Husband Material

by maraudersaffair

Summary:

Harry won't stop doing husband-y chores around Snape's house.

Snape is very confused.

Notes:

• For hlebets.

I hope you enjoy, hlebets! Snape is very much a bottom in this ;D

btw, Happy 45th Birthday to Harry <3

Harry liked staying active. He was a busy Auror, too busy, but he didn’t like to rest during the weekends. He couldn’t. His mind was always racing. He wanted to help people. Fix things. He wanted to make the world a better place.

He also couldn’t stop thinking about Severus Snape.

It was stupid, and reckless, but he had to see him. Bother him. It was as if he’d taken a liking to a vicious snake in his garden.

He couldn’t not engage even if it meant he got hurt.

It was an early Saturday morning, and Harry was spritely after his cup of coffee. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. And the air in Cokeworth smelled fresh, for once.

Harry whistled as he made his way to Snape’s house. He hadn’t told the man he was coming around. Oops.

Harry found his terraced house easily. He continued his whistling as he knocked. No one responded, so he knocked again.

Then the door was thrown open, revealing Snape in a dressing gown and slippers. A storm brewed in his expression.

“WHAT DO YOU—” Snape fell silent, his eyes going wide.

Harry beamed. “Hello, sir. Mind if I come in?”

Snape stared and stared, then his dark gaze slid over Harry’s body, slowly.

Snape promptly turned pink.

“Sir …?”

“Is something the matter?” the older man rasped.

“What?”

“Why are you standing on my doorstep this early in the morning? Without warning?”

“Um … I wanted to see you …”

“I should Curse you.”

“Um. Okay?”

Snape didn’t go for his wand. He glared at Harry for another moment, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in, then.”

“Brilliant!”

They went inside, and Harry’s smile turned upside down. It was so gloomy in here. And there were cracks in the walls. And broken fixtures. And everything needed a new coat of paint, and—

“Would you like a cup of tea, Potter?”

Harry ignored him as he checked out a rather wobbly cupboard door. He opened and closed it, feeling as its hinges barely hung on. “This needs to be fixed.”

“Stop that this instant!”

Still ignoring him, Harry rummaged in his pockets for his box of magical tools. He didn’t leave home without it … Aha! He did have it!

Harry started whistling again as he set about fixing the cupboard door.

“POTTER!”

“What?” Harry said over his shoulder, not looking at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing this door. Obviously.”

Snape heaved a sigh. “Are you out of your bleedin’ mind?”

“Nope.” Harry continued working until he felt a zap on his arm. He dropped his tools to rub at the spot. “Ouch! What did you do that for?!”

“You are touching my property! Without my permission!”

“I need your permission to fix your broken cupboard door?”

“YES!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry said, and got back to work.

Growling, Snape stomped upstairs, several steps creaking beneath his weight.

I bet those need fixing, too, Harry thought.

An hour or so later, Snape returned from upstairs, freshly bathed, wearing a pair of smart trousers and a crisp shirt.

Harry was crouched in the hallway, working on a different door—this one belonging to the cupboard under the stairs.

“Looking for your new home, Potter?” Snape said with a mean sneer.

“What?”

“What?”

Then Harry got the joke. “Oh, sod off.”

“No, you sod off. I don’t want you in my home, meddling.”

“Can’t you see that I’m doing you a favour?”

“I don’t care! I just want to be left alone!”

“Too bad,” Harry said.

Snape let out a snarl and stomped to his kitchen. “Lunch will be ready in thirty minutes,” he called out angrily.

“Perfect!” Harry called back.

Thirty minutes later, Harry was seated at Snape’s old kitchen table, chowing down on the best coronation chicken he’d ever had.

“Wow, you’re a brilliant cook,” Harry said, nearly moaning.

Snape went a bit pink. “Don’t be dramatic. And don’t talk with food in your mouth. It’s revolting.”

Grinning, Harry took a moment to swallow. He dabbed his lips with a serviette. “Who taught you how to cook?”

Snape didn’t respond for a long moment, his eyes burning. Then he gritted out, “My mother.”

“Oh! That’s adorable.”

“It’s not adorable. How dare you?”

Harry continued to grin. “So adorable.”

Snape went pink again, but the look in his eyes was murderous. “Once you’ve finished your meal, I want you to get out.”

“No thanks,” Harry said, now munching on a few salty crisps.

Snape bared his teeth menacingly. He leaned across the table. “I’m going to use my wand on you. Final warning, Potter.”

Harry licked his lips. He met Snape’s gaze defiantly. “I’m an Auror now. A rather good one. You wanna take that chance?”

“Always.”

Something hot sizzled between them. The air nearly sparked with it. Harry almost thought it was … sexual. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Snape wasn’t gay. He’d been in love with Harry’s mum.

Taking a deep breath, Harry sat back in his chair. He needed to cool things between them, or else he’d end up falling for Snape. And that just couldn’t be. No, no. Harry refused to fall for straight blokes. He’d been strong enough to stop himself from falling for Ron, his wonderful, brilliant best mate. He would not let it happen with Snape.

“I promise to stay out of your way,” Harry said.

Snape worked his mouth, his eyes smouldering. “Why are you doing this? To be a pest? My pest?”

Shaking his head, Harry searched his heart. He tried to find the words. “I’m doing this because I have to. Because it makes me happy. And because it makes me feel grounded when all I want to do is run away. From the war. My memories of it. I don’t want them to get the better of me. Am I making even a bit of sense?”

Something softened in Snape’s expression. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Harry stood and went to the sink to wash off his plate. He noticed the tap was leaking. He checked under the sink. The pipes were leaking, too.

“I’ve been busy brewing,” Snape said, defensive. “I do make an attempt to take care of this house …”

“No matter,” Harry said. “I’ll fix these leaks once I’m done with your cupboards.”

*

The next weekend, Harry returned to Snape’s house, determined to focus on the kitchen. Snape invited him in without a word, then set about brewing some coffee. He wasn’t in his dressing robe and slippers this time, which Harry was just a tad disappointed about.

After slurping back a brilliant cup of coffee, Harry stuck his head under the sink and got to work. It was rather messy business. The house was Muggle, and old, and hadn’t been well-maintained.

Harry spent some time inspecting the drain pipe, then decided the whole thing just needed to be replaced. Its rubber gaskets were so cracked and crumbly that Harry was surprised they hadn’t just fallen off.

Replacing the pipe got Harry all dirty and wet. Growling, he shoved out from under the sink and yanked off his soaked shirt. He smelled foul now but it didn’t matter. He just needed to get the job done.

He cast a Cushioning Charm on his knees, then got back under the sink, working up a sweat as he installed the new pipe (he’d popped by the local hardware shop before coming over).

He tried to install it with magic, but the pipe refused to connect properly to the trap arm in the wall.

Fine, I’ll use my bare hands, he thought, showing his teeth.

Harry wasn’t an expert at plumbing repairs, not by a long shot, and a lot of loud grunts and angry curses left his mouth as he did battle with the P-trap and slipnuts. His wrench kept slipping in his hand and he banged his knuckles more than a few times.

“Bloody fucking bitch,” Harry snarled, and suddenly shoved out from under the sink, needing a break.

Harry gave a start because Snape was just standing there, soundlessly watching him. It seemed as if his eyes had been fixed on Harry’s backside, for Snape was a second too slow in looking up.

“Sorry for making a ruckus,” Harry said, panting a little. He sat back in a crouch, his chest heaving a bit. He was covered in sweat.

Snape still didn’t say anything, but a pink flush was quickly building in his throat, crawling upward.

“Err—Are you all right?” Harry asked.

Snape blinked slowly. Then he whispered, “Where is your shirt, Potter?”

“Oh—Um. Next to me. It got all dirty. I’m making a mess, sorry. I’ll clean up everything once I’m done.”

“I need a walk,” Snape announced suddenly. He spun around and went to the door. “I’ll get us lunch, yes? There’s a chippie rather close to here … Yes. I’ll be back. Goodbye.” He walked out, nearly forgetting to open the door for himself.

“Um, bye?” Harry said, confused.

Snape was acting a bit strange, wasn’t he?

Huh.

Harry put the enigma that was Severus Snape out of his mind and got back to work.

Over an hour passed before Snape returned.

“That must have been quite the walk,” Harry said, still shirtless.

Snape didn’t look at him as he plated their lunch. Nor did he acknowledge that Harry had said anything.

Sighing, Harry went to the toilet to clean up a bit, then returned to the kitchen, still not in his shirt.

The fried cod and greasy chips smelled divine.

“Thank you,” Harry said as he sat down and started to eat.

Snape gave a small nod. He still didn’t look at Harry as he picked at his food.

Harry eyed him over his fork. “Are you all right? You seem a bit … unsettled.”

Snape sneered down at his plate. “I have you in my house, messing about. Don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

This made Harry pause.

Worrying his lip, Harry said, “Do you really want me to leave? Truly?”

Snape shrugged, not raising his eyes. “I don’t want to be bothered.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I already told you how I feel about the situation.”

“Oh,” Harry said softly. He stood, more than a little heartbroken. “Right. I’ll be off then.”

He made it almost to the door when Snape spoke up.

“You may stay, Potter.”

Beaming, Harry whipped around. “Really?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head. I only want you around because you’ve made yourself useful.”

“Of course,” Harry said, still beaming. He sat down again at the table and dug into the rest of his lunch with gusto. When he was done, he said, “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Snape sneered, his gaze only lingering on Harry for a second. “What do you want to know?”

“I dunno … I’m just curious about this house. Why you still live here and such.”

The sneer didn’t weaken.

“Why does it matter, Potter? You don’t expect me to believe you actually care about me, do you?”

Harry shrugged. “Of course I care about you. I’m here, aren’t I? Fixing up your house.”

Snape’s lashes fluttered. He was going pink again. “You say the most ridiculous things.”

“What? It’s true! I care about you.”

Snape shook his head, looking more than a little bewildered. When he spoke, his voice was cold and distant. “I live in this house because it’s easy. It’s what I know. And I enjoy the quiet.”

Harry grinned. “Hogwarts wasn’t very quiet, was it?”

“No, it was not.”

“You don’t get lonely at all?”

“No.”

Harry inspected him closely. Snape’s expression gave nothing away. Still … it was difficult for him to believe Snape never got lonely.

“Do you ever have any visitors? McGonagall, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Oh. Never?”

Snape sighed wearily. “You are trying my patience, Potter.”

Harry’s grin returned. “I’m rather good at that, aren’t I?”

Snape’s dark gaze flickered down to his bare chest. “Yes.”

“What about … dates? You’re not interested in having a love life?”

Snape’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Sorry, that question is probably out of line, but … I dunno. I’m just curious.”

“My … love life?”

“Yeah! Are you interested in meeting any new women? You’re not a bad looking bloke, Snape.”

“Women,” Snape said, toneless.

Harry frowned. “Um, I know you carried a torch for my mum, but—the war’s over now. I thought maybe you might be thinking about turning the page or whatever.”

Snape was just blinking at him. “You think I’m attracted to women?”

“Um, yeah? Obviously …? You were in love with my mum, weren’t you?”

Snape didn’t say anything. He was just staring at Harry.

Harry cocked his head to the side, then cocked it the other way. He really couldn’t decipher Snape in that moment.

“Shall we drop the subject altogether?” Harry said.

Snape licked his lips very slowly, his gaze unwavering. “What about your love life, Potter? The press said you ended things with the Weasley girl.”

It was Harry’s turn to flush. “Oh, I did. Yeah. But it ended pretty amicably.”

“Why?”

Harry’s flush deepened. He forced himself not to look away. “Oh, well … Um. I realised I’m gay. That’s why.”

The kitchen window exploded.

Harry cried out and fell to the floor.

“Apologies,” Snape rasped, and waved his wand to fix the damage.

Rattled, Harry crawled back into his chair. “Merlin, what did you do that for?!”

“It was an accident, you imbecile.” Snape’s voice was so cold it burned.

Harry stared at him. “You don’t like that I’m gay so much that you shattered your own window to bits?”

Snape glowered at him, unmoving. “Don’t assume you have a clue what I feel, Potter.”

Harry sighed and finished his meal. “After I’m done with your sink pipes, I’m going to have a look at that window. Then, next weekend, I shall tackle your garden.”

“Fine,” Snape said, still cold. He stood up and gathered their lunch things. “I shall be in my laboratory for the rest of the day. You will not see me.”

“I understand.”

*

During his work week, Harry thought a lot about Snape. And that exploding window. It kept him up at night, tossing and turning. He hated the idea that his sexuality disgusted Snape. The idea gnawed at him. And why?

Because I fancy him, Harry thought to himself one late night, all tangled up in his bedding.

Harry fancied Severus Snape.

It was … a bit mortifying. Even pathetic. The man hated his guts, and Harry was a second away from mooning over him.

Dear Merlin.

Harry considered not returning to Cokeworth. Snape’s garden would get on just fine without his hard work … But, no. He couldn’t not see Snape.

He wanted to be around the grumpy man.

Even if it got his heart broken.

*

On Saturday morning, he returned to Snape’s house, but he found the place had been transformed.

Snape had done a lot of cleaning.

“Nice apron,” Harry said, unable to stop his gaze from sliding over Snape’s body.

Snape blushed. “It’s just a stupid thing I had at my disposal.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

The apron was floral.

“I made you breakfast,” Snape said, not looking at him, his blush still in place.

“Oh!” Harry frowned. “I—I already ate. But that’s rather kind of you.”

Snape frowned at the floor.

“Um, I thought I’d just start my work in your garden. It’s usually best to do these things in the morning …”

“Whatever you want, Potter.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said, feeling more than a little off-kilter.

Snape had made him breakfast. And he was wearing an apron.

Shaking his head, Harry made his way to the back garden, which was so overgrown that it looked like a jungle.

Harry took out his wand. Hopefully his magical might would be enough to whip the foliage into shape.

For hours, Harry battled with the grass and the weeds and the shrubs. Of course, he took off his shirt to do so. The sun was out again, which Harry definitely was not going to complain about.

A few times, Snape emerged from his house to give Harry glasses of water or offer him a snack. He didn’t look at Harry as he did this.

“Do you want a bit of lunch?” Snape asked.

“No, I think I just want to crack on until I’m done. I’m in a bit of a groove.”

Snape nodded and tucked his hair back. His ears were hot pink. The man was blushing again.

“Will you stay for an early dinner, then? I’ve been cooking.”

Harry stared at him. “What? Why?”

Snape shrugged, his head ducked. He fiddled with his apron. “Does it matter? Do you want to stay or not?” Whilst his words were hostile, his voice was shy.

Harry licked his lips. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Snape nodded, then escaped back into his house.

What the hell is going on with him? Harry thought, but then he put it out of his mind and got back to work.

When his garden was finally in order, Harry stumbled back into Snape’s house. He was achy and knackered and just wanted to have a sit.

He found Snape in the kitchen, still in his apron. On the table waited an absolute feast. It looked as if Snape had roasted a whole chicken and baked a cottage pie.

“Wow,” Harry said.

Snape turned abruptly toward him. He was holding a glass of wine and he was very flushed.

At first, Harry thought Snape was blushing again, but no, the man was pissed. Absolutely pissed.

“You started without me, I see,” Harry said, managing a tired smile.

Snape slammed his glass onto the counter and went to him. Confused, Harry stumbled back, expecting an attack—

But Snape dropped to his knees before him.

Harry gaped. “What—?”

Snape yanked at Harry’s jeans, trying to get them off. Yet again, he didn’t look at Harry as he did this.

“What are you doing?”

“Hush, Potter, hush,” Snape said hoarsely. Then: “No one needs to know.”

Harry grabbed his hands, stopping them. “Snape—wait—I don’t understand—”

Snape yanked free of his grasp, then leaned forward and opened his mouth to Harry’s jeans. His hot mouth found his dick through the layers of fabric.

Crying out, Harry bucked into his mouth, utterly controlled by the sensation.

Harry’s brain finally caught up to what Snape was doing and he shoved away.

“Wait,” Harry gasped.

Snape licked his lips, eyes now trained on the outline of his hard dick. “Let me do it, Potter. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“You won't—? What are you going on about! You’re drunk.”

Snape shook his head. “Let me taste you. Come on. Let me. You don’t even need to look at me as I do it.”

About a million words flooded Harry’s brain. He tried to form some into sentences but the only sound that came out was a pant.

Snape lunged forward, this time being quicker, and he managed to shove down Harry’s jeans and latch his mouth onto his erection through his pants, giving it a wet, wet suck.

Harry cried out and let it happen for a few moments, utterly stunned, utterly turned on, but then he buried a hand in his hair and yanked his head back.

Harry bared his teeth at his former professor. “I thought you were straight.”

“You only thought that because you’re a blasted idiot.”

“You didn’t correct me!”

“I don’t want to correct you! I don’t want you to know a single thing about me! All I want to do is suck your cock. And lick the sweat off your gorgeous stomach. Off your gorgeous chest. I’ll let you fuck me, Potter. I will, I will. And I’m so good at taking it, I promise. No prep necessary. You don’t even need to use lube if you don’t want to. Just bend me over and bloody use me.”

Harry almost hit him. Truly. The shock was just that great.

Harry had never seen Snape like this. He’d never even suspected it.

Gasping again, Harry stumbled back, yanking up his jeans. “We need to talk about this when you’re sober. I’m not going to have sex with you when you’re like this.”

Snape growled in his direction, his eyes focussed on the wall. “You’re no fun.”

“For Merlin’s sake, you won’t even look at me!”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU!”

“And why not?!”

Snape shoved to his feet and tried to storm past, but Harry grabbed him.

“Wait a damn minute, you can’t just run away!”

“Let go of me!”

“Wait—”

They wrestled together, Harry losing his footing. Snape shoved him up against the wall and latched his mouth onto his throat. His hands roamed greedily up and down his chest as he sucked.

“You don’t have my consent,” Harry groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so bloody sexy,” Snape groaned in return.

Harry squirmed, trying to stop his dick from getting rock hard. “Snape—Severus. This isn’t right. I don’t want to fuck you like this.”

Snape raised his head. He glared, once again, merely in Harry’s direction. It was an accomplishment to avoid his gaze this close to his face.

“And how exactly do you want to fuck me, Potter? Hmm? In the pitch dark? With me tied up? At your mercy?”

“I think that’s what you want.”

Snape snarled and pointed his wand in his face. “You’re lucky you’ve made yourself useful, or I might’ve just—”

“Just what, Snape? Hurt me?”

Snape didn’t reply, but his intention was all too clear.

Harry batted his wand away. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Shut up!”

“No,” Harry said, and wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, bringing their mouths so, so close.

A shudder of anticipation shot through Snape.

Harry almost let their lips brush—almost.

“I’ll go to bed with you,” Harry murmured, “if you take a Sobering Potion.”

Snape growled. He repeated, “You’re no fun.”

“Do it, Snape. Take the potion.”

Still growling, Snape Summoned a little vial to him. It took a few moments for the thing to reach his hand. It seemed to have come from the hallway toilet.

Snape turned away to knock back the potion. The effect was almost immediate.

“Oh my God,” Snape whispered, and then he tried to run away.

“No!” Harry said, grabbing him.

“Let go of me!” Snape howled.

“No, let’s talk about this!”

Snape struggled in his arms. “No, no, let me go!”

“No,” Harry growled, and manhandled him into a chair. “Just have a sit, okay? Let’s talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

Harry moved a chair right up to Snape, then tried to hold his hand. Snape yanked back.

“Don’t touch me!” Snape said.

Bewildered, Harry couldn’t help but stare at him. “You were just doing everything you could to suck my cock.”

“I wasn’t myself!”

“Yes, obviously, but getting drunk doesn’t just cause feelings.”

“Feelings?!”

“Yes, feelings, Snape. That’s what we need to talk about. So. Let’s talk. I thought you were straight."

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!”

“No, I’m not. I saw your memories. You were in love with my mum.”

“Yes—and?”

“And now you’re in an apron, cooking me a feast.”

Snape glared at him. “You started it! Coming around here! Fixing things! Acting as if you were my—my husband!”

Harry blinked at him in shock. “I just wanted to help. I didn’t mean to—to—”

“Oh, piss off,” Snape snapped, and turned in his chair, arms crossed.

Harry stared again, trying to gather his thoughts. “You thought I was flirting with you?”

“No.”

“You hoped I was flirting with you?”

Snape didn’t say anything.

“I do fancy you,” Harry said quietly.

Snape snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I do. I realised it after I started coming around. The problem was … I thought my sexuality disgusted you.”

Snape twisted back around to face him. “You are an idiot! The biggest moron I’ve ever encountered!”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “If you keep saying mean shit to me, I’m not going to shag you.”

“I don’t want you to shag me!”

“How long have you been in love with me?”

“Shut up!”

“No, it’s time you told me the truth.”

“I am telling you the truth! I hate you!”

“Why can’t you look at me? Why do I make you blush?”

“Bollocks!”

“No, it’s what’s been happening. You are shy around me now. Why?”

Snape stared at the wall. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re doing it now,” Harry growled.

Snape’s jaw pulsed as he ground his teeth. “All I want is for you to leave and never come back.”

“Okay, fine. Goodbye.” Harry rose and went to the door.

Snape jumped to his feet. A battle of emotions played out in his face.

Harry looked at him. “None of this needs to be so complicated.”

Snape lowered his gaze, not saying anything.

Harry made one last attempt to break through his defences: “I like you in that apron, Severus.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Snape muttered, going pink.

“I like it so much. And I like you playing house with me. Making me dinner. Cleaning up for me. All in that cute little apron.”

“None of it was for you.”

Harry sighed deeply. He felt so defeated … but then his gaze landed on the bin. It was full and needed to be taken out. “I’ll just take out your rubbish, then be off.”

Harry emptied the bin and carried the bag outside. He found Snape’s wheelie bin in the back garden. It felt good to do this one last thing for him.

For a few moments, he let himself admire the good work he’d done for the garden, then he went back inside, heartbroken.

Snape intercepted him at the door. “Harry.”

“Yes, I’m just going—”

“Harry, Harry—”

Snape kissed him.

Groaning, Harry kissed him back. Hungrily. Snape utterly melted in his arms.

“You are a ridiculous man,” Harry murmured, nibbling on his bottom lip.

“I must protect myself, Harry. That’s how I’ve survived this terrible world.”

“Yes, yes, but you’ve got me now. And there’s not a damn thing you’ve got to fear. Not anymore.”

Snape groaned weakly.

“Now, where were we? Oh, yes, you were about to suck my cock. In your kitchen.”

Snape went to his knees. He looked up at Harry for permission.

“Go on,” Harry said. “Get my prick out. Gag on me.”

“Oh, God,” Snape moaned.

Harry buried his hands in his hair. “Go on. Do it, love.”

Trembling, Snape undid his trousers, then pulled everything down.

Harry was half-hard, his prick twitching as it filled with blood, and Snape moaned deeply when he gazed upon it for the first time.

“You like what you see?”

Snape was damn near panting. “Yes.”

“Good. Now, suck it.”

Snape nodded submissively, then took Harry into his mouth. He suckled for just a moment, then took him deep—so deep.

“Fffuck,” Harry moaned, trembling all over, as he felt himself breach Snape’s throat.

As it turned out, Snape was a brilliant cocksucker.

Harry held him in place as he thrust even deeper. Snape moaned wetly. They both liked Harry utterly brutalising his throat.

“Fuck, you’re so good, sir,” Harry whispered.

Snape’s eyes rolled back.

Then Harry set about using his mouth—his throat. He thrust and thrust as if he were fucking his arse.

“I want to be inside you,” Harry panted. “Properly.”

Snape nodded again, eagerly this time.

Harry withdrew. “Will you keep the apron on?”

Snape’s eyes burned as he looked up at him. “Yes, Husband.”

“Fuck,” Harry gasped, and he grabbed the base of his cock, making sure he didn’t come.

Snape’s smirk turned into a gasp when Harry picked him up.

“Put me down, you ridiculous boy!”

“No.”

Harry marched them upstairs to Snape’s bedroom, which was neat and clean but very cold.

Harry laid him down on the bed, then kissed him and kissed him.

“Let me,” Snape murmured, so pink. He got his wand out and tapped himself with it, which made all his clothes except for the apron vanish.

“Your magic is so hot,” Harry moaned, capturing his mouth again.

Snape smiled into the kiss.

Then Harry set about kissing him all over, enjoying the way he looked in just his apron. His erection made a rather large bulge in the fabric.

“So hot,” Harry moaned, mouthing the bulge.

“Oh, God.”

Harry shoved aside the fabric so he could get his mouth on him.

As it turned out, Snape’s cock was delicious.

Harry took his time sucking him—worshipping him.

Snape panted and squirmed. “Oh, God, oh, oh—Husband.”

“Yeah,” Harry moaned. “Keep calling me that.”

“Please fuck me, please, please!”

Harry pressed him into the bed, grinding his hips, as he found his mouth again. “Yeah, you think you can take me, sir?”

“Yes!”

“With just a bit of lube, no fingers, and your husband’s hard, throbbing stiffy forcing you open?”

“Oh, God, Harry.”

Harry cast the Lube Spell. Then, staring into Snape’s eyes, he pressed inside him. Slowly. Carefully.

Lovingly.

When he bottomed out, he captured Snape’s mouth again, claiming him.

“My wife,” Harry murmured hotly.

“HARRY!”

He held him down and fucked him, over and over.

It was so hot shagging him when he was just in his apron, his hard pink nipples visible.

Snape hadn’t been lying. He was a bloody pro at taking cock.

“Who else has shagged you?” Harry growled.

“No one recently!”

“How long has it been?”

“Years!”

“Good,” Harry growled, and found the strength to fuck him even harder.

The bed was thudding into the wall. A picture frame somewhere came crashing down.

Over and over, Harry thrust inside him. He felt how hard Snape was, rubbing against his stomach.

“You liked me fixing your pipes and doors, didn’t you?”

“YES!”

“You liked me getting dirty for you.”

“Yes, yes! Oh, Merlin, yes!”

Harry found his throat with his mouth, sucking it. “Let me take care of you, love. Forever.”

Snape began to cry. “Yes, yes!”

“Good, now come for me, love. Prove to me that I’m your husband and come for me.”

Harry didn’t even need to stroke his cock. Oh, no: Snape seized up beneath him and spurted his release, drenching their stomachs.

Harry, utterly taken by the sight, only lasted a few more thrusts. Then he was coming, too, filling Snape up, filling up his wife.

Afterward, they lay in Snape’s bed, arms wrapped around each other. Harry had Snape’s head resting on his chest.

“You should have told me you’re in love with me,” Harry murmured.

“Don’t be stupid; I couldn’t just come out and say such a thing.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m not supposed to have feelings. I’m Severus Snape, former Death Eater and kiddie terrorist.”

Harry had to snort. “I would have shagged you a long time ago if you’d just said you found me fit.”

“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have been treated to the delicious view of you crawling around under my sink.”

“Point taken, but I would have sucked your cock a lot sooner.”

Snape snorted too, then snuggled in closer.

“I’m starved,” Harry said. “You want to go downstairs and eat some of the feast you made? Then do a bit more fooling around?”

Snape raised his head and squinted at him. “A bit more fooling around? Oh, Husband, I expect loads more than that.”

Harry laughed and kissed him.