Hi hi!
Um, it's been a while huh? Well, like, a month-ish so I wasn't too bad on my self-imposed deadline. So.. yay? (Sorry)
Okay, I totally struggled on Lupin's character. Mostly because he's not really the character you get really into, and I personally didn't really care that much about him? Sorry to all those people who Lupin is your favourite character but seriously, come on, he's not exactly got that much presence compared to like, Snape. Anyway, hopefully you don't mind my interpretation of him too badly.
Honestly, I'm sort of meh about this chapter (btw theres a pun I got from tumblr that I saw ages ago and I HAD to use it. It's not from my own head but full kudos to whoever came up with it) but hopefully it was worth the wait.
Anyway, buy me a ko-fi if you've got some spare change (ko fi: hweianime) and
Enjoy!
The one where Death talks with a werewolf, gets kissed (not unusual) and some plot happens (very unusual)
Lupin's eyes were wider than the moon he was so afraid of and Harry was fairly sure the werewolf has stopped breathing altogether. It was only when Harry pulls out a seat for himself in front of Lupin's desk does he snap out of whatever imitation of still life he was doing.
"W-wha- what?" The professor wheezed out like he'd been punched. "I'm not, how could I be a- I'm, I-" Lupin begins to laugh, it's the sort of nervous, crazy, verging on hysterical laughter you get on the edge of a breakdown. Or a knife.
"Yeeah." Harry drawled, staring at him nonplussed, "You've totally convinced me, what with such quick wit and thinking. I apologise, truly you're not a werewolf, just a really brilliant actor." Harry then steepled his fingers together, letting his chin rest on top of it as he leaned on the office desk, "Now why don't you take a deep breath and sit down Professor?"
Lupin complied almost robotically, blinking in surprise once he seats himself back onto his chair as if he didn't even realize he was following the suggestion until he did so. He looked a touch fearful and Harry couldn't help but hide a smile behind his hands. It was like looking at a wide-eyed puppy, the scrappy type that lived off the streets.
Harry wants to groom him. He's always been a fan of the underdog stories after all, and what better underdog is there than a homeless werewolf with self-hating identity issues? Harry would watch the fuck out of that movie.
First step though, would be Lupin acknowledging his half-wolf status. "Professor. You're a werewolf." He says firmly, eyes flashing a brighter green as he stares into Lupin's own.
Lupin whimpers, a noise so clearly canine that Harry can see the flattened dog ears on the older wizard's head. Lupin immediately slaps a hand to his mouth but the damage was already done. He slumps in his seat, defeated and silently nods. It's not the verbal confirmation Harry desires but he figures it would hardly be as interesting if Lupin wasn't going to be a bit stubborn on his end.
Harry sits back on his seat, smugly and waits.
"I-I-I," Professor Lupin stutters and Harry raises an eyebrow. Clearly his issues run deeper than he had first thought. It irks him a little bit Harry has to change his interrogation tactics.
With concerned eyes and a softer voice, Harry asks carefully, "Professor Lupin, when exactly did you get bitten?" There's no way the man was a born werewolf, sure a natural werewolf could suffer from self-hatred, but they would at least be more in tune with themselves despite that deep-seated loathing.
The older wizard hesitates again but this time he does answer with a proper answer. "...Four." He whispers hoarsely, eyes pained and a little glazed, "I was four."
Ah, shit. So there's some real trauma besides the whole prejudice thing, now Harry feels real shitty about briefly contemplating on being a dick to the man about it.
"Hey," Harry stood up and walked around to awkwardly hug the man's shoulders, "hey," he repeats, his voice still soft but far more genuine than before, "I'm sorry, I was being... forceful. Callous."
"N-no, it's completely fine." Lupin said weakly and quivering slightly in a way that clearly conveyed how not fine he was and oh god, were those tears? No, that is not okay, Harry is the crier in this story. "Oh Merlin," the wizard sobs, "th-this is so embarrassing."
"Nooo," Harry says even though it kind of was. He wonders if Severus would forgive him if he made out with Lupin so the man would just... stop.
Somehow, he doesn't think the potions master would buy it.
Oblivious to Harry's inner conflict, Lupin sniffles and summons a napkin to blow his nose into it. Ugh. Okay, maybe shelve the making out idea.
Wiping away his tears hurriedly, the man turned to look up at Harry with a sad, grateful smile. "Thanks Harry, for comforting me."
"Yeah, well, ughn." Harry mumbles bashfully. "It would be depressing if one of the better defense professors here succumbed to depression because of me so, whatever."
At his words, Lupin visibly brightened like the rising sun. "You think I'm a good professor?"
Fuck, he didn't mean to reveal that. Flustered, Harry looked away and crossed his arms defensively. "Don't get the wrong idea," he protests irritated that the man may confuse Harry's pity with familiarity, "It's, it's not like I like you or anything, just objectively out of all your predecessors you show some level of competence." He grouses.
Lupin chuckles, apparently he's the optimistic sort, odd considering his obvious issues surrounding his negativity of his own self, but complexity is the spice of life and all that bullshit. "Well, I'm happy to know that I'm at least competent in the eyes of my most belligerent student."
Harry smirked, proud of his belligerent status, "Don't get too big a head sir." He snarked before forcefully veering the conversation back on to the original topic at hand, "and don't distract me, I still want to talk about your furry little problem."
Lupin's expression shutters a little at that, "I don't think there's much to talk about." He says stiffly. Harry just sighed.
"Professor, I'm not going to fuck around here- you being all," he makes a loud frustrated noise as he gestures at everything about the older wizard, from the dark eye bags, the thin form that came from eating less than one should, the overall shaggy and unkempt appearance, there's was just nothing about the man that screamed 'healthy living'. "It's killing you. Seriously. I'm not joking sir. You need to accept there's another part of you, and that part of you has fur and fangs, and you need to accept it soon."
Okay so maybe Harry's slightly exaggerating the urgency of it all, it's not like the man is going to keel over and die from not mastering his inner wolf, but it's certainly going to shorten his lifespan dramatically. Lupin's unwittingly hurtling himself to death so fast Harry can practically taste it.
It's not a pleasant death either, if you fight the wolf, the transformation takes a far greater toll on your body. Short term, it's painful as fuck- not that Harry's personally experienced it but he presumes from the amount of screaming and weeping he usually witnesses for these things that it probably does anyway- the long term effects however are where it becomes truly appalling.
Bones would become more brittle from the constant healing, muscles could snap or loosen permanently from the constant strain, strained ligaments, joints will be disjointed, severe arthritis, migraines, weakened immune system. A wheelchair would be guaranteed by fifty. A closed coffin by sixty.
Best case scenario right now for Lupin is probably having a permanent limp in the future if he fixes up his problem right away. Then again, Harry's never been good at estimating healing.
Professor Lupin looked shocked. "K-killing me?" He stutters out, looking rather ashen. Which is sort of expected when someone tells you you're dying. Whatever, Harry's just pleased that the man was still creature enough to not question how exactly Harry knew this information and just subconsciously trusted him enough in the aspect of death to just go along with it. Because exposition fucking sucked.
Harry patted the werewolf's head, "It's not as bad as what you think, just some basic training to get your more acquainted with the beast inside and I think, maybe, you won't be crippled completely for life."
"Cr-crippled?!" Lupin gasped like the assurance was a physical assault to the more tender regions of his body. Like fuck, Harry just said he maybe won't be crippled for life. So much for the optimistic type. Ugh. This man had some serious and very conflicting personality issues. At least Severus had the decency to keep to a similar theme of problems with the occasional unexpected splash of 'to fuck or not to fuck Harry Potter?'
Which is really a question Harry would rather not focus on right now. One frustrating topic at a time.
"I'm thinking we get you more in tune with your senses first," he barrels on like he doesn't hear his professor hyperventilating beside him, "sense of smell and hearing is what we should focus on since those are key wolf traits-"
"Harry, what-"
"-general physical fitness and health is important so we'll try jogging through the forest in the evening or something," Harry continues thoughtfully, ignoring Lupin's growing protests, "oh, and I hear meditation is great for centering you as well."
That seemed to do it, Lupin jumped out of his chair to tower over Harry in a way that was probably meant to intimidate if Harry hadn't seen him crying not a few minutes earlier. Emotional degradation and mood swings, unsurprising but a tad concerning. "Harry, stop! I don't need training to be a-a-a-"
"You can't even say it can you?" Harry says pityingly. "Professor, you're going to die before you reach seventy and yet you're unwilling to even try prevent that?"
Lupin hesitates like this was a choice of apples and oranges instead of needless painful death apples and the fucking opportunity to gain some goddamn control in his life oranges. Harry kind of wants to hit him. No, Harry definitely wants to hit him. And he definitely no longer wants to make out with him. In fact, he couldn't be more turned off right now unless Lupin was somehow secretly female.
Ugh. That wasn't the prettiest mental image.
"I... fine." The man says defeatedly, as if Harry was being the selfish arsehole here. What a bitch.
Harry narrows his eyes, displeased with the werewolf's attitude, "Fine, what Professor?" He challenges, crossing his arms irritatedly. "'Fine, I'll gratefully accept your kind offer to help better myself,' or 'Fine, you caught me, I'm a suicidal ingrate who doesn't need your aid and would rather fuck myself over than even try attempt to help myself because all werewolves should die'?"
"You're very different from your parents you know?" Lupin observes, apparently not that offended about Harry's rather snide remarks about his person. Harry briefly wonders if that's still optimism, a really low level of self-esteem or a incredibly odd combination of both.
"I wouldn't know." Harry responded haughtily, "they're dead."
The professor chuckled, even if it was a rather nervous, uncomfortable chuckle, "Touché." Lupin looked at him, his eyes still untrusting but they still glimmered with something akin to hope, "Harry, I will gratefully accept your ever so kind offer to help me through my little furry problem."
Harry smiled faux sweetly, "Thank you," he says to his professor and holds out a dainty hand to shake on it. Lupin barely even hesitated, practically pouncing on the offered hand, enclosing it with both of his larger, scarred hands, though he looked a little puzzled at his own reaction.
"So, how are we going to do this?" Lupin asks curiously, ignoring the way his body refuses to release his grip on the younger wizard's hand, resulting in an almost embarrassingly long handshake. "I'm usually free most evenings, Thursdays and weekends but I would like enough time to maintain my teaching schedule."
Harry stares at Lupin in something akin to dawning horror. It just occurred to Harry that he's going to have to either sneak out of Severus' highly warded rooms or ask Severus if he can break his curfew punishments in order to rendezvous with his former childhood bully turned fellow professor. Who's also a werewolf.
Fuck, Severus is really not going to be happy with this.
A knock on the door startled Harry from his slowly spiralling thoughts.
"Come in," Lupin calls out, and lo, and behold, like a demon summoned with the blood of a seven week old virgin lamb, Severus swooped into the office, robes billowing magnificently and carrying a goblet that seemed to be smoking rather ominously. The potions master stopped at the sight of Harry, eyes narrowing at how close the pair were to each other, not missing the way neither have broken out of their handshake and were now just standing near each other, holding hands.
"Ah, Severus," said Lupin, smiling like he couldn't feel his fellow professor's dissecting gaze on him in the way that only serial killers do when pondering about how to get away with their next kill. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"
Professor Snape did not as much as leave smoking goblet on the desk as he did body slam the thing onto the desk with a very ungracious expression adorning his face. Harry's pretty sure if Severus snarled with that gorgeous low baritone of his, Harry would leap into his surprisingly muscular arms in a heartbeat.
Casually Harry pulled away from Lupin in favor of his attractively seething Professor, "Professor Lupin was just offering to show me his Grindylow sir." Harry informs him.
"Of course he did." Severus says in a way that heavily implied that he wouldn't be surprised if Grindylow was some sort of euphemism. Furious and a little disgusted, yes. Surprised, no.
Harry couldn't blame him, he's not exactly a paragon of chastity and has always liked teasing the academic types. He did date Percy Weasley after all.
"You should drink that directly, Lupin." Snape orders the other man, while beckoning for Harry to come to his side with a look that brook no protests, "Harry, come along, I have some ingredients to pick from the Forbidden forest and I know your centaur friends have been insisting on spending more time with you."
Harry looked at him in disbelief because, one, Severus had a timetable for when to stock up ingredients from the forest and Harry knew today was not one of them. And two, possibly more importantly, Severus loathed it when the centaurs came by. Bane especially gets on the potions master's nerves for some reason. Probably the unrepentant hatred for wizard kind Bane vocally shares. It could also possibly be because centaurs were apparently the only things with abs in Magical Britain.
Really, really good abs.
Like, choc-a-bloc type abs, the type of abs body shots are pretty much made for, the sort of abs that you just want to fucking- what were they talking about again?
The goblet on the desk made a gurgling fizzing sound that directed Harry's attention and curiosity toward it. With a wary eye, Harry gave a quick sniff at the fumes before visibly recoiling. Snape, who had also been distracted from glaring at Lupin by the goblet's interruption, let out a soft chuckle at Harry's offended expression. Professor Lupin watched it all unfold with a vaguely bewildered expression at Snape.
"What is this?" Harry demanded to the potions master, he could smell something vaguely familiar but he wasn't going to risk taking another sniff to figure it out.
Severus smirks rather unkindly and Harry just knows whatever it is that comes out of his mouth it's going to be some form of pettiness, maybe even an outright obvious mock at Lupin. "You could call it a... supplement. Professor Lupin adores the stuff, always eager to lap it up like a dog."
"Ah," Harry nods in sudden understanding, "You know Professor Lupin is a werewolf too then."
Severus blinks, his mouth parts a little, his only concessions to revealing his surprise before he smirks, smug and proud. "So you figured it out already Harry, only you."
"Like it's hard." Harry scoffs but he preens at the praise, "Honestly, his name is Remus Lupin. Like, I don't like advocating the whole 'blame the victim' thing but come on, you're kind of asking to be a werewolf with that sort of name."
Professor Lupin looks mildly offended at that. Professor Snape, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to throw Harry onto Lupin's desk and ravage him there and then.
Huh. It's nice to know Harry isn't going to be the only fucking weird one in their future relationship.
"Yes, well," Lupin coughed awkwardly, "Harry has-"
"Graciously." Harry coughed. The Defence professor glanced down at the boy with a smile twitching at the edge of his lips.
"-graciously, decided to help with my furry little problem." He finishes rather cheerfully for someone who had been so ashamed about admitting said problem in the first place. Harry personally thinks the man definitely has more than a few issues. Mentally.
He wonders if there are wizard psychologists out there.
It just make so, so much sense if there wasn't.
Like, so much sense.
"And how," Severus begins slowly, tentatively, like it all sounded too good to be true, "exactly do you hope to accomplish that Harry, I mean, Potter?"
Harry smiled and began counting with his fingers, "Meditation definitely is a must, a werewolf is just as affected spiritually as physically after all. Then exercises are also vital, Professor Lupin needs to build muscles for strength, stamina and, well, health in general, I mean, no offence professor."
"Oh, no offence nee-"
"Because, you kind of look like a hobo- that means a homeless person if you didn't know that."
"N-no, I uh, I knew th-"
"Well, more like the hobo that other hobo's eats." Harry muses, and there's the sound of Severus trying to choke back a laugh, "Anyway, you'll need to consume more meat, I'd assume you've eaten more since you became a professor but seriously, hobo food, not even normal hobo food but like, last resort hobo food, like, a hobo wouldn't even consider eating you until they've eaten all the better hobos because you're just that-"
"Okay, yes, I get it." Lupin interrupted a little more offended than before.
"As fun as insulting Professor Lupin is," Snape smoothly enters the the conversation, "We really must leave, the Halloween feast is in an hours time and I distinctly remember Lupin volunteering his time to decorating."
"Ah, is it already so late?" Lupin murmurs, looking at the clock hanging in his office. He looks torn between relief and reluctance and puzzled at his own mixed reactions. "Well, I guess I shall see you both off at the door then."
"No need," Snape sniffed curtly, there's an air of smug authority in his posture as he wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder possessively, "We'll see ourselves off, good day Lupin."
Harry waved with a cheeky smile on his own face, "Looking forward in seeing you later sir."
As the door to the office slammed shut, courtesy of Severus Snape, Lupin felt like a fog of... something, slide off him like water, leaving him clearheaded and muddled at the same time. He had, his greatest secret had been revealed, to Harry Potter of all people, but had it been revealed? The boy claimed to have known for a while. And not only had he not freaked out, not as bad as he should have anyway, he had even accepted a mere child's offer to help with something he had been struggling with for years. He had accepted it with the strangest insistence in his mind, in his heart, his soul, that Harry Potter knew what he was doing, that Harry Potter was powerful.
Also, was there something going on with Severus and Harry?
"What in Merlin's name just happened?" He asked to the empty air.
Lupin received no answer.
It turns out, Severus was surprisingly on board with the training Lupin thing. Really, really on board.
"Jesus, ah, Christ Severus," Harry gasped, breaking away from the potions master's sudden and literally breathtaking kiss that had been plundered from him the moment they stepped back into their private quarters with the suddenness and intensity of a coiled predator pouncing at unknowing prey.
"Merlin, Harry," Severus groaned back, "How are you even real?"
"I'm secretly a being that surpasses god." Harry confesses with a sly smile, making the Slytherin laugh breathily.
"I can believe that." Severus murmurs, leaning down to kiss Harry again, something which Harry happily reciprocates, leaning into his professor's body, trying to mold his own figure against him.
"Does that mean," Harry gasps between feverous kisses, "I can ignore the curfew you've set for, ah, me, sir?"
"Only in, mmhn, regards to training the mutt Harry." Severus responds as seriously as he could with his thigh wedged between Harry's legs, pushing up against Harry's crotch deliciously, "I shall of course be chaperoning."
"You just, nmhn, want to watch Professor Lupin pant as, ah, as he has to run through the Forbidden forest at night." Harry accused playfully before groaning as Severus' large hands skimmed the length of his body meticulously.
The potions master's eyes lit up with vindictively glee, "We're making Lupin run through the Forbidden forest?"
"Eventually." Harry amended, "We'll start with laps through the castle or something first, get him used to, well, running." Harry has a feeling running was a very foreign concept to most wizards, werewolf or not.
Severus looked a little disappointed about not throwing one of his former tormentors straight into the deep end but still seemed appeased at the fact he was going to watch the man suffer in some form at the very least. God, he was adorable. Harry stretched up to get him to kiss him again, to which Severus complied easily.
It's sweet and a little sloppy and Harry just wants more. Unfortunately, that last kiss seemed to be the end of what the professor was willing to give and Harry was embarrassed to admit he tried to chase Severus' retreating mouth with a wishful whine.
He feels heated and tingly and Harry sort of loathes Severus with his stupid wavering morals. Either you submit to your animalistic desires or you go ice a turkey until Harry becomes sixteen or whatever age is deemed appropriate in this backwards place. Don't fucking play with him like this.
(Or play with him more, god, play with him more.)
"I, hah, think we should take this time to... refresh ourselves before we go down to dinner." Snape says, his breathing still heavy and face just as flushed as Harry's own. Despite his words, the potions master's dark eyes still lingered hungrily upon Harry's young form, long fingers twitching as they are refrained from moving back to their previous ministrations.
Honestly, the man's resolve was like a pendulum, for fucks sakes was there no one here that wasn't some flavor of insane?
Professor McGonagall doesn't count because she's kind of scary. Also, Harry sort of feels like she's secretly insane anyway. Like, she was the one who devised a giant chessboard where you actually had to play chess to protect the goddamn Philosopher's stone, how is that not the actions of a certifiably insane person?
"Fine," Harry muttered petulantly, he can feel his expression sour at irritation as his body realized that he's got to resort back to self pleasure to take the tension off now. He's used to masturbation now, one would have to be when you're a sort of healthy young teenager with the sex drive of a god, but it's still irks and humiliates him in a way that he just can't shake. "Whatever, sure."
"Harry..." Severus starts, but Harry refuses to look up at the man and steps away.
"I do get it, sort of, I'm not a complete child," Harry spat out the last word angrily, "that doesn't negate the fact that this, all this, is so fucking frustrating and needlessly complicated." Blaise has been distancing himself since the incident as well, justifiably wary at being caught by Severus and their quick trysts were getting worryingly romantic despite Harry's wishes. It's agonizing, how he's somehow twisted up in this dramatic bullshit. As Death, there were no trivial mortal moralities to bind him or, to a lesser extent, his partners into. It was all fairly straight forward with everyone generally knowing what they were in for, whether it be a fling, a very open relationship or a very, very closed relationship.
What could he say? He does love the possessive ones.
Drama was interesting, it was fun to watch occasionally, even more fun to be apart of, but Death isn't made for drama the way Chaos or Magic or Fate thrive off it. Death is a relatively simple entity who enjoys the occasional misunderstanding and conflict as long as it's generally and immediately followed by some very rough make up sex.
And right now his life has been nothing but conflicts and misunderstandings and very little sex.
If Harry's going to be honest, the lack of sex was bothering him a lot these days. He's young and gorgeous and powerful and yet the one man who he craves for is just being a fucking cocktease at this point. The always getting painfully injured thing was also kind of a problem too but hey, he's... thirteen, fourteen? Sex is clearly the priority number uno here.
Harry seethes as he closed the door to his bedroom behind him, he won't even give Severus the satisfaction of seeing him slam the door and confirming that Harry is indeed a child. He hates this whole 'age morality' thing the professor has been all wrapped up in, like yeah, he gets that it's completely valid and if this was an actual kid like Neville or something Harry knows he wouldn't be exactly enthusiastic about that sort of relationship. But. On the other hand... nope he's just a gigantic hypocrite but goddamnit it's his vacation. Give him a break.
Briefly Harry contemplates the pros and cons of forcing himself out of his mortal body temporarily to go seek out Thanos. There's a Marvel universe close by that is making waves, and it's driving Harry up the wall with low simmering lust. Someone clearly managed to scoop up the infinity stones with the intention of death in their minds. That's so hot. He's heard there's a Hydra Captain America lurking around that particular multiverse so fingers crossed it's him.
Then again, going a step back in physical recovery as Harry Potter wouldn't be much fun either.
But what if Thanos got the gauntlet? Harry's practically obligated to go over there and... reward him for his efforts.
Unless it's the Thanos who isn't courting Death and doing that weird eco-kill-half-the-universe-bullshit Thanos. Because that Thanos can go fuck himself.
Seriously. Just. Double the resources you stupid fuckface. Or even better, speed up the time it takes for resources to grow. And if you're really dead set on the genocide, don't fucking pussy out with choosing who to kill- obviously you murder the elderly who've already lived a full life, the fatally ill, the comatose, the dictators, the abusers and those assholes who always cut in line for shit. Like, you spend years gathering up six magical reality-bending stones from across all corners of the galaxy and you could not have come up with a plan to how to strategically genocide to minimize the most psychological damage to a planet you're trying to 'save' in that timeframe? Even Hitler had a plan. A bigoted, horrible and nonsensical plan but it is arguably a better plan than having half the universe's population being chosen for slaughter via the same principles as flipping a coin-
Huh. Harry vaguely feels he'd forgotten something.
"Harry?" The deep voice of his professor called out behind his door, accompanied by a few short, sharp, knocks to the wood, "We must depart now if we want to be on time for the Halloween feast."
"Ah, yes, coming!" Harry calls out before silently cursing to himself as he rushes to tidy himself up and not look like he'd just wasted a good amount of time seething and lost in his thoughts.
Severus brushes some nonexistent lint off his robes and tries not smile like the lovelorn idiot he is as he hears Harry frantically getting ready for dinner. He fails. It's not like anyone is watching him anyway. Not like when-
Merlin, he wants to die. For so many reasons.
The potions master hates how complicated this has all become. He used to be able to withhold himself from indulging in depravities with his student, well, further depravities. A few moments of weakness in the form of kisses but nothing too sordid. Yet, ever since the... incident, Severus can practically feel the absence of his self control in regards to Harry.
Just remembering it is enough to send a heated flush to his face and to regions much lower south. It was like being fourteen and finding his first scandalous magazine all over again. Except, instead of a busty blonde in a skimpy polka-dotted swimsuit, it's a thirteen year old wizard savior, completely nude, aroused and splayed out wantonly to anyone's passing gaze as his classmate thrusts his dick between his thighs and against his erection.
Vividly Severus recalls how at the time being overcome with jealousy and lust. His eyes had been drawn to the way Harry's body moved, how the pink blush on the usually pale skin traveled down his chest, the sounds, oh the sounds that escaped brokenly through soft lips. Breathy moans, uncontrolled gasps, those slutty, desperate little whines. He'd never seen Harry like this, so exposed and desperate, never seen the gorgeous being climax, and Severus absolutely loathes the fact he had to see it by some other Slytherin's hand. And he despises how he now craves for it to have been him even more desperately than before.
Love was truly cruel to him.
It's gotten worse, he's gotten worse. He can feel it. Every excuse to touch Harry has been found and when there wasn't anymore excuses Severus would find new ones, make new ones. And Harry is so responsive to all of them, so eager and needy that it's near impossible to curb his impulses when they were being encouraged so.
Honestly, at this point, he doesn't even understand what he is even fighting this for. Harry, for some unfathomable reason, desires him, and that desire is certainly reciprocated by Severus, it's not as if they could become pregnant and Severus has enough pride as a professor to never abuse his position to garner sex. It'll all be mutually consensual and perfect and Severus would never have to watch another Weasley or Zabini suck face with Harry ever again.
Well if only he could completely ignore the fact Harry was about twenty years younger than him. And Potter's son. And Lily's son. And a third year student. Who's also defeated the most recent dark lord. Who Severus had served under and, consequently, is one of the main driving forces that caused Harry to have become orphaned and sent to an abusive household. Harry, who also isn't aware Severus was one of the main driving forces that caused Harry to have become orphaned and sent to an abusive household, on top of everything else. Harry, who is so young, so broken, and who can't possibly feel the same obsessive pull Severus does, who-
"I'm ready, I'm ready," The door swung open to reveal a slightly out of breath Harry Potter looking back up at him, shaking Severus out of his down spiraling thoughts. "How do I look?"
"I didn't know you had orange robes." Severus says.
Harry shrugs, "I spelled some of my robes orange, honestly, it's not that hard."
"It.. it looks surprisingly good on you." He replies truthfully, not that he was surprised, Harry hasn't exactly kept his vanity a secret from Severus. It's one of the few traits that the professor can see in Harry that must've clearly come from his Potter heritage. Unfortunately, Severus finds it endearing on Harry, because Severus is not just a pervert but a romantic pervert. And a hopeless one at that.
Harry preens with a demure crooked smile and a pleased glow in his relentlessly green eyes. He's sweet and beautiful and just so darling like this, looking up at Severus, happy under his praise, like a kitten. A beautiful kitten Severus wants to ravish.
Merlin how he longs for death.
"So," Harry says as he begins to dig into his meal, "How's Hogsmeade?"
"Absolutely amazing." Draco brags, eager to have a willing audience listen to his apparent adventures in Hogsmeade since all the people he usually brags to were there with him, "I mean, it's not as great as some other wizarding towns I've been to but the hot butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks was absolutely delicious. Wish we could have brought you some but they wouldn't allow take away orders."
The last bit caused Draco to scowl darkly, clearly his usual 'My father will hear about this' schtick didn't work on the bartenders.
"I think I still have some Butterbeer on my lips." Blaise hummed faux casually. Harry turned his way and hummed back.
"Really? What a waste Zabini," he tutted.
"Maybe you should help me clean up."
Harry made a thoughtful noise but he was already leaning in for a kiss, "Well I heard the butterbeer was absolutely delicious."
"You two are utter rotters." Theodore Nott groused across the table while Harry and Blaise began making out passionately. Draco, who was sitting right next to Harry shot Theodore a commiserating look. "Disgusting teenage garbage is what you both are."
"You're just jealous." Blaise smirked cockily, "Harry dearest over here is such a fantastic kisser, far superior to everyone else I've made out with."
Draco immediately whips around to face the entangled couple so fast his usually perfectly quaffed hair had to take a moment to settle back in place, "Wait. What?"
Even Theodore was frowning in confusion, "I thought Harry was your first boyfriend." He states a little uncertainly, "I mean, I know you've charmed that Ravenclaw fourth year last year into a quick snog behind the quidditch pitch but-" Theodore narrowed his eyes, "No."
"What?" Draco repeats.
Harry kisses the cheek of the grinning Zabini heir, "We have an agreement." Is all Blaise says and Nott chokes.
"What?" Draco repeats again, far more irritated at how out of the loop he was in this conversation, "Nott, what do they mean arrangement?" He demands.
"Blaise is allowed to... let's say, ink his quill wherever he wants as long as he tells me beforehand." Harry purrs and watching the look of realization dawning slowly on Draco Malfoy's face is far better than looking at any sunrise.
"If it helps, I've only... inked with two other Ravenclaw girls and snogged a Hufflepuff." Blaise shrugged. "Though compared to my dearest, they weren't exactly skilled calligraphers if you know what I mean."
"Oh, oh Merlin," Draco brought his face into his hands, horrified, "Oh dear sweet Merlin why?"
"Well Draco," Harry says brightly, "I am so glad you asked."
"No, wait-"
"Please don't-"
"It all started because I didn't want to have sex." Harry begins like he was dramatically reading the beginnings of a fairy tale, he looks at his paling friends' faces as he cruelly adds, "Penetrative anal sex."
Draco groans, his head back in his hands. "Nooooo."
"Don't get Harry wrong, he was perfectly happy do all sorts of other things with me when I asked," Blaise happily tacks on, "there's this thing he does with his feet that was particularly enlightening-"
"Lalalala I'm not listening, lalala," Theodore sings half-hysterically.
Harry and Blaise laughed, taking pity on the pair Harry quickly finished off the explanation, "Anyway, I figured it wasn't fair for Blaise considering my other... pursuits. So I told Blaise he could try out a fling or two provided they were of the opposite sex, willing, and that he would tell me beforehand or as soon as possible afterwards."
"They were so shallow too," Blaise scoffed, "just wanted the prestige of 'stealing away' the Chosen One's boyfriend for a moment."
"Ah, the Hufflepuff girl really pissed you off huh Blaise?" Harry mused.
"Hopkins was pretty but she was a right prissy bitch," Blaise complains non too quietly, "the nerve of half the things she said about you while pawing at me, under some grand delusion that she would be the fairest of them all after this or something she was."
"Are you talking about that fifth year Marisa Hopkins?" Draco asks, finally lifting his head out of his hands, "That does explain why she keeps staring at you with hexes in her eyes."
"Isn't she dating Smith now?" Theodore questions sounding positively gleeful, unable to help himself from being sucked in to the drama. It also helps that he has his own personal bone to pick with the Draco Malfoy of Hufflepuff. Zacharias Smith apparently jinxed Theodore or something and embarrassed him horribly in front of his crush a month back. He's never talked about the specifics of it but it's clear that ever since then, Theodore has been right by Harry's side as an adamant 'Fuck Zacharias Smith to Hell' supporter. "Oh Merlin does he know? Can I tell him?"
"Ugh they're dating?" Harry sneers, "They suit each other at least."
"From what I've heard from Pansy, Smith is far more into Hopkins than Hopkins is to Smith- I mean," Draco gestures to a smirking Blaise, "clearly."
"Hey, no objections here," Blaise shrugs, "after she sported out some stuff about de-throning my darling over here, I pushed her away and she, well, she was very insistent. Not good with rejection. After some more aggressive, shall we say, advances, that were promptly denied, she turned my tie into a cluster of cockroaches!"
The boys all shuddered sympathetically. That's not a jinx you want to be on the other side of the wand for.
"Merlin, sometimes it feels like I'm friends with characters from mother's newest novella." Draco sighs.
"Except gayer." Theodore mutters.
"Way gayer." Draco agrees.
"Harry should come with his own warning label." Blaise also agrees earning a smack upside the head from Harry.
"They mean you too dearest," Harry hisses.
"Oi, I'm into girls too!" He protests while Draco and Theo shakes their heads.
"Nah mate, that still makes you half gay doesn't it?" Theo argues with a smirk.
"That reminds me," Blaise turns to give Draco a leering once over, "you want to see how gay you are Malfoy?"
Draco flushes, his pale skin practically aflame as he splutters, "Wha- how-why- I'm not gay!"
All three boys sitting by the Malfoy heir squint their eyes, assessing, "You must be a little gay." Theodore finally decides. "Not even a little curious?"
"No!" Draco denied furiously, "I don't even find Harry attractive other than in a very, very objective way!"
"Huh." Blaise furrows his brow, like the idea of Harry not being sexually attractive to someone was mind blowing, "What about older men? Muscular? Have you ever thought about Hagrid in any particular way?"
"NO." Draco snarled, "Also, what the fuck Blaise, that's, just, ugh." He shuddered.
Blaise shrugged, "I hear some wizards like that type."
"I'm not gay!" Draco stands up and shouts and blushes even redder as everyone in the Great Hall stares at him with wide eyes. Slinking back down on to his seat as whispers reignite in the hall Draco glares at the trio. "I loathe you."
"Aw, I love you too Draco but I have Blaise here," Harry chirped, pecking his now rather flustered but pleased looking boyfriend on the cheek.
"No, that's, I didn't say love, Merlin, I'm not gay! Why would you even think that?"
"It's the hair." Harry immediately says.
"The thirteen beauty potions you keep." Theodore adds, "And those are for your skin alone."
"The poster of your favorite quidditch player shirtless that's hidden in the back of your History of Troll Wars textbook." Blaise grins as Draco sucks in an outraged breath.
"Alain Lecroix is a great quidditch player! And don't go snooping through my stuff! And he's not shirtless!"
"Draco, he's practically shirtless. It's a photo of him sweaty and lifting up his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face." Blaise gives him a condescending look. "Also you leant me that textbook, it's hardly my fault you forgot it was there."
"Oooh is it the hot French one from the, uh, the Queerberry Quafflepunchers?" Harry asked, visibly interested. If he can't have Severus any time soon he would like to try ride the broomstick of a quidditch star, you know, immerse himself in some wizarding culture. The French players are definitely cute, but the Bulgarian team, the Vratsa Vultures looked like they could fight off a pack of lions barehanded. And Harry finds that insanely attractive.
"It's the Quiberon Quafflepunchers you ponce." Draco mutters darkly before shoving, rather unbefittingly of his noble bloodline, a slice of pumpkin pie into his mouth.
"Meh," Harry shrugs, unconcerned, "Sergey von Lazerav is better anyway, apparently he's a one eighth vampire with a tan, like, damn."
"How dare-"
Suddenly the school ghosts popped out of the walls, effectively distracting them all with their synchronized flying and dancing. It was quite a lovely end to a nice meal. Harry wished his dementors could see it instead of wandering around the cold night for Black again. Not that the dementors mind the cold, they were built for worst things after all, but even they got bored. Then again, ghosts, literal souls with no physical meat shield whatsoever, tend to get a bit jumpy when the dementors come by.
However, as most things in Harry Potter's life goes, things went south suddenly and quickly. It was after a feast well done, everyone was sated and satisfied and this close to passing out into a food coma- especially Crabbe and Goyle, who had not stopped for air whilst stuffing their faces with food during dinner- before the Bloody Baron whooshed down from the dungeon ceiling in a panic.
"Milor- Harry Potter!" He calls out, flying quick and purposeful toward the wizard savior, his expression pinched with worry.
"What ails you Baron?" Harry asked while the Slytherins stood back, but hardly far enough to prevent themselves from watching. Nosy snakes.
The Bloody Baron, not one for flowery prose and apparently little patience to use his silvery tongue, hovered uncertainly for a moment before finally informing Harry, "It's Sirius Black, he's-"
"This blows." Ron sighs as he sits on top of Harry's sleeping bag. "This was meant to be a fun day and now not even Peeves is smiling."
Peeves did seem uncharacteristically serious at the breach. Harry briefly wonders if he hadn't been Death, would Peeves be making a joke out of it all? Probably. He sort of wishes Peeves was finding this funny, the atmosphere was already tense enough, and having the resident paranormal prankster looking like a soldier off to war was only making it worse.
"So it's true then? Sirius Black broke into Hogwarts?" Harry asked for confirmation. The ghosts were good gossips but they tend to jump the gun on things like this. Then again, the whole school wouldn't be having a slumber party in the Great Hall if it was false.
"Yeah, made it all the way to the Fat Lady's portrait." Ron answers glumly.
Harry felt a deep, prickling raw emotion build up to his throat from the pits of his stomach. "That's, that's,"
Ron nodded understandingly, sympathetically at his friend. But Ron doesn't know. Ron doesn't understand the depths of what he is feeling right now. "Horrible I know."
"Ridiculous!" Harry screamed maybe a little more high-pitched than he liked. But he was enraged beyond normal volume words. "That's bloody fucking goddamn ridiculous!" Draco sitting to the left of him was staring. Blaise sitting right of him stared. Hermione and Neville who had just sat down with them was staring. Cedric Diggory who was at the other side of the hall was staring. Dumbledore was staring. Harry didn't bloody care.
"Hogwarts lets in a mass murdering psycho without even a 'How do you do?' and I'm here having to run up three flights of stairs to get to the dungeons!?" He screams to anyone listening. Which was everyone. The Great Hall has gone completely silent so his words are practically ringing through the room. "SERIOUSLY?!"
Actually Hogwarts let the dark lord in her housing twice now too. Honestly, this castle needs to get her fucking shit together.
"But Harry the dungeons are on the lowest-" Harry glared at Ron who stopped mid sentence under the pure venom in his friends eyes.
"I. Am. Aware." Then in a softer, snide voice Harry mutters, "Safest place in Britain my arse."
This is so unfair.
"So..." Draco coughed while Harry fumed darkly, "Weasley, do you think Black's still skulking around the castle? Honestly Harry's not wrong about the security in this place, when my father hears about this-"
"He'll torch this place to the ground. Rape the castle by fire. Let the stones crumble into ash, brick by ugly brick." Harry hisses.
Draco looks perturbed at his furious friend, "... Well I've got absolutely bullocks to say to that, so I'm going to turn this conversation over to the Gryffindors."
Neither Gryffindor looked pleased at that.
"Percy and the other prefects are meant to be patrolling with the professors around the castle so I would assume at the very least Dumbledore suspects him to be still here." Hermione finally says.
"Wonder why B-Black even showed up at the tower," Neville helpfully continued, even if he stumbled a little at saying the murderer's name, "Harry's not even in Gryffindor after all."
"Must've not read the news," Blaise sniffed, "Probably assumed since his parents were in Gryffindor, Harry would've been too."
"So Hogwarts not only let in a serial killer but a stupid and uninformed one at that." Harry grumbled, "Joy."
"But then, you have to wonder exactly how he could've gotten in to the castle." Ron mused.
"Other than that Hogwarts is a bitch?" Harry replies dryly but then he cocks his head thoughtfully, "Though you're not wrong, the Ministry's aurors aside, the Dementors shouldn't have let someone like Black slip through like this." He would have to ask them how that managed to happen tomorrow, Harry's not exactly happy that no one got the chance to brush their teeth before this impromptu slumber party and if it turned out it was because the dementors had been slacking off there would be some serious talking to happening.
"You're right," Hermione agreed, her face making a little frown as she tried to figure out this newfound puzzle, "A disguise wouldn't work since the dementors would attack anything human that crosses into Hogwarts grounds, and there are special enchantments on the castle, to stop people entering by stealth."
Harry nods smugly, "See, Hogwarts is a bitch. A bitch that wants me dead."
"Or," Hermione says, "It's an inside job."
"You think it's Lupin?" Blaise asks curiously while Ron and Neville moan.
"Nooo, he's like, the best professor we've ever had." Ron complains.
"Weasley is, unfortunately, not wrong," Draco sighs, "Lupin's classes are actually rather interesting, still, it is suspicious."
There's a tense silence that settles on the group as they contemplate whether, once again, they've gotten another dud of a defence professor. Harry's more vaguely irritated than anything. Lupin better not as fuck be smuggling Black into the castle, not after Harry just offered to help him so nicely like he did. But Harry can also sense how the trust and respect these children harbour for the professors in this school were once again taking another critical hit so he decides to lighten the mood.
"You know, we should just erect a barrier that stops dark wizards with bad intentions getting into Hogwarts, like the Dark Lord or Sirius Black." Harry suggests idly, then almost casually he adds, "We can call it the fence against the dark arts."
Then he bursted into uncontrollable laughter.
"I hate you so much right now Harry." Ron groaned.
"Admittedly very clever, but terrible nonetheless." Hermione criticised.
"I didn't realise you were so.." Neville didn't finish but the intent was clear.
"Lame?" Draco finished with a smirk.
Harry didn't care. He was fucking hilarious. He was comedy gold.
(In the end, the only one who appreciated his amazing wit was Blaise, who broke into a grin and offered a high five in a show of their silent camaraderie. Harry always knew the boy was full of refined and incredible taste. He will be rewarded greatly in the afterlife. And after class. Wink wink, nudge nudge.)