Severus sighed as he tried and failed to concentrate on his marking. It was damn near impossible, with Potter scrubbing cauldrons at the other end of the room. What was it about the Gryffindor? Albus had bribed Severus with the promise of no Hogsmeade weekends if he let the conqueror of the Dark Lord into the Seventh Year Potions course. Severus hadn't wanted to admit it, but had it been any other student he'd have let him in purely on merit. Potter's grades had certainly qualified him. It was his attitude that had led to Severus needing to be bribed. His attitude, and his affect on Severus. Somehow, Potter reduced the Potions Master, a former Death Eater, to an angrily trembling teen each time they battled. A taller, more imposing, well-worded teen, but a vindictive, pouting teen none the less. There was just something about the Gryffindor that made Severus' blood boil to the point that rational behavior abandoned him.
But Potter had been allowed into the class, and Severus was honor-bound to keep him there, no matter how he hated it. In point of fact, until today he and Potter had managed cold civility. Until today, they'd been fine, at least within the classroom. Today, however, Severus' hostility had boiled over with Potter's cauldron. It hadn't been the brat's fault, either. Severus had watched Malfoy try spell after spell to sabotage the potion, before finally relenting and resorting to the tried-and-true light shove, causing Potter to dump half of the powdered Bicorn Horn in all at once, rather than between clockwise stirs, as the writing on the board instructed. Severus, in spite of this knowledge of fault, had seen an opportunity he couldn't pass up, an opportunity to reprimand the young man who boiled his blood, but had actually done very little so far to warrant such a reaction.
"Why is it, Potter, that you cannot follow the simplest instructions and insist so in destroying my classroom?"
Potter had looked up from his cauldron, which really hadn't boiled over much at all. Severus had expected him to be fuming, perhaps even livid enough to start a real blowout like they hadn't had since the summer, at Grimmauld. But Potter had looked up calmly before plastering on a saccharine sweet smile.
"Why is it, Severus," The class had gasped as one, the Slytherins louder than the rest, "You only ever have a negative comment to make, even with your precious little snakes?"
Severus had, for the first time in his adult life, gaped openly. The very nerve had shocked him to silence. The pause and slack jaw hadn't lasted long, but it had been long enough to earn a self-satisfied smirk from the Boy Who Lived. Even as Severus recovered, the classroom had looked on in stilled, frozen silence, waiting for the explosion they knew was coming. Severus had disappointed them all by merely snarling.
"Detention, Potter."
The brat had continued to smirk. "I expected nothing less, Sir."
Severus had turned on his heel, reeling after the brief confrontation, and gone back to his desk at the front of the room. Potter had gone about restoring his potion as best he could, expertly pretending nothing at all had happened, and the class had slowly thawed, watching them both warily as if they couldn't believe that that was the end of it. Severus had sympathized with them, and even now couldn't quite believe what had happened.
The fact was, Potter had won. By stunning the Potions Master, by maintaining his cool and breaking Severus' carefully crafted persona, even for a moment, Potter had finally won a fight, and before it had even begun, at that. He hadn't gloated, though; not overtly, anyway. That self-satisfied smirk had continued to twist the corners of the brat's delectable lips-
Severus froze, his mind reeling, as he realized the word that had just slipped into his thoughts. Delectable lips? Delectable lips? He had meant 'detestable'. It was obviously a slip of the tongue, or a "brain fart" as Albus called them. He didn't really think such a thing about the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die. The word had just presented itself. An honest mistake. But, then, where had it come from? It was so out of place, compared to his usual vernacular. Surely he hadn't actually thought such a thing, even briefly…
"Are we going to talk about this?" Potter's voice demanded outside the fog of Severus' thoughts.
The Potions Master flinched, suddenly certain that the brat somehow knew what he'd been thinking of. He tried to recover from this brief moment of surety, but when he looked up, Potter was sitting atop a desk at the front of the room, watching him expectantly. Severus' hopes, that Potter hadn't seen the slight ducking of slim shoulders, was crushed. The brat had seen. However, he was not looking at Severus with his earlier smirk, nor even a glint of smugness in his eyes. In fact, Potter looked… bothered. His brow was furrowed so that his oddly kempt eyebrows nearly met, and the corners of his… mouth… were turned downward in a light frown.
Finally, Severus found he could not hold off the inevitable. He sighed, setting down his quill (on which the ink had long since dried whilst he was far away in thought), and folded his hands atop the stack of ungraded papers.
"To what are you referring?" He asked stoically. Surely Potter hadn't really read the line of his thoughts?
"This," Potter answered, still frowning. He gestured between them. "Us."
Severus frowned now as well, but maintained his silence. Let the brat hang himself.
"You can't really want things to keep going as they are, Severus," Potter said, crossing his legs at the ankle and leaning back on the desk, supported by his hands. "I'm tired. I have been since the summer. It was kind of fun, when I was a kid, really it was," Severus scowled. "But I'm an adult now. I don't need or want you as my enemy. Maybe I did, before the Dark Lord was vanquished. Maybe I needed you and your sharp tongue to ground me, make me remember that life is hard, make me feel normal for a few hours in classes or detention. But I don't need that anymore, and I refuse to be your enemy. It's boring."
"Boring?" Severus scoffed. Of everything, this was the last thing he had expected from Potter.
"Boring," The younger wizard repeated. "Same old, same old? I don't need that anymore. I mean, I realize you weren't really hating me for my own good, you just hated me because you thought I was special, and because my mum was an idiot and married an asshole instead of you, which, lets be honest, turned you into an even bigger asshole than James. But its time to change. Fact is, I am special. I was made special, by you, and my mum, and by Snakeface. But I'm also not special. I wasn't raised in a loving family, I didn't have everything I wanted as a child. Most of the time, I was damned lucky just to have what I needed on any given day, including food and clothes on my back. But none of that's important. I can't change the past, and I'm not sure I want to if I could. Neither of us would be who we are if things had been even slightly different. So what's it going to be, Severus? Are we going to figure this out? Or are you going to keep on hating me for a bunch of things I had no control over? Because I promise you, Severus, I'm not going rise to the bait anymore. I am tired of this, Severus."
"You really have to stop calling me that," Severus growled, scowling.
Potter shrugged. "It gets your attention." He raised a hand before Severus could start a tirade about why it was so inappropriate. "I know, respect and all. I get that, and I'm not saying I don't respect you, I'm just saying that you've done very little to earn my respect. And none of that answers the question, now does it?"
Severus frowned again. "I don't know what you expect me to say, Potter. Perhaps it is time to put aside old grudges," He admitted carefully. "But it isn't going to happen overnight. I don't know, nor care, why, but the very sight of you annoys me."
Potter shrugged again. "Then I guess there's only one thing left to do," He said calmly.
The Gryffindor swung his legs, shifting off the table to his feet. His momentum carried him forward, up onto the dais where sat the Potions Master's desk. He didn't stop, however, at that. Rather, he continued forward, leaning over the desk at the waist, and reached out. He pulled Severus forward with a hand at the back of his head, and the Potions Master was so stunned that he went numbly along with it. Plump and tender lips crashed gently against his, and Potter was suddenly kissing him. Severus felt his thoughts come to a screeching halt as the younger wizard devoured his mouth across the desk. He responded aggressively. However, it was not the aggression he'd been looking for. Rather than shove the young man away, as he knew he should, he rose from his chair and used his height as leverage to return the kiss, to take control of it and steer it more passionately than Potter had managed. Potter's kiss was gentle, exploratory. Severus, as with everything in his life, was not gentle. Rather, he was precise, and a little overbearing. Potter, it seemed, didn't mind in the least. Severus winced, pulling back, as the edge of his desk dug suddenly into the shocking hard-on that had grown the instant their lips had met. Delectable had definitely been the right word. Severus drew back, his hands, which had moved of their own volition to pull Potter forward, dropping to his sides as he stared in stunned silence at the younger wizard. Potter pulled back as well, his self-satisfied smirk back in place.
"You kissed me?" Severus scoffed disbelievingly.
Potter grinned. "And you kissed back. Quite well, too. I'll be damned if I couldn't do that forever."
Severus frowned, unsure what to make of what had just happened. His brain had kicked into low gear, and seemed unable to process their actions of the last few minutes.
Potter waved it off. "I'll give you time. Shock is probably new for you. Just, er, think it over. I guess, if things go back to the way they were, I'll know you didn't feel the way I just did. Not going to lie, though, I'm really hoping for a repeat performance. Several, really," He said, still grinning. "Goodnight, Severus."
The Potions Master watched as Potter turned, walking towards the door nonchalantly. The younger wizard seemed entirely unperturbed by what Severus could only describe as an earth-shattering kiss. The brat actually made it to the door, his hand on the knob, before Severus could make up his mind on how to deal with the utter mess Potter had just made. He moved, sliding around his desk and down the center aisle, grateful as always for his liquid speed. He reached the door before Potter could so much as open it a crack. His hand slammed into the hard wood, pressing it closed and causing the younger wizard to jump slightly. Severus smirked as Potter turned under his arm to look up at him in confusion.
"I do not believe, Mister Potter, that I released you from your detention," Severus said, forcing a scowl.
Potter rolled his eyes, but made as if to slip under Severus' arm, back to the corner where the cauldrons lay. Severus caught the younger man around the waist, turning and pressing the smaller body firmly against his own. He leaned down and sighed along the exposed flesh of Potter's neck. Potter gasped as a slick tongue darted out to trail back up the warm skin of his neck to the bundle of nerves behind his ear. He cleared his throat, but Severus could hear the slight tremble of anticipation when the younger man spoke.
"Made up your mind already, huh?" The brat asked with false confidence.
Severus smirked, turning the Gryffindor in his arms, and instigated a second kiss fervently. His heart raced in his chest, pounding roughly against his ribcage as Potter stood on his toes to draw him further in. Their bodies molded together, the curves and points matching up almost perfectly, as the kiss deepened further, their tongues, tentatively at first, met and began to tangle together. Severus tried and failed to stop a moan that wormed it's way from his chest, and Potter groaned in response, his teeth nipping lightly at Severus' lower lip. Their pelvises ground together the slightest bit, just enough to hint at a delicious friction they both craved, but which neither one was brave enough to seek.
Severus slipped his fingers into the mess of unruly hair at the back of Potter's head, fisting in the short strands just hard enough to hurt the slightest bit. Potter, rather than pull away in rejection of the movement (as so many had before him), leaned into the light pain, moaning darkly as his fingernails scratched at the rough fabric of Severus' robes. Severus was suddenly very hot. It seemed to him he would suffocate inside his robes soon. Carelessly, he began unbuttoning the constricting material. Potter wordlessly joined in, and soon Severus was shrugging out of the oppressive clothes, exposing his bare chest to the cool dungeon air. His manhood swelled further as Potter's searching hands dug roughly into his sallow skin, exploring unabashedly, finding every scar and caressing it before moving onto the next. Severus shuddered helplessly. The enraged demon in his trousers pressed painfully against his perfectly tailored slacks. Potter needed no prompting now, as his hands traipsed downward to begin working at the complicated buckle of Severus' belt. Finally, a flash of reason broke through the dense fog in Severus' mind. His hands grasped Potter's fingers gently, stopping their progress.
"No," Severus murmured against the younger wizard's lips.
Potter groaned in frustration, but didn't pull away at the simple command. He pressed against Severus bodily, drawing him back into the fervent kiss. He did, at least, return his hands to their explorations of Severus' exposed flesh, rather than try to undermine the command further. Severus, for his part, realized that, while he was unprepared to go as far as Potter apparently craved, he could not prolong both their suffering for much longer. He tightened his hold on Potter's fingers and pressed the young man back against the wall, pinning his hands to the side as he ground roughly forward with his hips. Potter jerked, his head slamming back against the wall. He seemed not to notice or care, however, as he ground back. Pressing against one another, grinding harshly, Severus led the younger wizard to the edge of the abyss. There, he held him, reducing the movement of his hips to an agonizingly slow pace. They both teetered on the edge, Potter stiffening, closer than Severus to falling headlong into oblivion. Severus smirked as he drew back, expecting Potter to plead or beg as only a horny teenager could. Instead, he opened his eyes to find the young man smirking in return.
"What's wrong?" The younger wizard panted, flexing his fingers against the wall. "Getting tired?"
Severus growled, but maintained the rhythm of his hips.
Potter pressed forward slightly, away from the wall. His lips caressed the shell of Severus' ear, drawing out a shudder of need. "Don't you want me, Professor?"
The word, hissed in Parseltongue, sent Severus reeling over the edge. Potter gave a strangled shout as he followed shortly after, pressing against the spasms of Severus' hips. Severus leaned his damp brow against Potter's clothed shoulder. All of a sudden, the dungeon air was too cool against his burning, sweaty skin. Potter, seeming to have more force of mind than Severus could manage so soon after such an explosive orgasm, palmed his wand and summoned the abandoned robes, throwing them haphazardly over Severus' shoulders. Severus, unsure he could manage legible speech, leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on swollen lips in thanks. Potter grinned as Severus lay their foreheads together, both still breathing much more heavily than was likely healthy.
"Now that," Potter murmured, chuckling breathlessly. "That, Severus, was anything but boring."
Severus could not stop the chuckle that rose in his throat, and realized as the hiccupping breath escaped that he didn't really want to. It was time to put the same old, same old to rest. Potter leaned forward and lightly pecked the tip of Severus' imposing nose, as if he'd read the man's thought and silently agreed.