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Harry was in a blind rage, searching for a single familiar face in the crowded room. Where was everybody?
The fingers around his waist tightened, and Harry stepped back from the man for the third time that night, trying to release himself from the older stranger’s grasp.
He had been there for forty minutes, and already the prick had gotten handsy. Harry sighed and took another step back as the man pushed in closer, putting his mouth nearly onto his ear as he shouted over the music about ministry attire. As if Harry cared. As if Harry could think about anything other than the unwanted hand on his hip.
He nodded politely at the man’s shrill voice, not hearing a single word. Suddenly, he saw his saving grace. The long legs that carried Snape made him tower over the crowd, much to Harry’s delight. Finally, he thought, someone to get me out of this mess.
“Excuse me,” Harry said, cutting Jake - no, James - off, “but my date just arrived. I need to go greet him.”
The man released his hand reluctantly, as if he were giving up the most glorious of prizes. As if he’d done anything to win Harry. As if Harry could even be won over by someone like him.
Harry smiled curtly and stepped away, removing himself from James’ corrosive body heat. God, he felt disgusting. The man couldn’t have been less than fifty. To think, he’d had his hands all over him…
Harry shivered with displeasure, and he cast a cleaning charm over himself. In truth, the man had just grabbed his waist. Just for a few moments, he had held him too tight with his sweaty hands. He’d done nothing, really. But Harry still felt the violation and cursed himself for being too nice. Too civil. He was the bloody Chosen One; why hadn’t he told the guy to fuck off?
He sighed and watched as Snape moved to greet a group of older wizards, all of them colleagues of the ex-professor, who now worked in the Department of Patents and Potioneering. Snape focused primarily on the potioneering, as far as Harry was aware. He spoke with the man frequently enough to know Snape had just gotten a promotion as department head. They were colleagues now, too, he supposed.
God, this was going to be awkward.
“Severus,” Harry smiled brightly as he approached the man, “So glad you could make it!”
The older wizards around him quickly dispersed. Harry and Snape were known to have it out every now and then, even fifteen years after the war. Harry assumed they didn’t want to be within the blast radius. Not that it ever came to that.
Snape raised a very pointed brow, “Potter, I don’t believe I’ve given you leave to address me by my given name. Or have you given up on what little respect you still dared to bestow on me?”
Harry rolled his eyes, stepping very close to Snape. In the corner of the room, he could see James watching, wide-eyed and astonished. Certainly, nobody would have expected Snape to be his date to a ministry gala. Least of all, Snape. Which, yeah, he should probably explain.
“Nope, still very respected,” he beamed. Snape rolled his eyes, but it was without any real annoyance. Most of the time, they were far beyond those rocky seven years, “But, hey,” Harry continued, “I wanted to ask you something. Could you spare a minute to take a walk with me?”
Snape looked back at his colleagues. They were now standing in a corner on the other side of the room. All of them were holding drinks, all of them staring at Harry. Snape waved a hand, and they all seemed to relax, sipping their drinks and starting to talk amongst themselves.
Harry laughed, “Well, you’ve certainly got them well trained, haven’t you?” As if he expected anything less.
“Yes, clearly,” Snape nodded, “Shall we, then?”
Harry glanced at James again. The older man was still watching them, though he looked a bit angry now.
“Yep, let’s go,” Harry grabbed Snape’s arm and pulled him towards the back exit.
“Unhand me, Potter. What do you think you’re doing?” Snape squirmed and tried to break Harry’s grasp, but the younger man was too strong.
“In a second, calm down,” Harry scolded, opening the door for the man as they stepped into the cool of the night.
This function hall the ministry rented out reminded Harry of Malfoy Manor from the outside. Rows of bushes and trees lined a labyrinth of well-manicured shrubbery. The only thing missing was the peacocks. Harry pulled Snape forward into the maze, hoping they would be out of any snooping wizard’s earshot.
“Potter, just what do you think you are doing?” Snape asked the second the building was out of sight, “What is your problem?”
“I need your help,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks flushed, “I don’t know anyone else here tonight. The DMLE staff are out of the country, and Ron and Hermione are home with the kids, so would you please help me?”
Snape stiffened, “With what, Potter?” The sharp tone reminded Harry of the potions classroom. He could practically smell the sediment and mold that lingered in the Hogwarts dungeon. And the cinnamon. Or perhaps that last one was just Snape. That made sense, actually. “Potter?” Snape repeated, “You’re acting strange. More than usual, I should say. Out with it.”
Harry took a deep breath. The cinnamon was definitely just Snape. “Right, well, you know James? In, uh, administration, I think?”
Snape paused, frowning, “Finch?”
Harry shook his head, “No, the other one.”
“Doyle?”
Harry nodded, “Yeah, him,” he sighed, “Anyways, this is a little awkward; believe me, I know. But he keeps putting his hands on me, and I can’t get him to stop. It’s driving me insane. I had to tell him my date was here just to escape him, but he was following and watching me. And right after I told him my date was here, I came up to talk to you. So I was wondering if you could just, er, pretend to be my date for the next hour because I don’t actually have one. That was just a lie.”
Snape stared at him for a moment, making a rather impressive impression of a statue. Harry watched his eyes, trying to read any emotion in the black irises, but nothing showed. Snape was, as ever, a master occlumens.
The older man cleared his throat, “Why don’t you just let me curse the bastard instead? It’ll be more entertaining, I’m sure.”
Harry quickly shook his head, “No, no, please don’t do that. It isn’t worth the trouble. I-”
“It’s no trouble at all, Potter. I can assure you of that,” Snape’s right hand suddenly contained his wand, and Harry grabbed at it, missing by an inch as the man raised it above his head.
Seeing that Snape still stood several inches taller than him, Harry didn’t bother reaching for it. Instead, he reached for his other wrist. “Really, Snape. Don’t. Please, that’s so embarrassing. I could defend myself if I wanted to send him to Mungo’s.”
“And why don’t you?” Snape bit out, “You should not let Doyle get away with something like that. It’s sickening.”
Harry shrugged, “It’s not - he was just being inappropriate. It wasn’t that serious. He didn’t hurt me or anything,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. It had been slicked back for the event and stood up at all angles as he lowered his arm.
Snape stared at him, that blank expression shrouding him once again. Perhaps Harry had made a mistake asking him. “Listen,” Harry breathed, “just forget about it. I’ll figure it out on my own and-”
Harry moved to walk away, but this time Snape grabbed his wrist, “No. I apologize for my reaction.” Something in Snape’s voice told Harry he didn’t think he’d overreacted at all, but the man continued to speak, “You’ll stay by my side for the rest of the night. I will hex him if he comes near you again, though.”
Harry smiled, “Alright,” he sighed, relieved, “Thank you.”
Snape nodded and looked down, releasing Harry’s wrist when he realized he was still holding it.
Harry took a deep breath and chuckled as they walked, “So…” he joked, “what do you usually do on a first date?”
Snape glared at him for a moment before shaking his head, a slight smirk on his lips, “There are fewer threats of hexing, I assure you.”
“Sounds boring, then,” Harry smiled. They started making their way closer to the event, the soft music growing louder as they approached.
“Yes, that’s true. However, boring is not always a negative thing. Not after all the excitement we’ve both had. Enough for a lifetime, I think.”
Nodding, Harry smiled again, “If I had a drink, I’d cheers to that. No more excitement. That’s why I like being head of the DMLE. It’s mostly reading about the action. I like my safe little office.”
Snape smiled, genuine and happy. Harry had never seen the expression on this man’s face before, “Yes, me too. I’d say we’ve earned it.”
Harry shrugged, “That’s what they all say. I’ll take it, I suppose.”
Occasionally, Harry agreed with Snape. He had sacrificed a lot, once upon a time. But it all felt so long ago now, it was like it happened to another person sometimes. Other times, though, it followed him like a shadow, always creeping slowly behind him.
Snape opened the door they’d left through earlier, and the music flooded back to its original volume. He held it open for Harry, and as he walked through, he felt the older man’s large hand guiding the small of his back.
It sent a pleasant set of shivers up his spine. He hadn’t expected the contact, that was all. He wasn’t sure Snape had ever touched him like that before. Not without even the slightest threat of violence. It felt unquestionably good, and Harry briefly wondered how well Snape would play his part tonight.
He looked back at the man and smiled, hoping that strange thought hadn’t been somehow conveyed through body language. Snape just nodded and motioned with his hand to walk forward, following closely behind. Harry decided that no matter what, he’d need a drink. He headed straight to the bar, slyly peering around for any sight of James. So far, he hadn’t seen the man again.
“What do you like to drink?” he asked Snape as the man approached the bar.
“Oh, I don’t drink,” the man responded, surveying the room above Harry’s head.
“Are you saying that because you’re on guard duty now, or do you actually not drink? I don’t want to ruin your night.”
Snape frowned, “Ah, I’m afraid my night was ruined the second I walked through the front door. I loathe these events. Rather fittingly, I think, I truly do not drink. I don’t like the taste of it.”
“Oh,” Harry said, unsure of how to respond. He’d known the man for over twenty years and had no idea he didn’t drink, “Well, do you want something without alcohol?”
“Water would be lovely,” Snape said, moving imperceptibly closer. There was something about the way he’d said that, the way he moved, that made Harry’s heart stop.
“Uh, ‘kay,” he croaked out, raising a hand to grab the bartender’s attention.
Once he put the order in, he turned to lean his back on the bar. His right arm brushed against Snape’s left, eliciting goosebumps on the whole side of his body. Snape, once again, shifted ever so slightly closer.
“It’s that one over at your nine o’clock, yes?” Snape whispered into Harry’s ear.
Harry whipped his head to the left, and sure enough, James was standing by the buffet, staring at Harry and Snape and looking impossibly angry for someone who never even stood a chance.
Snape snorted at Harry’s quick action, barely managing to hide a smirk, “Thank Merlin, you were not a spy, Potter. I’ve never seen someone so blatantly obvious,” Snape murmured in his deep voice, his lips brushing Harry’s hair.
Harry’s back stood straight on reflex as he felt his blood start flowing south. God, he’d never, ever expected to get turned on. Not by Snape. Not by his voice.
“I would have made a brilliant spy, thanks,” Harry bit out, trying to play his arousal off as indignation, “I had to hide a bunch of information during the war. And I’m a brilliant secret keeper now.”
The bartender mercifully interrupted whatever Snape was about to say when he brought their drinks over, giving Harry a long smile as he did so.
Snape rolled his eyes, “Don’t know why you bothered to ask me. Could have just pretended to date the barkeep.”
Harry chuckled, silently wishing he had done just that. At least he wouldn’t be struggling to hide an erection when the barkeep got too close.
He glanced back at James. The man was a bit closer now, within hearing range if he was trying, and he was definitely trying.
“Shut it,” Harry said, moving closer himself. If it were between James and Snape, there was no question. Snape was better in every way. In fact, Snape was better than most people in every way. The revelation stung, he realized. How had he never noticed?
How quickly this night had been turned on its head.
Harry took a sip of his drink. He couldn’t even remember what he’d ordered, but it was sweet and undoubtedly strong. He sighed into it, hoping he could drink his worries away.
“That good, is it?” Snape asked, “What did you order?” He eyed the drink skeptically.
Harry shrugged. There was an arm around his waist, he realized. Snape’s arm. It was warm and reassuring. The strong hand attached to it was balled into a loose fist, keeping a distance from his torso. To anyone looking, they’d be quite close together.
“Er, I don’t remember,” he admitted. His mind was elsewhere, “You can taste it if you like. It’s fruity. Though it is rather strong if you don’t like alcohol.”
Snape reached out his free hand and grabbed the glass. He held it under his nose, smelling it before taking a small sip.
He swallowed and then coughed rather harshly, unclenching his fist and holding onto Harry’s side through his choking fit.
When he was done, his hand didn’t move; Snape’s fingers pressed gently into Harry’s black dress cloak.
“That is vile,” Snape shook his head, “Every few years, I’ll try it again, just to remind myself of the awful taste. I’ve never once had a good drink.”
Harry shrugged, “Most people don’t drink alcohol because it tastes good. That’s what my uncle used to say when I was a kid.”
“Probably the only bloody true sentence that man ever spoke,” Snape grumbled.
Harry laughed, “Yes, probably.” He hadn’t known if Snape was aware of his childhood guardians. It seemed clear now that he was. He grabbed his drink and downed the rest of it. “I’ll have one more,” he nodded to the bartender.
Snape frowned, “Likely not the healthiest way to cope, you know.”
“True. How do you do it, then?” Harry asked.
“Cope? Who says I do?” The man’s fingers were tighter around his torso now, but they didn’t cause any discomfort. They felt secure and grounding.
Harry leaned into Snape’s body a little more, appreciating the warmth of it.
“Do you even have anyone? To talk to, I mean. I know you’re the head of DPP now, but I know just how isolating that can be. And the war…” Harry trailed off, meeting the man’s eyes. They weren’t guarded as they had been before. Instead, they were terrified.
“It never leaves you. Not really,” Harry finished.
“No, it doesn’t.” Snape said after a pause, “What about you, Potter? Who do you go to when you need to cry about nightmares?”
“You get nightmares too?” Harry asked, “They’re awful, aren’t they?”
Snape nodded, “Nobody, then.” It was slightly accusatory, but non-judgmental. Harry supposed he deserved it.
“Yeah, it seems like everyone has moved on most days. Hate to bother them with the trauma of it all.”
Snape squeezed his side comfortingly, “I understand.”
Harry nodded. Yes, very clearly, he did.
The bartender passed Harry his second drink, and he downed it all at once. Snape watched him disapprovingly but did not comment.
“Well,” Harry sighed, pulling away from Snape and his warmth, “This is an awful event. I’m ready to leave.”
Snape detached himself immediately and nodded. They had been talking for much longer than Harry had realized, though not long enough for James, who was still watching Harry from across the room.
Snape noticed this as Harry did and shook his head, “I wish you would have let me hex him. I haven’t dueled anyone in years. It would have been fun.”
Harry laughed, slightly buzzed, “Not necessary. But if you ever need a dueling partner, I’m interested. Like I said before, I read for a living now. I haven’t cast any necessary defensive spells in over two years, I think.”
“A shame,” Snape grimaced, “You were always good at those.”
“I’m still good at them,” Harry laughed, “Actually, watch this.”
A little drunk, the wandless spell was far from perfect, but at the word expelliarmus, James Doyle’s glass of wine flew out of his hand and onto the floor.
Snape’s eyes went wide as he held back a laugh, his cheeks turning a light pink. Harry, however, couldn’t help himself, letting out a loud, barking laugh before grabbing Snape’s wrist and leading him to the door, not waiting to watch as James glared at their backs.
Once outside, Snape let out a resounding chuckle, something Harry suddenly felt he’d been trying to achieve for twenty-two years. It was gorgeous. One of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard in his life.
Harry laughed, too, still holding the man’s wrist. His head was spinning a little, his entire body warm with alcohol and adrenaline.
“That was rather good. Thank you, Potter,” Snape said, avoiding Harry’s eyes.
Harry nodded, entirely understanding the man’s meaning, “Any time. Though it’s getting late. I should probably be getting back to Grimmauld. I’ve been told if I stay out past midnight, Kreacher turns into a pumpkin.”
“Pardon?” Snape said, evident confusion on his face.
Harry laughed, “Muggle thing. Never mind.”
They stared at each other for a moment, neither knowing how to end the conversation. Neither wanting to.
“I mean, you could come with me if you want. I’ve done loads of renovations since the war. It’s actually nice now. I can show you the library. It’s really cool.”
Snape nodded, wrapping his arm around Harry’s, “Yes, I’d love to see the library.”
The words were barely out of his mouth, and Harry had cast the spell, apparating them to his doorstep. He opened the door quickly and turned on the lights.
The hallway was still dark, the lack of windows impossible to fix without some very technical spells that were well beyond Harry’s knowledge.
“This is the hallway,” Harry said, smiling as Snape nodded.
“New carpet?” the older man asked with genuine interest.
“Yes, and wallpaper. It’s red instead of green, now.”
Snape rolled his eyes, “Naturally.”
They made their way to the kitchen, which was, by all measures, nearly the same. A new layer of bright white paint had been slapped on the walls, but almost everything save the muggle refrigerator and some more contemporary pots and pans remained untouched.
“Classic,” Snape said, staring at Harry, “Looks great.”
Harry smiled and motioned towards the living room. It was modern, with two sofas and high-backed chairs filling the space. The black family tree was rolled up in the attic, out of sight and mind. The walls were still green, the fireplace roaring with heat.
“This is nice. Reminds me of my rooms at Hogwarts,” Snape said absentmindedly, still looking at Harry.
The younger man shrugged, “I never went into any teacher’s rooms. I wouldn’t know.”
“Yes, well, that would have been highly inappropriate,” Snape nodded, following Harry as he turned to go up the stairs.
“Library is on this floor,” Harry said, reaching the second landing.
“I remember,” Snape said, “I’ve spent whole weeks holed up in this house.”
“I know,” Harry smiled, “But it’s been a while.”
“Yes,” Snape paused before entering the library. Harry’s back was against the door frame, their faces only inches apart, “I suppose it has.”
He pushed past the boy and entered the room. It was clear that an expansion charm had been used. There were twice as many bookshelves and perhaps three times as many books as the last time Snape had been there, given the piles on the floor.
Snape turned quickly to look at Harry, “I wasn’t aware you even liked to read. What is the meaning of this?” He gestured to the mass of knowledge behind him.
“We all grow up, Professor. I like to read. And Hermione brings all her books here once she’s done with them.”
Snape nodded, picking up the nearest book: Confronting the Faceless.
“This is an incredibly rare book. It certainly wasn’t here the last time I was.”
Harry blushed, “Sometimes the Aurors will bring back books that aren’t; how should I say this, er, fit for circulation. If they aren’t dangerous to keep, I’ll just put them here. They’re usually quite interesting, even if the magic should never be practiced in real life. The theory is cool.”
Snape stroked the book’s spine before setting it down and grabbing another, “Harry Potter,” he purred, “Magical theory wonk. Who would have thought?”
Harry blushed deeper and shrugged, “It’s a hobby. I’m no expert.”
Snape put down the book in his hands and moved towards Harry, “Still, color me impressed, Potter. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but you’re quite-”
Harry wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it. It might have been Snape’s savior thing, how he’d always stepped in to protect Harry no matter the cost. It might have been how inexplicably lovely he’d been all evening. It could have been the alcohol, he supposed, though Harry didn’t think so.
He felt incredibly sober with his lips pressed to Snape’s. His eyes closed, all of his senses seemed focused on the feel of each point of contact between the two men.
Their lips, of course, were moving against each other, wet and chapped and perfectly full of life. The warmth of Snape’s lips sent a shiver up Harry’s spine. He could think of no greater feeling in the world.
Except, maybe, for Snape’s hands. One of them, mercifully, was at the nape of Harry’s neck, pressing their faces together with such urgency that it made his heart swell. Neither of them had expected this; that much was obvious. But it was so, so good now that they had it.
The other hand, without mercy, was around Harry’s waist again. It was firmer now than it had been all night, pressing Harry’s body into Snape’s with all of the man’s power. There was no space between their hearts, just their skin and the clothes on their back. Similarly, the bottom halves of their bodies lined up, matching each other motion for motion.
Harry reached up around Snape’s neck, pulling the man down to meet him. He must have been six inches taller than Harry, though the younger man had never realized the disparity until now. It had never mattered before; it had never seemed relevant.
Harry stepped forward, forcing Snape to step back, guiding him out of the library and into the bedroom across the hall. Whether by coincidence or fate, it was the room Harry had chosen as his own when he’d moved in after the war.
It was warm, a fire lit by Kreature hours before, and the bed made. Snape pulled back when he realized where they’d gone, his eyes meeting Harry’s as a flurry of unspoken questions passed through the two of them.
Harry had no doubts about this. He was more sure than he’d ever been before. He wanted Snape, and he didn’t want to waste another moment.
Harry nodded in confirmation, and Snape did in return. It was a relief, knowing that the discussion wasn’t needed. Snape knew Harry wasn’t a child. He trusted Harry’s judgment. He believed in him.
He pulled the man in for another kiss and backed himself up to his bed, sitting down as Snape stood over him.
Harry unclasped his cloak and threw it to the floor, leaving himself in trousers and a crisp white buttondown. “Your turn,” he whispered, looking up at Snape.
He was used to seeing the man in less formal wear now. Day-to-day ministry attire was a far cry from teaching robes. Still, witnessing Snape in just trousers and a white t-shirt was mind-numbingly erotic. His long arms, never exposed during the day, looked surprisingly strong. His skin was so pale that his dark blue veins were visible from over a foot away in the dim light. The dark mark, which had plagued them both for years, was faded to the point of obscurity.
Harry took in a sharp breath as the man stood over him. He nearly didn’t know what to do. Nearly.
He reached for Snape’s waist, wrapping his arms around and pulling him in closer until he was face to face with the man’s crotch.
Harry looked up at Snape, asking permission, “May I?”
Harry barely waited for his head to nod before reaching up for the belt buckle and efficiently tugging the soft material of Snape’s trousers down.
Snape’s briefs were a dark black, almost silk-like, between Harry’s thumb and pointer finger. He rubbed circles over them with his fingers, pressing into the man’s thighs. Harry looked up to meet the man’s eyes, feeling the flush on his face intensify as he traveled higher.
The older man stared down at him, every inch of his face twisted into intense focus.
Harry smiled, “This is weird, I think. For both of us.”
Snape barked out a laugh, “You’ve no idea.”
“Shall I continue?"
Snape nodded, and Harry tugged down his pants with his thumbs. He closed his eyes as Snape’s erection was revealed, his excitement overwhelming him. He needed just another moment.
Harry took a deep breath and opened his eyes, purposefully avoiding Snape’s face and focusing on the cock in front of him. It was longer than he’d expected, for what little time he’d had to think about it at all. It matched the rest of the man in length and width, sending a chill up Harry’s spine. It would take a lot of work to get him ready for that.
He reached out and tentatively ran a single finger along the shaft. A sharp intake of breath could be heard just a few feet up, and Harry took that as his cue to grasp onto him with his whole hand.
Carefully, he moved his hand from the head of Snape’s cock to the base, starting slowly before picking up the pace.
As he pumped his hand, he could hear Snape’s shallow breathing and the man’s small grunts when Harry moved his fist the right way. Harry licked his lips. He wanted to do more. He needed to do more.
His own body was warm, still fully clothed. He wanted to strip, the feeling of his zipper on his crotch nearly suffocating, but Snape, standing in front of him full of his own needs, seemed much more pressing.
He opened his mouth and slowly licked from base to tip, causing Snape’s hips to stutter and pushing himself further into Harry’s mouth.
Harry took it well for his part, swallowing down the tickle in his throat as the head of Snape’s cock reached the back of it. He’d done this before, of course, and more than once. He’d use every trick he knew to impress the man. Whatever happened after, he was confident both of them would remember this until the day they died.
He suddenly felt a hand in his hair, large and commanding, but never pushing any further than Harry was comfortable with. It encouraged him further, and Harry couldn’t stop, bobbing his head on Snape’s cock until he’d worked all the way to the root.
His nose pressed into Snape’s groin, flesh against warm fresh, coarse hair nearly reaching Harry’s eyelashes.
He looked up through his lashes to Snape and felt the man shudder under his hands. Harry had wanted to let him finish like that, craved the sight of it and the feel of Snape’s come on his lips, but the man had other plans. He pulled Harry’s hair and forced him off of his cock.
Harry gasped for air while his mouth hung open, praying that Snape didn’t want to stop.
“Christ,” Snape whispered, looking at Harry. He bent down and captured the man’s lips in his mouth, and Harry pulled him in closer. He drew Snape tight into his chest, making the man lay over him, their bodies half on the bed.
Snape’s naked bottom half pressed tight against Harry, giving him only a fraction of the attention he needed. The younger man squirmed underneath the weight, attempting to rut up into the heat.
Snape snickered and pulled away, “Yes, you should probably take those off,” he said, gesturing to Harry’s wrinkled trousers.
Harry nodded quickly, shoving his belt out of the way and pushing his ministry-approved attire and the boxers underneath them down to his ankles. He unbuttoned the white collared shirt for good measure, too, craving the man’s touch on every inch of his body.
Snape watched him as he undressed, which would have made Harry self-conscious if not for the two erections standing between the pair of them. Now was not the time to feel shy.
“Merlin,” Snape breathed, “You are captivating, you know. I’d sympathize with Doyle if he weren’t so,” he paused, reaching out a hand and tracing a pattern on Harry’s soft stomach, “So brutish.”
Harry flushed, “That was the least of his problems.” Each millimeter of skin that Snape touched left raised hairs and goose pimples.
“Perhaps,” Snape breathed, stepping closer. He raised a hand and cupped Harry’s cheek in his warm palm, “though I’d say this is a much more risky mistake, Potter. Between the two of us, Doyle was the better choice, I’m afraid.”
Harry shook his head, meeting the dark eyes, “No, you’re wrong. There’s no comparison.”
Snape made a pained noise, a growl so low in his throat that Harry nearly missed it. “I think you’ll find that there are always comparisons to make between men unworthy of your time. You might want to recognize them before you get yourself hurt.”
Harry frowned, nuzzling his face deeper into the palm, “You’re hardly unworthy. We’re very much alike. I don’t think you anticipate hurting me, do you?”
Severus shook his head, “One never intends to hurt the ones they care about.”
Harry smiled, “That’s life, then, isn’t it? It’s a risk I’m willing to take, anyway.”
The man nodded, “Alright.”
“Alright.” Harry pressed a kiss into Snape’s palm, “Are you going to fuck me now?”
Snape’s breath, and probably his heart, stuttered, “Would you like that?”
Laughing, Harry nodded, “Yeah, I would. A lot.”
“Very well.”
Snape pressed Harry’s body into his bed, kissing him roughly, forcing his tongue into his mouth. His long hands wrapped around Harry’s thighs, lifting them and pushing the young man back until his head met the waiting pillows.
Harry shuddered at the long fingers, never having had them on so much of his skin. It was crazy, he thought, that he was so turned on. The man hadn’t even touched him yet.
“On your back or stomach?” Snape asked, “You’ve done this before, I assume?”
Harry nodded, “Yeah, a couple of times. My back, I think. I’d like to see you.”
Snape nodded, kneeling on the bed over him, “Do you have any-”
“Oh, yeah. Right,” Harry cut him off, summoning an unopened bottle of lube from the bathroom down the hall. He had one in his drawer, but it was almost empty. That, for some reason, would have caused him far too much embarrassment.
Snape uncapped the bottle of lube, squeezing some into his hand. Harry watched from the top of the bed as he did it, unable to see the man’s face from behind his long black hair. It had been pinned back earlier, he realized. Something had kept it away from his face all night. Now, it fell in long strands around his cheekbones, hiding everything. It was much longer than he’d realized—longer than it had ever been in school.
Instead of spreading his legs as he’d expected, Snape moved up further to Harry’s cock. He grasped it gently with his lube-slicked hand, tugging at Harry with exceptional care.
He’d never felt anything like it. Not while he’d been with Ginny or Draco, the only two relationships he’d ever had lasted longer than three months, and certainly never with anyone else. Snape touched him like an artist sculpting a masterpiece. Each stroke was intentional, sending sparks to Harry’s brain.
His eyes rolled back when Snape flicked his thumb over his head, mixing his pre-come with the lube. Every second of it was pleasure. Harry moaned quietly, both hoping that Snape would stop before he came and desperately praying for the man to move faster. He bucked his hip once, twice, and then Snape’s hand was altogether gone.
“God,” Harry gasped, keeping his eyes screwed shut, “You’re way too good at that.”
Snape said nothing, and Harry felt the brush of soft hair shrouding his legs as the man pressed kiss after kiss over his stomach, around his groin, down his left thigh. Once Snape was placated, having found whatever he’d been searching for in Harry’s skin, he spread the younger man’s legs.
Harry gasped again at the first point of contact. The first finger, the first knuckle, it all happened at once. He hadn’t been prepared for how good it felt or how relaxed he already was. It was as if Snape had loosened him up with his mouth alone, “Fuck, Snape,” he groaned, “You can do more.”
Snape chuckled, and Harry could feel his breath on his cock. It jumped reflexively, searching for warmth. The man’s free hand found it and pumped it slowly three times before dropping it back onto Harry’s stomach.
“I said you could do more,” Harry said, louder this time.
“I heard you,” Snape whispered, “I’m not interested at the moment.” His hand, at least, was now moving inside of him.
Harry could feel the single digit sliding in and out of him ever so slowly. It was a maddening pace. There was no relief in the sensation.
“Please, Snape. I need you to-”
“You can call me Severus, I think. I’ll permit you now.”
Harry gasped as the man curled his finger, hitting his prostate, “Fuck, do that again,” he breathed, “Do you only let people call you Severusif you’ve had a finger up their arse?” he asked, only half joking.
“Amongst other things,” Snape rolled his eyes, repeating the movement.
Harry squirmed, clenching his hands into the bedsheets, “God, that’s good. I guess it would be disturbing if that were the case. I’ve definitely heard more than one professor call you by your first name.”
Severus shook his head in disbelief, then added a second finger.
“Do you ever stop talking, Potter?”
“No, not really. Especially when I like someone, you know?”
“Is that so?” Snape quirked a brow and looked up at Harry, adding a third finger on an unassuming thrust.
“Fuck. Yeah, yeah, it’s true,” Harry breathed, “Really true.” Severus smirked and searched for Harry’s prostate again before repeatedly pressing into it. Harry flexed his arms, throwing one over his eyes, unable to stand the pleasure. “That’s enough,” he gasped, “I’m ready. Severus, I’m ready.”
Snape slowly removed his hand and wiped it off on the sheets. Harry spared a thought for the laundry he’d have to do in the morning.
Suddenly, a shift happened, and Snape’s long torso was leaning over Harry. They were face to face, naked bodies separated by the inch of space Snape’s arm allowed them as he held himself up.
“Last chance, Potter. We can stop now if you’d like.” Snape’s face was quite earnest as he said it. There was no hint of mockery in his voice nor a threat of anger.
Harry shook his head, “No, I want you to do it.”
Snape nodded, kissing Harry’s forehead and then his cheek before positioning himself at his entrance. He looked once more at Harry’s face before slowly pushing in, stopping once the head of his cock was fully submerged to give him time to stretch.
Harry shuddered underneath him, the intrusion nearly as much as the three long fingers he’d had in him moments ago. He looked down at Snape to discover the man looking back and found that he couldn’t take it. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. “More. You can do more.”
Snape readjusted, pushing Harry’s legs to either side and bringing their bodies closer together. He sunk in another three or four inches, and Harry gasped. Snape’s cock felt nearly cold as it entered him, surrounded by the pure heat of Harry’s body. It was startling, unexpected, and it made the entire top half of his body jerk unexpectedly.
The older man pressed kisses into the crook of Harry’s neck, “Apologies, circulation issues.” He continued kissing Harry’s neck as he moved further in, slowly gaining ground in Harry’s body.
Harry shook his head in disbelief and put a hand in Snape’s hair, gently massaging his head, “S’alright,” he gasped, shaking as Snape pulled almost the whole way out just to thrust slowly back in, “It’s not as if every ounce of blood in my body isn’t in my dick right now.”
Snape snorted, and while Harry had meant it as a joke, it also felt true. His erection was leaking all over his stomach, painfully hard from each encounter with his prostate and the little attention Snape had given it all night.
The older man reached down between them as he thrust into Harry a little faster this time, and he gripped Harry’s cock. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly faced with the fact that he could very well come just by Snape touching him like that.
The man picked up the pace, thrusting into Harry carefully as he toyed with his cock. Harry’s hands were balled into fists as he tried to control himself. He put one hand on Snape’s back, hoping to bring the man closer, but he wouldn’t budge.
After some time, Snape removed his hand from Harry, continuing to thrust into him even faster, “Touch yourself for me,” he demanded, “Quickly.”
Harry nodded and moved his right hand down between them, fisting himself quickly. He placed his left hand in Snape’s hair, and mercifully, he brought his face down to allow a kiss.
Harry moaned into Snape’s mouth from the pleasure. Snape’s hips were moving erratically now, and it was evident that the man would not last much longer.
His lips were wet, and his tongue slid into Harry’s mouth easily, kissing him with such fervor that Harry could barely catch his breath.
Harry bucked up into his hand as Snape snapped against his prostate again, and he felt heat build and build quickly in his stomach, his whole body so overcome with pleasure that he barely had time to warn the other man.
“I’m coming,” he whispered into Snape’s mouth. Snape nodded and kissed him harder, thrusting even faster into his body and chasing his own high.
Seconds later, a warm moisture filled Harry, telling him the man had come too. He held Snape’s head hard against his own as they kissed, not ready to disconnect.
Harry could hear Snape’s heart rate slow as the older man rested on top of him. He sighed and carefully pulled his cock away from Harry’s arse, to which Harry groaned, annoyed.
Snape stared at Harry’s face for a moment, the statuesque features from earlier back to guard his emotions.
Harry sighed. Of course, the man would overthink everything the second it was done, “Lay down,” Harry said, grabbing his wand from his bedside table. He cast a rudimentary cleaning spell over both of them and stood, throwing on his pants, “I’m going to make us tea. I’ll be right back.”
Snape frowned but laid back on the bed. Harry summoned the comforter that they’d somehow thrown to the ground and smiled at the picture it made. Severus Snape, messy-haired and warm under the quilt Molly Weasley had made him for Christmas.
The absurdity of it caused a bout of laughter to bubble up in Harry’s chest, but he suppressed it in favor of leaning down to give the man a quick kiss on the lips. It was maybe too much, he knew. They hadn’t had any kind of agreement when they rolled into bed together. Harry wasn’t sure if he had any right to kiss Snape after tonight. But, he could be forgiven for some indecencies, he supposed. At least while the man was still in his bed.
Snape, though, smiled into the kiss. Harry was aware that it wasn’t a confirmation, but it reassured him. Harry stepped away, smiled softly, and headed for the door.
He gently closed it behind him as he entered the hall, smiling all the way down to the kitchen, where he spotted Kreature pouring two cups of hot tea.
“Thanks, Kreature,” Harry said. He was always a little dumbfounded when Kreature knew what he needed before he asked for it.
“Of course, master. Is there anything else I could do for you tonight?”
Harry thought briefly, “Do you remember Severus Snape?
Kreature turned up his nose, “Yes, master.”
“Do you know how he likes his tea?”
Kreature stared down at the tea cups in his hands, and a dawning horror crossed his face, “Yes, master Harry. Shall I make a cup for him?”
“If it’s no trouble. You can have the extra cup if you’d like.”
Kreature nodded and expertly crafted a cup of tea steeped with Assam leaves and - was that cinnamon?
“What kind of tea is that, Kreature?”
The house elf shrugged, “The professor made this for himself many times when my master Sirius Black held Order meetings in his home.”
“And you remembered?”
“It is a house elf’s duty to remember such things.” Kreature handed Harry the cinnamon tea and Harry’s cup before bowing, “Anything else, sir?”
“No. Thanks, Kreature.”
Harry took his two cups and made his way back up the stairs. When he pushed open the door, his heart stuttered in his chest.
Snape, a man he’d rarely ever seen relaxed, had fallen fast asleep in the few minutes he’d left him alone in his bed.
Harry set his tea down on the nightstand next to Snape’s head and turned off the light. He sipped his own tea quietly and, once he was done, slid into bed beside the man.
He had no idea what would happen when they both woke; he had no idea if Snape would want to talk about it, see Harry again, or pretend like the whole thing never happened. He was clueless. Though, he couldn’t help but believe the man spending the night was cause for hope.