Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!
Detention. Urg. Harry scowled and shook his head as he walked towards the dungeons. Snape's office seemed much too close for Harry as he turned another corner, shifting the hem of his shirt. He had forgotten his school robes, true to his character, and wore only a pair of tan shorts that reached below the knee, a white t-shirt, and a blue button up thrown over top. His sneakers squealed against the stone floor as he walked. He was quite sure that his muggle clothing would offend the Potion's teacher, but Harry thought he looked good when he was annoyed. Again Harry frowned, blowing a bit of fringe out of his eyes. The growing attraction he had for his Potion's master was undoubtedly unnatural. He didn't care much; he didn't try and deny the feelings to himself. He did keep them secret from everyone else though. No matter how desperate his feelings grew, he knew he wasn't supposed to be feeling them. So he turned another corner and ran his wand along the wall as he passed.
There it was. Harry stopped just outside of Snape's office, which he knew was attached to the man's personal quarters. He stopped in his path and rubbed his temples, trying to stop all manner of inappropriate thoughts from springing up at that particular piece of information. Slowly he walked the last few feet forward and took a deep, steadying breath. Detentions were almost torture these days, Snape hovering over him, so close. Harry would always hear his almost-too-quite breathing and lose concentration on the task, only to be berated by the object of his distraction. It made him shiver every time. Harry pulled at his shirt again, a nervous habit, and knocked three times loudly.
Nothing happened.
Harry furrowed his brow and knocked again, louder. Again nothing happened. This was very odd. He had expected Snape to be waiting excitedly to punish the Gryffindor for blowing up a cauldron in class. Harry winced as he remembered it. It was a classic Neville scenario, but Harry had been watching Snape flit through the pages of a book, watching the long, thin fingers gracefully grasp each page and flick it sideways almost negligently. He shuddered. Once more he raised his hand and knocked as hard as he could without hurting his own hand. No sound came from within to indicate that the professor had heard him. Harry sighed. He couldn't just walk away, Snape would just double the detention time. So he turned the handle and let himself in.
Harry looked, wide-eyed, around the room he had been in only earlier this day to receive his detention. The room was a disaster! The neat desk to the right was covered with loose papers and books and quills were tossed on to the surface with abandon. The furniture was in shambles, some sitting at odd angles from their usual positions, some covered in objects, some turned right upside down. Harry blinked and let go of the door, allowing it to snap shut behind him loudly. Suddenly a noise came from the door to Harry's left and his head snapped that way as the door opened. Snape himself shambled in, a glass in one hand and blinking wildly.
"Who-who's there?" he slurred. Harry watched in amazement as the man walked right in to an overturned chair, stumbled back a step, then looked down and apologized to the chair. Then he looked up at Harry and blinked at him with unfocused, bleary eyes. He pointed one long finger at him clumsily. Harry absently noted the hand was shaking.
"Who are you? Do – oh my – do I know you?" he asked, attempting to straighten his back but overbalancing backwards slightly. He also attempted a scowl and managed a slightly insane look. "Why are you here?" he demanded. Harry gaped at him for a moment. Was Snape…drunk? It just didn't seem possible in Harry's mind. He took a step closer. Slowly. Then he stopped.
"Ah…Professor? Can I see that please?" he asked, pointing to the drink in the man's hand. Snape looked down at the drink in his hand, appearing to be in contemplation of it, then held it out to Harry, sloshing the contents. Harry cautiously came forward and pried it out of his hands. He raised it to his nose and sniffed, then turned away coughing. It was Veritaserum Vodka, wizarding vodka. Harry surreptitiously placed the drink aside on the mantle above the fireplace. Turning back to Snape he gaped again. The normally over-poised man was grinning foolishly, as if he had just told Harry a juicy secret. Harry blinked at him and he blinked back. And then he couldn't help it anymore. Harry burst out laughing, clutching his sides and throwing his head back. When he brought his head down, one look at Snape and he burst in to fresh peals of roaring laughter. Snape was pouting! His lower lip extended ever so slightly and ever so adorably. He head hung a tad so his shoulder-length hair swept forward to shadow his eyes. It took forever for Harry to calm down enough to look at him again and when he did he felt a wave of sympathy for him. Wiping tears out of his own mirthful eyes he chortled once more, than wrestled his composure back in to place.
"Ah gee I'm sorry, sir!" he told the man. Snape looked up, still pouting. Harry fought back a grin, then it fell back anyway as he began to wonder. "Sir?" He began, but the question never passed his lips. Snape suddenly turned and walked through the door he had come in by. Harry followed suspiciously to find the man in his bedroom bent over a cabinet obviously filled by many bottles of alcohol. Brandy, Firewhiskey, vodka, and others were all set there. Harry sighed as he walked over to Snape and relieved him of his bottle just as he was about to take a drink. Snape blinked and picked up another bottle. Harry relieved him of that one just as quick. After the fourth bottle had been taken from him Snape uncharacteristically crossed his arms and glared at Harry sullenly.
"That's not a fun game!" he declared. Harry smiled gently at him, then guided him back in to the study. He righted a couple chairs, set them to face each other, and guided the older man in to one of them. Snape plopped down and grinned goofily again. Harry sat down in the opposite chair and leaned back comfortably. Snape put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his hands, staring at Harry like he was a piece of meat. Harry found that just a trifle disconcerting.
"Severus Snape, you're drunk." He declared, thinking of how he never dreamed he'd say those words.
"You're sexy!" Snape retorted with a chortle. Harry blinked.
"Do you by any chance watch muggle television?" he asked suspiciously, thinking of the show Family Guy that Dudley watched. Snape chortled again and sat up, crossing his hands in his lap, but still leaning forward. "Sir, why the…drunkenness? If you knew that I was coming for detention, I mean?" Harry asked. Surely Snape hadn't forgotten. He was usually so composed, so predictable, so…proper, that Harry just had to know the reason for this little indiscretion. Snape smiled at him.
"Well that is why I started." he stated as if that were the most expected sentence in the world. "But I-I think I just may have gotten a little carried a way." He slurred a tad as he held up his thumb and forefinger, indicating a little bit. Harry stared at him as he started looking around for something more to drink, not really registering the fact that he was giving away secrets. Harry snapped his fingers repeatedly to get his attention.
"Why is my detention the reason you were drinking? Do you…hate me that much?" Harry's voice had gone very soft. Snape's eyes widened at the last sentence. Then he let out a short bark of laughter.
"No no, I just didn't really think I could stand another session of you being there, alone. Of course I suppose I could stop giving you detention for menial things. And I could stop standing so close. And staring. But I can't you know? You're just there and tempting and Merlin so…mm!" Snape rambled on and on, not really talking to Harry in particular, not registering what he was saying at all. At the conclusion of his ramble, for lack of having a better word, he close his eyes, smiled, and made a sound as if he'd just tasted something absolutely delectable. Harry stared openly, gaping as the man continued.
"I just can't seem to stop paying attention to you! Of course, most of your detentions are just an excuse for me to stand there behind you, looking down at you, wondering if you'd ever see me. Well I mean of course you see me, but I mean really see me! Like the way I…see…see you." The older man eventually wound down and looked thoughtfully at Harry. Harry, in turn, gaped back at him. He couldn't bring himself to say a word. Snape cocked his head drunkenly to the side.
"How-hic-how old are you Harry?" he managed to get out. Harry blinked in surprise at the use of his first name.
"I'm 17 sir, you should know that." He muttered in awe of the new side of Severus Snape he was witnessing. Snape nodded, then glanced slyly at Harry in a conspiratorial manner.
"You know…I'm not all that much older than you." He said. Harry choked on that.
"Sir, you're 20 years older than I am…or…are you? How old are you?" He asked, suddenly wondering why Snape would say such a thing. The man was as old as his own father. Wasn't he? Snape chuckled a bit. Absolutely piss drunk, Harry thought to himself.
"I," Severus stated grandly, "am 27 years of age." He thought about it for a small while. "Tomorrow." He added, taking Harry aback.
"You're birthday is tomorrow? How are you celebrating?" he couldn't help the question. Who gets drunk on the eve of their own birthday? Snape's expression suddenly turned a bit wistful and sad.
"I'm not. No one knows about my birthday." He admitted. Harry shook his head. At least the Dursley's had always remembered his birthday, if not given him proper presents. Usually, he recalled, it was an old pair of Uncle Vernon's socks. Or a coat hanger. That was a horrible year.
"Sir, don't you think you should go to bed?" he suggested tentatively. Suddenly Severus shrank back in his chair, his drink-clouded eyes going slightly wide. He looked so vulnerable and scared. This was not the normal Severus Snape.
"You're not going to leave me alone, are you?" he asked in a quiet voice. Harry stared at him for a while. He looked like a little boy scared of the dark. Harry allowed a gentle smile to creep on to his face. It was perverted. It was wrong. It was taking advantage of a drunken person. But Harry knew that probably the only time in his life that he would be allowed to hold Severus in his arms would be tonight, while the man was drunk beyond sensibility, and asking him not to leave him alone in the dark rooms. So he nodded. And Severus all but pulled him to the bedroom. Harry flopped on to the bed and rested against the headboard. He raised his eyes then froze any movements.
Severus was stripping.
The man did not seem at all perturbed that Harry could see him as he dropped his robes from his shoulders to reveal the standard undershirt and dark pants that most wizards wore under their robes. It took Harry a moment for his brain to function. He wasn't stripping. He was changing. In to bedclothes. Harry knew that the raging drunk professor wouldn't remember any of this the next morning. All Harry had to do was wake up first and the entire incident would exist only in his own memories. So he allowed his eyes to graze across the strong, broad shoulders of Severus as he lifted his undershirt, then trace lines across the lean chest. And then his pants were being undone. Harry's eyes widened and his breath caught as he realized he couldn't tear his eyes away, and the professor didn't realize he was watching. Time was slowed in Harry's view as he watched the pants and boxers at once leave the waist, slip over the hips, fall past the knees and pool around Severus' feet.
Severus was naked.
It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.
Still trying to draw a breath, and having a difficult time about it, Harry could do nothing but stare at this sculpture of a man before him. Severus took a single, long, graceful step towards the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms, dark blue with small broomsticks stitched in to it. He slid them on and Harry regretted him covering up. But he did think that pajama bottoms were absolutely adorable. Severus turned and stumbled over the foot of the bed. He flopped on to the end and crawled unceremoniously towards Harry and plunked his head in to Harry's lap. Harry gazed down at him with undisguised longing as the man fell asleep with Harry stroking his hair. Harry loved every minute, and savored every second.
Severus woke the next morning with a pounding headache. He rolled over and pressed his face in to his pillow. He was thanking Merlin that it was Saturday, and he didn't have to leave his quarters until lunch, when he would have to eat. He rolled over and was surprised to find a headache draught sitting nicely on his bedside table. It was quickly consumed before he hauled himself out of bed, fully rejuvenated, to go look at his office. This was what he dreaded. Every time he drank his office inevitably ended up trashed horribly. Somehow, he never figured out how, the furniture always managed to get overturned. Sighing, he opened the door and stopped to stare at the perfectly organized room before him. The furniture was upright and in position, the desk was neat with stacks of papers, the portraits were all on the wall. He blinked and looked at the empty liquor bottles lined up on the mantle. What in Merlin's name, he wondered. Then he shrugged as he made his way over to his desk and sat down to see where the essay's he'd been marking had gotten to. Severus had one special talent that was rare among humankind. About an hour after he woke up, Severus always gained full memory back of what had happened the night before. If someone had been down here last night, and Severus had seen them, he would know within an hour, then he could go to them and make sure they told no one, if they hadn't already.
Some time later he realized that the notes he was looking for had been left in his bedroom so he went to retrieve them. It took some looking, but they turned up in his bedside table. When he opened the door to his office he again stopped in surprise, then flew across the room to sit at his desk and stare at the newest surprise. A small chocolate cupcake with white icing and a single candle in it was sitting in the very center of the surface. The magical flame was merrily singing him happy birthday as he noticed small, broomstick shaped candies decorating the icing. He had never before received any kind of birthday cake. Nor any birthday acknowledgment, but he knew the procedures. He made a rather pervy wish having to do with one of his students and blew out the candle. Everyone knew that wishes don't come true though. He pulled the candle out and tucked it in the back of one of his drawers, pulled the paper off of the cupcake and devoured it in record time, allowing a very satisfied smile to grace his face. Chocolate with white icing, who could know that was his favorite? Suddenly a loud click sounded in his head as the memories of last night flooded in to his brain. Potter had been here. Potter had been here. Potter had been here.
And he'd told Potter everything!
Snape suddenly paled and sat absolutely still. Panic began to well up in his chest and his eyes were showing a bit too much white. A sudden knock at the door startled him out of his chair, and since he was already up he shakily made his way over. Professor Flitwick stood under Severus' nose, looking up at the panicked face of the Potion's master. He seemed alarmed by the expression.
"Something…wrong, Severus?" he asked in his high-pitched voice. Severus could only shake his head. "Do you have those potions ready for me?" he asked. Severus nodded mutely, reached across the shelf right next to the door, and handed the short man a case full of glass vials. Flitwick thanked him, gave him one last scared look, and retreated down the hallway. Severus stumbled over to an armchair facing away from the doorway, and stared in to the fire, still wild eyed. Another knock sounded on the door, but he didn't feel that he could get up right now. His voice was oddly, unnaturally high when he called "enter" to the door behind him. He heard the hinges rasp, and material rustle, but no voice. Suddenly something was plopped in to his lap and he turned to see who had dropped it. But there was no one there. He suspiciously eyed the box in his lap, but curiosity overwhelmed him. He tore of the plain brown paper and retracted his head in surprise. A bundle of rope? What kind of joke was this? He got his answer when suddenly the ropes came alive and, before he could blink, bound him to the chair. He growled and looked around to see Harry Potter standing there with an invisibility cloak hanging off of one hand. Severus paled, then flushed the deepest side of red Harry had ever seen, and looked at him with an expression of horror and dread. Harry simply smiled gently and squatted down next to Severus' chair so their eyes were level.
"Hey." He said softly, not really sure where to start. Severus looked as if he wished for nothing more than to disappear and never return, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Harry's. He looked so scared that Harry was reminded of the night before. Once again he pitied the man, so he spoke first. "Happy birthday." He said simply. Severus lowered his head and his hair shadowed his eyes.
"Why are you here?" he whispered, just this side of desperate to die on the spot. Harry smiled again.
"I take it you remember your speeches last night. I suppose that'll make this easier than if I had to convince you that you said those things. Although," he caught Severus' eyes again and bore in to them with his own. "I'm having trouble believing that you said them myself." He sat leaned forward to rest his arms on the arm of the lounge chair. Severus' face had digressed in to a look of resignation, defeat, and a terrible sadness. Harry just couldn't let that stay. But before he could speak, the other man did.
"Harry," he breathed, "please. Leave me." He could only stare in to the eyes of the boy he had come to love and pray to Merlin that he hadn't told the whole school about his hideous, wrong feelings. But Harry didn't leave. He knew what Severus was afraid of; it was the same thing he himself had been afraid of, the reason he kept to himself. So he did the only thing he could think of that would take all of Severus' fears away, the only thing he'd wanted for years.
Harry reached one finger up and brushed the fringe away from the older man's face, causing his face to take on an unconscious look of longing. Harry trailed the finger down the man's temple, down his cheek, and under his chin. Using that finger, he lifted the face of Severus Snape and leaned in to capture his lips in a lengthy, lingering kiss. When he pulled away he released the bonds holding Severus to his chair, but he didn't move. He sat there, staring helplessly at Harry in shock. Harry smiled again and waited for the other's first move. He stared for quite some time. Harry didn't say anything, didn't move, just waited. Finally Severus moved. He slowly stood up and walked a few paces away, trying to collect his thoughts and figure out what exactly had just happened. When he turned, Harry was standing upright where he had been squatting, waiting patiently. Severus suddenly saw in that face everything that had been there all along, everything he hadn't seen before. It was all he needed. He took two quick strides and suddenly his lips were on Harry's and they were moving together in the most beautiful way, tasting, savoring. Severus dug both his hands in to Harry's hair as if to hold him there, as if suspecting he might try to pull away. Harry wrapped one arm about Severus' back and the other reached up the tangle in to the other mans dark hair. Harry let out a gentle moan and Severus gasped as the sound shot right through him, eliciting fire in his veins. When finally they broke apart Severus was breathing hard from exhilaration, rather than from some kind of exertion. Harry grinned cheekily, pulled out a bow and slapped it on to his own head.
"Happy birthday!" he stated cheerily. Severus stared, open mouthed, for a moment before a sudden idea came in to his head. He pulled Harry close, plucked the bow off his head, and leaned in next to the boy's ear.
"Does this mean I get to…unwrap you?" he breathed. Harry shivered in his arms and suddenly pushed him backwards towards the bedroom door. Knowing where it was helped a great deal in his plan. They stumbled towards the bedroom, letting the door swing shut, and fell in to the bed where Severus unwrapped the best birthday present he'd ever received. Indeed, he felt it was the only one he'd ever dreamed of receiving.