Author's Notes: Okay, so I decided I would try to write something larger than a one-shot about Snarry, a pairing I only recently started to ship… Although 'ship' is too weak a word for this… I tanker it, I barge it! I bloody Titanic it! Those two would have been perfect together, I'm just sayin'.
Disclaimer: If I owned the characters, I would be Rowling. Last time I checked in the mirror, I am not. Just a miserable sixteen-year-old with no personal life. Stop laughing, I bet you don't have one either.
He walked down the dimly lit corridor, his eye out for any movement whatsoever. He could not be interrupted, as his heart - and a number of other body parts of his - was set on doing it tonight. And he would. If he could have only laid his hand on that Map of Potter's, it would have been times easier, but of course, the boy would never relinquish one of his most prized possessions and even if he would, he could ask questions. The boy had always been overly curious, much like his father back at school. Fortunately, almost all contact had been lost with the blasted man after their graduation, although that hadn't alleviated the gravity of his situation in the slightest - the boy had arrived at Hogwarts, and suddenly his seemingly quiet life as a professor and the school's own personal bat had turned into a nightmare. Severus Snape never would have thought that being in love was such torture. Especially being in love during a raging War, when he himself was ripped apart between two sides - his past and his present (he dared not believe he had a future, you see). Especially being in love when he hadn't felt it for decades. Especially being in love with the unlikeliest person. Especially being in love with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Hate-Him.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he proceeded down the corridor and into a hidden passageway behind a coat of armor. He had discovered it quite some time ago, and had been using it for a while now, if only to get to the one place in the castle where he could, albeit momentarily, forget about his debts, his obsessions, his sins. His silent steps whispered along the stone walls of the long drawing room and he almost broke into a run, hating the little room - it was one of the most cramped places he'd ever ventured into: void of windows, paintings, any kind of decoration or lighting. Of course, that should have been fine to him, the dungeon bat, but for some reason it felt like he was suffocating. He wondered if that was how Potter had felt while living in his little cupboard under the stairs, if the stories were true. The rumor had been started who-knows-how and Potter refused to comment on it even to his friends, which led Severus to believe they were, actually, not entirely lies.
Halting in front of the only painting in the corridor, one that hung at the very end of it and marking his destination: a pretty portrait of a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, wearing a customary Victorian dress - of which Severus himself was quite fond - and holding an apple in her left hand. Her pretty face was marred by an ugly scar running down from her left eyebrow, across her cheek and nose and down to the right corner of her mouth, which was framed by luscious lips now curved into a wry smile. Her bittersweet icy blue eyes contemplated him for a moment before she put the apple in her hand down, somewhere beyond the frame, probably her lap, and cleared her throat, her melodious voice almost a whisper as it rebounded and echoed across the empty stone corridor:
"What is your business here, Professor?"
"You know perfectly well," Severus answered, refusing to look at her for a long time. Something about her knowing smirk and beautiful yet ghastly face never failed to give him goosebumps. Understanding she would not take that answer, Snape sighed and lowered his voice a bit, casting a glance behind his shoulder to check if someone had been following him. Of course, that would have been very unlikely, as the students were probably either in bed or roaming the upper corridors of Hogwarts - nobody would like to get stuck in the dungeons at night, it was a particularly nasty place for a person to be in, especially a dunderhead student like those resting peacefully in their beds, unaware of what transpired several stories beneath them. "I am here to savour and relinquish everything I hold."
Satisfied with the password, the young woman nodded and her frame, instead of swinging open like a normal one would, simply disappeared into thin air, revealing another, even darker passageway behind it. Stepping over the threshold gingerly, Snape took a few hurried steps until he reached the other door and then stopped again, contemplating what he was about to do. Was it worth the risk? He hadn't been back here for weeks, what if nothing was happening inside any longer? A stifled moan made its way out of one of the many cracks in the wall and he smiled to himself - of course nothing had change. Basic human needs always remained the same, no matter how troubled the times. Slowly putting his hand on the doorknob, he twisted it and stepped inside.
His whole world was instantly enveloped in darkness, with nothing showing and nothing peeking - it was not like putting on a blindfold, it felt as if he had been blind from birth. Feeling the coldness of the castle on his now fully naked body, Snape took some more steps inside, carefully contemplating where to put his foot down as there were mounds of writhing bodies on the floor, moaning and gasping with arousal.
That was the beauty of the Room of Desire, as he had dubbed it - nothing ever changed. It had first been revealed to him by the Weasley twins who, although officially out of Hogwarts, had taken up permanent residence in the castle due to the impending danger to the family. After Dumbledore's death, Snape had been made Headmaster, even though he had been very reluctant to accept the job. After showing his memories to the select few who had known of the Astronomy Tower situation, and just waving hello to the numerous others who had been ignorant of it, Snape had stepped into the castle under the watchful eye of Minerva McGonagall and one Harry Potter. The boy had been particularly reluctant to let him back into his world, which was understandable, as said world had been pulled from under Potter's feet by himself. After seeing Severus' memories, though, and accepting his fate as a Horcrux, Potter had become subdued and simply continued his studies while dutifully attending every Order meeting which were now, too, held in the castle. Grimmauld Place had been revealed a few months ago, rendering it useless, and so everyone who was not with the Dark Lord now resided at the school. It had become a sort of a fortress but even the safest of sanctuaries could not help people with their internal fears - that was why the Room of Desire had been started. For those who knew or had been exclusively invited, the Room was a way to escape reality: you walked in exposed but at the same time completely safe since nobody could see, nobody knew who you were. You could be anyone. You received pleasure beyond imagination and then left the Room quietly, without leaving anything behind. It was quite ingenious, really, and soon Snape found himself a more-or-less frequent visitor of the place, thanking the twins for their revelation, even though it was given to him accompanied with the words: 'You look so uptight, one would thing you have a Nargle up your rectum'.
Finding an empty spot on the carpeted floor, Severus sat down slowly, feeling around for his surroundings, so that he wouldn't accidentally bump into somebody else. There was nobody, and so he slowly descended, helping himself with his hands. When finally seated, he thought desperately for a smoke, and as soon as he did, a cigarillo appeared in his hand, already lit and smoldering fine-smelling smoke. This Room was like the Room of Requirement - only so much better. Taking a drag, Snape settled onto the floor completely, finding a cushion to rest his head on. The beautiful sting of tobacco in his lungs only served to alleviate his mood as he wished he could see what was going on around him, although he knew fully well: people desperately making love with strangers as if it were their last time. Maybe it was. Maybe tomorrow their end would come and Voldemort would slaughter everyone. The desperation was only a spice to the experience, the sexual endeavors even more satisfying with this reaffirmation of life. They were alive, so they could do this.
Suddenly, his smoke was snatched away from him by an invisible hand and he knew: it began. He heard someone take a deep drag off the cigarillo, something he never would have heard upstairs, as all his senses were heightened for the lack of vision. Then, a delicate finger ran down his jaw and the cigarillo was placed in between his lips before a wet mouth descended upon his face, placing a small butterfly kiss at the corner of his mouth, right next to the filter of the cancer stick. His breath hitching, Snape decided it would be best to extinguish the smoke before it burnt either of them and the moment he thought of that, the cigarillo vanished, leaving only a delectable smell of tobacco and musk behind. His invisible partner chuckled against Snape's ear and look an earlobe into his mouth - by now, Severus knew that the figure was undeniably male. It was nice, he thought, as women, frankly, terrified the living shite out of him and he would have thrown her off if one of them ventured near his exposed body.
But no, no, this beautiful thing placing kisses and nips up and down the line of his jaw was a fine specimen, from what Severus could tell, with long, lean legs that twined with Snape's and hard abdominal muscles brushing against his own, if he could say so himself, not entirely hopeless stomach musculature, with strong arms that wrapped around Snape's figure and a hard, beautiful…
"How do I call you?" The stranger whispered, not giving away the sound of his voice, but rather breathing the question out right into the shell of Snape's ear, causing gooseflesh to appear on Snape's arms and legs. Panting, the man closed his blind eyes momentarily and breathed back:
"Prince." The name had been lost on everybody, as the only person to whom it had been revealed was Potter, and there was just no way the goody-two-shoes would appear at a place like this. Chuckling, the stranger licked a strip of flesh down Severus' neck and ended up at his collarbone, his arousal rubbing against the inside of Snape's thigh. The action caused Snape to let out a low moan which mixed with the other man's beautiful whimper as he slid up to whisper into Snape's ear once again:
"So full of ourselves, are we? Well, you can call me Figulus." What a strange name… Snape keened at the back of his throat when a warm hand slid downwards, dragging its short nails over his right nipple and then even further - over his chest, his stomach and… onto the inside of his thigh, teasingly brushing over his arousal but never really fully touching it. Dragging the pleasure out, Figulus touched his lips to Severus' once again, biting down slowly on his bottom lip and causing the usually stoic potions professor to moan. He could feel his partner smile against his cheek and finally, finally a hand wrapped around his cock, squeezing it once and then sliding languidly up and down… up and down…
With a growl, Snape changed their position by whipping around and slamming Figulus onto his back, so that he was underneath Severus and facing him - if he could have been, giving that they both were blind. A daring thought came into his mind as he attacked his partner's chest with bruising kisses: what if this was a student? Of course it's a student, you idiot, Snape's subconscious bit out cruelly, who else would it be? Sodding Flitwick? Or Filch? Feeling his erection deflate at the very thought, Severus sped up his ministrations, all the time letting out soft gasps when he found new patches of skin to explore and mark.
"Enough," the younger man whispered, weaving his fingers in Snape's hair and giving it a gentle tug, which was insistent in nature all the while. "I want you in me. Now."
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Smiling to himself, Harry slid into his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, muttering a 'morning' to those next to him. He could feel the delicious burn in his muscles, one that came only from such beautiful nightly activities… Not that he would know, of course, as yesterday had been his first time. With a stranger. In a hidden room in this ancient castle, surrounded by dozens of other equally naked and aroused strangers… Anybody would have pegged Harry Potter as a romantic, but the young man found himself grinning: didn't see that coming, did ya? He had spent half an hour this morning covering up the most visible hickeys he had found on his jaw and neck and arms, but decided to keep the rest for now: he had to remember how it had felt, being taken by someone so beautiful, so tender, so unknown. He smiled once again before pouring himself a goblet of pumpkin juice and joining in the conversation, ignorant to the fact that at the other end of the Hall, down at the teachers' table, Severus Snape was having a very difficult time concentrating on anything but memories of the previous night: stop it. Two people to drool over now? Snape, you are becoming pathetic.
End Notes: So, remember to review and favorite this, and maybe put it in your 'story alert', even though I have no idea when I'll be updating. I'm eager to write this, but sometimes the writers' block is an entirely new radioactive form of constipation.
Oh, and by the way - 'figulus' means 'potter' in Latin. Or at least it does according to Google Translate.
Oh, and this was unbeta-ed. Mistakes are mine and I accept full responsibility for typing this up with no light on at 2 a.m. Cheers!