"Surely, you can't be serious-"
"Surely, you'll find that I am, Mister Potter. And don't call me Sirius!"
Who would have thought that such a tense exchange would occur in a Muggle bookshop, between two sexually naive wizards, glamoured quite unconvincingly as middle-aged Muggle housewives, while reaching for the same copy of The Joy of Gay Sex? What drove these wizards to such, um, lengths? Was it boredom in the boudoir? No. Was it a search for sexual adventure? No. Wait, well yes, strictly speaking. Was it a need for porn disguised as education? Certainly not.
These two heroes of Wizarding Britain had defeated the most malevolent lizard, oops, WIZARD, that ever drew breath. They transformed the public perception of Severus Snape, from a villainous Death Eater, to a heroically brave spy, who risked his very life to atone for his sins. They ushered in an era of peace and prosperity previously unknown in Wizarding history. They just hadn't managed to get laid. Together, or separately. Not even a measly blow job. They were both desperate to change that, for they fancied the pants out of each other. They just couldn't summon the nerve to charm the pants off of each other.
Let's just back this story up twenty-four little hours. This embarrassing cock-up (cock up everything but each other's arses) began as an overheard conversation, from a slightly ajar door, between Professor Harry Potter and his best mate, Ron Weasley.
"You're making this more difficult than it has to be! It's as easy as riding a broom, mate-"
"Ron, I don't remember that use of a 'broom' being covered by Madam Hooch in our first year flying class-"
"Well, you wouldn't, because she rides side-saddle. With Professor Sprout. Starkers."
"Thanks, Ron. With that image irreversibly burned into my brain, I have no other choice than to embrace a life of celibacy."
"So, you'll keep doing nothing, hoping the dungeon bat will make the first move. It's been working so well for you thus far-"
"Ron, I can't just walk up to him and say 'Severus Snape, I just fancy the pants out of you!'"
"You approach him like that, and you'll fancy his pants very much on. Like three pairs of thermal long johns on!"
Severus Snape, the forty-year-old virgin headmaster, chose this moment to loudly announce his arrival to Potter's quarters. Sexually inexperienced he might be, but he could never pass up a chance to make Harry Potter blush.
"Mister Weasley, Professor Potter, just how do you propose to dress me in thermal undergarments, seeing as I prefer to go commando?"
Neither of them knew that this was not actually his preference. The house-elves had refused to handle his smalls after he demanded that they be starched, then folded into right triangles, then placed precisely so that every two pairs form a square, and finally charmed to fly to him without his having to say "Accio, smalls." Such insolence!
"And on that note, I'll take my leave. Professor Snape, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, on the Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor vs Slytherin, I wouldn't miss it!"
A furiously blushing Harry ushered Severus into his sitting room. "Is there a reason you came to see me, Headmaster, or are you just here for your daily dose of Schadenfreude?"
"It just so happens, Harry, that I came to invite you to accompany me to tomorrow's Quidditch match, followed by dinner at The Galloping Stag."
Harry's jaw dropped. He stood stock still, quite incapable of vocalizing a response. Harry. Severus. On an actual date. His dearest wish was coming true.
"Have I rendered you speechless, Harry? I'll take your lack of refusal as a yes. I'll pick you up one half hour before the match. I hate to procure a date and dash, but I have an important errand to run." With that said, Snape made a dramatic exit, robes billowing behind him, before Apparating to his quarters.
Harry closed the ancient wooden door, turned and slumped back against it, sliding down to the cold stone floor. Snape adopted the very same pose in the headmaster's private quarters.
Our two heroes simultaneously had the same terrified thought - "Merlin's moldy underpants, I'm going on a date with my heart's desire tomorrow, and I'm still a freaking VIRGIN!"
They were both professors at a prestigious Wizarding school. They were intelligent, well-read men. Independently, and without each other's knowledge, they would go into a Muggle bookshop, glamoured, and buy a gay sex manual. Studying beforehand would remove the awkwardness, they decided.
Oh, how wrong they were.
In retrospect, they should have gone to that Muggle bookshop polyjuiced. Snape and Potter were both experts at spotting glamours. Harry's back was facing Severus, when the headmaster and the professor reached for the same book. Turning to face the rude man trying to take his research material, Harry gasped when he recognized Severus.
"Unhand my book, Potter. A man of your experience has no need for The Joy of Gay Sex.
"Surely, you can't be serious-"
"Surely you'll find that I am, Mister Potter. And don't call me Sirius!"
A very flustered Severus Snape grabbed Harry by the arm, dragging him to the register. After completing his purchase, he ushered Harry to a secluded apparition point, and side-alonged the Boy Who Lived to Hogwarts' gate. "This never happened. I shall see you tomorrow, as scheduled, for our date." Severus proceeded to Apparate to his private library, for an afternoon of fervent study.
Later that evening, Circe, Snape's raven familiar, dropped the manual, packaged in plain brown paper and tied quite securely with an over-abundance of twine, at Harry's feet, as the DADA professor returned to his rooms. Tucked under the twine was a parchment, which Harry perused once he was seated at his kitchenette table.
Harry,
Men far less learned than the two of us have managed to successfully establish carnal relationships. Surely we are up for the challenge. No pun tended. I await your response after you have browsed the contents of this most thorough treatise on manly relations.
With warm regards,
Severus
To say that Harry was overwhelmed by the plethora of manly expressions of physical intimacy would be an accurate reporting of the reaction from this woefully naive young man. Some of the acts pictured seemed to defy the laws of physics. He desperately wanted physical oneness with his soulmate, yet he feared the mechanics.
Harry made a decision that would change the lives of both men. Summoning his Phoenix, Archimedes, he sent his reply.
Dear Severus,
I have browsed the manual, as you requested. I am going to cede control of our first time together to you. I want you to claim me as your own. I want to see your face as you take my freely given virginity. I want your first time to be the first of many such expressions of mutual affection. I want you, Severus. Forever, if you'll have me.
Most fondly,
Harry
Severus and Harry never made it to that match, although in the headmaster's suite, in a sumptuously appointed king-sized bed, Slytherin thoroughly pounded Gryffindor. Repeatedly. Until there was a robust family of Potter-Snapes, two children for each Hogwarts house.
And they lived lustfully ever after.