Well here you go, the last chapter. I stand by what I had said though. It would have been fun to leave it at the first chapter or even at the second and never find out what happens. You can leave, still, and think of this as Schrödinger's fic. For you, it's not too late...
Late
o.O.o
Fifteen minutes to midnight.
Harry watches the clock as seconds tick by. There's silence at Grimmauld Place. He's alone, sitting at the kitchen table, holding a mug of tea that went cold around eleven.
A car drives by outside. Warm, summer air rushes in, brushes against him.
He watches the small hand finally go around once. It cannot be. The clock must be faulty. Time cannot go this slow. This is torture. The last six years have been too, filled with patient – and not so patient – waiting but this last day, these last couple hours, these last couple minutes seem to last an individual eternity.
He won't go there sooner. He won't be late either. In the end it would be held up against him as an excuse. He won't have that. Not now. No more excuses. No more cowardice.
His own birthday has never meant much. The first eleven he had not celebrated at all, the next eight were nice and fun but it wasn't like he expected anything. Now however… this one is special. He has waited years for this and now it seemed it is years more he has to live in these last couple minutes.
Twenty.
The number rings in his ear. It's always lurking in his mind, unnoticed. It's like his heartbeat, constantly there, reminding him of this day, this night.
He looks up at the clock. Ten minutes to go.
He stands up, walks to the sink, empties the cold tea. He washes the mug with shaking hands, then wipes his hands in a cloth. He leans against the sink, fingers drumming on the counter, leg twitching.
He's sweating. Why does he feel anxious now? Why now and not six years ago? Four years ago? Yesterday?
What if? What if he's not there? What if he's forgotten? What if he just laughs and sends Harry away?
Nine more minutes till midnight.
He will be there. And he will let Harry in whether he wants to or not. He owes this much for turning Harry's whole world upside down all those years ago. He owes Harry his lessons.
Meet me there after midnight and I'll teach you what satisfying really means.
He can still hear that sentence as if it has happened yesterday. It was six years ago, yet it still sends a wild shiver down his whole body.
Six years. He had grown up since then. Won a war, killed a dark lord, finished auror training. Snape, too, had changed. Not at Hogwarts anymore, running his own business in Diagon Ally. Harry knows where he is, walks by the shop almost daily, just to make sure. Same time, every day. It's like a mantra now. And black eyes watch him from inside. Always.
Eight minutes to midnight.
"Fucking hell!"
Harry grunts, pushes himself away from the counter. How can time go so slow, when his body vibrates as if he were already shifting in and out of phase, stuck between apparating and staying put.
He roams circles in the kitchen. One, two, three- fifteen, yet the clock still does not seem to move. It is faulty, he concludes, and looks at his wristwatch.
Still seven minutes to go.
He makes a frustrated noise, five fingers brushing his hair back. This waiting is what gives him anxiety not the place he needs to go, not Snape.
He looks down on himself. Shirts, jeans, sneakers. He's good to go. He has dressed two hours ago. He checks his breath. Frowns, then rummages around for the little box of mints he has. He finds it, takes one, then two more. You never know.
Six minutes to midnight.
He walks to the mirror and looks in it. Green eyes look back. He doesn't really look like James anymore, his father used to be more handsome. That could only count as a positive, right? He doesn't even care about the scar, Snape has the fucking Dark Mark etched into his skin, something like this wouldn't bother him.
He licks his lips, "Hi, I came for my lessons," He smiles in the mirror. Kind, honest, toothy. He wants to vomit. Idiot.
"Hello," he tries again, this time the greeting is followed by a lewd half smile. "I'm twenty," he winks.
Oh god, this is the worst. What will he say? He should have figured this out sooner. He had six fucking years, for god's sake, how can he not know what to say?
He looks back at his reflection, takes a deep breath. He thinks of Snape, of that night when he was fourteen, then recalls his memories of the night of the Gala. His expression darkens.
"I want you." Assertive. Fierce. Desperate. "I want you, you fucking bastard."
That's a start.
He looks at the clock.
Five minutes to midnight.
"Fuck this shit," Harry grunts and grabs his keys. He's about to step out of the kitchen when the flames in the fireplace come alive. Green fire bursts up.
He turns back, disbelieving. Could it be?
"Potter," calls a face in an urging voice.
Wrong face, wrong voice.
"No." Harry says clearly. He walks closer.
"We need you, Potter!"
"Robards, no. I asked for tonight off."
"I know and I wouldn't call you if it wasn't important. C'mon, Potter, you have two minutes!"
"Robards, please." Harry begs.
"Weasley's down, we don't have time to argue. You need to get there, before somebody dies. It's not a request, it's an order, Potter."
He looks at the clock. Four minutes to midnight.
"Understood, sir."
When Robards face disappears, Harry walks through.
o.O.o
The shop beneath is closed and silent. It's supposed to be a quiet evening. He is sitting on his armchair, with a book in his hand, reading. He hasn't turned a page since nine, but still.
One minute to midnight.
Severus refuses to look at the clock, but he knows. Every cell in his body is counting down, have been counting down probably in the past four years, maybe even – secretly – six.
It's not like Potter would come. He won't. He's certain he won't. Potter has long forgotten him. He had grown up and now has more important things in his life than either Severus or an offer, a promise made long ago. Not that Severus minds that of course. It has only been expected despite everything. This is what he has been hoping for, after all, wasn't it?
For Potter to finally leave him be. To never bother him ever again. That was his wish. This is what he wanted. Because then he could move on.
Why is he then every day at the window when Potter walks by? Why? He has moved on, they both have. They do not talk, they not care. Potter has been an adult for two years now, legally anyways.
He can't help it, looks up at the clock.
Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight.
He can't take his eyes away as the small hand slowly edges upwards.
Seven. Six. Five. Four.
His heartbeat quickens. He won't come. Snape knows it and yet.
Three. Two. One.
He stands up, arms folded.
If Potter does come, he'll just send him away. This is stupid. He won't come, why would he? They owe nothing to each other. It was just a stupid mistake. Both nights were just that, a mistake, nothing more. But he remembers Potter's mouth, the taste of blood, the fierce green eyes.
If it was just a mistake how can it be so sweet?
One minute past midnight.
He refuses to think, empties his mind. His legs start moving. They walk him down from his flat to his little shop. He stands facing the door. He waits, breathing fast, arms folded across his chest again. Minutes tick by. Actual minutes. Severus counts them.
It's already five past midnight.
He hears a noise outside. Gentle, barely audible.
It cannot be. He steps closer, heart hammering.
There it is again, clothes ruffle, footsteps on stone. His hand shakes on the doorknob.
This isn't happening. Is this true? Can it be true?
He turns the handle and jerks the door open.
A man is pissing on his shop outside.
"Sorry." He slurs drunkenly, then zips himself up.
Severus watches him stumble away, his stare slowly turning into glare then something even worse. He grabs his wand sends at least twelve curses at the poor bastard ranging from stinging curse to some serious ones that will need medical attention. Not that he cares about it.
He vanishes the piss, then lingers for one more minute. He looks around, but no one walks on the streets this warm July night. There is only silence. No sounds of apparating, or zooming brooms, no hurried footsteps on cobbled stone.
Severus marches inside, the front door banging behind him with a loud crash.
He didn't really think Potter would come. He didn't. He has forgotten Potter a long time ago, he has truly, and he was certain Potter felt the same way.
He marches back up. It is better this way. This is how it was supposed to happen. He knows. Why does he feel so wretched then?
He crashes down onto the armchair, he wants to take the book in hand and just forget about this, but his hand does not move. He's staring into the fire, he does not even blink, his eyes are almost burning.
How dare Potter?
The question appears in his mind and he growls. How dare the boy make him promises and not fulfil them? How dare he claim something then ignore it? How does he have the audacity to not come.
He shakes his head.
Wait, hold on, Potter wasn't supposed to come. Was he?
He was, answers a voice in Severus' head.
The moment I turn twenty…
What's that, if not a promise.
He's on his feet before he could think. He grabs his keys, and steps into his shoes. He's all but running down the stairs once again. The next moment he's out the door. He almost forgets to close up behind himself, he is twirling on his heels already when he sends a spell. The door rattles, and Severus vanishes.
Twelve Grimmauld Place has not changed much. The park is a bit more run down, but he didn't come here for that anyway. He looks around, but no one's nearby. He walks up on the stairs but hesitates for a moment. Thankfully, his pride is greater than any other of his instincts, so he does knock in the end.
No one answers. He knocks again. Still nothing.
His fist drums on the wooden door, he all but kicks the door off but no one comes to answer his call.
It hurts. Fucking hell, it hurts.
o.O.o
Robards comes, thanks him for his service. Lives have been saved, bad wizards caught, and no one has sustained any real injury in the end. Ron will be out of St. Mungos' in a day or two and everything will be back to normal.
"You should go up to the mediwitches, Potter," he suggests, but Harry just shakes his head. It's dawn already and this has been a really, really long day. One could say it lasted for almost six years. But now it has ended at last.
"I'm fine," he says, when Robards places a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Go home, Potter, rest. You have tomorrow off and even if You-Know-Who himself comes back, I won't bother you, son."
It's too late now, Harry thinks, but thanks the old man anyway. Duty comes first he knows that, he can't even be angry. He had to be here, his team needed him, and it is fine.
Harry looks around the smoky ruins of the little cottage. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe he wasn't destined to go there, they weren't supposed to meet tonight or any other night. Maybe this is right, and one day, when he will be old, and his hair has fallen out he will see the lesson in all this.
Don't hook up with old men, says a wise old voice in his head. Maybe Dumbledore's, maybe Sirius'. Don't want things you're not supposed to have. The forbidden fruit is forbidden for a reason. Snape's a bastard, a coward, you have nothing to do with him. He has nothing to do with you. Yes, this last two was definitely Sirius' voice.
He should listen to these advises. They are good advices, true, solid, reasonable. However, truth be told, when was Harry ever reasonable.
o.O.o
Snape sweeps the floor aggressively. Potter has no right to put him through this. The little shit.
He hasn't slept all night, barely could sit in one place. He already feels sorry for his first customer. Maybe he shouldn't even open up today. He also craves to be kept busy.
He packs away the broom and looks around. He wants to stay active but there's nothing left to clean, to pack away, and he's not in the state of mind to brew. He has nothing to do, and he hates it. He needs to keep busy, otherwise he thinks of Potter and he doesn't want to think of Potter.
He hears the door rattle when someone tries the handle, then there's a gentle knock on the door and Severus snaps up his head. Distraction, finally.
"Coming," he calls to the costumer outside as he walks to the door. He turns the keys and as he opens the door, he says, "You're early, I usually only open at seven."
"I'm not early," Potter says, voice rough, "You and I both know I'm exactly six hours late."
Severus cannot help but stare. Potter's clothes are dirty and slightly torn, he has a long cut on his forehead and dried blood darkens half his face. "What the bloody hell happened to you?"
"Something like that, hell." Potter shrugs. "So?" he asks urgingly.
Suddenly, Severus cannot think. All he sees is the blood, the injury. The face beneath all that grime. Green eyes, soft lips. Older, experienced, not a child anymore.
"So what?"
Potter moves closer, stops only when his toes are almost on the threshold. There is something intimidating in him at the moment. Maybe it's the blood. Maybe the intense gleam in his green eyes. He smells of smoke, magic, and sweat.
"Still too young?"
He's kissing Potter before he can realize what he's doing. Maybe it's even better this way. Thoughts have a tendency to overcomplicate things, but this is simple. It's also delicious.
"Not anymore," he says against Potter's mouth. He sucks on his lower lip, moans.
Potter grunts, he sounds so needy. Severus presses his tongue in his mouth. It's so hot. Hand fisted in Potter's hair, he presses the other man against the doorframe. They kiss like there's no tomorrow, like they are going to die, and maybe Severus will because his heart can't handle this.
Potter pulls away, breathes, bites his lip. He looks up at Severus, green eyes wild, lips wet. He's beautiful. He leans to Severus' neck, kisses it, bits down hard. Severus almost faints.
"You have no idea…" Potter growls against his neck, hands sliding up on Severus' chest roughly. "No fucking idea…"
Severus has, a little. It has been six years for him, too, and he didn't have Charlie Weasley along the way to entertain him. He grabs Potter's arse and pulls him close, pressing his half-hard cock against Potter thigh.
"Maybe I do…" he murmurs as his hand fists in Potter's hair and he pulls him up for another breath-taking kiss. Potter whimpers into the kiss, and Severus' knees buckles at the sound.
Hands claw at his shirt, Potter has no patience, he rips it. Severus pulls away looks down on his bared chest, buttonless black shirt. Potter smirks, leans there, places a line of kisses down his neck, over the line of the collarbone. He looks up, not a hint of apology in his eyes.
Mrs Wallaby's, the next-door neighbour's, frightened little scream reminds him that they are still, in fact, leaning against the doorway, partly in, mostly out. He pulls away, trying to scramble inside before half of Diagon Alley comes out to see the show.
Potter's mouth, hungrily sucking on his skin, follows him and so does the rest of his body. He only looks up when the door shuts behind them.
He's panting, breathless, his green eyes filled with desire and Severus isn't sure he won't come just from this sight alone. He's right there with two steps, pressing himself up against Potter.
Potter's head knocks against the door, he doesn't seem to care, he moans in pleasure not pain when Severus grabs his cock and starts rubbing him.
No patience might not be such a bad attribute, Severus thinks when Potter unbuckles his own belt and pulls down the zipper. He pushes down jeans and underwear all together and Severus grabs his cock.
"Sweet Merlin," Potter cries his hands fisting in his hair for a moment, eyes shutting down. Then the hands are fisted in Severus hair, while lips press clumsily against his.
He licks at Potter's mouth, as he jerks his cock, fingers running on the long, hard member swiftly, firmly.
"Suck me," Potter begs against his lips. "Please, Snape…"
Fucking hell, yes. Severus is on his knees with a cock in his mouth the next moment, the idea barely just born in his mind, his body already following its lusty urges. Not that it ever occurred to him to say no. Not anymore, not to this.
Potter whimpers as Severus sucks on his cock, hands fisted around the shaft, working on it as well. Potter is banging his head against the door over and over again, moaning like a whore. Severus tongues the slit, cups his ball, doing everything to keep those sounds coming.
Then he pulls away, gives one long lick to the tip and waits for Potter to open his eyes and look down on him. When he does, Severus fists one hand around the heavy cock, while he reaches out the other for Potter. He watches Potter boldly, even though he's the one kneeling.
Green eyes flash and Potter grasps his wrist, his hold is fierce, almost breaking bones. He lifts it to his mouth, gives a long lick to Severus' point finger then the middle too. His eyes are on Severus as he lowers his mouth on the two digits.
Severus breathes heavily as he watches and senses what Potter is doing to his finger. He feels it straight on his cock. Slowly, his mouth opens too, and Potter's prick moves gently between his lips. His tongue moves on the underside of Potter's cock and Potter licks his fingers the same way. When he shifts Potter deeper into his mouth, Potter takes him in deeper, too, and Severus can all but touch his tonsil with the tip of his finger.
When even on his palm saliva streams he takes his fingers back.
"Keep your eyes on me," he tells Potter as he makes small, unobtrusive circles at his arsehole. "If you look away, I kick you out."
Potter nods, breathes in, then out, green eyes wide open.
Oh… Those green eyes.
Severus jerks him, languidly for now as his finger moves, shifts against wrinkled skin. When he pushes in, Potter falls forward, leaning on Severus' shoulder for support even though it couldn't be painful. He can slip his finger in and out easily.
Potter doesn't look away, god bless, because there's no way Severus could send him away. He barely blinks, his eyes are wide with pleasure, a pool of lust Severus wants to submerge in.
"Six years…" Potter moans. "Took you fucking six years to pluck up the courage to do this."
Oh that's how it is.
Without removing his finger, Severus stands up slowly. He leans closer to Potter, second finger waiting at his entrance. Only a little pressure has Potter mewling.
"I don't fuck children, Potter." He says in a coarse voice.
Wild green eyes are on him. "Name's Harry."
"What makes you think I care?" Snape says darkly.
Potter hooks his arms slowly around Severus' neck as if wanting to embrace him, leans to his ear.
"You'd have fucked me already if you didn't…" he whispers in a sinfully innocent voice.
Severus' fingers are up inside him the next moment, hard enough to have Potter stand on his tiptoes. A little cry, partly surprise, partly pain, mostly sheer pleasure slips out of Potter's mouth. Severus takes that as an apology, even though deep down he knows Potter's right.
His wrist aches from the force he pushes his fingers up but it's still worth it because Potter is moaning in his mouth, kisses him wetly, bites down hard enough to make Severus growl, but it's all so sweet in the end.
When Potter hooks a leg around Severus' waist, Severus rewards the brilliant idea with a third finger and his other hand fisting around Potter's cock. Potter, thankfully, has no mind to touch him, he would come that instance regrettably; instead he clings to Severus, fingers digging in Severus' hair, hand fisted in his shirt.
Potter thrusts forwards, fucks Severus' hand while fingers move inside his body, yet he still has the sense to grunt out, "Not yet…" when he's close.
Severus wants to go on, wants to make him come like this, but Potter pushes him away.
"Enough," he says with a growl. He kicks and drags off the rest of his clothes and stands there at the door to Severus' shop wearing nothing besides his determined expression.
He steps closer, grabs Severus' cock, kisses him wildly. Severus grunts, moans even. He's so hard that touch alone could get him to come. As they kiss, raw and passionate, Potter pushes him further and further back. The counter stops them in the end and Potter turns them around.
He hops on the counter as if he owns the god damn shop. He's stroking himself, he's fucking naked and still he has the confidence of Gilderoy Lockhart.
"C'mon, Severus," he says with a smirk, "You made me wait for it long enough."
Breathing hitched, Severus can't help but stare at this fool. Why him? He doesn't understand what a man with a body like that, with eyes like that wants to do with him. But he moves closer, because hell, he was good, for six fucking years he behaved, and Potter had more than enough time to think this through and realize he didn't want this.
But apparently, he does.
Severus moves closer, steps between Potter' thighs. Potter looks him over once, then twice, his gaze lingering on Snape's erection. He rubs his own against it, then looks up.
Severus unbuckles his black belt, slips it out of the hooks completely. He grabs one end in each hand then hooking it over Potter's head, he pulls him closer.
He kisses him, deep and sensual. He does it because he can, because he wants to and finally, after all these years, he's even allowed to. He breathes in deep, tongue licking into Potter's mouth.
He pulls back, drops the belt to the ground.
He thugs his shirt from his pants, Potter takes both sides and rips it all the way down. He kisses Severus' neck, his chest, rests his forehead against Severus' shoulder, while Severus unbuttons his pants.
Hands slide on his bare chest, Potter's mumbling something, but he can't tell what because he barely hears, barely sees as he pulls down the zipper and Potter's fingers slip inside, straight beneath his underwear, gripping, pulling, firm, and just so fucking good.
"Fucking damn…" Potter says, eyeing Severus' cock while stoking him. "Worth the wait…"
Pants pooling around his ankles, ripped shirt hanging on his shoulders he should look ridiculous, but Potter's staring at him like he's the bloody grand prize, like he'd be some god of fucking desire.
He sweeps off everything from the counter, potions break on the ground, important letters soak up purple oils but it's not like he cares, there's only one thing important on that desk, and he's waiting for Severus with his legs apart.
"Lie down," Severus instructs Potter, but the bloody fool stays as he is, always rebelling, always fighting back.
"I just want it easy on you." Severus tells him as he aligns himself.
"I wouldn't be doing this with you if I wanted it easy." Green eyes burn into his mind, and he knows even if this is the last time that they do this, he'll remember this moment forever.
Potter kisses him, ardent and wild, presses his chest closer to Severus, then bites down on Severus' lower lip. "Say my name." He demands.
Severus starts pressing inside as he sighs, "Harry…"
"Severus," Comes the reply, urging and keen, a permission and plea all together.
He thrusts in, hard, fast, merciless. Harry cries out, back arching.
Six years – fucking six years of frustration is behind each and every thrust. He pulls out and drives back in, bodies slapping, both of them grunting with a mix of pain and pleasure. It's so harsh it's almost an assault but Potter loves it too, he moves with the same insane wildness, bites Severus, marks him over and over again.
Now he lies back, grasping the edge of the counter and Severus slams into him.
"Oh fuck yeah," Potter cries out. "Yes, yes, yes…"
Severus only agrees. This is perfection, if it exists. He slows down a bit, let's Potter breath a bit, grabs his cock, jerks him a couple of times. He leans down, kisses a perky nipple, licks the sweaty bare chest. Potter grips his shirt, pulls him further up.
He looks Severus in the eyes, holds his gaze. He moves his hips slowly up and down as he says, "You're mine."
What a weird thing to say with a cock up his ass, Severus thinks. It's true though. He barely moves, Potter fucks himself on his cock keeping eye contact. It so fucking hot, he's slamming into him again within seconds.
Heavy breathing, cries and moans fill the air. Not even the spilt potions can overpower the smell of sex and Potter's musky scent.
Harry leans on his arm, they meet half way, kiss. It's the only thing between them that's gentle, everything else is hard, wild, it's desperate and eager.
His body can't even handle it much longer, Severus knows, recognizes the signs.
"I'm close…" he grunts against Harry's mouth.
He moves away slightly, withdraws leaving just the tip in.
Hand fists into his hair. "Don't you dare pull out," Potter all but growls, then kisses him roughly.
"As if," Severus laughs, a dark sound. The idea has never even occurred.
He grabs Potter by his thighs and pulls him on his cock. Harry cries out, whimpers, "Again," he begs.
Severus complies, thrusts hard and deep once-twice-third time almost ends with him coming. He's still for a moment then grabs Harry's cock, starts jerking him with every thrust. He's slightly gentler now just to prolong the inevitable, but he knows himself.
He's only trying to hold on long enough to have Harry come first, almost even manages but when he can feel Harry's tight arse contract around him, he loses it, his mind, too, most likely. He comes, prodding still, hips rolling back and forth. He hears Harry's frantic cries, wishes he can answer them, say his name, say anything but other than a satisfied, hoarse moan, nothing comes out.
He crashes down, gasping for air against Harry's chest. There's none so he seeks out his mouth, maybe he can borrow some from his lungs. Kindly, Potter gives, offers kisses, bites and sucks on Severus tongue. In the end, Severus pulls away even more breathless.
o.O.o
A shower later, Harry is waiting for Severus at the small kitchen table in the apartment over the shop. He has the Daily Prophet and a mug of the tea as company, until Severus gets out of the shower as well.
"You shouldn't read this garbage," he calls out when he hears the bathroom door open and close.
"I like the crosswords," Severus comment as he walks in the kitchen. Harry looks up. Snape's dressed once again, black pants and black shirt covers the body he would prefer to keep uncovered for the rest of the day.
"Do you have lots of these black shirts?" He asks casually.
"That depends," Snape says. "Do you wish to rip them all off me?"
"Most likely, yes," Harry answers honestly.
"I'll change," Snape says and turns away, but Harry grabs his hand. He looks back, black eyes guarded.
"It doesn't really matter what you put on," he smirks.
Snape rolls his eyes. "I'm not your sex toy, Potter."
"Then what are you?"
Snape looks down on him. His lips are curving as he says, "I'm your professor."
"What?" They can't be starting this bullshit all over again, he thinks.
But then Severus cups his chin and lifts his face. He leans down to him, close enough that Harry can smell the scent of his soap.
"Didn't you come here for lessons?"
"Oh, you mean the ones you offered six years ago?" Harry chuckles.
Lips brush over his as Severus kisses him slowly. "Better late than never."
This has been such a fun journey, thank you all for coming along and demanding more. seriously. i had so much fun writing this and I can only hope you'll have just as much fun reading it. Thanks Lovelies
PS: Please dont ask for more hahah