Severus cried out. He couldn't stop himself. For once, he didn't want to.
Harry felt so good, so right, so perfect underneath him. There from his freewill, not due to Imperious or a coercion potion or any one of a hundred other unspeakable methods Death Eaters used to gain sexual partners. No, Harry was willing, and wanting, like only one other man – boy -- man had ever been…
Years ago now, how many? Amazing how the time slipped by, waiting for redemption. Certainly long before beautiful, perfect Harry Potter was born, long before he was even possible. Another beautiful, perfect boy in that fairy tale time, before the Dark Mark, when he still had a future bright with promise and he allowed himself to love.
He had loved him, so long ago, with a passion he knew he'd never find again in his life. Indeed, he hadn't. Severus loved Harry with everything he was, but the love had grown slowly and carefully over years, as Harry had grown and matured. Severus' heart was as scarred as his body, and never again would he throw himself at someone. Never.
So good…
Harry had clutched at him in the embrace, pulling Severus into his body, trying to melt into one person. "Sev," he had breathed, "oh God, Sev, I want you, please, please say yes, please make love to me, it's been so long Sev, please, please –" Silencing the young man with his kiss (passionate even), he pulled Harry ever more tightly against him, arousal taut in silken robes, and allowed himself to feel again.
Feeling brought back memories.
Memories of stolen embraces in darkened corridors. Memories of quick caresses under cloaks exiting classrooms. Memories of taunts hurled back and forth, insults their code for the words they didn't dare speak aloud. And a memory so cherished Severus allowed himself to think of it only when he was content.
So right…
Sweat glistened in the firelight as Harry writhed and tightened, panted and pulled Severus deeper and deeper into his body. And Severus went willingly, losing himself in the depths of those unfocused, electric, green, green eyes. His body pulled him toward his redemption even as part of his mind, dimly conscious, pulled him back into his Memory.
Unexpectedly, Severus had come across him in the locker room. It was supposed to be Evan there, in the showers after Quiddich practice, Evan to whom he needed to ask a question about their joint Charms project. Not him, no, never him, not standing there in nothing more than a towel, no beads of water clinging to every angle and plane of muscle, not as young and strong and beautiful as Hyacinthus, he simply was not supposed to be there alone.
"Oh God, Sev, oh gods, I want you, please, please make love with me, I've waited so long for you and I, Sev, please, please –" He still didn't know how long they had spent locked together every way, all ways possible, hands and mouths and fingers and tongues pleasuring, joining again and again and again. No first time awkwardness, just smooth and wet and hot and tight, flesh giving over to light, murmurs and whispers quieted by cries and moans, so good, so right, so perfect, I love you…
So perfect…
And as Harry clenched, as he arched, toppling over the edge, as his soul spurted out in hot white jets and he screamed his lover's name, Severus Snape cried out his love. Lost in himself, lost in his love, lost in time, he did not notice Harry turn to ice beneath him just as he poured his fire inside.
Severus floated for endless moments, content and satiated, in love. Beautiful, perfect Harry Potter loved him. And he loved back. I love you, Harry Potter. The stern, strict, unforgiving Potions Master raised his head, strands of inky black hair plastered to his sharp cheekbones, to say the words he had buried for some twenty years.
Crack!
Uncomprehending. What? Potter, Harry, love, what? Words…words were angling toward him, like arrows, he could see them aimed.
"You fucking bastard. You goddamned Death Eater bastard!"
His face stung, but it wasn't the words, they couldn't hurt him like that, could they? Sudden cold, frigid nettles pricking in his chest warned him.
"How could you? How could you fucking use me like this? It's been years, you've been stringing me along for years, I love you, I fucking loved you and you knew it, you saved my life and I saved yours and I thought you loved me –" Broken breath, strangled sob, as Harry grabbed his wand and spelled clothes on himself. "But you don't, do you? You loved – you love him. And I'm just a poor substitute. Accio glasses!"
He still couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was frozen in time, frozen all over, his blood slowing and coagulating in his veins. That was why he felt so cold and empty, the blood was freezing in his heart. Severus moved his thin lips, but no sounds escaped him. Now.
Harry stopped at the door. "Don't apologise. Don't even try. You can't. Not for this. Not ever." The click of the door was drowned out by Severus' cry.
"Harry!" The right name, redemption too late.
Naked, empty, cold, Severus slumped to the clammy stones. Too late. Again. He still saw the body in nightmares. Now images of another beautiful body would join in his haunting.
"Oh, James, James…"
24/5/2003