Author Notes: Hello everyone and thank you again for your wonderful reviews! It's been two and a half months since my last chapter, thanks to a new job, reduced free time and a disappearing muse. Hope to do better next time, but for now, enjoy this chapter. It has some Snarry in it!
Vine and I look forward to reading your comments so please leave a review at the end :)
Appreciation: A million thanks to Vine Verrine, my wonderful beta and co-author, who while working on her own story and having even less time than I do, still managed to get me past horrid and insipid drafts to a post worthy chapter. You rock, girl! Thanks also to Schattengestalt for looking over a draft and for her much needed encouragement. *hugs you both*
- Chapter Start -
The dining room at Malfoy Manor was large and elegant, all polished wood, cream furnishings and gold accents.
An imposing, rectangular table dominated the room, carved legs resting on thick gold carpeting and an ivory damask tablecloth laid over its polished surface. The solid expanse of colour was broken only by an elaborate centerpiece of fresh flowers in the exact centre and four place settings at one end.
Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of the table facing the door, Narcissa on his right. They were both dressed in formal robes with perfect hair, straight backs and expressionless faces, like two good looking dolls in their beautiful dollhouse, waiting for their owner to come play with them. Only their eyes betrayed the fact that they were alive, drifting to the elaborate clock on the wall every few moments and then away.
A tense silence had descended on them, strained and brittle. They sat less than two feet apart, yet the distance between them yawned as wide as a chasm. It was something that had existed for the past few years, but was easy enough to hide under the rustle of a newspaper or the clink of a teacup against its saucer or some idle observations about others.
With both of them being taciturn now, that silence felt heavy and suffocating, clogging up the already tense anticipation in the air. The soft ticking of the clock only added to it, drawing their attention again and again with its relentless marking of time.
It was almost eight.
Lucius moved first, grabbing his wineglass and taking a deep swallow of the expensive elf wine before setting the glass down with a thump, the muffled thud at odds with his relaxed pose.
Narcissa glanced at him when his sudden, abrupt movements caught her eye, but she kept quiet. Her hands remained folded in her lap and the placid expression stayed on her face, only her fingers betraying her inner agitation as they stroked the fine silk of her robes again and again.
Having put thought and effort into tonight's dinner, she was determined that nothing would spoil it. She had sensed the anger simmering under Lucius' tight mask and refrained from saying anything that could trigger it, whether it was a casual enquiry as to how his meeting with Aventine had gone or why he had insisted on using their formal dining room meant for hosting twenty people.
Narcissa had planned on the smaller table at the cosy alcove near the kitchens, a more practical choice for their party of four. That was where she and Lucius had their meals when they weren't entertaining, Draco joining them whenever he was home from school.
With an imperceptible sigh issuing from her lips, Narcissa glanced at her husband again and then at the clock.
- o -
"We're going to be late for dinner," Draco murmured, reaching up to smooth the wrinkles on the lapels of Charlie's dress robes.
Charlie just smiled, enjoying the sight of those well kissed lips. He closed his hands over the slender hands and brought them up to his lips, pressing a kiss on one soft palm and then the other.
"So worth it," he teased.
Draco scowled at him and stepped back. Ignoring the rumpled sheets on his large bed, he tugged his own robes straight.
"Let's go. Father and mother don't like to be kept waiting."
Draco exited the room in a pompous flair of pristine, emerald robes, his expression cool and his stride intent. Whoever stumbled upon him now wouldn't suspect he had been ravished moments ago but for his flushed cheeks and the redness of his lips.
Charlie groaned, wanting to make Draco his one more time. When the blond turned down the hall, Charlie caught the glimpse of a smirk, as if his thoughts had been read.
- o -
Lucius pressed his lips together. For the past three hours, the resentment inside him had built and built, fueled by equal amounts of disgust at having faltered in front of Aventine earlier and anger that he was to entertain a Weasley in his home. It was insupportable, letting first a Dark Creature and then a blood traitor set foot in Malfoy Manor, all on the same day.
Lucius glared at Narcissa. If it weren't for her interference in arranging this dinner, he could have been working off his frustration with more pleasurable pursuits elsewhere. The fact that Draco and Weasley were not here yet only added to his temper. That arrogant dragon tamer lacked any notion of punctuality and judging from Draco's earlier simper, Lucius doubted his son was able to make a difference.
Aware of his imperturbable mask slipping, he took a deep breath and fisted his hands tightly, nails digging into his palms to ground himself. He had lost his composure once today; twice would be barbaric. Unthinkable.
The clock began to strike the hour, delicate bell like chimes dispelling the gloomy atmosphere. It drew Lucius and Narcissa's attention once more before they both looked towards the door where rapid footsteps could be heard approaching.
- o -
Charlie and Draco entered the dining room just as the last chime sounded.
Lucius' eyes narrowed in displeasure at the sight of their clasped hands, fresh irritation bubbling up inside him at the satisfied smirk on Weasley's face and the rosy flush on Draco's. No doubt the two of them had made the most of their free time since arriving here, probably sequestered up in Draco's room all this while.
"Draco, darling! How nice to see you again," Narcissa greeted her son with a wide smile, lifting her face in a practiced motion.
"Hello, mother," Draco replied, his tone cool. He bent his head to kiss her smooth cheek before straightening up to greet his father.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Charlie," Narcissa greeted with another smile.
"Thank you," Charlie replied. He took the seat she indicated, sitting opposite her with Lucius on his right and Draco on his left.
"Lucius," he greeted his father-in-law.
"Weasley. I confess myself impressed that you are in time for dinner, even if you did arrive here three hours ago," Lucius said, the hint of a sneer at the corner of his lips.
Charlie didn't bat an eyelid.
"Well, you of all people should know how large this house is," he returned with an amiable smile.
In the tiny moment of silence before Lucius replied, Narcissa waved her wand. Four house elves appeared, bearing steaming plates of soup.
An awkward hush fell as the meal started.
"This is Draco's favourite soup, seafood chowder. I trust it's to your liking, Charlie?" Narcissa broke the silence after a minute, bestowing another dazzling smile on the two of them.
"It's good," Charlie replied politely. He was used to Molly's creamy version, but this clear broth wasn't bad, mildly spiced and fragrant. He glanced sideways to see Draco frowning down at his soup.
"I gather from your comment earlier that Draco showed you around?" Narcissa spoke again after a few more minutes of silence had elapsed.
Charlie noted that her soup remained untouched despite the spoon in her hand. The sight might have worried him, if it weren't for her gracious manners and the fact that her husband and son were eating the very same dish he was.
"Yes, he did," Charlie said. "The grounds are very... uh, extensive." The decorations were far too ornate for his taste, though.
"Lucius was the one who planned the entire layout, including the design of the fountain in the front garden."
Charlie raised an eyebrow at that, hard pressed not to smirk at the beaming smile Narcissa gave her husband. When Lucius shot him a look, daring him to comment, Charlie knew there was no way he would pass up an opportunity like this.
"Really?" he replied, looking suitably impressed. "In that case, some life sized statues would be just the thing to complement that fountain. How about the seven Nymphs of Water Magic? And some white Albanian peacocks to complete the décor?"
Lucius blinked, looking momentarily disconcerted as he stared at Charlie. How strange – he had thought the very same thing when he first commissioned that fountain; only the magical peacocks were extremely rare and difficult to procure.
"A commendable suggestion, coming from someone who only handles dragons, and in the wilds of Romania. Still, I doubt you understand the very specialized care such exotic birds need," he drawled, pausing for effect before he continued, "...nor the substantial cost of rearing them."
Charlie was unfazed.
"Albanian peafowl live in the Balkan mixed forests in the east of Albania," he said. "Due to heavy poaching in the last one hundred and fifty years, their numbers have dwindled drastically. It's estimated there are less than two hundred of the birds left. They survive purely on the berries of the..."
Lucius stared in disbelief as Charlie continued expounding on the facts and figures of the Albanian peafowl. How was it possible that a mere dragon tamer could know so much about them?
Charlie smirked at him.
"I am more than capable of taking excellent care of magical creatures," he murmured, eyes gleaming as he met the pale gaze straight on.
Lucius raised a skeptical eyebrow, striving for a look of disdain.
"Some creatures require more than just a suitable habitat and diet to flourish. They also need proper training and firm handling," he noted in a cold voice.
Charlie didn't miss the way Lucius' hard gaze flicked past him to Draco and then back again.
"Any creature under my care, whether dragon or fowl, would lack for nothing," he stated flatly.
Neither of them was talking of exotic birds anymore and they both knew it. Charlie could feel Draco's eyes on him, but he continued to hold Lucius' gaze.
The staring contest only ended when Narcissa waved her wand again to summon the house elves. They cleared away the soup plates for the main course, their appearance and busy action breaking up the tension in the room.
The generous portion of Fisherman's pie on his plate, complete with golden mashed potato crust, had Charlie turning to Draco with a smile. One bite of his favourite dish at that small Muggle café by the seaside where they had spent their honeymoon had Draco swallowing his disparaging remarks about such establishments and returning there every day, much to Charlie's amusement.
To his surprise, the blond kept his gaze on his pie, lips turned down in a frown.
A quick glance at the two elder Malfoys showed Narcissa looking intently at her son while Lucius stared at them both, a strange, brooding look replacing the earlier annoyance in his eyes.
Again, Charlie's gaze went to Draco, seeing the mutinous jut of his lower lip as he picked at his food. It was a marked contrast to that seaside café, where Draco had locked spoons with him one day, laughing helplessly as he fended off Charlie's playful attempts to steal his pie, all the while admonishing him for his atrocious table manners.
The two of them looked up at the sound of a pointed throat clearing.
"Draco, what was it you wanted to ask me earlier?" Lucius drawled, lips tightening briefly when his son's gaze went to Charlie first before looking at him.
"Lord Aventine, father," Draco answered.
His low voice was strained with what Charlie recognised as anger. It was a bit surprising since Lucius hadn't said anything too hurtful and Narcissa had taken the trouble to have his favourite dishes prepared.
"What about that creature?" Lucius asked. His face was a study in boredom, but his fingers had clenched around the handle of his dagger.
"You saved him from an Elder Demon. At Stonehenge."
Lucius stared hard at Draco. "Who told you that?"
"Ronald Weasley. And Granger," Draco replied, his back straight as he held his father's gaze.
Lucius' lips curled in another sneer before he controlled it and gave a curt nod. His thoughts were quite clear to Charlie, knowing what the elder Malfoy thought of blood traitors and Muggle borns.
"Is it true, father?"
"Yes," Lucius bit out. He paused for a moment as if deliberating on the exact words he wanted to use.
"As Aventine's champion, it is incumbent upon me to safeguard his existence, despite our many differences," he began. His gaze focusing on Draco, he continued, "In life, one must always be prepared to adapt to changing situations, to survive and more importantly, to succeed."
Charlie stared at Lucius, drawn to those Slytherin words despite himself. Under that meticulous control, he could sense some strong emotion, hints of it showing in the flashing eyes and the clenched jaw, the vein throbbing in the high forehead. Most likely it was anger at having to save a Dark Creature from certain death.
Still, Charlie couldn't help comparing this more controlled version of Lucius to the furious, shouting man who had first caught sight of the Dragon gold around his son's neck in the Hogwarts infirmary. His lips quirked in amusement at the thought that his actions had angered Lucius even more than Harry or Aventine's had.
"This is a lesson you would do well to learn, Draco," Lucius concluded, his voice taking on a patronizing tone that had to be all too familiar to his son.
"Yes, father," Draco answered automatically.
"But a vampire, Lucius?" Narcissa asked, looking disgusted at the very thought.
Lucius turned to her, his aristocratic face still that stern cold mask.
"We do what we must," he replied carefully.
They stared at each other. Then Narcissa nodded, her blue eyes showing a rare understanding.
"We do what we must," she echoed.
It seemed to Charlie that the two Malfoys found their shared moment rather unsettling, for they turned back to their plates and the rest of the meal concluded in a silence that was more melancholic than awkward. By the time the house elves appeared to clear away the plates and serve dessert, he had had enough of formal dinners and was thankful that this one would end soon.
"Your favourite crème brulee, darling."
Narcissa's words made Charlie look up again, his curiosity well pricked by her continuing attentions to Draco and his less than happy reactions.
Draco lifted his eyes from the perfect, golden custard set in front of him, awash in caramel syrup. His lips were pursed together.
"Who told you that, mother?" he asked. The unexpected question had Charlie's spoon halting halfway to his mouth, unaware that Lucius was mirroring his action.
"What do you mean?" Narcissa's eyes were wide. Guileless.
"Who told you this is my favourite dessert? Was it Jiggy?"
"What a question, Draco!" Narcissa smiled. "Of course I know all your favourite foods."
"The seafood chowder? And the pie? You asked Jiggy, didn't you?" Draco's voice started to rise in volume.
"Draco, that is enough," Lucius rebuked coldly.
Narcissa didn't say anything, her calm gaze going from Draco to Lucius and back again, ignoring the man who sat between them.
Charlie shot a glance at Lucius who was now looking at him as though he held him responsible for Draco's less than exemplary behaviour. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Charlie put down his spoon and spared his dessert a regretful glance. It looked like he wouldn't have the chance to sample it.
"You asked her, mother. I know you did, you couldn't have known otherwise. Only she knows. Only she –" Draco broke off and stood up, napkin fisted tightly in his hand, his breath coming quickly past his parted lips.
Spoilt brat behavior aside, the irreverent thought crossed Charlie's mind that Draco looked marvelous when he was in a temper like this, all snapping eyes and flushed cheeks.
"I'm going back to Hogwarts," Draco muttered. He tossed his napkin on the table and left the room with quick strides.
Charlie didn't agree with Draco's temper, but he wasn't going to stay here without his bond mate either. Standing up, he turned to his hosts who got to their feet as well.
Lucius and Narcissa's expressions were set and grim. Staring at them, Charlie realised that seeing the elder Malfoys discomfited was a strangely unsatisfying sight when coupled with Draco's hurt.
"Thank you for dinner," he said at last.
Narcissa returned his gaze for a long moment before she picked up her wand and pointed it at Draco's untouched dessert and then at Charlie's, storing them in conjured containers which she levitated to Charlie.
"They will keep cool until you two are ready to eat them," she said, her expression giving little indication of how she felt inside. Then she drew herself up, her expression both proud and haughty at the same time.
"I know you do not think highly of us, Charlie. While your opinion doesn't concern me much, I would still have you know that we have been brought up to have good manners."
She held Charlie's gaze as if daring him to mention Draco's temper, but Charlie just nodded. With a final glance at Lucius, he plucked the containers from the air and walked out of the room.
Lucius glared down at his uneaten dessert, feeling a sudden urge to fling it across the table. If he had known how Draco was going to react to tonight's menu, he would have told Narcissa not to bother the house elves and just serve whatever she wanted. She had never enjoyed seafood anyway. Lucius was justifiably annoyed at Draco's outburst, but he was also of the opinion that Narcissa had brought this on herself.
After having ignored her own son almost all his life, was it any wonder that Draco reacted the way he did?
Narcissa sat down, her face turned away from her brooding husband. This dinner was only the first step in her grand plan. She was by no means defeated, she told herself, her eyes alight with determination.
- o -
It was close to ten on Saturday morning when Harry stirred.
He didn't want to wake up at first, clinging fast to the fading remnants of a very pleasant dream featuring Severus and himself, squeezing his eyes as if trapping the dream inside.
His conscious mind insisted that he wake up, pulling him away from the unraveling threads of that dream until he sighed and opened his eyes, blinking at the green bed curtains. The familiar warmth surrounding him made his eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat before continuing at a brisker pace than before.
Glancing downwards, Harry saw the muscular arm wrapped around his waist. He pressed his lips together, moving his head a bit just to feel a nose brushing the back of it. His green eyes shone with a mixture of shyness and contentment, pulling a rather sheepish grin from his lips.
After several days of waking up alone, the feel of Severus' body spooning around his was a very welcome one.
Harry basked in the heat, feeling a sudden urge to stretch his limbs and purr like a contented cat. A shy cat, but a happy cat nonetheless. He wondered if Severus' embrace was, once again, the cause of his latest dream. He couldn't remember the exact specifics now, but he knew there had been kissing – hot, open mouthed kisses, and caresses too – long, inquisitive fingers touching him and getting acquainted with different parts of his body.
Blushing, Harry squirmed a bit and then he froze at the tightness in the front of his pyjama bottoms. Almost afraid to have his fears confirmed, he looked down again, tilting his head to peer past Severus' arm and grinding his teeth in a grimace at what he saw.
Great. His erotic dream had left him a souvenir in the form of a morning erection. This hadn't happened to him for quite a few weeks now, courtesy of recent events that had grabbed his attention and sapped his strength. He pursed his lips, torn between relief at the reminder that he was still a normal teenage boy, and aggravation at the inconvenient timing since he was now snuggled against Severus. No doubt the man would have fun teasing him if he woke up to find his young bond mate red faced and aroused. Maybe, instead of teasing, he would want to... help.
Harry didn't know which one he dreaded more.
Scowling and quite exasperated at himself, he inhaled deeply and stared hard at the bed curtains, willing his tense body to relax. It was almost impossible with his heart beating like a drum. He felt so aware of everything, even imagining he could hear the strong heartbeat behind him.
This was awkward.
Harry felt awkward, not knowing where to place his arms and legs, feeling as if his limbs had suddenly grown too long, heavy and clumsy in front of him. How was he to relax with warm, even breathing at his ear and the light rasp of stubble against his neck, not to mention the heavy arm flung over his waist and the press of muscled legs against his?
Blushing a bit more, Harry took another deep breath and let it out. He resisted the urge to shift about and settled instead for gazing at his nightstand, waiting for a solution to present itself while lying like a rock in Severus' arms, his own limbs in front of him like limp, cold pasta.
The sight of his wand and the empty potion vial beside it brought vague thoughts of finding a useful spell or potion to counteract his embarrassing reaction. It was a foolish, fleeting desire he kept for a moment for the sake of making himself feel a little less nervous. The intoxicating heat surrounding him, however, made it impossible to pursue those ideas.
All Harry could think of right now was how much he had missed Severus' warmth and closeness, and the juvenile fantasies he had thought up to fill the gap. With Severus sound asleep and oblivious to his mental agony, the need to cool down started to seem less and less important now, outweighed by a more practical wish to enjoy the current situation while it lasted. There was still hesitation, but the tempting moment of stolen enjoyment was much stronger.
With another sheepish smile, Harry snuggled against Severus and closed his eyes. The rustling of the sheets and the tightening of the arm around his waist brought them flying open once more.
Severus had shifted in his sleep, moving closer and bringing his bent legs up. His knees nudged at the backs of Harry's calves and pushed them upwards, moving him while he lay there like a rag doll, with fish eyes and his lips like an 'O'.
Blinking in surprise, Harry found himself curled up like a ball within Severus' embrace. Then his breath caught in his throat. Something long and firm was pressing up against the lower part of his buttocks, almost nestling between them.
A shiver ran through Harry, travelling from his bare toes right up to where his heart had suddenly lodged in his throat, eyes growing even rounder at the discovery that Severus was just as hard as he was. Waking up to find himself aroused by his dreams was one thing. Waking up to find Severus in the exact same state was another thing altogether.
Perhaps the man was also dreaming.
Harry bit his lip, equal amounts of nervousness and excitement flooding through him at that unmistakable firmness, making him want to shift away from that length and press himself against it at the same time. The clashing urges were so strong and abrupt he did a broken, aborted shimmy with his hips.
His heartbeat stuttered at that before racing on, as if shocked at his actions. Harry didn't know what to do next, but once again, his body did, being more vested in physical pleasure than in mental angst, and probably fed up to the eyeballs by now with his constant shyness. It gave a delicious throb, making him shiver again.
Oh, that felt good. After having very little physical intimacy with Severus for the better part of a week, that felt very good.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip again, much too aware of every part of him that was in contact with Severus. He was moving further away from prudence, his nervousness overridden by something heady and pulsing, dissolving his shyness like droplets of water on heated metal and replacing it with desire that wound slow and thick through his veins. He felt a bit crazy and reckless. Nothing like his cherished fantasies in which he was controlled and seductive, but more like a ball of tingly nerve-endings, losing reason and caution to boldness, the only thing constant with his fantasies.
His eyes snapped open, revealing green depths alight with sudden, determined mischief. With his lower lip still clamped between his teeth, Harry gently pushed his buttocks downwards, feeling that hard length slide between them. A soft groan sounded at the back of his neck and the strong thighs behind him jerked up in response, pushing Harry's knees in close to his chest.
Harry didn't have time to even blink at that literal knee jerk reaction before his own body reacted to the stimulus. Curled up even tighter than before, that latest throb brought more discomfort than pleasure, his erection now squashed between his upper thighs.
He grimaced at the unexpected discomfort, that reckless and almost mindless desire taking a sudden step back. Squirming a bit, he arched his back and tried to make more room for himself. When the arm around his waist didn't budge, he huffed, still aroused but very uncomfortable. He used his legs next, calves pushing Severus' knees downwards. They obliged and Harry straightened his legs with a sigh of relief.
Before he could shift away, Severus mumbled what sounded like a protest and turned onto his stomach, trapping his would-be seducer under him. Half buried under the man with his face squashed into the pillow, Harry's indignant snort emerged as a muffled 'oomph'.
"Harry?" Severus sounded like he was still half asleep, his voice raspy and deep.
Harry wrenched his head to the side so that he could continue breathing. He scowled because it was the only thing he could do, torn between annoyance and that lush dizziness that cascaded down his body, enhanced by Severus' voice against his skin.
Being bold and reckless would be so much easier if he weren't smaller than Severus.
"I'm still alive," Harry groused, further annoyed when his voice came out sounding more breathless than sarcastic. The soft, sleepy chuckle floating past his ear made his face flame. He fumed in silence, unable to even cross his arms over his chest.
"My apologies," Severus offered, amusement apparent in his sleep roughened voice. He started shifting backwards. In trying to get leverage, his upper knee found the back of Harry's upper thigh and pushed it up again.
They both froze. Then Harry trembled. He hadn't put on underwear last night. It looked like Severus hadn't either because that very interested part of him was now firmly wedged between Harry's slightly parted buttocks, both pairs of loose cut pyjama bottoms not providing any hindrance at all.
"Harry..."
Fingers clenching onto the sheets, Harry lay still, that previous, heavy desire coming back as if it had never left. His heart was pounding now, his breath catching as Severus moved, pressing even closer to him instead of shifting away. Warm lips lay unmoving on his neck, a broad chest pressed against his back and hard thighs under his legs.
"Harry," Severus whispered again, raising his head a bit.
Harry closed his eyes, swallowing hard. The feel of those warm lips now brushing his ear almost distracted him from the hand that had shifted under his pyjama top and was now splayed against his quivering stomach. It moved and his eyes snapped open again. Heavy warm fingers were sliding over his skin, raising goose bumps in their wake until they touched the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. Then they stopped there, as if waiting for something.
Harry waited as well, breathing through his open mouth, his eyes wide, his limbs trembling and his mind a complete blank. His whole world had narrowed down to the pulsing flesh between his thighs and the tantalising promise of the warm hand so very near it.
It didn't matter that he hadn't thought this far or expected this situation to occur when he first teased Severus. Now that it had, Harry wasn't coherent enough to let anything else happen except the natural course of events. It seemed that Severus thought so too because those long fingers were sliding under his waistband, going further down and...
Ohhhh.
"Does that feel good?"
"Yeah," Harry whispered, feeling dizzy and confused. Heat was burning in his face, his heartbeat deafening him. This was better than any scenario he had thought of. Way better.
Severus moved again and Harry let out a moan, waves of sensation rippling through him at the delicious contact, scattering his thoughts all over the bed. The heavy heat behind him, that hard length sliding erotically between his buttocks and his own trapped in Severus' firm grip all felt extremely good.
Severus' other arm snaked out from under the pillows, wrapping around Harry's waist and pulling him more firmly against his body. His hips continued to rock slowly against Harry's, his breaths blowing past the boy's ear in a hot, ragged cadence.
With one hand plastered against Harry's belly and the other one shoved into his pants, Severus did torrid things to him, the thought itself sinking into their skin, opening their mouths in pleasure while they panted. Harry's quiet mewls were muffled by the pillow, Severus' grunts by a long neck and raven hair.
"Severus..." Harry gasped. Every breath that he sucked in was expelled in a trembling rush each time the man rocked against him, sending Harry's length through his tight fist.
Harry's grip on the bedsheets tightened to the point of pain. It was a clunky pain at the back of his mind, one he couldn't be bothered to address or fix right now, crushed beneath the ripples of pleasure in his body and another sensation he was only half aware of. It emanated from his magical core, pleased tendrils seeping out, trying to escape his skin and seek Severus'.
Harry felt hot and sweaty in his bond mate's embrace, caught in the storm of sensations ripping through his body as Severus continued rocking into him with that maddening, purposeful rhythm, his body plastered along Harry's back.
The air surrounding them grew heavy and charged. Harry's magic wasn't the only energy filling it. He could feel Severus' addicting signature as well, emanating from him in powerful waves each time the man moved against him.
Dear God, could anything feel this good?
Despite the unhurried pace, Harry could already feel the tension squeezing his insides near its conclusion, his body fast approaching the point of no return. Severus, judging by the harsh breaths buffeting his ear and the increasingly erratic movements of those lean hips, wasn't too far off.
Harry's magic surged even higher at that knowledge, stimulated by their making out and uncaring that they weren't physically joined. It kept trying to merge with Severus' and failing. It was a distraction Harry couldn't deal with right now. He tuned it out despite its insistence, focusing instead on the intense physical pleasure overwhelming him.
"Oh... God..." he whimpered, his pants occurring almost simultaneously with Severus' now, aware that he wasn't going to last long. Not with the glorious heat surrounding him and the delicious friction between his legs, both back and front, the electrifying pleasure setting his entire body aflame.
Without warning, Severus shattered his world when he uttered a low groan and snatched his hands back, scooting backwards and away from Harry with desperate, abrupt movements.
Harry cried out in wordless protest, eyes flying open at the sudden separation, his shaking body mourning the loss of that intoxicating heat and friction. Then those muscular arms were reaching for him again, urgent hands pulling at his shoulders and rolling him onto his back.
"Like this," Severus rasped out.
Harry found himself pinned to the sheets with hands clamped onto his shoulders. Severus was hovering over him on his forearms and knees, all sinew and taut muscle and hot, panting breath.
"W-what...?" Harry stared up at him, wide eyed and trembling, his aching body on the brink of resolution. He had a brief impression of narrowed black eyes glittering with fierce passion; dark, tangled hair framing a lean face, still pale except for the deep flush on those sharp cheekbones.
"Like this," Severus growled again. He aligned their hips together and ground down on Harry's with neither apology nor hesitation.
Harry uttered a choked cry and shuddered hard, fingers flexing with the need to grasp onto something, head arching back in fervent gratitude. A shaking hand guided his face back and then Severus was kissing him, crushing their lips together and pushing his tongue deep into that sweet, panting mouth.
Moaning in bliss, Harry threw his arms around those broad shoulders, palms splaying flat on the damp skin and sweeping up and down, fingertips tingling and hips jerking under Severus'. His desire to continue this overrode any doubts he might have about exploring this unknown territory he was in. Harry was not one to think things twice either way, and the heavy weight of Severus in his arms had always felt right.
The delicious heat between them climbed rapidly as Severus set a faster and harder pace than before, turning Harry's world upside down and causing his magic to surge up once more in strong, delighted waves.
Harry surrendered to the inevitable, letting the man guide him and push him right over the edge. It didn't take long before he came, eyes squeezing shut, a sharp gasp shuddering out of his throat as his body jerked and convulsed under those relentless hips, wet warmth spreading inside his pyjama bottoms.
Then Severus groaned again, fingers gripping Harry's shoulders, hips humping against his in short, jerky motions, spreading more warmth between them and sending Harry's bliss soaring higher before slumping down onto him.
The silence that followed was stunning in its finality, filled with the sounds of ragged panting and loud, frantic heartbeats.
Reason did not return until a long while later, its absence barely noted in the delicious afterglow. Two heaving chests pressed together, hands seeking and fingers lazily interlacing, their owners glowing with warmth and contentment. The atmosphere around the bed remained heavy and rich, filled with deep breaths and sighs of satisfaction.
Harry lay under Severus, his body suffused with a molten bliss that was slow to ebb, expelled in tiny shivers that travelled through his lax muscles and trembling limbs. He was only dimly conscious of the agitated swirls of his magic submerging back into his core, frustrated that it hadn't merged with his bond mate's yet appeasable for the time being.
At length, hazy green eyes blinked open and stared up at the canopy of their bed. With a distant, cottoned mind, Harry felt Severus' softening bulge against his thigh, inundating him with even more dizzy pleasure and an acute embarrassment at the back of his mind. He didn't want to think of that now when he was feeling so good.
With another sigh, Harry closed his eyes, one of his hands moving to close over Severus', fingers still trembling. He tensed up when the man rolled off of him with heavy limbs, his hand leaving Harry's and making it feel a little cold.
"Harry? Are you alright?"
Those few, solicitous sounding words were enough to make Harry screw up his eyes tighter still. He felt a fiery blush start at his forehead and spread right down to his toes, curling them with the knowledge of what just happened. His embarrassment and shyness had returned full force, pressing down on him like a weight now that Severus had moved away, and with that one action, signaled the end of the quiet interlude they had both been enjoying.
Harry felt even more awkward than before - exposed, sweaty and rumpled, wet pyjama bottoms sticking to his thighs - but he also knew he had to open his eyes if he didn't want Severus to think he regretted this. He didn't, no, not at all. He had never been the sort of person to go looking for enjoyment in whatever he did, but now that he had experienced this mind blowing pleasure, it seemed foolish to reject it.
In fact, following in the wake of his growing closeness with Severus and those passionate kisses he had enjoyed so much, was the realization that despite the hot blush painting his entire body, he was keeping his eyes closed not because of shame or regret, but because of his returning self-consciousness. Only that, nothing else.
Opening one eye, Harry peered up at Severus whose head was propped up on one strong arm, his long body lying close to Harry's own and tempting him as it had for the past few days. The sight of Severus looking so relaxed despite strands of long hair sticking to his forehead and neck made Harry open his other eye, wanting to see more of the man, from the slow rise and fall of his chest, to the glowing flush on his pale skin, to the incriminating wet patches on his wrinkled pyjama bottoms.
Despite his embarrassment, Harry's lips quivered in another sheepish smile, only to have it fade when his gaze travelled back to Severus' face. The black eyes were fixed on him with a mixture of amusement and concern.
Harry stared back, too entranced by the picture Severus made to look away even though he could feel his face growing hotter.
"Are you all right?" Severus repeated.
"Yes," Harry whispered. He gave a little nod and continued staring as Severus closed his eyes briefly and exhaled as if in relief. Then those dark eyes opened again, the worry in them replaced with a warm tenderness that made Harry want to squirm on the sheets.
With a faint smile, Severus reached out, brushing a lock of hair off Harry's forehead with his free hand before dipping his head. Harry closed his eyes, his lips parting to accept the gentle kiss, so different from the urgent ones they had exchanged earlier. He didn't want it to end and kept his eyes closed even when Severus lifted his head.
"Do you remember what I told you last week, about masturbation?"
Green eyes flying open at the matter of fact tone, Harry shot Severus a quick, mortified look before dropping his gaze to the Heartstone glinting on that well defined chest.
"This is a form of it."
Harry shifted his hips and made a face, still not looking at him. "It's messy," he grumbled and winced. Stating the obvious. Again.
"Evanesco."
The rush of wandless magic tingled. Harry's eyes widened, blinking at the result. The rich chuckle that followed made another ticklish tremor pass over him, curling his fingers and toes.
"Easily solved," Severus said.
Harry looked at him again. Despite his light tone, Severus continued to observe him closely, shoulders tense as if waiting for something. It made Harry blink again, surprised that not only had he noticed this, he also understood the reason for it.
Severus wanted to take their relationship to another level. It wouldn't take a genius to see that he had lost control this time, and it was now Harry's decision to pretend this didn't happen, or let himself be carried by this new development.
At the same time, Harry also knew that Severus wouldn't ask for it. The man's behaviour over the past few weeks – over the past eight months in fact – was enough proof that he wouldn't force Harry into something he wasn't ready to do, or make him feel obliged to answer to anything.
A different sort of warmth blossomed, inside Harry's chest this time. It was almost an ache. He continued looking at Severus, this time taking in the stern lines on that face, sharply visible on that pale complexion. A body made of cold, hard contrasts, having skin as white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.
How strange, Harry mused, to know that something from a fairy tale could be so fitting to the man he was married to. Even stranger that someone so harsh and cruel to the outside world would be so subtly considerate to him.
More warmth filled Harry at this thought, now making him feel light and giddy at the fact that he was getting to know Severus well enough to start thinking like this. He took a deep breath and shuffled closer, lifting arms that were still the slightest bit weak to embrace Severus around his neck. Were there words needed?
Severus chuckled in response. The sound was rather shaky with yet another relieved exhalation mixed into it, breaking the almost somber blanket that had fallen over them. He returned the hug, trailing thin lips over a sweaty forehead.
"What happened to the Harry who blushed just because I saw him in his underwear?"
The teasing words promptly made Harry blush again but only a little. He even managed a small laugh, feeling comfortable now, not so awkward and exposed. Severus had rolled him onto his back again, gently this time, and was leaning over him, long fingers combing through his messy hair.
"That... that was different," Harry replied, arching his head so that he could rub his cheek on Severus' collarbone, making the man shiver. He was beginning to feel a bit bold again, not reckless or crazy like earlier, but more confident, enhanced by the intimate atmosphere surrounding them and Severus' tender smiles.
Harry found that he didn't mind his blushes or his prevalent shyness so much now. It felt OK to be a little shy around Severus who had to be used to his naivety by now. Now that he had hugged the man on his own initiative and didn't feel like he would self-combust at any moment, Harry took it a step further, breathing onto that muscled chest and watching in fascination as the pale skin rippled with goose bumps. It was like a whole new world just opened, and he was getting a little taste of it, so real and so much better than his fantasies.
"How so?" Severus asked, the tiny catch in his voice indicating that he felt their dizzying closeness as fascinating as Harry did.
"That was because... I didn't like the fact that you got to see more of me, and I didn't have the same opportunity."
"Really...?"
The skeptical tone in that light voice made Harry look up from his teasing of Severus' chest, seeing the same doubt as before in those dark eyes. Did Severus still think he wasn't ready for even this little?
Harry licked his lips and nodded once.
"Really," he said. He had denied it the last time Severus offered, feeling flustered and confused. Now, he held the man's probing gaze even when his stomach squirmed with leftover nerves at the surprised yet pleased smile that followed.
For a moment, Harry thought he was going to get that opportunity right now, but Severus only bent to kiss him again, a deep and lingering kiss that felt like a promise of one step at a time.
When Severus lifted his head, Harry smiled at him. He was fine with that.
- Chapter End -