severus' chest. When he leaned close to kiss Severus, his nipple ring brushed against the tender purple spot on Severus' chest.
Ah, Merlin. Exquisite pain, again.
"Now, you have to come three times, you know," said Harry, playfully tracing his fingers over Severus' lips as if to keep him quiet for a moment. "Which is asking a lot, from a man of your age--"
"Whelp--"
Whelp quickly changed to a yelp when Harry swiftly leaned down and bit Severus' shoulder.
"That hurts!"
"Yeah, I know," said Harry dryly. "Listen, now. I was about to say that it was asking a lot but that we both know you're up for it. I know what you can do and you can't. I should . . . and then I was going to say that as I haven't had a potion to help me like you did, I thought I'd join you on the third one, eh? If I can last that long."
"May I speak, now?" Harry stuck out his tongue and waved for him to go ahead. "There's no doubt that you can last that long. I know what you can do and you can't."
"There you go, then." Harry's hand grasped hold of his cock. "Hand job first, then. And then we sit and talk, and enjoy some wine, and then I'm going to give you a special-deluxe blowjob. Like you've never had before."
"Think you have a new trick up your sleeve, do you?"
"I know I have a new trick. And it's not up my sleeve. You can just wait and wonder while I . . ." Harry's hand began moving up and down, firm stroking rhythms along the shaft, while his other hand descended into the water to tease Severus' cock head.
A two-handed cock massage . . . definitely the best kind. And this time, even more so, because in order to stay on Severus' lap in the slick water, Harry's knees had to squeeze hard against Severus' hips. It was the most erotic sort of hug Severus had ever experienced.
Leaning his head back against the edge of the tub, Severus let out a long, keening sigh of pleasure.
"Oh, that's not enough," said Harry, continuing to work Severus' cock with damned-near perfect motions. Merlin, he'd learned a lot! He knew just what Severus' liked, just how to tease him, how to prolong the pleasure . . . "You have to give me more than that, Severus. One sigh? Come on, talk. What's your fantasy now? You're on board ship with a handsome pirate--"
"I'm in a large, warm tub with a handsome young Quidditch coach, his muscles toned and firm, his hard cock bumping up against my belly as he strokes me and strokes me--"
Harry glanced down. "It is not. My hands are in the way."
"You said to tell you my fantasy."
"Oh, my cock has a starring role in your fantasy. Well, that sounds all right, doesn't it? You can take hold of it and--"
"We're pretending my hands are tied, remember?"
"Frustrating," murmured Harry. "But I guess it was that for you, as well."
He applied himself in earnest then, to the handjob, tormenting Severus--no other word for it, really. Fondling his balls, one finger entering Severus to tease at the promise of prostate play, Harry's other hand squeezing and stroking and--
With a great shout of pleasure, Severus came, pulsing into the creamy water.
"No fair," said Harry, moving up to speak against his lips. "I wanted to keep on. You sneaked that one past me."
"Well, I couldn't wait any longer to proceed to the, what did you call it? Super-deluxe blowjob?"
"Yes, but now you have to," said Harry, his hand now stroking a cock quickly going limp. Resting his head against Severus' shoulder, Harry fell quiet then, content, it seemed, to simply sit together in the slick water, their breathing matched as they rested.
No, not content. Happy.
As Severus was deeply, deeply happy.
Finally, Harry stretched and reached behind a row of ferns to get his wand. He summoned wine and glasses, but let Severus perform the uncorking spell.
"Well, now I know why you allowed me hands--"
"And you call me whelp." Harry sipped his wine and gave a slight grimace. "Picked out a dry one, for you. But for your information, I'm going to get the hang of opening wine bottles with magic. I just need a bit more practice. Oh, forgot, sorry--" Harry raised his glass and waited until Severus did the same. "To a summer alone, with no real worries, this time."
Very, very apt. But Severus had something else in mind. "To excellent handjobs."
"Very funny. Make a real toast, now."
"To Slytherin?"
"Severus--"
"To us," said Severus quickly. "To a future with my bonded."
Harry smiled. "Yeah, I kind of like that word, too."
Severus was allowed only one small drink of wine before Harry took his goblet away. "Too much indulgence, you know. Will only make things harder on you!"
He proceeded to drain his goblet while Severus watched. But he made up for it in kisses afterwards. Delicious ones with Harry tasting of wine.
Harry palmed his cock, then crawled off Severus' lap. "I think you're ready. I . . . uh, had to borrow something else from you, for this part, but I didn't think you'd really mind. Hang on a second, then . . ."
He turned away and waded halfway across the pool, then grabbed something that had been hidden among the ferns. Severus didn't get a chance to see what it was, but then, as a gulping and swallowing noise followed, he realised that Harry had eaten it.
Eaten it? What would Harry need to eat, or drink--
Oh, no, no. Not Polyjuice! Didn't Harry know by now that Severus loved him exactly as he was?
When Harry turned back, though, he still looked like himself. Well, except for the gill-slits slashed across the sides of his neck.
Oh, sweet Merlin's cock. Severus was the one gulping, then. It was hard to believe what he was seeing, because he knew, didn't he, what was coming. Something he'd actually never had before, though it cropped up occasionally in erotic stories he'd read.
Very erotic stories.
Harry slid beneath the surface without another word, the water rippling as he swam the brief distance back to Severus. Webbed hands settled onto Severus' thighs, then moved together to caress his cock. And then, the warmth of the water merged into the warm, sweet cavern that was Harry's mouth, and Severus felt himself taken fully in, swallowed, almost, as Harry began to work his cock.
Wet slickness all around, Severus felt like he'd been plunged inside the blowjob. Like it had become him, and he had become it, and--
Merlin above, be the brew suddenly made some kind of sense to him, though he knew of course that it didn’t truly apply to potion-making.
Such an odd-blowjob. Instinct more powerful than reason, he kept expecting Harry to need to come up for air. But he didn't, of course. The wet pressure on his cock just kept on and on, Harry licking and teasing, sucking and nipping, until Severus heard himself making noises that Harry wasn't even there to hear.
On and on it went, the blowjob lasting much longer than usual, because of course with Gillyweed, Harry had to stay down there a while. He was skilled, though, Severus had to grant him that. He didn't keep on until Severus was sore and aching; periodically, he backed away and just spent the time running his webbed hands up and down Severus' calves, reaching up to stroke his chest, his flippered feet moving slowly in the water all the while. And then he'd go back to engulf Severus' cock once more.
At last, when Harry's time was nearly up, he didn't back away when Severus' climax grew close. His tongue swirled, teasing the underside of Severus' cock as he bobbed his head. Life was made of nothing but pleasure, it seemed to Severus. Wet, warm, pleasure. And then, a great long rush of it began swirling through his balls and shooting out of his cock, straight down Harry's throat, Harry's webbed hands cupping his balls all through it, one of them reaching back to stroke the cleft between his arse cheeks.
Severus shouted with the force of his orgasm, then slumped and relaxed, slipping into the water, his head going beneath the surface.
They came up together, Harry and he, both glistening wet, hair slicked back, Harry with no more trace of gills.
It was a moment before Severus could speak, and then, his voice was rough. "You may help yourself to Gillyweed at any time, of course."
"That's good," said Harry, grinning. Severus thought he meant it would be good for more blowjobs, but then he said, "I kind of went underwater in that lake I made, and later on, I thought it might be a bit of fun to swim down to the bottom and explore a little."
Severus nodded, until it occurred to him to ask, "How does one go 'kind of' underwater?"
Harry swam back over to the bench and crooked a finger for Severus to join him. "You go under without knowing it's going to happen. Crashed on the Firebolt, see. From just a couple of feet up, though. Wasn't really a problem."
Harry was far too good a flyer to crash from two feet up, usually. "Some daredevil new manoeuvre?"
"Nah. I was just thinking about things, and . . . well, something occurred to me which was an awful shock, and I lost control of the broom. Teach me to not pay attention to my flying."
An awful shock? Severus didn't like the sound of that. If Harry had a problem, he wanted to help him with it. "What shocked you to that degree?"
"Well, I wasn't balanced on the broom right to begin with," said Harry quickly. "Er . . . I'll have more wine, I think. It's safe after Gillyweed? You want another little sip?"
Severus hid his frown. Harry hadn't really answered his question, but he clearly didn't wish to, so Severus was hardly going to insist. "Have some, yes. But no more for me, thank you."
Harry got up to pour himself another goblet, though he didn't drink much from it, really. "So, summer plans," he said, settling himself in alongside Severus, again. "Any ideas?"
"What do you want?"
"Whatever makes you happy."
"Wonderful. Let's start with an answer."
Harry curled an arm around Severus' shoulders. "Hmm. Well, I did mean my first answer, you know. But besides that, plenty of flying time, but it doesn't matter where so much. And I thought I might like to see the house you mentioned, in some town named Spinner's End, was it?"
"That's the street. But yes, certainly, I can show you the house I inherited. It's not as though I ever really lived there, though. Just for those few weeks I told you about."
"Where do you live in the summers? I know you stayed here last year, but I thought the teachers generally didn't do that."
"Most don't. I would usually do a fair bit of travelling. Picking up new languages, seeing the sights. Though in recent years that's been curtailed due to the rise of--"
"Yeah," said Harry thickly, before he shook his head like he was shaking the thought away. "Well, you're free of that now. We're both free of it. More travelling sounds really good. Hermione and Ron can tell us about the best wizarding spots in South America now, you know."
"Perhaps we can all four go together," drawled Severus in a very dry tone.
"Seriously?"
Severus hadn't been, no, but at the look on Harry's face, lighting up with eagerness, with happiness . . . "If that would suit you. Mind, I might slip up on occasion and kiss you in front of them, when you're looking particularly handsome."
There, he thought, rather pleased with himself. He'd graciously agreed but in such a way that Harry would have to call off the idea.
But instead, Harry kissed him, before poking him in the chest and saying, "You're on."
Oh, dear Merlin. What had he got himself into? Well, too late to call it back, now. And Harry did need his friends; Severus knew that.
And too, there was something almost unbearably delightful about the idea that Harry wasn't objecting, now, to people knowing that Severus did in fact kiss him.
"I'm about to die, here," Harry suddenly said. "I've been hard for hours, now."
"Nonsense. We haven't been in the bath for hours."
"I've been bloody hard all day thinking about it, though. Can you go again, yet?"
"A little while longer," said Severus. "How about a massage?"
"Oh, like touching you is going to calm me down. Yeah, good idea--"
"I'll massage you, of course," said Severus smoothly.
"No, no, I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you, tonight."
Severus leaned close, and spoke in the huskiest voice he could manage. The one that he knew sent thrills straight down to Harry's toes. "Take care of my need to touch you, then."
Harry smiled, the movement slow and languorous. "Oh, well, if you put it like that . . ."
Turning to the side, away from Severus, he leaned forward a little.
Severus scooped slick water up and showered Harry's shoulders with it, then began. Long, slow strokes, pressure here, pressure there . . . and all the while, Harry moaning with enjoyment, twisting, stretching as Severus found every bit of tension in his muscles and worked it out.
Finally, Harry turned to face him again. "You do realise that just made me want you ten times worse, all that touching?"
"I would hope so . . ."
Without warning, Harry straddled him again, only this time, he scooted his cock up against Severus' stomach. Up on his knees on the stone bench, Harry started lowering himself down, biting his lip a little.
Not in apprehension, though. It just looked like concentration. And then, "I don't know how to . . . er, aim properly. Maybe you can--"
Severus needed no further invitation than that. Two hands on Harry's hips, he angled him a little differently even as he scooted down on the bench slightly. Reaching down and around, then, he found Harry's cheeks and stretched them apart in preparation. Not much more than that was needed, with the slick water providing lubricant and Harry already loose and relaxed from frequently bottoming for Severus. Half his tightness before had been pure stress, in any case.
Everything was much easier now that Harry truly wanted and enjoyed it.
Though granted, they'd never tried this position before, except when Harry was doing the thrusting from below.
Harry pushed himself down, obviously finding Severus' cock, and lowered himself further, gasping as it began to slip inside him. "Ohhhh, yeah. Good, so good . . ."
"Yes," grunted Severus, lunging upward.
Harry leaned forward and hugged him tight, grinding the hard length of cock against Severus' belly. "Oh-- Oh-- So good--"
"Good position, yes," panted Severus, thrusting upwards in quick, sharp jabs.
"Yeah . . . oh, yeah . . ." Strangely, Harry suddenly sort of whacked Severus on the back, even as he kept moaning and thrusting. "You might have told me!"
"I did--"
"Oh, right . . ."
The thing about this position, as Severus knew from experience, is that it gave the man being penetrated a tremendous amount of control. As they kept on, Harry seemed to catch on to that. Now he wasn't grinding so much as bucking, leaning away from Severus, his hips jerking, cock bouncing in the air as he held onto Severus' hands to keep from falling backwards into the water.
The candlelight glinted across his nipple ring, and as Harry fucked himself on Severus' cock, his pleasure in the act absolutely evident, Severus thought it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
Even if Harry was swearing. Or maybe because he was.
"Oh, God. Oh, God," he practically screamed, his fingernails digging into Severus' palms as Harry clenched his hands, tighter and tighter. "Fuck, fuck--"
I am, Severus might have said, if he hadn't been enjoying the sight before him too much to interrupt Harry's concentration.
Lips parted, leaning back so far now that his hair was trailing into the water, Harry started rolling his hips in tempo to Severus' thrusts. Now, thought Severus, and he changed angle slightly so that his cock would slide directly against Harry's prostate, instead of merely brush against it.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" panted Harry, the words slurred, but still clear enough for Severus to relish every one. "I-- love-- you-- so god-damned-- fucking-- aaaah!"
He came screaming incoherently, semen pulsing out in a steady stream as he lost his grip on Severus' hands and fell onto his back in the water, to lay there jerking and spasming, incoherent swear words still gasping out from between his lips.
He didn't slip off Severus' cock, though, because the instant Harry let go of his hands, Severus moved to grab his hips, and keep him firmly in place.
If anything, that just seemed to increase Harry's pleasure.
And Harry's pleasure was Severus', quite literally. His own climax came roaring down upon him in a rush such as he'd rarely ever felt. Or never, perhaps, for when had he ever, ever heard words like that from anyone's lips?
Severus threw his head back and howled again, his fingers digging into Harry's skin, his toes curling against the bottom of the pool.
And then he, too, collapsed, nearly knocking his skull into the marble edge of the tub.
Harry gingerly slid backwards, off his cock. Too soon; Severus could have enjoyed staying in him a bit longer. Harry, though, had something else in mind.
Grabbing his hands again, Harry pulled him forward, into the water, and stood up with him, the two of them shaking with the intensity of what they'd just shared. Shaking, and looking at each other, until Harry finally said, "If sex gets any better than that, we'll have to plan things beforehand."
Severus could barely think what he meant. Could barely think at all, actually. Except one thing. I love you so god-damned fucking . . . much, perhaps?
But then, people often screamed things in the throes of passion that they didn't truly mean. Not that they usually screamed them with Severus, but still . . .
"Plan?" he finally asked, almost blankly.
"Recuperative potions, definitely. You're going to be the death of me if you keep fucking me like that, and I'm way too young to die." Harry stepped towards him and leaned against him, then, his head tucked atop Severus' shoulder. "And, about the other thing. Er-- sorry."
Sorry?
"You're sorry you love me or you're sorry you said it when you don’t?" asked Severus, setting Harry aside. Roughly.
"Don't be stupid! I'm not sorry I love you! What are you, the world's biggest git?"
Oh. Severus had evidently misread things, then.
Yes, probably so, said a mocking voice inside him.
He barely heard it, though, through the way it felt like his soul was splitting in two inside him. Splitting in two, and brilliant bright white light pouring out, and Harry standing there in the middle of it, saying, "I'm not sorry I love you!"
Severus suddenly couldn't bear not to be touching Harry. He swept him back into his arms and hugged him tight, and tried not to ask the questions that, inevitably, perhaps, began surging through him. You love me, really? Are you sure? Are you positive? Do you--
He was never going to ask any of that, never, in case the answers weren't to his liking. No, far better to cling to what he had, so he could always remember it unsullied, Harry lying on his back and coming as he said I love you and then saying it again, a little more angrily, afterwards.
But he didn't need to ask his questions, because Harry knew him well enough to know he would be thinking them.
"Yes, I really love you," he said, shaking his head. "Can I lie about it?"
"You can-- you can--" Severus hated the shakiness of his own voice, then, but not even the most valiant effort at self-control seemed to make any difference. "You can misstate and twist things around, and-- oh, you know perfectly well that you have about a thousand ways around that mind bond."
Harry stood a little straighter. "You stubborn bastard. Yeah, no headache, 'cause I mean that too. I guess you need more? How about, Severus Tobias Snape, I love you to bits, and I want to be bonded to you more than anything else, and that's why I kind of re-did the invocation tonight, to try to show you that!"
I love you to bits.
To bits.
Severus felt like his knees might buckle. If the water weren't helping to support his weight, they might have already given way. And still his mouth just didn't know when to shut up. "More than anything else?" he asked hoarsely.
And then, he knew that Harry wasn't lying to him, because the other man kept looking at him directly, calmly really, and said, "Severus, I want my freedom, too. You know that. But if I had it, I'd stay right here with you."
At that, Severus thought he knew what it was like to die and go to heaven. Not that he believed in any such claptrap.
"Then what were you sorry about?" he asked quietly, when it seemed the room had stopped spinning.
Harry gave him what could only be considered an indulgent look. "Well, I was sorry I'd said it like that, of course. In the middle of a fuck? I'm not surprised you needed a little convincing, really. That is kind of . . . suspect, isn't it? You might have just thought I was having a great time. Which I was, but--" Harry ran his hands through his hair, mussing it. "The thing is, I'd been trying to tell you all evening, and I couldn’t quite figure out how."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "It's so difficult to say three words, is it?"
Harry raised his own eyebrow, just as high. "I think you know it is. Or maybe you're just more comfortable saying it without the words? Though you always have struck me as a very verbal sort of person."
He left the challenge hanging between them.
"Oh, well, yes. I do love you too. Of course I do."
Harry smiled, very smugly. "Yeah, I knew that. Took me a while to figure it out, though."
"I should have told you sooner," realised Severus. He'd cheated Harry, he suddenly saw. He'd cheated him of that golden moment of hearing it without prompting, something Severus himself would cherish forever and would never, ever forget.
"When I was yelling how much I hated you every time things didn't go my way?" Harry shook his head. "I think I understand. And it doesn't matter. I mean, it's nice to hear it said, Severus. But the fact that it's there, that's a lot more important."
Severus nodded shakily, wondering how it was that a man so much his junior in years could put him so much to shame. But then, Harry had a generous spirit, and Severus generally didn't, so perhaps it only stood to reason that Harry would be the first to say those three words out loud.
"The water's getting cold," Harry suddenly said. "And we're sort of sticky. Shower, you think? Then bed?"
Severus had to admit, bed did sound quite the idea. They soaped each other lazily, not saying much by then, just looking into each other's eyes, and laughing, now and then.
Neither one of them needed to ask about what.
Severus used a drying charm while Harry dried himself with a towel, and then they tumbled into the bed together, and snuggled down beneath the thick blankets needed to ward off the chill of the dungeons.
"Severus?" asked Harry in the dark, his top arm resting loosely across Severus' chest, his head pillowed on Severus' shoulder. "I think I'm going to like saying it. You know? Or . . . maybe you don't."
Severus didn't think that was a hint, but he did think it might tell him something about Harry's needs, if Severus were clever enough to listen, that was. "I think I'll probably need practise at saying it. I'm reserved by nature, you know, but you're my bonded, so . . . I love you, Harry. Hmm, not so hard to say, when you come right out with it."
"How about I love you to bits?"
"How about, I loved you enough to endure Disneyworld." Severus lightly shuddered at the memory of what the Muggles termed "Fantasyland." As far as he was concerned, it had been nothing but one sickeningly-sweet ride after another, and every one of them designed to malign witches! Anti-wizard propaganda, without a doubt. He could hardly believe that Harry had actually liked that part of the park best of all.
"Oh, shut it," said Harry. "I know you liked the pirates."
"Yes, well, I didn't know in advance that there would be pirates," sniffed Severus. "When I agreed to go, it was because of the other."
"The other that's not so hard to say?" Harry laughed, then suddenly stiffened. "Wait. When you agreed to go, it was because you loved me? Just how long are we talking?"
"One year exactly," said Severus, feeling rather proud of himself that he knew. "I woke up loving you, Harry, that first morning after we'd been bonded."
He couldn't see Harry frown in the complete dark, but he could sense it, somehow. "You don't think it was the spell, do you?" he asked, clearly nervous. "I wouldn't want that--"
"No, it had clearly been coming on for some time prior," answered Severus dryly. "And you?"
"Sorry, no idea." Harry shook with silent laughter as he lay against him. "Not the most romantic answer, I know. It just sort of snuck up on me without me noticing. But, hey, if it's any consolation, that's what made me crash into the lake. I'd just realised. You're damned lucky I didn't drown."
"You know how to swim."
"Romantic, aren't you?"
Severus turned to lie facing Harry. "I don't know. Am I?"
Harry snuggled forward. "Yeah, Severus, you actually are." With that, Harry kissed him, softly and lovingly, his fingers trailing down to stroke the mark he'd suckled onto Severus' chest. "You are, and I love you for that, too."
"Just don't tell anyone," murmured Severus.
"You think our press can get any more sappy than it already is?"
Severus gave him a stern look, and Harry smiled. "All right. The fact that you're a born romantic, deep down inside, can stay our little secret."
"I most certainly am not a--"
"Love me, don't you? Love me forever?" Another kiss, a long, deep one. "That settles it for me."