Set right before the Hall of Mysteries incident, which for the purposes of this story happen in year seven in order to make the SSHP less squicky and problematic.
This further warning is added in response to an amazingly angry review suggesting it is pedophiliac in nature and far too explicit for this website. Personally I disagree on both points. None of my stories are about the victimization of children. 17 is WELL within age of consent where I live. If that differs where you live, or if you live somewhere homosexuality is illegal, do not read this! I do not know what laws exist in the Wizarding World. For the purposes of my story, none are being broken here. The rules of Hogwarts are a different story. Certainly Harry is young. He is a student. He is no innocent victim. If you are looking for that you'll have to look elsewhere. If you are offended by the age difference, the SSHP is and always has been clearly marked as well as the warning SLASH. If you are looking for heterosexual M, as my reviewer Sickened was, I don't know why you would be reading this story in the first place.
Look, I have no wish to offend, not even one person, which is why I label and rate my stories and post all the warnings I can think might apply. While sex is not gratuitous to the plot, I do not consider this explicitly sexual. I have taken pains not to write it as such. In fact the angry review I received was far more explicit and offensive in language and tone than anything contained in this story, in my humble opinion.
So after much agonizing, I have decided that until the administators of this site tell me otherwise, I'm not changing a word nor am I withdrawing this story.
Despite all, Sickened, I appreciate you taking the time to tell me what you think. Know your words have weighed heavily on my soul. If you are offended by sex between CONSENTING same sex partners, you might want to think about not reading SLASH.
This is an angsty slightly AU SS/HP HP/DM. POV shifts a bit- bear with me. I hope you enjoy.
Limits of Our Sight
He makes a monster of me. No. I am a monster. This is not his doing. He came to me desperate to apologize because despite everything he needs me.
He does not need my arms around him or my tongue in his mouth. I made that part and parcel of this- our unspoken agreement. He surrenders himself to the unwanted attention of his hideous, disgusting, aged professor but can not bear to look at me. Why would he want to look? I am as ugly on the outside as I am within. I take pity on him at last, right before I pound into his beautiful body with years of physical need and emotional desire, and months of sexual frustration.
----
"Would you like a blindfold?" Snape whispers in my ear.
"I- I don't know."
"Turn this way then, " he says and has me face his headboard on my hands and knees. I'm confused at first. Then I realize what he means to do. I know why he does not want to look at me and not for the first time curse my father's face and my mother's eyes. I believe for a moment that maybe he could love me if I just looked like someone else. Then I realize that if he loved me he wouldn't care what I look like.
All the same, he makes this feel like love. He is so gentle, so generous in his physical affection. No one has touched me like he is touching me with his sort of reverence, attention to detail, and care. He prepares me like he prepares a potion, meticulously, as if he were in no hurry, as if he were not hard already. I wish I could see his body. The glimpse I caught was tantalizing. I want to touch him. I want to learn about his life by comparing scars. I wish I could see the expression on his face while he is preparing me. I'd need glasses for that and then I'd look even more like James. I believe maybe, if I ask him-
"Please-"
"Shush now. I promise that I will not cause you pain."
His hands begin to stroke along the sides of my body down my thighs, up between my legs, over my back. I know I had a question but can't remember what it was now. I feel him suddenly, blunt and wide against my entrance and gasp. He doesn't push into me, though. He kisses my back and my neck instead. He reaches around me and takes me in his hand. Stars, I nearly come when he gives me the gentlest squeeze. I'm proud of myself when I just whimper and bury my face in his pillow that smells like whispers and secrets. He holds me around the base and says, "My hand remains here. If you want the pleasure of it you'll have to push back and give me the pleasure of being inside you."
Somehow I get my arms to support my weight and rock backwards with enough force to impale myself on him completely. He's right. It doesn't hurt. I only feel full and close to him in a way I have no words to explain. I wonder what's in the cream he's applied inside me and if he taught us how to make that in Potions when my mind was wandering. Hermione would know. Not like I can ask either of them. He grabs my hips to hold me still pressed right up against him.
"So tight," he says in a strained voice then sucks a breath through his teeth.
"I'm sorry."
He laughs softly then pulls back and thrusts into me and then changes his angle slightly and does it again which makes me fall forward again and moan into the pillow. Once he finds that spot there is no stopping him, not that I'd want to stop him but if I did I'd never find the words. I wonder if I'll last an entire minute. I don't think I do. When I start to come he knows and wanks me off at the same time until I'm sure I have spilled every single drop in me and am shaking, twitching, and sweating, bucking against him involuntarily. I believe I'm dying with the pleasure of this and couldn't care less. When I realize that it's not over, I never want it to end. He just keeps on hitting my spot holding me tight around the base. Gods, I'm getting hard again in his hand!
-----
I make him come five times. I believe it to be a satisfactory number even for a seventeen year old wizard. At any rate, by the time I come he seems content to lie on his side pressed against my chest as I tickle patterns on his stomach with my fingers. I am surprised that he does not sleep. I am not surprised that he chooses not to look at me. I consider entering his mind but can not bear the thought of violating him further though I know he would never notice.
He reaches to the bedside table and retrieves his glasses. He looks at them a moment, but does not put them on.
"Um, maybe we can do the blindfold thing next time?"
Rage. Pure unadulterated rage courses through me. I say nothing at first but withdraw my hand from his hip. He still does not glance in my direction though I doubt he could see a hand in front of his face without those blasted glasses.
"What makes you think there will be a next time?"
He opens his mouth then closes it again. He looks down again at his glasses, or his hands, or perhaps just in the general direction.
"I'll be going then," he whispers.
He finds his wand first then flicks it to dress himself. I do the same. He opens the door silently and closes it the same way without looking back.
-----
When I leave I don't know what to do or where to go. I almost knock on his door again. I go to the prefects' bath instead and sit until I'm way past clean and starting to shrivel. I feel worse than when I went to Snape. I should have known when I kissed him that he'd just use me. I want to get back at him but can't think straight. I wish I could talk to Hermione and Ron. I can't of course. They'd go to the Headmaster and get him sacked. That would just be doing Snape a favor. I don't even want to fight him. I want- I want to make him feel for me the way I feel about him. How sad is that? He can't even see me. He sees James Potter the bully and Potter's girlfriend who pitied him so much he called her a mudblood. As furious as Hermione makes him, he has never called her that. If I were someone else not Harry fucking Potter maybe I could get him to touch me again. Maybe he'd think I was worth something.
"What could I ever be worth to a Slytherin?"
----
That's when Harry's plan slithered in ever so sneakily and settled into a slight smile lighting his green eyes and giving him the incentive he needed to climb out of the tub and fix himself up.
Three hours later after shagging Draco Malfoy in Malfoy's bed, Harry Potter was exactly where he wanted to be, up against a wall in the dungeon corridor, looking over Draco's shoulder into the black eyes of a very irate Potions Master. Draco was talking to him, stroking his hair, smiling every time Harry's eyes met his. Harry was pleased with his choice. Draco was gorgeous, wealthy, young, and every bit as much a Slytherin as Severus bloody Snape! Every now and then he'd smile at Draco or nod, though he couldn't hear a word because Snape was really looking at him now, really looking. Harry was certain Snape wasn't seeing James or Lily or anyone other than Harry fucking Potter! Snape could have broken up their sweet little scene. He could have sent Draco away and dragged Harry back to Snape's rooms. He could have docked a thousand points from Gryffindor and given him detention for the remainder of the year. Snape did none of these things. What he did was narrow his eyes and glare into Harry Potter's soul.
That's when something Draco Malfoy said finally meant something.
"I love you Harry," said Draco.
Harry's jaw dropped. Snape smiled a very nasty smile and simply walked away with a spring in his step. Harry was caught between the urge to run after Snape and the need to make sense of what Draco Malfoy had just told him.
"I know it's sudden. I'm sorry about that. It's just that- I think I've loved you for a long time. I didn't know what it was, Harry. I've never loved anyone before. I knew I had feelings for you that I couldn't sort out. It made me angry at you and at myself. I think part of my problem was that I never imagined that you might feel anything for me. No one ever has before. Not really. You're so good, Harry- brave, true and pure. I didn't think I deserved anyone like you. I don't deserve you. I think I could, though. I think I have it in me to become a person who would be worthy of you some day. I want to try. I could be brave for you and good for you. I'll always take care of you. I won't let you face all this alone. I guess what I'm saying is that I'll fight for you, beside you. I'll fight for the Light for you. That's better than all that fighting we've been doing. Don't you think?"
-----
All I could think about was that nasty smile on Snape's lips. Snape knew I was just like him and using Draco the same way he used me. No. Not the same way. This was worse. I look into Draco's eyes. They are guileless, dilated with passion, and at the same time, agitated and wary of disappointment. Mainly they glimmer with something that I remember. It is hope. I stroke my thumb down Draco's cheek and smile just a bit sadly when he closes his eyes and presses into my touch.
One of the three of us could be happy, at least for a little while. It really doesn't matter if I pretend that Draco is Snape inside of me. I've already convinced him that doggy style is my very favorite position. Perhaps I might wear that blindfold after all.
Maybe I could learn to love Draco, some day if we both live long enough. Or maybe I can just let Draco be happy for a week. That seems more than fair. What did I get? A couple of hours this afternoon? Snape might have received even less happiness than that in his life.
"Draco, I believe I might love you, too."
-thanks just for reading. If you are so inclined I'd love to hear from you! Even the heat on high flame from Hell is most welcome here, though I keep asking and never seem to receive one- ( well, I have now) All reviewers do tend to distract me with their innate beauty!