Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter, the characters, the settings, and the details are not my own. J.K Rowling holds the rights to these wonderful things, and I am in awe of her talent. I own only my original characters, and of those there are not many.

Chapter Ten: Experimentation

"We've all been here before, this is bigger than pro football."-Peter Straub

Neruda was asleep. She had fallen asleep listening to Snape read from the Count of Monte Cristo, and Harry watched as her chest slowly rose and fell. Finally Snape nodded to Harry. "I will return shortly." Snape marked his place in the book, put it down, and lifted her to carry her upstairs. A few minutes later he returned and settled back down into the chair. He had refurnished after their fight, and Harry was pleased when he'd seen Snape had bought three chairs instead of two. Now he settled back in his and accepted a glass of the scotch he had gotten Snape for his present.

"Why read her something so depressing on Christmas? Don't you have Christmas stories?"

Snape gave Harry a dry look, and sipped at his drink. "Has it ever occurred to you Potter that she does not request those stories? That they may be a bit childish for her?"

Harry winced. "It wouldn't hurt to treat her like a child more often. She still is one."

Snape smiled, "Try telling her that. See where it gets you. Why did you kiss me?"

"Why did you try to hold my hand?"

"Why did you hug me?"

"Are you still in love with my mother?"

When Snape didn't respond with another question Harry turned towards him. Snape's eyes were somewhere far away, and he sipped his drink slowly before answering. "I will always love Lily. It will just continue to change as the years go on. When she was murdered, I loved her like a desperate young man would. When you appeared at Hogwarts I loved her as a widower would his deceased wife. When I met Neruda I loved her as a memory of a time when I was not so tainted."

Harry waited, but Snape didn't continue. So in the interest of fairness he refilled their glasses and then retook his seat. "I kissed you because I'm interested. In you. I want you. I think."

Snape sipped his drink several times. Without turning to Harry he stated dryly, "Potter I have never been a homosexual."

Harry frowned, "Well neither have I. There's just something…something about you that draws me in. Maybe it's fucked up, no I'm sure it's fucked up. I just don't care anymore."

"I cannot just bring someone into Neruda's life who will leave if we prove…incompatible. You must understand that. She needs stability, and I refuse to throw her life about just to chase pleasure."

Harry didn't look at Snape. Instead he stared into his glass again. "I'm not going anywhere. Whatever happens I like it here. I like it with the two of you. Sex or no sex I want to be here."

Snape finished his drink and stood. He turned to Harry and gave him that small smile. "Well Potter, let us try an experiment shall we?"

Harry stood without a word and followed Snape up the stairs. They entered Snape's bedroom, and Harry looked around nervously. The room wasn't as severe as he would have expected. The walls held pictures both of Snape and Neruda, and exotic landscapes Harry could only sometimes identify. The walls were a dark grey, and Harry's eyes moved from them to the canopied mahogany bed. He swallowed once. Snape simply watched him from across the room.

After the silence had become almost unbearable Harry moved towards Snape, and he watched the man's facial reactions as he leaned upwards and touched their lips together again. The kiss was much as it had been earlier. Harry could feel through the movement of Snape's lip that he was interested, but his face told a different story. Harry closed his eyes tightly, and tilted his head further to the right to get better access to the inside of Snape's mouth.

He felt those long elegant fingers touch first his shoulders, and then slowly slide down his back. When they gripped the hem of Harry's shirt he pulled back for air with his eyes still closed. Snape lifted Harry's shirt over his head, and then spoke for the first time since entering the room. "Open your eyes Potter."

Harry did, and Snape unbuttoned his own shirt, staring into Harry's eyes with that same clinical detachment. Harry watched as Snape uncovered a wealth of scars to his view. The scar across his neck was the most pronounced, but Harry saw a long thin scar that traveled from Snape's collarbone to his navel. Smaller scars dotted his torso, and Harry realized he was holding his breath as Snape slid the shirt completely off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor.

Harry moved forwards, and realized as he did so that his brain was no longer working properly. His body moved entirely on auto-pilot as he leaned forward and ran his fingers along the length of Snape's longest scar. He felt the older man shudder as he mapped out the feel of it with his fingertips. Feeling brave Harry put his tongue to the same path, and made it all the way down to Snape's navel before he looked up. There was that look again, as if Snape was watching a potion brew.

Harry felt his confidence slipping, but he had started this and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to finish it. He unbuckled Snape's belt, standing and watching the man's face as his fingers worked the button and zipper on his trousers. When Snape stood only in his pants Harry stepped back and fumbled with his jeans. Snape leaned forward, and Harry realized his hands were shaking when Snape moved them away from the zipper and undid it himself. Harry had to pull Snape in then, and kiss him while the two kicked off their shoes and moved towards the bed. Harry felt teeth on his lower lips, and he opened his mouth to Snape's plundering as they crashed into the bed.

Was this sex with Snape, or simply an experiment? Harry couldn't tell, and he wasn't sure he wanted the answer. Snape's hands were working down Harry's torso, and he felt those wonderful fingers brush the top of his smalls and then hesitate. Snape leaned upwards and broke the contact of their mouths to watch Harry's face as his fingers slid inside. That same look of detachment was there, but Harry thought he saw something deep in Snape's eyes as the man brushed the head of his cock gently.

The room was completely silent as Snape took Harry in hand, and Harry could only watch Snape's scientific look for the first few moments before the pressure of Snape's hand took all thoughts away. When Snape slid downwards and took Harry in his mouth Harry knew it would be over too quickly. The thought of embarrassing himself in such a way in front of Severus Snape should have at least slowed his orgasm, if not killed his erection entirely, but Harry found himself muffling a shout with his hand as the orgasm came without concern for his pride. Snape pulled back up, and Harry could see that he was erect himself. Instead of asking for reciprocation Snape lay beside Potter quietly and looked up at the ceiling.

Harry reached for Snape's erection, but the man simply said, "Not tonight." Harry lay in silent contemplation of the meaning of that rejection for several minutes. Snape was interested, had to be interested, Harry could see the evidence of that before his eyes. Still Snape had told him no, and Harry was worried that he was having second thoughts regarding the whole thing. Without a word Harry stood, pulled his clothes back on, and moved through the bedroom door and back into his own room.

He stared at the bed there silently, and tried to figure out what had just happened. Snape had approached the encounter with clinical precision, but little passion. Harry knew he had feelings, and he had seen him express more emotions in their brief time building a friendship than he had seen all the years he knew Snape before. The whole thing made no sense, and Harry fell asleep on top of the covers, confused and a little heartsick.

When he rose in the morning Harry washed and dressed mechanically. He imagined Snape would tell him the experiment was a failure, and he didn't want to see that detachment again. Harry couldn't deny that the feel of Snape's strong and sure fingers had been the greatest of his life. Just remembering the feel of Snape's mouth made him hard, and he had to wait at his door till his arousal went away. When he entered the kitchen he found Neruda sitting at the table playing a soft song on her new guitar. Snape was making pancakes, and Harry sat at the table watching him.

The movements were hypnotic, and after a time Harry began to wonder if this was Snape's way of approaching everything that wasn't Neruda. Simple and clinical motions, with no energy wasted on unnecessary actions. He wasn't sure if he should be embarrassed at how he reacted or angry at how Snape had handled the whole thing. He settled on a mixture of both, and after a time Neruda looked up at him as Snape laid breakfast out before them.

He couldn't say anything in front of her, and he watched with affection as she put the guitar carefully in the seat beside her and dug into her pancakes. The breakfast table was silent, and if it hadn't been for the tension between himself and Snape it would have been an incredibly comfortable and domestic scene. After a time Neruda seemed to notice the unspoken weight between the two men, and without prompting she put her dishes in the sink and took her guitar elsewhere. On her way out she laid a kiss on Snape's forehead, and then as an afterthought she came back and put one on Harry's forehead as well.

Harry watched the door swing behind her, and then turned to Snape. He could hear Neruda's guitar begin a slow and sweet tune from the study. "Do you want to tell me the outcome of last night's experiment, or should I guess?"

From the living room Neruda's voice began, and it was a song Harry had never heard before. "I'm watching you from ramparts, I'm sleeping all alone, I let you in my kingdom, I barred you from my home."

Snape tilted his head. "What would your guess be Potter?"

"Can't you see I'm trapped here, Lost inside my walls, Please don't leave so fast dear, I'm only starting to fall."

"I don't know," Harry exploded standing up but resisting the urge to hit the table in the process, "I can't tell because you won't let me in. I've seen you feel things Snape. I know you can. Why wouldn't you open up last night?"

"There's no apologies to give you, No sweet words here inside, I've got years of caution to dig through, I can't help it if I lied"

Snape stood himself. "What did you want Potter? Flowery words and cuddling? I am afraid you chose the wrong man to be interested in. I cannot be that man for you. Are you asking if I wanted more? Yes. I wanted more. I wanted to bury myself inside you, but what would happen if I did? I let you in my home, and my family, and my bedroom, and you still want more. Tell me Potter, what will the consequences be when I disappoint you a second time?"

"This is not my purpose, I'm sure you know me well, But God I hope it's worth this, Because bleeding for you is Hell."

Snape's head swiveled to the door, and he went completely pale. Harry followed his gaze, and then uncertainly he said, "What is she singing? What does that mean?"

Snape strode towards the door, and pushed it open. Harry followed his long strides till they reached the study where Neruda sat calmly on the floor. When she looked up Harry stumbled backwards into the doorframe. Her pupils were dilated beyond all reason, and had swallowed the irises around them. She stopped playing the guitar as they stared at her. Carefully Snape knelt down beside her and spoke as if to a spooked horse. "Dearest, what is happening?"

Neruda's eyes stayed locked on Harry as she smiled slowly, and the smile was truly terrible to see. Then her pupils contracted back to a regular size, and she turned to her father. "Are you and Harry done arguing? I'd love to go on a hike today." She stood and left the room. Her legs seemed shaky, but otherwise she seemed normal.

"What the hell was that?" Harry asked, staring at Snape in horror.

Author's Note: Let me explain myself. I have been agonizing over this scene. Literally agonizing. I've had this typed up for days, and yet I was really hesitant to publish it the way it is. I'll be honest with you, I love stories where the first time together is incredible, solves all issues, and cements a relationship that is loving and permanent. I love them because they are completely fictional. I'm not sure about you, but I've found the first time with a new partner is a trial to one's self-esteem. It's usually the first time this person is seeing you naked and you have to keep asking yourself if you're pleasing them, if you like what they're doing, if it's better or worse than previous times, etc., etc. Maybe that's just me. I spent an hour having the most ridiculously awkward conversation with my fiance regarding the male side of this process, and the male side of sex in general. He gave me a lot of great tips, but I think I may have emotionally scarred him a bit. I believe Harry and Severus are strong enough to get past this hiccup, but I won't make you any promises about how they'll do it. I'm always disappointed when Harry is submissive or, forgive me ladies, girly in these stories. I hope he didn't come off that way here. I think that Harry and Severus are both strong men who have hurdles to leap, and I can only hope you're looking forward to seeing if they clear them. Ten points for anyone who gets the quote reference, and knows what the context of it is.