Chapter Text
"It wasn't even our idea. Dumbledore suggested -- "
"Be quiet, Potter." Snape's fingers tightened around Harry's thigh, and Harry forced himself not to jerk away from them. The tension between him and Snape had been unbearable ever since he'd returned from his shopping trip, and no matter how Harry tried to explain it, Snape continued to look and act supremely pissed off.
"It happened five years ago. You can't -- "
"Quiet!"
Sighing, Harry stared at the ceiling. He hated this. He hated Snape hating him for something that happened years ago and that wasn't even his fault. He hated the tension making the air seem too thick to breathe. He hated Snape avoiding his eyes. He hated it and hated it until he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Look," he said, sitting up, and he talked so fast he gave Snape no chance to interrupt. "It wasn't our idea. Dumbledore suggested it. We knew it was dangerous, but Sirius was my godfather, the only family I had left, and I know you hated his guts and you're glad he's dead, but I couldn't just let an innocent man be Kissed!"
Harry realized what he'd just said, and apparently, so had Snape. The fingers on Harry's thigh clenched for a second before they relaxed so much they almost slipped off Harry's leg.
"Very well," Snape said, his voice still a little too tight, but the hard line of his shoulders loosened. "I suppose I cannot find much fault in that." Now some of the familiar sarcasm was back in Snape's voice.
Harry snorted, falling back against the couch. "By the way, your potion works."
"Explain." Snape continued stroking his way up Harry's thigh.
"My leg hasn't hurt since yesterday. It's always hurt in the mornings. Until now."
Snape ushered Harry on his side. "Are those the only improvements?" he asked, slick hands spreading over Harry's arse.
Harry wasn't sure if he should mention his erection. It wasn't so much Snape knowing he'd had one, but it was the timing that seemed terribly off. "Yeah," Harry said, unconvincingly.
"Are you quite sure?" One of Snape's fingers slid between Harry's arse cheeks and brushed across his pucker. "I had expected to see more improvement by now."
Harry whimpered and quickly buried his face in one of the pillows. It was too much, the feeling of Snape's hands stroking over his arse and his fingers teasing – yes, teasing -- his entrance.
Harry's cock sat up and took notice.
God no! Harry couldn't believe it. This had to be the worst thing that ever happened to him. Worse than getting hit with that fucking curse. Worse than almost dying. Imagine how pissed off Snape would be, how disgusted, when he noticed Harry's completely inappropriate response to his treatment. Here Snape went out of his way to try to heal Harry's leg, and Harry just had to be such a fucking teenager about it, getting aroused by the feeling of hands massaging his arse.
It was the most humiliating thing in the history of humiliation.
"Almost done," Snape said, tugging Harry on his back again. Harry tried to resist, but his body had gone limp. Well, except for that one tiny part – not so tiny anymore at that moment.
"Oh look," Harry said lamely, staring down his own body at his erection. "It's back."
"I see." Snape rested his hands on Harry's hip, face devoid of any emotion as he stared at the offending body part.
"Sir, we can wait," Harry said, grasping for words. "You don't have to touch it or anything. It'll go away in a bit. I'm sure."
Snape glanced at Harry, black eyes unreadable. "I had thought you would be more excited about this news."
"Er..." Harry swallowed. He thought he was excited enough already, thanks. "I am. But I don't want to embarrass you, sir."
"I assure you, embarrassment is the last thing on my mind," Snape said, and slipped one slick hand around Harry's hard cock. Harry gasped, back arching off the couch.
"You don't -- "
"Yes, I do. We cannot forgo your treatment over such a little thing," Snape said, staring down at his own hand stroking up and down Harry's prick.
Harry huffed, and was then forced to swallow back a moan. "Not that little, thanks."
"Indeed." Snape started moving his hand faster, much faster, than he'd done the previous days, and Harry's legs fell open on their own accord, thighs trembling and cock twitching against Snape's palm.
"Sir, if you don't stop I'll -- "
"I am well aware of the consequences, Potter," Snape said, and squeezed Harry's cock as though he wanted to force the orgasm out of Harry right that moment.
And it dawned on Harry what Snape was doing. Snape was jerking him off.
"Oh, fuck," Harry moaned, hips thrusting up against Snape's hand. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't resist the feeling, the sight, of Snape's hand tugging on his throbbing cock. He was helpless, completely helpless to stop Snape. He didn't want Snape to stop. He wanted to come so badly his balls hurt.
Harry was gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his temples, Snape's hand making slick, wet sounds around his cock that drove him absolutely mad with pleasure, and he wanted more, moremoremore...
"God – yes, almost -- " Harry stared at Snape's profile, and one more sharp tug on his cock was enough. He pressed his heels down and spurted his release all over Snape's slim fingers, a guttural groan escaping his lips. He slumped against the couch, his cock jerking in Snape's hand a few times more before everything went still. Harry's ears were ringing and his eyes drooped shut.
He felt rather than saw Snape get up. Snape wiped his hands on a towel, picked up the cauldron, and swept out of the room.
Harry stared after him, wondering what the hell had just happened. Why had Snape done that? Why had Snape jerked him off?
Of course. This was Snape, after all. What better way to humiliate Harry fucking Potter.
His post-orgasmic bliss exploded into anger, and Harry was off the couch in a second. Not bothering to cover himself, he stormed into the kitchen where Snape was emptying the cauldron over the sink.
"You complete and utter bastard!" Harry leaned against the doorway, afraid if he took another step closer he'd actually hit Snape.
Washing out the cauldron, Snape ignored him, face hidden behind a curtain of black hair.
"I bet you loved that, didn't you," Harry snarled, fingers clenching around the door post. "I bet you loved getting me to admit I'm queer and then humiliating me like that. I should have known. No matter I got you out of prison, you just couldn't resist fucking me over like that."
Snape placed the cauldron upside down on the counter, wiped his hands on his robes, and turned to look at Harry. "Potter, I'm quite sure you could have stopped me had you wanted to."
"This isn't about what I wanted! This is about you doing something you didn't want to just to humiliate me!"
Arching an eyebrow, Snape stared at Harry. "Are you really this -- " He sighed. "Yes, obviously you are this thick."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you are misjudging my motivations!" Snape took a step closer to Harry just as Harry stepped into the kitchen.
"I understand your motivations just fine!"
"Obviously you don't, or you wouldn't be accusing me of humiliating you!" Snape took another step, as did Harry. They were only a foot apart now.
"Why did you jerk me off if you didn't want to humiliate me?" Harry yelled, curling his hands into fists to keep them from trembling.
"Perhaps because I enjoyed it!"
"How can you enjoy it? You're not gay!"
Snape gave a snort of laughter. "How would you know? You never asked!"
Harry's mouth fell open. Snape was – oh god – and Snape had jerked him off because -- oh god -- and Harry didn't know who moved first, but suddenly there were lips on his, kissing him with such force Harry stumbled back until he hit the wall behind him. Harry's glasses were flung to the side, and Harry wasn't sure if that was him or Snape.
Groaning, Harry slipped his tongue between Snape's lips. There were hands in his hair, tugging him closer, and Harry fisted Snape's robes, acutely aware of Snape's lean body pressed against his own, and Snape's black eyes so close, and Snape's nose rubbing against his as their mouths tried to devour each other and what the hell were they doing?
Harry gave Snape a push, panting for breath. Snape's lips looked moist and raw. "What – what is this?"
"Potter, don't be dense. It is called a kiss," Snape said, sounding only slightly out of breath.
Harry dimly realized he was still holding onto Snape's robes. "I know. Fuck. What – why?"
"One generally kisses a person one is attracted to," Snape said in his familiar lecturing tone.
Harry leaned closer to Snape, feeling Snape's warm breath on his lips. "What -- what? You mean, you want... "
"Yes, Potter, I want."
Harry shoved Snape back, but followed him to the opposite wall, mouth seeking out Snape's with an urgency that surprised and scared him. Snape wanted him. The Prince wanted him. Wanted to kiss him. Wanted to touch his cock. Harry tried to crawl inside Snape's mouth, or that was what it felt like, anyway, tongue driving in deeper and deeper.
Snape cupped the back of Harry's head and neck, fingers weaving into his hair, and returned the kiss with as much if not more vigor. His eyes were closed now, and Harry allowed his own eyes to fall shut as well as he pressed Snape against the wall. His bare legs rubbed against the coarse material of Snape's robes, his prick trapped against Snape's groin where he felt an equally hard cock.
God, but he had to feel that cock, see it. Harry ran his hands down Snape's robes until he felt buttons, and he started pulling and tugging, and he cursed into Snape's mouth until he was finally able to slide his hand into Snape's boxers and take his cock out. Snape had a cock – a marvelous, thick cock – that felt perfect against Harry's own erection. Snape's hand joined his own, curling around both their pricks, stroking, fisting, just more and harder and god, yes, just like that.
It was everything Harry had fantasized about for over a year, over two years, and this was Snape, who was really the Prince, who was Harry's favorite fantasy before he'd started obsessing with – no, no, not thinking about him. Thinking about Snape, and Snape's mouth on his, so wet and hot, and Snape's hand on his, and their cocks so good together, and Harry was so, so close.
He pushed against Snape, and thrust his hips, and everything was rushed and frantic, and it hurt in places, but it was such a fucking good pain. Black eyes boring into his own, pupils larger than Harry'd ever seen them, and Snape was making all these sounds, much like Harry was, and yes, there, harder, harder --
Harry went rigid, prick pulsing and spilling against their hands, against Snape's cock, and Snape bit his lip, tugging on it until Harry groaned. There was more release between them, hot and slick, and Snape arched against Harry, something akin to a whimper, so helpless, escaping Snape's mouth, and Harry caught it with his own, sucking Snape's tongue inside until he couldn't breathe.
They were panting, Harry's forehead leaning on Snape's shoulder, cocks sticky and spent between their bodies, hands stroking across arms and hair.
"It was the Prince," Harry whispered, voice hoarse. "It was you I thought about."
Snape didn't say anything, but held him and leaned against him and trembled, just like Harry did.
Harry didn't know how long they stood there like that. He liked every second of it, but he knew they couldn't stay like that all day, so eventually he pulled back a little and looked at Snape's face. Snape didn't seem quite sure what to do either, so Harry offered him a tentative smile, which Snape answered with a blank stare.
Well, at least he didn't look pissed off.
"I liked that," Harry said. Snape nodded. It seemed like agreement.
Snape cleared his throat. "Lunch?"
Lowering his head, Harry snorted with laughter, both from nerves and relief. "Yeah, all right," he said, and he leaned a little closer, just close enough his lips fell against Snape's and he could make it look like an accident. Snape returned the kiss, much softer and gentler than before. Harry pulled back, then quickly gave Snape one last kiss before releasing his hold on Snape's body.
"And maybe clean up a bit," Harry said, glancing down at the mess they'd made. "And find my robes. And my glasses."
"Potter," Snape said, amused. "Relax."
Easy for you to say, Harry thought. Snape didn't just have sex with his most hated Professor. Of course, Snape did just have sex with his most despised student, so perhaps they were even. A tingle of magic on his skin told Harry Snape had just cleaned him up with a flick of his wand.
Harry stumbled backwards towards the door. "I'll just... my robes. And then lunch," he said, and he feared he was grinning like a complete idiot as he hurried out of the kitchen.
*~*~*~*~*
Snape put a full plate in front of Harry, and sat down. They ate quietly, but every time Snape met Harry's eyes, Harry grinned, things tightening and tingling in his chest and other parts of his body. Snape gave him a snort and continued eating.
When Harry's plate was clean, he leaned back, cradling his cup of tea. Snape finished soon after, and mimicked Harry's actions.
"So, you're gay, huh?" Harry said, and quickly sipped his tea to hide his grin. He worried Snape was getting tired of seeing it.
"Yes. So, the Half-Blood Prince, huh?" Snape said, imitating Harry's flustered tone while he smirked.
Harry choked on his tea. "I said that out loud?"
Snape's smirk grew impossibly wider. "Oh yes."
"I didn't know it was you," Harry said, coughing. "I don't know. You seemed very nice on paper."
Now Snape choked on his tea, coughing and laughing at the same time.
Harry's cheeks flushed. "Well, you seemed very smart in any case. I liked that. And you are smart. I know that." Snape laughed louder. "I'll shut up now."
Silence returned, and they sat and drank tea and glanced at each other, and it was without a doubt the most surreal situation Harry'd ever found himself in. He'd kissed Snape. No, he'd snogged Snape. And they'd jerked each other off. In Snape's tiny kitchen. And it had been good. So fucking good.
It didn't make any sense.
"This is unexpected," Harry said. He had to say something or else he'd go mad with confusion. "Right?" He looked at Snape, who stared back but didn't respond. "I mean, I thought you hated me."
"I did," Snape said, without a hint of regret. "I hated you, Potter."
"Ah. I hated you, too." Harry drank the last of his tea and put the empty cup down.
"I know." Snape finished his tea as well.
"Good." Harry rested his hands in his lap, unsure what else to do with them. "Garden work?"
Snape shook his head. "The garden can wait. I have to sort through my books first."
"Want help?"
Pushing his chair back, Snape rose to his feet. He didn't object, which Harry thought was all the agreement he was going to give. Harry followed him to the sitting room, where Snape summoned a large, worn trunk.
"Anything on Dark Arts goes in there," Snape said, waving at the trunk between them. "You start on that side. It should mostly be Muggle books, but it is possible wizarding texts have found their way to that section over the years."
"All right," Harry said, turning towards the bookshelves near the couch. Even though they stood with their backs to each other, the room was small enough Harry still sensed Snape's presence. They worked quietly, the only sound the occasional thump of a book hitting the bottom of the trunk. Harry finished the first shelf – all Muggle books on gardening and cooking – and glanced at Snape over his shoulder.
"Can I ask questions during this?"
"If you must," Snape said, and threw another book inside the trunk.
"Why did you join the Death Eaters?" Harry paged through a detective novel.
"I already answered that question. They suited my purposes."
"That's not really a very good answer."
"And yet it is the only answer you will get." Snape gave Harry a brief narrow-eyed look, which Harry understood to mean 'leave it'.
"Are all these books yours?" Harry found a Muggle romance novel and held it up for Snape to see.
"Yes," Snape said without looking at Harry.
"Are you sure?" Harry waved the book around until Snape looked at him. "I didn't know you liked romance."
Snape snorted. "Some books belonged to my parents. They are my property now."
Chuckling, Harry moved on and saw a title he recognized. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. "I've read this one," he said, turning the book over in his hands. The back cover was missing, and by the look of it, so were the final chapters of the story. "My cousin Dudley got it for his birthday once, but he hates reading, so he just let it lay around and I sneaked it into my cupboard and read it at night. I liked it." Harry opened the book and noticed an inscription on the first page.
Happy birthday, my dear Severus
Never be afraid to dream. They might just come true.
Mum
Heart thundering in his chest, Harry looked up straight into Snape's black eyes. Snape looked much like he'd done when Harry had invaded his Pensieve in his fifth year, skin ghostly pale, lips thinned and eyes blazing.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- " Harry snapped his mouth shut when Snape yanked the book from his hands. Snape pressed it against his chest, just like Harry always held onto Advanced Potion-Making.
"Get out," Snape said, so quietly Harry hardly heard him.
"I'm -- "
"OUT!" The sheer hatred edged into Snape's face forced Harry back a step. "POTTER, OUT!"
Harry ran out the door, disappeared into the first secluded spot he could find, and apparated straight to Grimmauld Place.
*~*~*~*~*
He wasn't sure how long ago he'd returned from Snape's home. An hour? Two? He'd started pacing when he got home and hadn't stopped since.
What the hell had happened? Why the hell had Snape kicked him out like that?
From what Harry could tell, he'd found a book Snape had once got from his mother for his birthday, probably when he'd still been a child. Sure, it was a bit personal, but nothing like some of the stuff they'd told and shown each other over the last week.
So why had Snape acted like that?
It didn't make any sense. Harry kicked against the couch and resumed his pacing.
What was he supposed to do now? It had been weird enough after their little tryst in the kitchen, but now, after Snape had gone completely insane, Harry didn't have a clue what to do next.
Was he supposed to go back to Snape's tomorrow morning as though nothing had happened? Should he tell someone about this? God no. Harry scratched that idea before it could fully form in his head. He couldn't imagine telling anyone about snogging Snape.
Who would do Snape's groceries for him if Harry couldn't ever return there?
Harry hated to admit it, but the idea of never going back to Snape's tiny house was painful. It ached almost as much as his leg had done over the last three weeks.
Was he supposed to confront Snape about his erratic behavior? No. Harry knew Snape well enough to understand that would only lead to more erratic behavior.
Was he supposed to --
The doorbell rang, and Harry almost tripped over a side table as he whirled around. Who the hell was that? Probably his friends coming to yell at him some more for having set a murderer free. He wasn't in the mood to see anyone. Harry glared at the drawing room door, as though that would make anyone trying to get into his house go away.
The doorbell rang again, more urgently this time. Harry glared harder. There was no way he wanted to see anyone. Well, that wasn't true, but the only person he wanted to see was under house arrest and had just kicked him out of said house.
There was a loud crack in the hallway, and Harry realized someone had just apparated into it. Harry stomped to the drawing room door and yanked it open.
"You can't just -- "
Snape stood there, narrowed eyes peering at Harry through strands of black hair, a familiar wooden box and two books in his arms.
"Er..." Harry said, as he was at a complete loss for words.
"Potter."
"Snape." Harry still wasn't sure what to say, but then something dawned on him. "You can't be here! You're under house arrest! How did you -- "
"You don't actually believe a few Ministry spells are enough to keep me locked away, do you?" Snape asked, sneering. At least he didn't seem overcome with hatred anymore. "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell your Auror friend about this."
"I won't. Why are you -- "
"You didn't answer your door -- "
"I didn't know it was you -- "
"I can leave if you want -- "
Harry held up both hands to silence Snape. He stepped back from the doorway, making it look like an invitation. Snape accepted and walked inside the room. He placed the box and both books on the coffee table, and took the Pensieve out.
"You forgot your book," Snape said, pointing at Advanced Potion-Making. Beside it lay Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Harry's heart missed a beat as he slowly approached the table.
"I am willing to show you a memory that will hopefully explain my earlier outburst," Snape said. The tightness in his voice told Harry Snape was trying to keep control over his emotions, but the slight tremble betrayed he was close to losing it. "However, I expect something in return."
"What?" Harry sat down on the couch, staring up at Snape with trepidation.
"If I share this memory, I have to – I need to see you at your worst, Potter. I need to see you bleeding."
Harry tapped his thigh. "You already saw me bleeding."
"Not like that," Snape snarled, and then drew a step back, as though distancing himself from the small outburst. "I need to see you at your weakest. I think you will understand once you see my memory. Just know that I expect the same in return."
Harry nodded. He didn't want Snape to see him like that, but here Snape was, trying to... if not apologize then at least explain, and Harry wanted him to and was willing to pay a price for it. "All right."
"This isn't part of our initial agreement," Snape said, and he sounded uncharacteristically uncertain what to say. "However, considering your favorable response to our earlier coupling I am willing to make this exchange."
"I get it," Harry said, and bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh. Snape seemed flustered. "This is private. Just between you and me. Not meant for anyone else, ever."
"Indeed." Snape reached for his wand. He held it in his hand, staring at the Pensieve. A minute passed before he took a few hesitant steps towards the table. Closing his eyes, he placed his wand against his temple and pulled. A thin, silver thread fell inside the Pensieve.
Snape glanced at Harry, eyes narrowed to dark slits. "If you ever -- "
"I won't. I promise." Harry did his best to sound honest. "And you have my permission to slip me your worst poison should I ever break that promise."
"I don't need your permission for that," Snape said with a snort. He moved back from the table, giving first the Pensieve and then Harry a nod.
Harry returned the nod, reaching for his own wand. He had no idea what he'd find in the Pensieve, but Snape's tight face and tense shoulders told him it wasn't going to be a happy memory. Quickly, before he lost his nerve, Harry dipped his wand into the swirling surface and at once the room around him changed until he was standing in Snape's sitting room.
It looked much like the sitting room Harry knew so well by now, and yet there were small differences. There were fewer books lining the walls, and the couch wasn't a dull beige but a dirty brown.
On that couch sat a black-haired boy, no older than nine or ten. A young Snape, Harry realized. Snape was reading, legs tucked under him, and as Harry moved closer he saw the title of the book in Snape's hands.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
That made sense, seeing as Harry's discovery of that book had triggered Snape's episode. Young Snape seemed engrossed in the story, black eyes scanning the pages almost frantically.
The front door banged open to reveal a hook-nosed man with short, greasy hair that stuck to his forehead. Snape's father, most likely. The resemblance was there, though while Severus Snape was tall and lean, Tobias Snape was tall and broad-shouldered, with huge, rough hands.
A putrid smell wafted from Tobias Snape, one that Harry identified as a combination of strong liquor, cigar smoke and old sweat.
Young Snape drew his legs up and raised his book, hiding his face behind it, as though trying to make himself invisible.
"You wasting your time with books again, boy?" There was a heavy slur to Tobias Snape's voice that made it clear he was very drunk. Young Snape didn't respond, though his hunch did increase until nothing but the top of his head appeared above the book.
Slamming the door shut, Tobias Snape swaggered inside the room. "Go help your mother!"
"Mum said I could read," young Snape murmured from behind his book. "It's my birthday present."
"She's wasting my money on more books?" Snape's father loomed over him, gesturing wildly at the bookshelves around them. "You've got enough books already!" One large hand shot out to snatch the book away, but young Snape held onto it with desperate fingers. Tobias Snape gave a big jerk, and the book tore in two pieces, pages falling away and whirling to the floor.
"No!" Young Snape stared in horror, black eyes wide, at the mutilated book in his hands.
"Now you're done reading," Tobias Snape said, and tore up the pages in his hand, including the back cover, sending bits of paper flying everywhere.
The door to the dining room flung open, revealing a thin woman with a narrow face. Harry recognized her as Eileen Prince, Snape's mother.
"Tobias, no!" Snape's mother rushed towards her son, but before she reached him a rough hand connected with her face.
"And you stop wasting my money!" Tobias Snape followed his wife as she staggered back, hand pressed to her cheek, and he drew his arm back again, landing another slap across her face.
"NO! STOP IT!" Young Snape stood frozen, the ripped up book clenched to his chest. "I'll stop reading. I'll go help Mum. JUST STOP IT!"
"Are you talking back to me, boy? Are you giving me cheek?" Tobias Snape turned and closed in on his son in two big strides. Young Snape cowered, holding up the torn book as though it would shield him. It didn't. A large hand struck him in his face, sending him backwards until he hit the table and crumbled to the floor. "You don't ever talk back to me!"
Tobias Snape turned on his wife again. He grabbed her arm and hauled her into the dining room, the door slamming shut behind them. Young Snape lay on the floor, surrounded by bits and pieces of paper. He glanced at the wrecked book in his hands, and threw it across the room. Blood trickled from his lip, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand before curling up beside the couch.
Colors shifted and Harry was back in the drawing room. He couldn't breathe and his mouth was suddenly dry and he didn't know what to do or where to look. He slumped against the couch and finally dared a glance at Snape.
"Give me a memory," Snape said, voice full of quiet rage. The wand in his hand trembled, as if he was thinking of using it. Perhaps he wanted to hex Harry to pieces. Or perhaps he wanted to obliviate him.
"I – I'm not sure I have anything to match that," Harry said, equally soft. He felt so cold suddenly, his skin shivering. "I can show you my memory of when Voldemort returned, or -- "
"No. It has to be more personal than that." Snape stalked closer to the couch, head lowered and eyes fixed on Harry, as though ready to pounce on him. "It has to be you at your worst."
Harry tried to recall a moment when he'd been at his worst. There were several, but one stood out. "The end of my fifth year. Right after Sirius was killed," Harry swallowed away a brief burst of grief that tainted his mouth bitter, "in Dumbledore's office. When he told me about the prophecy. I was pretty much in pieces then."
"Show me." Snape sat down beside Harry on the couch, gaze glued to the Pensieve.
Harry did. He tugged the memory from his temple and shook it inside the stone basin. The moment Snape touched it with his wand, Harry got up and left the room. He walked to the kitchen, but once inside he didn't know what to do.
It seemed impossible to match the boy who'd tried fending off his abusive father with a book he'd got for his birthday to the man who'd killed Albus Dumbledore with one, vile curse. And it seemed even harder to match that boy and that man to the person Harry'd kissed that morning, who'd told him he wanted him, was attracted to him, had given him two mind-blowing orgasms.
It made Harry's head spin, and he shuffled towards the sink, pulling his glasses off with trembling hands. He splashed cold water in his face, and stood leaning over the sink for several long minutes.
Glancing at the clock, Harry decided he'd best go back. He didn't want Snape to return from the memory to find him gone. He didn't want Snape to think he'd fled under the weight of the memory Snape had shown him, even if he might have done exactly that.
Harry opened the cooler and took out a can of Coca-Cola. He opened it and took a few long gulps, letting the bubbling drink easily slide down his parched throat. He grabbed a second can, and walked back to the drawing room. Snape was still immersed in the Pensieve, and Harry sat down beside him, sipping his Coke and trying not to think of too much to prevent his head from spinning even more.
Finally, Snape sat back up, eyes half-closed, lips pursed.
Harry held out the second can. "Drink?"
Snape accepted it with a nod, ripped the lid off, and drank half of it down. He leaned back in the couch, can resting on his thigh. Harry mimicked him, and they sat side by side, not touching but close enough for Harry to feel the warmth of Snape's body.
Should he say something about the memory he'd seen? Harry wasn't sure. Should he express his sympathies? Best not. Snape would probably tear his head off with his bare hands if Harry said he was sorry for Snape's childhood. Should he just keep quiet?
"I never finished it," Snape said. Harry, confused, followed Snape's gaze to the table, to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
"Ah." Harry tilted his head, considering the book. "He won." Glancing to his side, Harry met Snape's tired eyes. "Charlie won the factory. It's been a while since I read it so I don't remember all the details, but Charlie definitely won in the end."
They both looked back to the book. "Well," Snape said. "That is... good."
"Yeah, it's nice when the good guys win," Harry said with a small smile.
"My father was a violent drunk," Snape said. Harry's smile wilted. He'd seen that much. "I killed him when I was eighteen."
Gasping, Harry dropped his can, cola spilling over the floor. He didn't bother picking it up, though, as he was too busy gaping at Snape. "What -- what?"
"Be quiet, Potter," Snape said, teeth gritted. "I will tell you this story only once, and if you care to hear it, you had best not interrupt me."
Harry nodded.
"My mother became ill when I was sixteen. We could not afford proper treatment since my father donated most of his salary to the local pubs. She died just before I turned seventeen." Snape's voice was soft and devoid of any emotion, and still Harry heard every word he said as though he'd shouted them.
"I hated my father, and therefore it was easy to hate all things Muggle. I joined the Death Eaters just before my eighteenth birthday. A month later, the Dark Lord allowed me my first kill. It was easy to pick the subject." Snape looked at Harry for a second, as if he assumed Harry wanted to comment on that. "If you expect a tearful apology, Potter, we will be here for a long time. I do not regret killing that bastard. He deserved it for all he did to my mother and me."
"Okay," Harry whispered. He wondered if there was more to the story. Apparently there was, as Snape continued talking.
"So I was an active Death Eater. And while I did not always agree with the Dark Lord's more extreme ideas, I did his bidding and was a loyal servant. Until the Dark Lord killed five innocent children." Harry opened his mouth, but Snape cut him off. "Yes, Potter, the children in that memory. It happened about six months after I told the Dark Lord of the prophecy I had overheard. I saw not much wrong with dueling adult wizards or torturing useless Muggles. But seeing five innocent wizarding children get killed made me... quite uncomfortable.
"It was not long after that the Dark Lord announced the child in the prophecy had to be a newborn boy named Harry Potter." Snape swallowed and inhaled a deep breath. "And while I had no love lost for James Potter, I could not bear the thought of the Dark Lord killing an entire wizarding family because of something I had told him. I refused to take responsibility for that. And thus I contacted Albus Dumbledore."
"You became a spy," Harry whispered.
"Yes." Snape looked down at his lap and sipped his can. "I believe you know the rest of the story."
"Yeah, I think I do." Harry wanted to touch Snape, place a hand on his arm or leg, but he didn't think Snape would welcome it. "Thank you. For telling me."
"The only person who knew the full story is dead -- "
"Dumbledore?"
"Yes. I needed to tell it to someone still living and breathing."
Harry understood that urge. He'd had it when he told Snape about his obsession with Tom Riddle and why he'd failed to kill Voldemort.
"So there you have it, Potter." Snape straightened a bit and glared at Harry over his hooked nose, and he looked every last bit like the vile Potions master Harry knew so well. "I'm a murderer, a patricide. I have a talent for hurting people. I daresay there were even times I enjoyed it. And I hated you for no other reason then being the son of James Potter."
"But you don't hate me anymore," Harry said, albeit tentatively.
Snape frowned. "No. I don't hate you anymore."
"What changed?" Harry asked in genuine curiosity. "I don't think I've changed all that much."
"You saved my life." Snape looked down, as though embarrassed by that admission. "Your father once saved my life only to save his own hide and that of his best friends. You saved my life and risked losing your own freedom, your friends, your popularity."
"That's why you didn't tell me I owed you a life-debt," Harry mused, several dots connecting in his head.
"Yes. I wanted to know if you would save my life without feeling you were obliged to."
"Well, I have a saving people thing, according to Hermione," Harry said with a soft chuckle.
Snape snorted. "You have a getting yourself killed thing."
"That too." Harry smiled at Snape, and was pleased to see the corners of Snape's mouth twitch. "I used to hate you back in school. For... well, for being you, really."
"What changed?"
Harry gave Snape a cheeky grin. "You saved my life. You could have fled, you could have disappeared off the face of the planet, but you risked everything to save my life."
Shaking his head, Snape looked down, using his hair to cover his smile. Harry still saw a glimpse of it, and it gave him enough courage to scoot a little closer to Snape until their thighs touched.
"I like you," he said, all traces of cheek gone. "I like the bloke you've been this past week."
"Hmm." Snape leaned a little closer as well and now their shoulders brushed. "Your presence has been surprisingly tolerable this week."
"So you like me, too?" Harry inched his hand closer until his fingers rested on Snape's arm.
"It certainly seems that way." Snape looked at Harry, their faces only inches apart. Harry met his gaze and held it, and his chest tightened and his belly tingled as memories of earlier that day surfaced.
"Can we kiss now?" Harry whispered. "I liked the kissing."
"If you must," Snape said, but before Harry could respond, Snape's lips were on his. Harry pressed back, leaning into Snape as much as he could, but just when their kiss deepened, Snape pulled back.
"Potter, there is still one thing you should see," Snape said, giving Harry a searching look. "Before this goes any further, perhaps I should show you what happened in the tower."
Harry rather thought he'd had enough surprises for one day, thanks. "Tomorrow. Show me tomorrow." He brushed his lips across Snape's. "I want this now."
Snape sighed. He seemed torn for a moment. Harry gave him another kiss, running his hand up Snape's arm. That apparently helped make up Snape's mind. He cupped the back of Harry's neck and devoured his mouth, teeth nipping and tongue thrusting deeper and deeper.
God, who'd have thought Snape was such a good kisser? Fervent, deep and just a little rough. Much better than Cho or Ginny had ever been. Harry gripped Snape's shoulders, pushing his entire body as close as he could without sitting in Snape's lap. He answered Snape's lips and tongue with all the energy he could muster until his entire mouth felt scorched.
Panting, he leaned back, pleased to see Snape equally out of breath. "Can we do this right?"
"You thought it was wrong so far?" Snape asked, lips curling up.
"No!" Harry rolled his eyes as Snape chuckled. "I mean, can we do this proper-like in a bed?"
"If you provide the bed, I am sure that can be arranged," Snape said, voice suddenly hoarse. It made Harry's hardening prick twitch.
"Yeah, sure, upstairs." Harry forced himself to his feet, legs trembling. Snape followed him up, catching Harry's elbow to steady him. "This way," Harry said, leading Snape out the room and up the stairs until they reached Harry's bedroom. Harry gestured at Snape to enter, and walked in after him, closing the door quietly.
Snape was standing in his bedroom. This observation was odd enough as it was. But Harry was standing there, too, with an aching erection straining his underwear. That only made the situation impossibly weirder.
"So," Harry said, and pointed at his bed. He scuffed his shoe against his desk chair.
Snape reached the foot of the bed in three large strides. "Come here."
Harry went. But as he approached Snape, he looked down, uncertain what to do next. Maybe more kissing? And some rubbing, like they had done earlier that day? But then on a bed?
"Take off your clothes," Snape said, and Harry was grateful for the instructions. He'd taken off some of his clothes in front of Snape before. This shouldn't be a problem. He tugged on the buttons of his robes. As he dropped them, he reached down to make short work of his trainers and socks. Then he straightened and wanted to push down his pants, but Snape's hand on his wrist stopped him.
"On the bed," Snape said. Harry wanted to point out Snape was still fully clothed and that it seemed unfair, yet at the same time he wanted sex and more sex and he didn't really care if there were clothes involved or not. He bounced backwards onto the bed, throwing his glasses on the nightstand as he went.
Snape stood still, eyes roaming over Harry's nude flesh, as if Harry was a main course and Snape had to decide how to serve him. It made Harry's cheeks flush and his cock twitch. Just when Harry wanted to ask Snape if he was going to participate at all, Snape reached down, grabbed Harry's ankles, and spread his legs.
Harry gasped, thighs tensing, and Snape put first one knee and then the other onto the bed and edged between Harry's legs, black robes brushing across Harry's shins. Snape leaned down, though his eyes never left Harry's, and nuzzled Harry's hard cock, trapped in his Y-fronts.
"Oh God," Harry moaned, leaning up on his elbows. He had to see this. Snape traced the outline of Harry's cock with his lips, and then the length of Harry's cock. The feeling of it was electrifying. But the feeling combined with the sight of it was almost too much. If Snape kept this up, things were going to be over soon. Harry clenched the muscles in his arse in a weak attempt to stop his balls from getting too eager to eject.
Snape mouthed around the head of Harry's cock, the fabric of his Y-fronts moistening. And then he did something Harry might never forgive him for. Snape took the head of Harry's cock between his lips and blew.
Liquid fire that shot straight to Harry's balls.
"God – fuck – hell – stop – STOP!" Harry jerked, trying to crawl away from Snape, and Snape sat up at once, eyes wide. Harry doubled over and clamped down on his testicles with both hands.
"Potter?"
"That was really very, very close," Harry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. A great rumbling sound filled the room, a sound Harry had heard once before, when Snape had laughed about Tonks being his Potions tutor. Harry fell back against the bed and kicked in Snape's general direction. Snape caught his foot and held it as he continued laughing.
"You bastard," Harry muttered.
"And here I thought you had already grown past that awkward stage of premature ejaculation," Snape said in between deep breaths.
"What the hell was that?" Harry finally opened his eyes so he could glare at Snape, not that it did anything to quell Snape's obvious amusement.
"It is called foreplay, Potter, though I do believe it is something you have yet to learn."
Harry's cheeks felt as if they were on fire, and even if he could see the humorous side of the situation, he didn't want to give Snape the pleasure of sharing in his amusement.
"That was a vile, nasty, unfair trick," he said with a huff. "I'm not surprised it comes from a Slytherin. Now let me think about Umbridge for a minute and I'll be good to go."
That made Snape, who'd just caught his breath, snort with laughter again. Harry looked at him. There was something very attractive about seeing Snape helpless with laughter. It made things in Harry's chest tighten rather than his testicles, and it made him want to smile. He gave into that urge and hoped it wouldn't morph into one of his insane grins.
"You know, not so long ago I would've thought of you if I wanted to hold off," Harry said. Snape replied to it with a smirk, but his loud chuckles ruined some of the effect. Harry rubbed both his hands across his face. "God, I can't believe you almost had me cream my pants. And just because you were blowing – I mean, you weren't even blowing my cock, you were just blowing on it -- "
Harry's breath left him when Snape suddenly dropped down on him . Snape crushed his lips to Harry's and in a second, no, less than a second, things became frantic. Harry arched up, pushing his tongue inside Snape's mouth while he curled his hands in Snape's hair, trying to pull his head closer. His legs fell open as Snape fit his body between them and Harry thrust his groin up, feeling Snape's hard cock against his hip.
"Off," Harry breathed, one hand tugging on the collar of Snape's robes. "Off, please."
There was a wand in Snape's hand and Harry wasn't even sure where it had come from, but a few flicks later, they were both naked. Harry heard clothes hit the floor somewhere to his left.
Snape's skin was warm, so warm, everywhere it touched Harry's. Burying his face against the crook of Snape's neck, Harry darted his tongue out and licked and inhaled. Snape tasted sweet and slightly bitter, and he smelled of herbs and spicy things. It made Harry want to shroud himself in it. He pushed up and up, his cock pressed between Snape's hip and erection.
Snape's mouth was relentless. His lips and tongue covered Harry's cheek and throat with the intention to consume every bit of Harry, and Harry wanted to let him, wanted to offer himself up on a silver platter. Take me, he thought. Take every last inch of me.
Hands clawing at Snape's back, Harry rolled his hips up, knees brushing Snape's side and heels bearing down on the back of Snape's thighs. Snape thrust, his cock sliding down Harry's balls, nudging between his arse cheeks.
"God, yes," Harry moaned, driving down against Snape's cock. "That. I want that."
Snape raised his head, staring down at Harry with flushed cheeks. It made Harry smile.
"Can you?" Harry asked, pressing his arse against Snape's cock again to emphasize his point. "Do that?"
"I assume you are referring to anal intercourse?" Snape asked, and nipped at Harry's bottom lip as if he couldn't resist it. "Though under the circumstances we might as well call it fucking."
Harry's breath got stuck somewhere in the back of his throat. He nodded and wriggled against Snape's erection some more. Feeling the head of Snape's cock nudge against his pucker made Harry want to yell at Snape to push in already, to take him, fuck him, hurt him. He merely whimpered, as he still couldn't form coherent sounds.
"If you must," Snape said, smirking. Harry grinned at him and had to resist the urge to rub himself against Snape like a cat in heat. Snape was going to fuck him. God, Harry was going to get fucked.
"Where do you keep the lubrication?" Snape asked.
Harry stared at him. Since his brain was currently on a temporary leave, having left his balls in charge, Harry didn't understand a word Snape was saying. They were about to fuck, and now Snape thought it the time to speak in five syllable words?
"Potter, the lube. Where is it?"
Ah. That made more sense. "I don't have any," Harry said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Does this mean we can't fuck now?"
Snape snorted. "It means I will use a spell instead."
"There are spells to fuck?"
"Potter, do you wish to spend this evening discussing spells and charms or do you actually wish to fuck?"
"That last bit," Harry said, squirming beneath Snape in both embarrassment and impatience.
"Good." Snape lowered his mouth to Harry's, slow caresses of lips and tongue at first, but they grew harder and deeper as Harry retaliated with his teeth, nipping and tugging until Snape used his entire body to bear Harry down onto the mattress and Harry was forced to draw back and inhale a deep breath.
His hands exploring Harry's shoulders and arms, Snape mouthed his way down Harry's chin, throat, collarbone, chest, nipple, Snape's lips eager and his tongue merciless, and everything became a blur as Harry gave in.
He gave into lying naked on a bed, he gave into a sizzling mouth marking its way down his body, he gave into wanting to be fucked by a man, he gave into Snape, cruel, heartless, unforgiving Snape, who had him pinned to the bed with just his tongue; a vile instrument that had wounded Harry countless times in the past, but Snape had never before used it as fiercely as he did now to render Harry speechless and helpless.
Harry gave in. This secret, unspeakable fantasy he'd had for so long was becoming reality. He couldn't count the times he'd dreamed of lying naked on a bed at the mercy of a man, though that man had black hair, hazel eyes, full lips, but that had been a fantasy.
This -- Snape -- was real. Snape, hated, loathed, but not quite evil, certainly not as evil as black hair, hazel eyes, full lips, was there, between Harry's spread legs, uncaring about Harry's fame and faults as he brushed his lips around Harry's navel, chin nudging Harry's hard cock.
"Yes," Harry moaned, as Snape reached for Harry's legs and pushed them up, knees to shoulders. "God, yes."
Snape flicked his tongue down Harry's cock, tiny touches that weren't nearly enough and made Harry drive his hips up and breathe, "Please, please."
He could feel Snape's smirk against his balls as Snape brushed his mouth down and down and --
"Oh god, yes!"
There. Right there. Snape's tongue licking his pucker, circling and probing, and Harry thought he was going crazy with something, and he bucked and jerked until Snape's hands caught his hips and kept him still, but his tongue never stopped, his sharp, scandalous tongue, his glorious, wondrous tongue --
"More, please, more, please, more."
Fingers now. Long, stained fingers teasing his entrance, teasing and pushing until one slipped inside, inside his body, and Harry groaned, pressing down and down, but the finger drew back.
Harry whimpered and finally he focused his eyes on Snape – black hair, black eyes, thin lips – who was there, who was real, who was naked, who was slicking his hand before lowering it to Harry's exposed arse.
More fingers, two now, sliding inside, and deeper, deeper as Harry stared at Snape, who stared back, moving his fingers out and inside, out and inside, so good, so good.
"Please, more," Harry moaned, clenching his muscles around Snape's fingers, willing them to go faster.
Snape shifted, fingers slipping out. Harry whined at the loss, only for a second, because Snape grasped the back of Harry's knees, Harry's back curving as he pressed down, Harry's arse wide and open for his hard cock.
Staring down, hair falling across his face in thin strands, Snape leaned closer, his thick cock nudging against Harry's entrance. Harry grasped Snape's forearms, tightening fingers white over the Dark Mark, and he thrust just as Snape did the same.
Snape's cock was inside him, and Harry repeated those words in his mind as Snape penetrated him deeper and deeper. Snape's. Cock. Was. Inside. Him.
Harry raised his head and he saw what Snape saw. Snape's slick, throbbing cock sliding out and out, and driving back inside while Snape released a quiet grunt. Snape's brow was furrowed, hooked nose wrinkled, upper lip drawn back from uneven teeth. Harry stared at his face before another sharp thrust forced his attention back to Snape's cock sliding out and out and inside.
Snape moved faster with every thrust until he was pounding into Harry, and Harry had never felt anything like it before. Nothing could compare, not wet kisses from Cho, not sticky, messy sex with Ginny, not furtive touches to his own cock while staring at black hair, hazel eyes, full lips.
Snape was groaning, deep and guttural with every thrust, and Harry could have come from that sound alone, from hearing Snape giving voice to pleasure. Snape had never sounded as honest before.
Yet Harry wanted, needed, more. "Please," he sighed, and it was the only word he could think of as Snape's cock drove inside -- harder, deeper – and out, and inside, and inside. "Please."
Snape's hand curled around Harry's craving cock, fisting, stroking, and that was enough.
"Fuck yes!" Harry's eyes rolled back, hands clawing at Snape's arms, toes curling, as his cock twitched in Snape's hand, spurting his release in long strings across his skin. Snape drove inside even deeper, giving Harry's cock a few more tugs, forcing Harry's orgasm to go on and on and on --
Snape sank down on top of Harry, balls slapping against Harry's arse with every thrust, and Harry wrapped his arms and legs around him, still dizzy and tingling from his orgasm. Snape's mouth found his, and Harry kissed him, deep and rough like Snape's thrusts. His hands stroked across Snape's sweat-slick back all the way down to his arse, and he felt it tense as Snape released a low groan in Harry's mouth, cock buried deep inside Harry, twitching as Snape came.
Their kiss slowed, as did Snape's hips, until they lay still together, Snape's mouth pressed against Harry's cheek, his softening cock pulsing inside Harry's arse. They stayed that way for a while, bodies pressed together, connected where they could, and Harry inhaled Snape's scent again. It was sharper now, with sweat and the musky smell of sex.
With a few more kisses brushed against Harry's lips and throat, Snape allowed his cock to slip from Harry's arse and he rolled to the side, stretching out beside Harry.
"I can't move," Harry whispered, staring at the ceiling in amazement as his body lay limp against the bed. Snape gave a soft, satisfied chuckle beside him.
Harry let his head fall to the side and said in all honesty, "God, you're good."
Snape snorted, but the effect was ruined slightly by the grin tugging on his lips. "It's just sex, Potter."
"Yeah, but this was really good sex." Harry smiled, and took the silence coming from Snape as agreement. Harry rolled onto his side, face only inches away from Snape's. "We have to do this again. Soon."
"Hmm." Snape's face was slack, eyelids heavy, and he looked as tired and sated as Harry felt. Harry stared at him, stared at those black eyes, that hooked nose, those thin lips now slightly swollen and red, and he wasn't sure when he started dreaming, only that his dreams were of black hair, black eyes and thin lips.
*~*~*~*~*
"Er... hi," Harry said. The feeling of Snape's nude body pressed against his own apparently made him both shy and stupid.
"Potter. Good -- " Snape glanced at the clock over Harry's shoulder, "-- evening."
"Evening?" Harry half-turned to look at the clock. It read seven-thirty. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled. "Ah. We just had a nap then. Are you hungry?"
"I could do with supper," Snape said, and stretched an arm over his head. Harry instantly missed the weight of it on his waist. Snape gave Harry a dubious look. "Are you planning on cooking?"
"I thought we could get some takeaway," Harry said, thoughts of curry and hamburgers and pizza making his stomach rumble even louder.
Snape's face screwed up as though Harry had just said a very nasty word.
"Oh, come on." Harry grinned. "You made me eat things from a goat. It's only fair you try something I like."
"As I recall it, you were the one who bought it in the first place."
"You insisted on needing yogurt."
"One item on an entire grocery list, and you are the one obsessed with it."
Harry silenced Snape with a kiss, and Snape returned the effort at once. Harry moaned when Snape pushed him back against the bed, rolling on top of him. Snape brushed his lips across Harry's mouth and chin and cheeks as if he couldn't get enough of touching Harry's face, and Harry copied his motions, smiling against the faint stubble on Snape's cheek.
Harry's stomach rumbled again, loud enough to have Snape pull away and stare down at him.
"I'll get us something we can eat in bed," Harry said, and tilted his head up to plant a soft kiss on Snape's lips. He liked being in bed with Snape. He had no problem spending the rest of the day, week, year in bed with Snape.
Snape nodded and slid off Harry. He pushed the covers down and made to get out of bed, but Harry caught his arm.
"No! Er... I mean, you stay in bed. I'll get the food." Harry released Snape's arm when Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Am I allowed a bathroom break or do you expect me to use a bedpan?" Snape asked, amusement apparent in his voice.
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, you can use the loo." He sat up and reached for his jeans on the chair beside the bed. "Just make sure you're in bed when I get back." He stepped into his jeans, wriggling to hoist them over his arse. Daring a glance at Snape, he saw Snape sitting up against the headboard, arms hooked behind his head, apparently enjoying the view. "I like you in my bed," Harry said, and quickly reached for his t-shirt.
Snape made a vague sound of agreement.
Grabbing his glasses and wallet from the nightstand, Harry turned to Snape, trying not to get distracted by the sight of Snape's naked chest. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Goodbye."
Snape looked as if he was trying very hard not to smirk.
Rushing out the bedroom, Harry finally allowed himself the grin that had wanted to break out since he'd woken up. Snape was in his bed! And they'd had sex! Absolutely great, wonderful, amazing sex. And if he was lucky – and Harry was feeling particularly lucky – they'd have more sex when he got back. Harry bounced down the stairs, ignoring the small, pleasant aches in his arse, and tried to decide what was quickest to eat: fish and chips or pizza.
*~*~*~*~*
"Your owl is a poor conversationalist, Potter."
An offended hoot sounded from the top of the wardrobe.
Snickering, Harry moved to the window and managed to open it without dropping any of his purchases. "She didn't give you any trouble, did she?" Hedwig flew down from the wardrobe and disappeared into the night, seemingly glad to get away from them both. Harry closed the window behind her and shuffled towards the bed.
"Besides the glares and shrieks she gave me at finding me naked in her master's bed? No, no trouble at all." Snape eyed the items in Harry's arms.
"Pizza!" Harry said happily, placing the box on the sheets. "And it comes in bottles, too," he added, dropping the bottle of Coca-Cola to the bed. "And... er... " Harry looked down at the bag in his hands. It had seemed like a perfect idea an hour ago, but now he was confronted with Severus Snape, murderer, Death Eater, little boy who got beat up by his father for daring to read a book, Harry wasn't so sure anymore. "I got you something."
Snape stared at the bag, a curious frown tugging on his brow.
"I apparated to Charing Cross Road, since Foyles is open until nine," Harry said. Snape arched an eyebrow. "You'd be amazed what you learn when hanging out with Hermione," Harry added with a nervous chuckle. "Anyway. It's all right if you don't like it. I just thought – well, here." Harry reached inside the bag, pulled out a present wrapped in red paper, and handed it to Snape.
Pushing the box and bottle aside, Harry sat down on the bed while Snape looked the present over a few times before tugging on the paper. Harry bit his lip as the brown cover was revealed. "I thought – so you can read the ending, you know."
Snape stared at Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as though he was holding the crown jewels.
"If you don't like it I can -- "
"No," Snape said, and cleared his throat. "It is – thank you."
"You're welcome," Harry said, grinning, feeling as though he could breathe again. "I got myself a present, too." He upended the bag, and The Witches fell to the sheets. "You ever read this one?" Snape shook his head. "My teacher read it to us when I was eight or nine. It's very funny, especially considering what we are. In this one all witches are bad and hate children and have square feet and this boy gets turned into a mouse -- " Harry shut his mouth when he realized he was babbling. "You can read it sometime if you like."
Snape nodded, placing his book in his lap. "You brought something that is supposed to resemble food?"
"It is food." Harry huffed, and pulled off his t-shirt. He glanced at Snape, and squirmed out of his jeans and kicked off his trainers. He quickly slid under the covers and reached for the pizza box. Flipping it open, he inhaled the strong, greasy scent.
"What on earth is that?" Snape looked at the pizza in horror.
"An extra-large mixed grill pizza," Harry said, licking his lips. "We need napkins. And glasses."
Snape reached for his wand on the nightstand and summoned two linen napkins and two glasses. He held them as Harry poured out the cola. They settled beside each other, bare legs brushing under the covers, and Harry offered Snape a slice of pizza. Snape looked as if Harry was trying to force-feed him Hippogriff dung.
"Just try it," Harry said, dropping the slice to the napkin in Snape's lap. "It's really good." He helped himself to a slice, and moaned at the first bite, cheese stringing down his lips and chin. Snape finally grabbed his own slice, eyed it with suspicion, and took a delicate bite. It seemed to meet his approval, and he took another, bigger bite. Soon they'd both finished their slices.
"At least it seems we no longer need to worry about proper lubrication," Snape said, examining his hand. It was shining with grease. Harry chuckled and stuffed a second slice into it.
They continued eating in silence, but it was the comfortable kind. Harry didn't think life could get any better. Here he had a large, comfortable bed, perfect pizza, a naked bloke, and the promise of more amazing sex. Leaning back against the headboard, Harry grinned at Snape, and grabbed another slice. With his free, clean hand, he reached for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He skimmed through the first couple of pages.
"I remember reading this," Harry said, lowering his slice of pizza. "Many times a day, he would see other children taking creamy candy bars out of their pockets and munching them greedily, and that, of course, was pure torture." Harry lowered his head. "I remember thinking it was nice to read about a boy who understood what it was like."
Snape stopped chewing as he stared at Harry.
Shrugging, Harry closed the book. "My relatives never really got physical with me, but they enjoyed locking me up and starving me. God, I dreamed about rivers of chocolate for months after I read this book." He sipped his glass of cola. "I can count the times I got this stuff as a child on one hand," he said, raising his glass to Snape. "Mrs Figg, you know, the Squib? She sometimes gave it to me when I had to stay at her house."
Wiping his mouth with his napkin, Snape looked like he wanted to say something.
"But it's all right. I can buy all the pizza and Coca-Cola I want now." Harry shrugged, placed his glass on the nightstand, and continued eating. Snape stared at him for a moment longer before he too resumed the strenuous task of clearing away the entire pizza.
Once the box was empty, Harry dropped it to the floor, and wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin. He gave Snape a hopeful smile. "Is this when we have sex again?"
"No, Potter, this is when we let our food – and I use food in the loosest sense of the word – settle," Snape said. At Harry's disappointed frown, he added, "Honestly, Potter, I feel as though I have just stuffed three pounds of animal fats down my stomach and you expect me to reiterate our earlier acrobatics?"
Harry snorted with laughter at the indignant look on Snape's face. "All right. We'll take a short break."
Snape handed him The Witches. Harry stared at it in puzzlement. "Read it," Snape said.
"Read it?" Harry echoed.
"You spent an entire week reading to me. You might as well do it again." Snape slid a little lower in the bed, settling against his pillow.
"You liked me reading to you?" Harry asked, getting comfortable beside Snape.
"Save for your abominable choice in books it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience." Snape shifted, slipped one arm around Harry's shoulders, and pulled him closer.
Grinning, Harry leaned his head on Snape's shoulder, feeling sated and warm and, surprisingly, perfectly at ease pressed against Snape's naked body. "All right," he said, opening the book to the first chapter. "A Note about Witches. In fairy-tales, witches always wear silly black hats and black cloaks, and they ride on broomsticks. But this is not a fairy-tale. This is about real witches."
Snape snorted, and Harry glanced up at him. "Yeah, I know. But this is fiction," Harry said, and gave Snape's leg a playful kick under the sheets. "The most important thing you should know about real witches is this..."
Harry continued reading, and Snape thankfully didn't comment on any of the outrageous ideas on witches. He did chuckle in inappropriate places, such as when Harry read about witches liking nothing better than squashing children, but Harry didn't mind. He enjoyed reading to Snape, he enjoyed familiarizing himself with the story again, and he enjoyed lying in Snape's arms, as odd a thought as it was.
When he was halfway through chapter six, and things in the book had just become really interesting, Harry noticed Snape's breathing had deepened. He looked up to see Snape fast asleep, face slack, mouth opened just a bit.
Shaking his head, Harry placed the book on his nightstand and surveyed Snape. If he slept like that all night, he'd get a crick in his neck. Harry carefully tugged on Snape's shoulders, trying to get him positioned better.
Snape stirred, eyes opening but appearing glazed. "Harry?" he mumbled.
"It's all right. Go back to sleep," Harry said, and Snape slid further under the covers, eyes falling shut again. Harry flipped off the light and settled against Snape. "We can have more sex in the morning," he whispered, seeking out Snape's mouth with his own in the darkness. He gave Snape a soft kiss.
"If you must," Snape said in a drowsy voice. Harry smiled against his cheek and closed his eyes. He was asleep in minutes.
*~*~*~*~*
There was a voice, a familiar voice, invading Harry's dreams. Harry opened his eyes. Snape was sitting naked beside him. Snape. Naked. In his bed. Was he still dreaming?
"I have to get home," Snape said, and ran a hand down his face as if he wasn't quite awake yet. "In case your Auror friend decides to pay me another visit."
Reality came rushing back to Harry in vivid memories of frantic thrusting and pizza and Roald Dahl books. He sat up at once and looked at the clock. It was just past seven.
"All right. I'll come with you." Harry yawned and a strong smell, sweat and semen, hit his senses. "A shower first, though."
"Potter, I haven't the time," Snape said. He sounded agitated, and Harry didn't understand why. Snape stepped out of bed and snatched his black robes off the floor. Harry looked at him as he shrugged them on.
"Okay. I'll meet you at your house," Harry said. Snape gave a sharp nod and pocketed his wand. He reached for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on the nightstand, hesitated for a moment as if unsure whether he should take it with him or not, and grabbed it. He offered Harry a short, unreadable look and swept out of the bedroom.
Well, that wasn't at all what Harry had imagined their morning together to be like. He fell back against the bed, sighing. Perhaps Snape was just worried about having skipped his house arrest. That was probably it. At least, Harry hoped that was it, as he didn't want to consider any other options.
Maybe Snape regretted --
No. Harry refused to let his mind wander in that direction, even though a glacial lump settled in his stomach. He pushed himself up and made his way to the bathroom to wash away the evidence of their night together.
*~*~*~*~*
"Hullo," Harry said as he walked inside. Was he supposed to kiss Snape now? They'd had sex, after all. They'd slept in the same bed. Harry'd read him a children's book, for fuck's sake. Harry took a step closer to Snape as soon as the door shut, but Snape's rigid shoulders and tense jaw muscles made him abort his plan at the last moment.
"Groceries," Snape said, offering Harry money and parchment.
"Huh?" Harry stared at the items in Snape's hand as if he'd never seen such things before.
"A simple instruction, Potter, one you have managed to follow all week." Snape pressed the bills and parchment in Harry's hand.
"Yeah, I know." Harry shoved them in his pocket without looking. "What's wrong?"
"What gives you the impression something is wrong?" Snape asked stiffly. "You do groceries for me every morning."
Harry stared at Snape in bewilderment. "You've been acting odd ever since we woke up."
Snape sneered. Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. Snape arched an eyebrow. Harry glared, but the effect was ruined when his glasses slipped down his nose and he had to push them back up.
"All right," he snapped. "I'll do your bloody groceries. If you want to be rid of me, you could just tell me."
Sighing, Snape lowered his head. "Potter, this isn't about groceries."
"You don't say!" Harry was getting completely riled up at the lack of a proper explanation for Snape's behavior.
"Think. Use that feeble mind of yours. Why would I want to send you for a long walk every single morning?"
"Because you're a sadist who likes to hurt people!"
Snape flinched, and Harry instantly regretted his words. But Snape recovered at once, familiar sneer firmly in place. "Besides that. What has always followed your trips to the store every morning?"
Harry frowned. "Treating my leg with the potion," he said, and he looked up at Snape. He wanted to kick himself for not having realized that sooner. "It's for my leg," he whispered.
"Precisely. The potion works better when the muscles in your leg are warmed up."
"Right." Harry gave a humorless snort of laughter. "You could have just told me that. Why do you always have to be so difficult?"
"It makes life more interesting," Snape said, perfectly serious.
Shaking his head, Harry smiled at Snape, earlier agitation forgotten. "All right. I'll just go for my therapeutic walk then."
"Wait." Snape placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry leaned into it, welcoming the contact. Perhaps things weren't that bad after all. "I would like to see your memory of the headmaster and you in the cave while you are gone." Snape gestured at the table, where the Pensieve stood waiting. Harry hadn't even realized Snape had brought it home with him.
Harry gulped, feeling as though he'd just swallowed several large bricks. "Now?" he asked, as it began to dawn on him why Snape was acting so distant. The missing piece of the puzzle Snape wanted to show him. Snape nodded, and Harry took out his wand. He concentrated and deposited the memory in the Pensieve.
"I'll just go get your groceries," Harry said, uncertain. Snape stared at him, face impassive, and Harry turned and left, a horrible feeling of dread weighing down on his chest.
*~*~*~*~*
"Are you going to treat my leg now?" Harry asked, as he stepped inside the sitting room.
Snape shook his head. "That can wait until later. I believe we have put this off long enough." He motioned towards the Pensieve. "Remove your memory, Potter."
Harry did, and the moment he lifted it from the Pensieve, Snape pulled a silver thread from his temple and shook it above the basin. Harry's eyes widened. "Is that -- "
"My memory of that night in the tower," Snape said. He seemed forcibly composed, something that worried Harry to no end.
Inhaling a deep breath, Harry sat down on the couch. Honestly, why was he feeling so anxious about seeing that memory? He already knew Snape had killed Dumbledore. He'd been there, he'd seen the curse. What could possibly be worse than that?
Lowering his wand to the Pensieve, Harry locked his gaze with Snape's, but he saw nothing in those black eyes. No hint of worry or reassurance. The tip of Harry's wand sank beneath the surface and at once the world around him began to spin and spin until tall shapes and figures appeared around him and Harry was standing on the shadowed rampart of the Astronomy Tower.
"Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us -- "
The door burst open and in swept Snape, wand raised. Harry inhaled a quiet breath, standing halfway between Dumbledore, who was slumped against the wall, and Malfoy, whose raised wand was shaking.
Amycus Carrow spoke, but Harry hardly heard him. He was too busy examining Snape, who turned his gaze to Dumbledore.
"Severus ..."
You must.
Harry snapped his head around. He couldn't remember Dumbledore saying that, and yet there was his voice echoing around them.
Headmaster --
That was Snape's voice, and now Harry understood. It was Legilimency. Dumbledore and Snape were communicating without saying a word.
I am but a breath away from the end, Severus.
What happened?
A poison. The only way to get to the Horcrux was by consuming a poison Harry fed me. Don't allow either of these boys to become murderers. Take my life and use my death.
Snape walked forward, pushing Malfoy out of the way.
Albus, I --
"Severus... please... "
"Avada Kedavra."
Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see that jet of green light hit Dumbledore again. The world dropped away from under his feet, and when Harry opened his eyes again, he was sitting on the couch in Snape's living room.
For moments, several long moments, there was nothing. No sound, no thoughts, no feelings, nothing save for Snape sitting across from him, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.
Harry jumped to his feet. "YOU KNEW!" Snape's eyes fell shut. "YOU KNEW I KILL – HE SAID IT WASN'T A POISON! HE SAID IT WOULDN'T KILL HIM!"
"He said it would not immediately kill a person," Snape said, voice quiet and resigned.
Harry's heart was pounding so hard he feared it was going to explode. His head was throbbing with images and words he did not want to see or hear, and his throat was tight with the effort of suppressing truths he did not want to voice.
He needed to hit something, hurt something, hex something. He needed to not have heard Dumbledore say that. He needed to turn back the past week, the past two weeks. He needed to not ask Snape for answers. He needed a time-turner. He needed to go back to that cave and not feed Dumbledore that potion -- poison, a cold voice in his head supplied. You fed him a poison. You killed Dumbledore .
"I DIDN'T KNOW!" Harry kicked against the table, and again.
Snape rose from his chair and stepped around the table, but Harry backed away from him.
"No! You killed him!" Harry stumbled back and back until he hit a wall lined with books. "You cast that curse. YOU KILLED HIM!"
Folding his arms across his chest, Snape stood still, staring at Harry. "That must be the easier thing to believe. Your much hated Potions master, a Death Eater, killed Albus Dumbledore, while in fact -- "
"NO! SHUT UP!" Harry grabbed at his head with both hands, fingers tugging on his hair until it hurt, and the hurt was good.
" -- Dumbledore was dying, was seconds away from dropping dead because of a poison you fed him, Harry!"
"I DIDN'T – HE SAID IT WASN'T – YOU KILLED HIM!"
"How could you not know? How could you have hated me, blamed me, while you were the one to pour his death down his throat?"
Harry lurched forward, fist raised and ready to punch, but Snape grabbed his wrist, fingers squeezing so hard Harry felt the bones in his arm grate.
"Remember what I did to the last person who dared lay a hand on me," Snape snarled, face distorted with anger. Harry curled his free hand in Snape's robes, teeth gritting so fiercely his temples started to throb.
"I didn't – I didn't -- "
"You didn't want to know," Snape said, releasing his hold on Harry's arm. It fell uselessly to Harry's side. "But now you do. You killed Dumbledore as much as I did."
"I didn't – I did -- "
Snape nodded. "Yes. You did."
"I killed him," Harry whispered, and yet those words sounded like screams in his own ears. "I killed him."
"Potter, the headmaster ordered you -- "
"No." Harry pushed away from Snape, staggering back. "I should have refused. The Horcrux wasn't even there. I killed him." Harry looked at Snape and yet he didn't really see him. He didn't really see anything as those words grew and grew in his mind until he could no longer pretend they weren't there.
"Harry, enough -- "
"I killed him." And Harry knew what he had to do. It was the only right thing he could do. He closed his eyes and apparated straight to the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. He rushed past the Security Wizard at the front desk, ignoring the man's shouts, and he didn't bother with the lift but dove right into the stairwell. He ran all the way down to level two, taking two or three steps at a time, ignoring the growing throbs and aches in his leg.
Panting, his lungs burning, Harry ran down the corridor and didn't slow down until he reached the Auror Headquarters. His feet tripping every other step, he scurried towards Kingsley's cubicle.
"I killed him," Harry gasped, leaning one hand on Kingsley's shoulder and the other on his desk. "I killed Dumbledore."
Kingsley stood at once and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him away.
"You don't understand! I killed -- "
Harry's breath was cut off as Kingsley clamped one large hand over his mouth and hauled him out of the office, down the corridor and into the first available restroom. It was empty, and Kingsley flicked his wand at the door. Only then did he release Harry, who stumbled back and grabbed at the tiled wall to keep his balance.
"I killed him -- I killed Dumbledore -- I fed him a poison -- in the cave -- "
"Harry, calm down. Breathe." Kingsley put his hands on Harry's shoulders, leaning down so he could look into Harry's eyes.
"I killed him." A tight sob rose up from Harry's chest and he tried to swallow it back. He didn't want to break down in front of Kingsley. He didn't want to cry. He hadn't earned the right to cry over this. He had – "I killed Dumbledore."
Another sob forced its way up and Harry fisted his hands in the front of Kingsley's robes, trying to push it back, trying to swallow, but he couldn't. His throat wasn't working as one more sob bubbled up, and why the hell were his eyes so moist and his cheeks wet?
Harry stared up at Kingsley, silently pleading him to stop it, to stop him, to take it all back. He jerked on Kingsley's robes helplessly, legs giving up, and he dropped to the floor. Kingsley followed him down, strong hands holding Harry's shoulders, and Harry hadn't known you could scream tears, but that was exactly what he did.
He screamed his tears against Kingsley's chest, screamed his grief and regret, screamed and screamed and screamed.
*~*~*~*~*
Harry blew his nose again. It felt raw as he wiped at it with more toilet paper. He'd just finished telling Kingsley what had happened in the cave and in Snape's sitting room, and what he'd learned from seeing some of Snape's other memories. He threw the moist wad of toilet paper near his feet and took a sip of water.
"He forced you," Kingsley said. "He knew what he was getting into. You didn't."
"Yeah," Harry said, and hiccuped. "But I still killed him."
"Technically, Snape killed him."
"Yeah, but if he hadn't, Dumbledore would have died from the poison." Harry rolled more paper off the roll, and pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes dry. Hopefully they'd stay dry this time.
"But he didn't. Dumbledore didn't die from the poison." Kingsley shifted a little so he could look Harry in the eye. "Honestly, what do you expect me to do? Throw you into Azkaban for a forced attempted murder which was more of a suicide in any case?"
Harry released a dry chuckle. His throat felt like he'd been gargling battery acid.
"You were forced. As was Snape," Kingsley said. Harry glanced up at him. His glasses were smudged with his tears and he squinted to look Kingsley in the eye. "As far as I'm concerned, your current testimony holds. Amycus Carrow killed Dumbledore. And since he's dead, the case is closed."
Harry heaved a shuddering sigh. "You knew about Snape, didn't you?"
"No, I didn't know. But I suspected something more was going on than Snape simply killing Dumbledore for the hell of it." At Harry's puzzled look, Kingsley added, "I trusted Dumbledore. I trusted his judgment, and Dumbledore trusted Snape through and through. Dumbledore may have been an eccentric old man, but he wasn't stupid."
"No, he wasn't," Harry whispered. He sipped more water. "God, I can't believe I – it just got so ugly at Snape's and then in here... " Harry shook his head.
Kingsley gave him a sympathetic smile. "I've been waiting for it."
"Huh?"
"For it to hit you. You've been in a war, Harry. You've lost people close to you. It had to hit you some time."
Harry blinked and took a gulp of water. "It's just been so insane this past year."
"Wars are never sane."
"Yeah, but it's been really insane," Harry said, thinking about Tom Riddle and his Horcruxes. "Trust me."
"I trust you," Kingsley said, nudging his knee against Harry's. "And if you want to tell me about some of these insane things, you know where to find me. If you don't, that's fine, too."
"Thanks," Harry mumbled. He managed a smile as he glanced at Kingsley. "Did I ever tell you I'm gay?"
"No, but Tonks did." Kingsley grinned. "Did I ever tell you I'm straight?"
Harry snickered. "No, but Tonks did."
"Ah yes, where would we be without Tonks?"
"In denial," Harry said. "Me. Not you, probably."
Kingsley snorted with laughter.
"You don't mind, do you?" Harry asked, giving Kingsley a hesitant glance.
Rolling his eyes, Kingsley bumped his shoulder against Harry's. "Oh dear, yes, I'm terribly worried for my virtue now I know you might sneak a few peeks at my arse when I'm not looking."
Harry giggled – God, he actually giggled. He quickly cleared his throat. "Don't worry. You're not my type. No matter what Tonks told you."
"No? Should I feel offended?"
Shaking his head, Harry inhaled a deep breath. "I had sex with Snape," he blurted, and busied himself with the roll of toilet paper in his lap, tearing small pieces off it and examining them closely.
There was dead silence for a few long moments, and then Kingsley said, flabbergasted, "You're not kidding?"
"Nope." Harry tore more paper up.
"Well," Kingsley said, and narrowed his eyes at Harry. "He didn't force -- "
"No! We both wanted it. It was good. It was – yeah, it was very good." Harry felt one of his idiotic grins tugging on his lips. He dropped the roll of paper in his lap and noticed something hard in his pocket. He reached for it, and found the small vial of Blood-Replenishing Potion. He'd been keeping it with him over the last few days, though he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself.
Staring at the vial in his hands, Harry had to swallow back something bitter that tasted like guilt. "God, I completely fucked it up this morning. I almost punched him. I yelled at him. He's going to hate me now, and he just stopped hating me."
"Harry, breathe." Kingsley waited until Harry inhaled a quivering breath. "I can't speak for Snape, but I honestly don't think he'll start hating you again because you yelled at him. You spent most of your time yelling at each other until very recently, right?"
Harry nodded. There was no denying that.
"Listen to me." Kingsley turned, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. "I've never given you a direct order before, but I'm giving you a few now. I want you to take a break. I want you to take it easy for a while. I want you to enjoy your studies with Remus and Tonks and McGonagall. And if that's what you want, I want you to go kiss and make up with Snape and spend time with him."
"You know about my studies?" At Kingsley's incredulous look, Harry added, "You've all been talking about me behind my back, haven't you?"
"We're adults, Harry. It's what we do."
"I'm eighteen!"
"Exactly my point," Kingsley said, unconcerned by Harry's indignant look. "You've been in a war, you've fought Lord Voldemort more times than any of us trained Aurors have, you almost got killed, and you're only eighteen. I think you've earned a vacation."
Harry gaped at Kingsley, not sure what to say to that.
"But most of all, I want you to reconsider becoming an Auror," Kingsley said. Harry was about to protest, but Kingsley raised a hand to silence him. "Harry, I am convinced you'd make a fine Auror. One of the best. However, it's not the only job in the world, and you shouldn't feel obliged to become one just because you were singled out by an insane wizard when you were a baby. Voldemort is dead, and you are alive, get it?"
Lowering his chin to his chest, Harry nodded. He looked at the vial in his hands. Snape. The time he'd spent with Snape these last few days had been the best since over a year. Everything else didn't seem to matter so much anymore. All he wanted now was to go back to Snape and beg his forgiveness for almost punching him and perhaps beg him to have some more sex with him, too.
"I... er... "
"Ready to go?" Kingsley asked. As Harry nodded, Kingsley got up and offered Harry a hand. Harry accepted it and let Kingsley pull him to his feet. He held Kingsley's hand and squeezed it.
"Thank you," he said, staring at his shoes.
Kingsley squeezed back. "You're welcome. There's one last thing I need to give you. It's in the office."
Harry snapped his gaze up. "Oh god. What are your colleagues going to think? I said I killed someone."
"Don't worry. I'll tell them you were drunk and just spent the last hour and a half puking your guts out in the loo."
*~*~*~*~*
"Potter," Snape said, face blank but voice just a tad too tight. "You are back."
"I'm sorry," Harry said, and offered Snape his best apologetic smile. A pale hand shot out, grabbed the front of Harry's shirt and yanked him inside the house. And Harry suddenly found himself on the receiving end of one pissed off Snape.
"Where were you?" Snape's lips were pursed so tightly, Harry thought it was a miracle any sound could escape at all.
"I... er... "
Snape grabbed Harry's shoulders, and even though they were the same height, Snape still managed to loom over Harry. "I apparated to Grimmauld Place, searched the whole house and suffered an attack from your homicidal owl in the process."
Harry blinked.
"You weren't there. I fire-talked to the Headmistress -- "
"You talked to McGonagall?"
Snape released Harry to compose himself. He brushed invisible dirt off his sleeve. "Yes. She told me to ask you when she will get her Pensieve back. And to remind you of your appointment with her this evening."
"Ah. I'd forgotten," Harry mumbled, still reeling from the idea of Snape having talked to McGonagall voluntarily.
"I told her I am not her messenger. And then I kindly asked her to check the foot of the Astronomy Tower. You weren't there."
"The foot of – what?" Harry stared at Snape with wide eyes. "You thought I was going to -- "
"What else was I supposed to think?" Snape snarled.
"I went to the Ministry," Harry said, both embarrassed and thrilled Snape had been worrying about him. "To turn myself in."
Snape's hands clenched around Harry's upper-arms, squeezing so hard Harry feared they might leave bruises. Crooked teeth bared, Snape leaned closer to Harry, their noses almost touching. "You complete idiot! You imbecilic brat! You half-witted dolt! You -- "
"But I didn't!" Harry said quickly. "Or rather, Kingsley wouldn't let me. I spent an hour in the bathroom blubbering all over his robes instead. He didn't mind much."
Snape's hands fell to his sides as he released a deep breath.
"And he asked me to give you this." Harry pulled a squashed scroll of parchment from his pocket, and offered it to Snape. "You've been officially cleared of all charges. Kingsley arranged it after my... er... breakdown. So you're no longer under house arrest."
Staring at the parchment in his hands, Snape gave one, small nod.
"I was thinking of taking back the Pensieve to McGonagall tonight," Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Since we've shared all the answers now."
"Yes, of course," Snape said. He slid the parchment into his robes. "You are relieved of your duties."
"Huh?"
"I am no longer in need of an errand-boy." Snape took out his wand and flicked it a few times. The Pensieve levitated into the box beside it. "I will send you the recipe of the potion for your leg. I am sure you are capable of brewing and applying it yourself." Snape handed Harry the box, and ushered him to the door.
"Wait," Harry said, bewildered, as Snape opened the front door.
"I thank you for your assistance," Snape said. He sounded nothing like himself. His voice was too high and too forced. He gave Harry a shove, and Harry stumbled back across the threshold. "Good day, Mr Potter."
The door shut in Harry's face with a bang.
Harry stared at the closed door, too confused to think straight. Snape had kicked him out again. Why? Was it because Harry had almost hit him? An icy feeling formed in Harry's chest. He'd really fucked it up. He'd lost his temper, his control, his sanity for a split second, and he'd fucked up whatever there had been between him and Snape.
Throat tight and chest heaving, Harry turned around and took a step towards his secluded apparition spot.
No.
There was a voice in Harry's head, a voice that sounded like himself and yet not. Harry took another step.
No! That bastard didn't even let you explain yourself.
That voice had a point. Harry looked over his shoulder at Snape's door. He at least deserved a chance to explain what had happened.
He didn't even give you a chance to apologize!
Harry narrowed his eyes. He was right. He deserved a chance to apologize, whether Snape liked it or not.
Determined, Harry turned around, fumbled for his wand, and aimed it at Snape's door. "Alohomora!" It flew open at once.
"Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Snape asked as Harry marched inside.
"You're going to listen to me," Harry said. He kicked the door shut behind himself. "I am sorry for almost hitting you. I don't know what came over me. It was all just too much. Kingsley said he'd been expecting it, that it was normal for someone who'd been through a war. I never meant to – to hurt you, all right? I'm sorry!"
Snape raised his eyebrows. "Very well. Apology accepted. Good day, Mr Potter." He closed in on Harry with the obvious intention of ushering him out the door again.
Harry stood his ground, box held firmly against his chest as if it was a way to keep Snape back. "What's the matter with you? Why are you kicking me out again? I fucking apologized!"
Sneering, Snape stood in front of Harry, folded arms brushing the box in Harry's arms. "Potter, I am sure you have better things to do now our agreement is over. Return to Hogwarts, celebrate your recovery with your friends, etcetera."
"This isn't about our agreement," Harry said, staring into Snape's eyes. Why was he always so difficult? "This is about," Harry frowned, trying to find words for what he was feeling, "this is about – you promised me more sex!"
"I did no such thing," Snape said, affronted.
"It was implied!"
"Potter, if it is sex you want, I am certain there are legions of fans waiting for you on the other side of that door, all more than willing to indulge you."
"I don't want to have sex with legions of fans. I want to have sex with you!" Harry gritted his teeth against the frustration he felt.
"This is madness," Snape said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, well, I lusted after Tom Riddle for over a year," Harry said, shrugging. "I'm good at madness."
"Potter, you can't be serious about -- "
"I'm very serious!" Harry came close to losing his temper. Why didn't Snape understand him, agree with him? "I like spending time with you in your stupid house. I like kissing you. I like you treating my leg. I like doing garden work with you. I like picking out your bloody toilet paper. I like reading children's' books to you, for fuck's sake. I like -- "
Snape yanked the box from Harry's hands, threw it onto the couch – it didn't bounce to the floor, thank God – and slammed Harry back against the front door, lips crushed to Harry's. At once, Harry's hands were in Snape's hair, though he had no idea how they got there, and Harry's glasses flew across the room. Harry thrust his tongue into Snape's mouth, their teeth clinking, and Snape kissed him back and it was rough and it hurt and it was the best feeling in the world, Snape's lips and Snape's tongue and Snape.
Their mouths slowed, kisses gentler and lighter, and their arms wound around each other, and they stood, bodies pressed together as one, Harry's face buried in Snape's neck, Snape's mouth brushing across Harry's ear.
"If you are fraternizing with a suspected Death Eater, it might be difficult to build a career as an Auror," Snape said quietly.
"I'm not sure I want to be an Auror anymore," Harry said, voice muffled against Snape's shoulder.
"And your friends -- "
"This isn't about my friends." Harry pulled back a little to look into Snape's eyes. "I want this."
"We will probably kill each other before the year is over," Snape said, tightening his arms around Harry's waist just a bit.
"Probably, yeah." Harry grinned. "Can we have sex now?"
The corners of Snape's lips twitched. "If you must."
"Oh yeah, I definitely must," Harry said, and pressed his lips to Snape's.
~~ fin~~