Chapter 8

Pairing: HP/SS

Author's notes: I'm thrilled at all the hits and reviews I've received so far. Thank you to everyone who stopped to check out my fic! This chapter contains some minor NC-17 content and graphic language. You have been warned… For all warnings, summary and disclaimer, see Prologue.


The sound of hard rain woke Harry, a frown immediately upon his face before his eyes even opened. From his third floor bedroom, it was much easier to hear the rain. Freezing rain it was, pelting on the old copper roof at an annoying rate.

Harry scrunched up his face as he tried to will the sound away but it was no use. He was very much awake and far earlier than he would have liked. He was used to waking as soon as the sun set. It was practically like clockwork each and every night.

This evening, Harry knew it was not quite dark enough for it to be safe. Still, he sat up in his oversized bed and threw back the multitude of blankets. Feeling no chill, it was more of a comfort factor than an actual necessity.

His bare feet touched the worn wooden floor and he practically slouched his way to the washroom. It was smaller than the ones on the second floor, but Harry liked living in the attic. It was large and for the most part, actually cozy. It was completely finished, albeit quite dusty and dark. Still, he felt safe there, all alone in his own private sanctuary. It felt nice.

He took his time, taking a scalding shower, washing his long hair. He lathered every inch of his body, his eyes closed in relaxation. The warm water raining over him was a nice contrast to the icy evening rain overhead. He rested his forehead against the slick tile and allowed his hand to rest on his hardening erection. It had been a while, though really, he wasn't particularly planning to indulge.

Still, it was one of those things that one really hates to waste. He squeezed gently on the tip, a sigh escaping his lips. Lazily, he moved his hand up and down the shaft, in no hurry to end it. He couldn't remember the last time he actually wanted this.

An image of Snape suddenly popped into his mind, and of the previous night. He stilled his hand as he realized that he was actually thinking about Snape in that way. But the kiss could not be forgotten. It was permanently ingrained in his memory, stored away for safe keeping. And now it decided to make an entrance. He felt his cheeks flush and before he realized what he was doing, his hand had resumed its ministrations.

Now that he actually had a visual, the process went much quicker and in less than a minute he had his other hand splayed across the tile, to keep from tipping over, the evidence of his fantasy already washed away down the swirling drain.

He cracked open an eye, his breathing ragged. Water from the shower fell over his head, dripping down his face, into his open mouth. He barely registered the taste. He reflexively spat out the water and turned around, leaning his back against the slippery tile. He stayed like that, unmoving for a minute, before rinsing his still-sticky hand and shutting off the water.

He lazily stepped out, the cool air hitting him immediately. Again, barely registering it, he wrapped a towel around his frame and went to his wardrobe, pulling out a pair of his favorite faded denims and a black sweater.

He quickly dried his hair with a spell, leaving it long and shaggy. He dressed and after one quick look in the mirror, left his cozy attic room. He hummed a nameless tune as he step-hopped down the stairs. His mind completely preoccupied with all things Snape, he didn't even register the fact that there were voices coming from the first floor parlor.

He stepped onto the landing and turned in the direction of kitchen, hoping to find Remus there. Upon hearing his muffled voice, he stopped and turned towards the closed parlor doors. Still humming, he walked up and without knocking, grabbed the handles and opened the doors-only to be stopped dead at the entrance.

He did find Remus inside, talking with a very familiar-looking Hermione Granger. The silence was louder than the storm outside and nobody dared to move even an inch. His mouth at his feet, and his fingers still clenched on the handles, he stared wide-eyed at the two figures staring back at him; one with a guilty expression, and one with a look that said 'I'm pretty sure I just saw a ghost'.

Still unable to speak or move, it was Hermione that finally broke the silence.

"Oh my god..." Her voice was clearly disbelieving and yet her eyes clearly recognized her once former best friend.

Harry flinched at the sound and turned a venomous glare towards Remus.

"Traitor!" he hissed, unable to restrain himself. The knuckles grasping the handles were white and shaking and he felt the familiar and shamefully pleasant sensation of anger. He could smell the fear in the air and he barely refrained from attacking right then and there. It took every ounce of his willpower to not pounce on either Hermione or Remus. Instead, he carefully and slowly started to back out of the room.

"Harry, wait!" Remus dared to make the first move.

"Don't come near me! I swear it, you'll be sorry!" He was boiling mad but more so, he felt betrayed. Hermione had her hands to her mouth, apparently realizing that whatever Remus had told her was true.

"How could you, Remus! How? I trusted you!" Harry was beyond complacency and the blood lust was growing stronger. Fear. Fear and anger were all he knew at the moment.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I just wanted to show you that-"

"NO! Don't! I don't want to hear anything from you, Remus!" He took another step back and immediately tensed as he felt a presence behind him.

Reflexes taking over, he whirled on the unsuspecting being and started as he realized it was little Teddy that stood so near, eyes wide with shock and fear.

His throat constricting, his eyes suddenly blurry and his anger on the verge of exploding, he pulled deep inside of himself, gathering help from his magical core- and apparated away.

He landed in a wet and muddy half-frozen puddle, steps from Snape's cottage. Dropping immediately to his knees to stop his head from spinning, he placed both hands to the squishy earth, steadying himself. He felt sick and for a moment thought he would vomit, before realizing that it was impossible for him to do so. Instead, a horrible choking sob escaped his throat, followed by a louder one, until all sound was erased but his ragged sobbing.

Feeling wet and uncomfortable, he finally pulled himself to his feet and walked the few meters to Snape's front door. He banged loudly with his muddy fist and flinched when the door was yanked open.

Snape took in Harry's appearance and immediately pulled him inside.

"What in the name of-"

"I almost killed him, Snape! I wanted to!" He actually turned away from the man, not wanting him to see what a wreck he'd become. Snape immediately had him in his arms and whirled around, facing him.

"What. Happened?" he asked urgently, eyes worrisome. Harry realized he'd never seen Snape so concerned.

"He betrayed me! I trusted him!" He started to struggle but Snape's grip was unyielding.

"Harry, Harry, stop. Who betrayed you? Lupin?"

Harry nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak. He really didn't want to break down in front of Snape. It would be utterly embarrassing.

"What did he do to you, Harry?"

Harry shut his eyes, trails of bloody streaks leaking through the lashes. He had called him Harry.

He felt the pressure of surprisingly gentle fingers on his face. He opened his eyes, saw Snape take his thumb and graze it over Harry's cheek, wiping the wetness away. His eyes became more blurry as he stared in wide-eyed astonishment, watching Snape wipe away tear after bloody tear.

"He told," Harry finally managed, albeit with a shaky breath. He closed his eyes once more and rested his head to Snape's chest. It felt safe and warm. Snape held him, every so often moving his fingers through Harry's matted locks, massaging the scalp. No more tears fell from Harry's eyes, but he felt depressed and ashamed and what had transpired.

Finally, Snape pulled back and took Harry's hand. "Come."

He led Harry up the narrow staircase and to the left where a moderately sized washroom was. An ornate iron claw foot tub stood against the wall in the corner and Snape immediately walked over and turned on the taps. He came back to where Harry stood, eyes half closed and decidedly not looking at Snape, and attempted to take his clothing off.

It proved quite difficult as the wet clothing clung almost desperately to Harry's frame. So he took out his wand and whispered a spell. The clothing promptly disappeared and reappeared on the floor next to Harry, who didn't even flinch at having a wand pulled on him. Snape took off his own outer robe, and rolled up his sleeves. He took hold of Harry's hand once more and led him to the half-filled tub.

He checked the water temperature with his hand. It was boiling. However, satisfied, Snape held Harry's hand as the younger man sluggishly stepped into the tub, unaware of the heat. He sat and sank into the tub, eyes shutting of their own accord. He leaned back in the tub, seemingly comfortable.

Once more, Snape took his wand and aimed it at the water. He used a spell and removed all traces of mud and everything else that stuck to Harry's body. Satisfied that the water was once again clean, he kneeled next to the tub and grabbed a washcloth on a nearby shelf.

The water was nearly scalding. Still he dipped the cloth and pulled it out, slightly ringing it out. He started with Harry's face. He carefully, washed away the streaky blood tears, the muddy spots on his forehead and neck. He took some shampoo in his hands, lathering the goop into Harry's hair. He squeezed the lather through strand after strand, lifting the damp locks off his neck and gathering it all together, then repeating with conditioner. He rinsed off the soapy suds with a silver pitcher, uncaring for the mess it made on the tile floor.

The hair fell wet and sleek, draping over Harry's neck and shoulders. Some strands were so long they fell slightly into the water, floating splayed out. Harry remained silent throughout, every once in a while eliciting a soft sigh. Snape cleaned Harry's arms and chest, watching as the steamy water turned the normally pale skin an alluring shade of pink. The steam rose and filled the room, making Snape uncomfortable and damp. Still, he softly whispered into Harry's ear, asking him to lean forward.

He washed his back slowly as Harry rested his chin on his knees. His hair covered his face and his arms wrapped around his legs in the front. Snape finally dropped the cloth into the tub, watching it sink to the bottom.

Harry sluggishly leaned back once more, sighing at the slightly more relaxed feel.

"Harry."

His brow crinkled in frustration. He didn't want to face Snape.

"Harry, look at me."

Harry didn't want to appear childish but he certainly didn't want to talk to Snape. He was deeply embarrassed and he couldn't believe how he just acted with Snape. Allowing his fear to recede, he slowly opened his tired lids. The room was blurry at first, but Harry realized it was from all the steam. He blinked and looked straight at Snape.

Of course the man was unreadable. And Harry felt like an open book. He looked away, into the murky water. He shook his head slightly and sighed.

"I am so sorry. I can't believe I acted-"

"What did Lupin do to you?"

Harry clenched his jaw in remembrance. His heart still felt like it was beating a million times a minute. He raised a wet hand to his chest to calm it.

"He betrayed my trust. I came to him because I thought I could trust him." He turned his head, looking Snape straight in the eye.

"I can't believe he told Hermione."

Snape's brow furrowed slightly.

"Granger. Was she alone?"

Harry thought back to the awful scene. He nodded. "Yes, as far as I could tell." He could still remember her horrific expression.

Snape sighed. "I will not attempt to condone the wolf's behavior, but there may have been a reason she was there alone."

Harry had thought about that. "Because if Ron was told, he'd flip. Hermione was always the understanding one. The calm one." He shook his head.

"That does not give him the right to betray me."

Snape said nothing for a minute, then, "He probably thought he was helping you. He was obviously clever enough to only bring her into the picture. He figured she could be trusted."

"That's not the point. You should have seen how she looked at me," he finished bitterly. "I could smell her fear." He remembered the scent; it had thrilled him, as it always did when he hunted. He had wanted to hurt her. Or rather, the vampire part of him did. He sighed. Remus was a fool not to have considered that. If he had hurt any of them...He didn't even want to think about it. He'd never be able to live with himself.

He barely registered when Snape got up to hand him a plush towel. He stood shakily and wrapped the towel around his waist. Grabbing a hold of Snape's shoulder, he carefully stepped out of the tub onto a mat.

"I will find some clothing for you." Snape left the room, allowing Harry to dry off. Only after he had finished did he realize he had left his wand back at Grimmauld Place.

"Fuck!"

The door opened hastily and Snape walked back in, a confused expression on his face.

"What is it?"

Harry sighed and looked down in frustration. "I forgot my wand back at Remus's."

Snape handed Harry a pile of clean clothes. "It is no matter. You have no need for it right now and you can pick it up after."

"I can't go back there," Harry said, already pulling on his slacks.

"Potter, since when have you been scared away by anything?"

Harry just flashed him a dirty look, and pulled the shirt over his head.

"I will be downstairs." Snape left Harry to finish up. He stood dressed and looked back at the tub and the large puddles of water surrounding it. He frowned, realizing he should clean it up. He really could have used his wand at the moment, but just took his already soppy towel and proceeded to mop up the water. He wrung the dirty water into the tub after each swipe of the floor, then draped the wrinkled towel over the edge of the tub, and went to find Snape.

He heard soft music as he descended the stairs, and realized a record was playing somewhere in the house. It sounded nice, and relaxing.

He found Snape in the parlor, stoking the fire. He turned as he heard Harry approach.

"Tell me something, Potter. What frightens you more? The fact that Granger knows about you, or the fact that you are glad that she knows?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You think I'm glad? You think I should be happy? I can't resume my former life Snape! It doesn't work like that."

"Why not? So she knows! What do you think she will do with that information? Sell it to the Prophet? She just found out her friend, whom everyone believes to be long dead, is perfectly alive and within his capacity to communicate with her. The ball is in your court, as they say."

Harry felt miserable. "I can't! Maybe she won't treat me like a monster, but she would certainly pity me, and that, I won't deal with. I've made peace with what I am. I can't do it over again."

"Then why did you come to me? Why me, Potter? You who loathed the ground I walked on. And I made your life miserable for years- I freely and happily admit it! Why would you choose me over your friends?

"Because you don't give a shit about me!"

Snape looked at Harry as if he truly had lost his reason.

"You would never pity me, or treat me any differently. I don't frighten you; do you have any idea what that's like? You're clearly not intimidated by me in the least. This is the most amount of normalcy I've known in years.

"I don't even know why you're being nice to me right now! You should hate me, or curse me- tell me I'm my father's son! Just...something!" He was breathing heavy and his throat was raw from screaming.

"You are not your father's son. I was wrong about that." Snape looked calmly back at Harry.

"How can you say that, after all these years?

"Because if I still felt that way, I would never be able to do this." Snape took the four steps separating him from Harry and grabbed the younger man by the shoulders, bruising his lips with a kiss.

Harry melted. The tension of the past couple of hours disappeared into a burning fire. He glided his fingers through Snape's ebony hair, pulling him closer. The man was unyielding. He kissed Harry as if his life depended on it, and Harry had absolutely no complaints. Except when Snape backed away.

A sound of protest escaped his bruised lips, as he tried to keep Snape in his arms. Apparently though, Snape only wanted to kiss his neck. He licked and suckled, eliciting moan after shameless moan. Harry's whole body was on fire. He never realized how sensitive his neck really was. That would explain Snape's reaction to his last feeding.

"Harry...Tell me if this is what you want." Snape lightly nipped at his sensitive flesh, making Harry shudder.

"Yesss." Harry really didn't think he could form a more coherent response.

Snape grabbed the sides of Harry's face, looking him dead in the eye.

"I will give you a choice. I can either hate you, or I can fuck you."

"Oh god..." Harry's knees practically buckled beneath him. He tried to concentrate. He could either have the comfortable familiarity with Snape, as he was used to. Or he could have what he'd been missing for years. What he didn't realize he truly wanted until the way Snape looked at him.

He gripped the front of Snape's shirt, dilated eyes boring into Snape's. "I want you. To fuck me." Snape didn't allow Harry to rethink his options as he assaulted his mouth once more.

He showed no mercy as he tore at Harry's clothing, finally using a wandless spell to divest Harry of all his garments. Harry groaned in frustration as he tried to unbutton one of Snape's many buttons.

Another spell followed and Snape stood as naked as Harry. Bodies clashed as Snape practically threw Harry onto the sofa. Their hardening erections ground against each other, eliciting identical gasps.

Almost as an afterthought, Snape pulled back and asked Harry if he had ever done this before. Harry barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

"I'm no virgin, Snape. But it has been a few years." Snape thankfully nodded, and resumed kissing him. His hands roamed every inch of Harry's body, finally settling on the protruding organ. Harry hissed as a warm fist was wrapped tightly around, squeezing ever so gently.

He couldn't help but arch into the touch, eliciting a dark chuckle from Snape. "Wanton little prick, aren't you."

"Ugh, was that a pun? Please don't speak, just-" Snape squeezed tight, cutting off Harry's sentence. He flung his head back in abandonment. Harry felt a slight breeze and realized Snape was moving off of him, and onto the floor.

As soon as Snape's knees touched the carpet, his mouth was on Harry's prick. Harry gasped and grabbed a hold of Snape's head, wanting to keep him in place, yet not wishing to make the older man uncomfortable. Snape however, didn't seem to mind. His tongue was relentless and Harry had to stop him before things escalated.

"Wait, no. Not like this," he gasped. Snape seemed to understand. He stood and reached out for Harry's hand. A split second later, he had apparated them both into the bedroom. Harry barely registered his surroundings before Snape backed him onto the comfortable looking bed. He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a small jar of ointment.

Harry laid back into the pillows as Snape opened the tiny bottle and dropped a few drops into his hand.

"I brewed this myself. I assure you, you will not be disappointed." He took an oiled hand and wrapped it around Harry's prick. Immediate, unexpected heat flared through Harry. His eyes went wide as he watched Snape try to please him.

"The lubricant reacts to body temperature," Snape purred. "You will, I imagine, find your prick becoming more and more sensitive with each touch, more heated. But then again, I have never tried this on a vampire."

Harry could only nod to assure Snape that it was indeed, working. Snape stopped to pour more oil onto his hands.

"Lift." Harry needed no further instruction as he raised his hips and legs, drooping them over Snape's shoulders.

"I want no complaints from you tomorrow."

Harry briefly wondered what Snape meant. Only after Snape had fucked him soundly into the mattress did he realize: he was going to be completely sore, perhaps for more than a day. At the moment, he really couldn't care.

Snape had been brutal and unrelenting. And Harry had loved every minute of it. He had never begged more in his life. And afterwards, he had never felt safer. His eyes were shut before Snape even got the chance to clean them up.


Snarky B: Thank you for noticing that about Remus. In my other fic, Remus's scent is quite sensitive around the full moon. In this fic, well, I'd like to think it is the exact same way. There is more, but I don't wish to spoil anything...Thanks again!