Harry furrowed his brow and rolled up the sleeves of his school shirt as he concentrated on his potion. Snape had been uncommonly kind to give him this chance to make up for failing that day's class, and he'd be damned if he was going to waste it. He added the powdered asphodel carefully, then picked up his crystal stirring rod and began trying to stir the thick contents of his cauldron. He started when cool hands wrapped around his own to begin guiding the rod through the potion.
"Like this," Snape spoke, his breath ghosting over Harry's ear.
The Wizarding Savior blushed. He hadn't even known Snape had moved from his desk, but now he was acutely aware of the tall, lithe body pressed against his back in a near-intimate embrace. Together, they stirred the potion in concentric circles until it turned a vibrant shade of purple.
Harry reached for his wand and spelled the fire under the cauldron to go out, leaving the potion to cool as Snape's hands ran along his wrists. He stood stock still, his hands on the high table, as potion stained fingers began to glide up his arms, the feather-light touch causing goose-bumps to rise on his bare forearms. He felt thin lips kiss his neck as the hands moved lower to grip his hips almost bruisingly.
"Mister Potter," Snape murmured against the skin of Harry's ear. Harry stifled a moan as a wandering hand slid along his thigh sensually. He felt the thin lips part against his ear as the man prepared to speak again. –
"Detention, Potter, for not paying attention."
The silky growl of the Potions Master drew Harry from his daydream and he looked around to see everyone packing away their things to leave. He looked down at his parchment to realize that he had managed to dream away the entire lecture without taking a single note. A glance at Snape told Harry that the man was obviously displeased by his continued inability to focus in class.
"Sorry, sir," He murmured. This was the third time this week that Snape had had to call him out on his daydreaming, he didn't dare argue against a detention he knew he'd earned.
Snape curled his lip in a sneer. "Indeed. I do not give these lectures for my own amusement, Mister Potter. Perhaps scrubbing cauldrons for a few hours will remind you that attending my NEWT course is not a passing fancy. Tonight, at 7, Mister Potter. Do not be late." The man turned with a swish of his heavy robes to stalk back up to his desk at the front of the room and Harry let his head fall to the blank parchment with a groan.
Hermione nudged him, and he packed away his things with her help, before leaving the Potions classroom to head back to Gryffindor Tower. They walked in silence for a while, Hermione's lips pursed disapprovingly as Harry wallowed in the hole he'd dug for himself. Not only did he have a detention with the man he was pretty sure he was falling for (and hard), but Snape had disrupted the fantasy before its apex (him finding out just what Snape could do with his wicked tongue). Finally, the know-it-all Gryffindor beside him apparently decided she couldn't hold her tongue any longer.
"You're doing yourself in, carrying on like this," She said primly. "You're lucky he only gave you a detention."
Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know, Hermione. It's not like I asked for any of this. Every other Seventh Year gets to have fantasies about hot Quidditch players, or whatever witch is on the cover of Witch Weekly, and I'm trapped in this nightmare of fantasizing about Snape and his sinful mouth. Merlin, every time he speaks it's like I go temporarily insane!"
His friend looked at him sympathetically. "I'm sure you're not the first person to fantasize about a teacher, Harry, and almost definitely not the first to fantasize about Snape."
Harry only scowled, her attempts to soothe his aching heart doing nothing to help his mood. "Yeah, but how many of the other people who've ever fantasized about him had him hate them as much as he does me? How many people in the world do you think fall in love with the one man who actually hates them more than the maniac who tried to kill them?"
"Oh, Harry, he doesn't hate you that much." Harry glared at his friend, who flinched. "That came out wrong."
"No kidding," He told her sourly. "And don't try to tell me that he doesn't hate me. You can see it clear as day in those smoldering black eyes of his. If I died tomorrow, he'd probably dance on my grave."
Hermione seemed to realize that there was little point in arguing with him as she didn't respond. They continued back to Gryffindor in silence, Harry slowly sinking into a deep, well-worn sulk. Ever since he'd realized weeks back that he was attracted to Snape and that the man would never feel the same, even talk of Quidditch and pulling pranks on Slytherins had done little to brighten his sour mood.
Harry sighed as he rinsed out the cauldron he'd just finished cleaning. It was the third he'd finished, and he was pretty proud of himself about not having delved into fantasies while he cleaned. Indulging in them only made it hurt worse when he was drawn back to reality; and he was pretty sure Snape would be pissed if he took an hour to clean a cauldron because he was daydreaming again, anyway.
He cast a drying charm on the cauldron and his own hands, then froze when cold fingers touched his wrists. He became suddenly aware of a firm body nearly pressed against him as the slim fingers trailed their way up his forearms as they had done so many times in his dreams. A prominent nose nuzzled the hair above his ear, warm breath ghosting over the cartilage in a way that made Harry's knees go weak. He began to relax into the embrace as those sensual hands danced over his sides to grasp his hips, but froze for a second time when the man spoke.
"What happens next, Potter?"
He rounded on the Potions Master, who took a step back in surprise. "What?" He hissed angrily.
Snape smirked. "I want to know what happens next," He purred in his silky baritone.
Harry gaped at the man, flummoxed, trapped somewhere between broken and royally pissed. "You used Legilimency on me?" He demanded.
"I felt I had a right to know what was distracting you so much in my class," Snape told him simply, still smirking. "If you didn't want me to look, then perhaps you shouldn't have left your mind so open to intrusion, and instead paid attention."
Harry was floored by the ease with which Snape excused such an astounding breach of privacy. "Those thoughts were personal!" He exclaimed. "How dare you invade my mind out of some imagined right to my privacy!"
The smirk didn't falter even as Snape remained silent. Harry, feeling his eyes begin to burn with angry, heartbroken tears, fled from the room before they could begin to fall. His vision blurred as he raced back to Gryffindor Tower, his chest aflame with the feeling of humiliation and betrayal. He couldn't believe Snape had raped his mind like that, and then had used the fantasy to humiliate him further. A cold, calculating voice in his mind reminded him of the hard truth this soul-wrenching event had wrought.
'At least Hermione won't have to worry about you not paying attention in class, anymore.'
Harry woke a few days later to see a small vial on the nightstand beside his bed, a slim strip of parchment tied around the neck. He glanced around the common room, but as it was the weekend, his dorm mates still slept soundly. Sitting up on the bed, he realized that the silvery, constantly moving fluid inside the small glass bottle could only be someone's memory. Taking up the vial, he looked at the label.
It read:
Harry
And
Harry
Was all it read. He scowled as he recognized the handwriting. Snape had been unusually unconfrontational since the incident, and while it was surely in part due to Harry playing the part of 'model student' perfectly, he hadn't been sure until now that the man wouldn't try and humiliate him further. He clenched his fist angrily around the small container and considered smashing it against the wall. The only thing that stopped him was that he had no way of knowing what memory it contained, and he wasn't cruel enough to risk leaving Snape's memories spattered against a wall for just anyone (Ron) to collect. Some part of him was worried it might be Snape's memory of what he had witnessed in Harry's mind, and the humiliating detention that had followed.
Dressing quickly, the Gryffindor stormed from Gryffindor Tower to the Potion Master's office, still barefoot. It didn't occur to him until he was already knocking on the door that Snape might already be at breakfast. This concern was proven fruitless, however, when the rumbling voice called for him to enter. Harry walked into the dimly lit office, the door closing behind him.
"What the hell is this?" He demanded, setting the vial on the man's desk. He glared, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping one barefoot against the cold flagstone beneath his feet.
Snape looked at the vial, before black eyes bored into him. "It is a memory."
"I gathered as much, Professor, I want to know who's, and of what!" Harry snarled.
"Mine," Snape told him calmly. "If you wish to know of what, then I suggest you view it."
Harry scowled. "You know I don't have the means. Is this supposed to be another one of your cruel jokes?"
Snape gestured to the stone bowl sitting innocently atop his desk and Harry flushed at not having noticed it.
"I give you leave to view it there, so long as I may have it back once you've finished. I've become rather fond of that memory."
Harry eyed the man warily, wondering if there was some ulterior motive here that he couldn't see. "What if I don't have any desire to view your memories? We've been down this road, and it didn't have a happy ending for me."
"Do as you like, Potter, it is your choice." The unbreakable calm Snape exuded was starting to really piss Harry off, and he decided to call the Potion Master's bluff. He pulled the stopper out of the vial and dumped the contents into the basin just as his toes started to go numb from the icy floor he stood upon. Looking into the unfathomable depths of his Professor's dark eyes, he reached a finger towards the swirling, silver liquid.
Harry landed in the memory and realized that it was the memory of a thought, recognizable by the slight fuzzing around the edges of the image.
Severus watched as Harry rolled up his sleeves and began stirring the potion on the waist-high table. He stood and rounded his desk, moving around the bench to stand directly behind the boy. He reached slim arms around the younger man's shoulders and gripped the hands curled around the stirring rod carefully.
"Like this," He murmured softly, guiding the rod through the thick potion. When they'd made three concentric circles, he released the hands, not moving from his position of being nearly pressed against the lithe form, and let the younger man go through the motions of turning down the heat on the cauldron.
Severus watched the smaller body stiffen as the Gryffindor put his hands on the table nervously. Long fingers danced along the slim wrists and up the toned arms, hitching slightly on the rolled up sleeves as he felt goose-bumps rise at his touch. He moved his hands lower and firmly gripped the slim hips.
"Mister Potter," He hissed, his lips grazing the shell of Harry's ear. He ran a hand sensually down one thigh, pressing a light kiss to the tanned throat.
"P-professor, what-" The stammered response cut off in a low moan as Severus tightened his grip on the slim hips and drew them back while he ground forward against the taut ass and nipped roughly at the tender skin directly behind the brat's ear.
"Severus." He said insistently, one hand moving to cup the growing tent in Harry's slacks. He ground forward again, gently massaging the burgeoning manhood under his hand and placed teasing kisses down the side of Harry's throat. He slid the hand not busy handling his student's erection under the crisp white shirt to begin playing with the hardened nubs he found there.
A hand reached up to tangle in Severus' hair as he started a rhythm of grinding forward, forcing the slim hips to press into his hand. "Ah, please," The younger man pleaded, his other hand leaving the desk to curl over Severus' through his shirt.
"Say it, Harry, say my name," Severus coaxed, grinding forward again.
The fantasy ended abruptly, and Harry practically fell from the Pensieve. He was facing away from the desk when he landed outside the memory, his bare feet stinging from the rough landing, and remained so in an effort to hide how much Snape's fantasy had affected him.
"What the hell was that?" He breathed, his erection almost painful in its confines.
Snape spoke from directly behind him. "You refused to tell me what happened next, and as such my dreams filled in the blanks. You're not the only one who's been having fantasies, Harry, though mine are usually more tame, as I am no longer a teenager driven by hormones."
Harry scowled, biting his tongue to keep from mentioning that his normally were as well, unless he was in the man's presence. "You've had three days to manufacture that fantasy, how do I know it's real?"
He heard a growl, and it was his only warning before his biceps were grabbed and he was pulled and pushed until he was leaning forward over Snape's desk, barely catching himself with his hands inches before his painful erection would have slammed into the unforgiving edge. With no pre-emption, limber fingers dug sharply into his hips, drawing his ass back as Snape ground forward. The feel of the man's stiff member was unmistakable, and Harry gasped, gripping the edge of the desk, as Snape thrust deliberately against the seat of his pants.
"Allow me to show you the firmness of my feelings, Mister Potter," Snape growled. One hand slid up Harry's chest and began deftly unbuttoning his school shirt, while the other cupped his tented slacks, massaging his clothed erection.
Harry didn't bother to hide his moan as his shirt was pulled from his shoulders down to his elbows, keeping him from moving his arms almost entirely. Sharp teeth bit at the juncture between his shoulder and neck, and he gave a pained hiss, grinding his hips back against the taller man's erection. He pulled his shirt free from his pants so that he could reach up and pull the older wizard's head down, leaning his own head back against the bony shoulder so that they could kiss awkwardly.
Snape apparently decided that this would not do for their first kiss, because without pulling away at all, he turned Harry around and backed him against the desk, delving his tongue into Harry's hot cavern. His hips continued to grind forward, and Harry maneuvered his ass onto the desk so he could wrap his legs around the thin hips, drawing the man against him desperately.
Snape pulled away, his hands leaning on the desk on either side of Harry's body, and continued to grind forward. "Say my name, Harry. I want to hear those sinful lips beg me for release."
Harry moaned, burying his fingers into the soft, raven hair of his professor as thin, swollen lips began to trail kisses along the tanned expanse of his chest. "Gods, Severus, please, I need you." He murmured. He lifted the older man's head to place a flurry of soft kisses on the sallow, war-torn features. He pulled away slightly and stared deeply into the black eyes. "Fuck me, Severus."
The Potions Master leaned forward to capture his lips in a long, languid kiss, his hips slowing to a stop. "You're sure, Harry?"
"More than anything," Harry insisted, drawing the man forward into another kiss. "I need to feel you inside me."
The man nodded as they resumed kissing once more, his hands coaxing Harry's legs to wrap more firmly around the slim hips. "Not here," He breathed against Harry's lips. It was the only warning Harry received before his hips were lifted into deceptively strong arms and the man began to carry him from the room.
Harry had no idea how Severus managed to carry him from his office, through his quarters, and into the man's bedroom without once breaking their kiss, but he did. The Gryffindor was startled as he felt Snape kneel on the edge of the bed, still holding him, and hauled him into the middle of the bed. Snape pulled away only for a moment to kick off his shoes and tear off his socks before crawling on top of Harry, who was splayed against the bedspread looking thoroughly ravished.
He drew Harry into another kiss as the younger wizard began undoing the buttons of his robes and shirt. When both were finally done, Harry pushed them off the thin shoulders and dragged them both off to crumple on the bed beside the two lovers. Severus began to rock against him, drawing one of Harry's slender legs up to wrap around his hips as he gripped Harry's thigh. He pulled away as he began to sense a hesitancy in the younger wizard's response.
"What's wrong, Harry?"
Harry chewed his lower lip as he tried to word his response. Finally, he gave the tried and tested question which had brought all of this about. "What happens next?" He murmured shyly. "I know, we haven't even finished undressing, but…what happens after we've finished? I'm not…I've never…"
Severus placed a tender kiss on Harry's lips. "Nothing has to happen today, Harry. If you would rather wait, then that's fine. There are other things we can do to reach completion without my taking your virginity."
"Th-there is?" Harry asked hesitantly. "I want you, in the worst way, but I've never….not with anyone. I've never even done this much with anyone. I just…I don't want you to be angry, now that I'm not as sure as I was in your office."
Slim hips rocked against Harry's pelvis sensually as Severus spoke in his soothing, sultry tones. "It's alright, Harry. That's part of the reason I brought you here, so you had time to change your mind if you wanted. We don't have to go any farther than we have."
Harry gasped as Snape's hips continued to produce that agonizingly slow, teasing friction he craved. "I want more…" He breathed. Severus smirked and kept his movements deliberately slow.
"Say please, Harry."
"Please, Severus, I need more, please," Harry moaned, grinding up against the man. His lips were captured in an insistent kiss as Severus sped up, grinding down roughly every once in a while to draw from Harry those delicious sounds that the Potions Master was quickly becoming addicted to. They worked against each other, the grip on Harry's thigh drawing him into each thrust.
Severus shuddered as his release crashed over him, and, almost immediately after, Harry gave a shout, his body convulsing lightly with his own orgasm. The Potions Master rolled to the side, lying uncomfortably on top of his crumpled robes. He lay there for a minute, catching his breath. Harry surprised him by sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed.
"Just where do you think you're going, Mister Potter?" Severus growled playfully, sitting up and pulling the younger man back down onto the mattress. He straddled the shorter wizard with his arms, kissing the swollen, abused lips.
Harry blushed. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to stay…" He admitted softly.
Severus frowned down at his student, leaning on one arm so he could cup the boy's cheek gently. "Harry, I have no plans of letting you go now that I have you. I wasn't lying when I said my fantasies were typically more domestic in nature, and I had hoped you would give me the opportunity to see one or two to fruition."
"I want that, too," Harry insisted immediately. "I just wasn't sure you did, like I said. You're kind of…well, you've always been so unattainable, I find it hard to believe you'd want to settle for me."
"Harry," Severus murmured, kissing the younger wizard's lips softly. "I do not consider myself as 'settling' for anything. I would be honored if you would let me keep you."
Harry snickered, brushing a lock of hair back and tucking it behind Severus' ear. "Alright, Severus. But…what happens next?"
Severus smirked and lowered himself back to the mattress, drawing the smaller frame against his in a fiercely protective hug. "Right now, we sleep, and we leave everything else for when we wake."
The Gryffindor hummed contentedly and snuggled back into the warm embrace as they both allowed fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.