You didn't really think, I'd leave you without some holiday smut, did you?

Happy holidays and see you next year!

XXII: Bit by Bit

They kissed slow and reserved and Harry was almost thankful for that because suddenly Snape's fingers were skimming his erection and he keened. Severus kissed him through it, all the way, not letting him pull away for even a moment as long as his hand was moving up and down on Harry's cock. He slid his fingers against the hardness, rubbed it through thick jeans making Harry moan into the kisses.

Harry pulled away, feeling dizzy, his mind void of oxygen, his heart drumming against its cage. He pushed his fingers through his hair, all ten of them, then looked up at Snape. He didn't look any better.

"Well, at least we know you were right."

"I'm not often wrong," Snape noted licking his suddenly swollen lips and Harry wanted to do just that too, preferably till the rest of his life. "So, what exactly was I right about?"

"This being wonderful. And breath-taking."

Snape's huffed. "Wait till we get to the wild part," he noted almost anxiously, and given just what this kiss did to them, Harry suspected anything wilder might have him suffer through a heart attack.

"I just want to lean back and fall with you," Harry said looking down into the darkness behind them. He would like that. To just keep falling with Snape, never reaching the bottom, never letting go.

Snape's eyes racked over his body took in every inch, before he said almost with urgency, "Do it."

"What?"

"Do it, lean back. You said you trust me, go on, prove it. Lean back." There was something, an almost manic expression on Snape's face, but Harry, legs still around Snape's waist, ignored it and let his body slowly fall back. He gave control over to gravity and let himself be pulled in.

Severus held his waist, not that he needed to, as Harry could balance himself perfectly fine sitting on the balustrade as long as he had himself anchored to Snape. Only half of his body was above nothingness, and given he could change any minute, the danger wasn't all that high.

Yet, as Harry hung there over who knows how many feet of air, hair being gently brushed by vagrant air-current, he had to admit, there was something thrilling in it. Blood rushed to his head as he opened his arms wide like he would do with his wings.

Why did he want to learn to fly? He was perfectly fine on a broom. It was faster than a bird, served its purpose well, especially his Firebolt. And yet, he longed to be up in the sky alone on his own, out on his own power, sustained by nothing else just the strength of his own wings, gliding with the winds. Was the difference so much?

It was, a voice told him. To be up there, out there in the world unaided. Falling, tumbling never sailing entirely smoothly, letting the currents take him to wherever he needed to be or fight against them if he knew his home was in the other direction. There was something liberating in flying on his own, something he had never knew he missed.

Snape let go of his waist, his hands running up on Harry's chest, pressing down just enough that Harry felt their weight but not to outbalance him. Severus leaned over him and Harry was about to pull back, but the little jerk of Snape's head stopped him.

"Before you even think," Snape started as his hands pushed Harry's shirt and jacket just a little further up, "that this is a sign that your bloody idiotic plan is working, let me tell you it doesn't."

One moment of pure confusion went over Harry, then Snape kissed his stomach. Harry jolted upright right away.

"Severus, what are you doing?"

"Well," Snape said, pushing Harry slightly back over nothingness, before he leaned after him and kissed him hotly. "Lucky for you, I have a taste for cock. Very much so."

"Bloody hell," Harry groaned as he felt a hand skimming his erection. "This won't be like the Astronomy Tower, right? You won't push me? You won't let me go?

Severus looked up at him, black eyes burning with desire. "Never."

The February wind was cold against his skin, but nothing could chill his blood. Severus' body over him was a better medicine against freezing weather than any warming charm could be. His mouth against Harry's cock felt hot enough to melt the snow below and those brightly glimmering eyes would surely bring spring.

Harry shuddered still as Severus kissed his belly. Goosebumps grew on his skin as those lips, still swollen from their previous kisses traced lines over his stomach. Snape held him by the waist, but his body still arced over the dark abyss like a Greek archway and his abdominal muscles were tensed like string on a bow.

Snape licked lower and lower, tongue sweeping underneath the waistband of Harry's jeans. Crooked teeth sunk into that little soft flesh Harry had over his bones, his cock gave an excited twitch and Harry cried out, his voice carried away by the wind.

He looked down, the nothingness below called to him. It was almost like being weightless, just drifting, but oh god, he felt the weight – the weight of hands, of lips, of tongue and teeth, even the weight of harsh breathes exhaled over his skin. It all weighed on him, their mass no more than a feather each which in the end would help him fly.

He tried lifting his head, but it was too heavy. All the blood and all the thoughts, his doubts and fears of the future like a burden pulled him down, and only his emotions, light as a bird gave him strength to look at Severus.

Snape ignored everything. Harry had never seen him so focused, perhaps not even when he watched him brew.

He remembered a little boy he had never met, only seen in memories, bent over books and cauldron, shrunken so others may not notice him. He hid from an abusive father, from bullies, from the world as well, hid so well in fact no one had found him until now. He had changed in his exile though, grew up, grew his wings, became bigger, stronger, more resilient like a virus that now attacked Harry's brain, rewrote his whole structure, turned him upside-down, inside-out and yet still created a Harry who was truer to himself.

Snape noticed the observation and looked up. He was a man now – how could he not be, with another man's legs hooked around his back, eyes like a predator's devouring its pray – but the boy was still in there, lingering at the edge of his consciousness. He was behind every fear, every word shouted in anger, he was the petulance, he built the wall to keep the world outside. But the wall wasn't intact anymore, there was a Harry shaped hole in it. It was that boy also, who had hated Harry. Not the man.

The man was different. Calmer, more controlled. Surprisingly so. It was like they had grew up together, him and Snape in the course of the last seven years. Childish hatred at first grew into something larger, that picked them up and swept them away. Snape had outgrown the child, he must have. He was braver than his anxiety, stronger than his fears, more than a sum of childhood memories. He was a man of his own desires, wants, actions.

"I don't think it was an accident that I ended up next to you that dawn. I don't think it was Hogwarts, or destiny, either. But it wasn't an accident. This couldn't be just an accident."

"That's a profound thought to have at a moment like this," Snape said, lips quirking, just a little bit. But he didn't deny it. He looked down for a moment, one brow rose as his gaze shifted over Harry's body then returned to his face. "I might be doing something wrong if you can still think thoughts like that."

Harry smiled at first, then it grew from there. He watched the man, how dare he, to think there could be anything wrong with this. Then he laughed. He laughed, loud and happy. Sitting on a balustrade, arched half-way above an abyss he just laughed like a maniac. His tears welled up, he wiped them away. Severus just watched him mesmerized. What was this, if not happiness.

Harry leaned there, captured the lips, they were his, made for him, just for him. He kissed with intent, with purpose, he kissed softly, sweetly. Tears still rolled on his cheeks.

"What's happening?" Snape asked, understanding the importance of the moment yet still moving on a parallel line with it, missing it with only a hairbreadth.

"Nothing much," Harry answered. I'm just falling in love with you. Slowly. Piece by piece. You'll see soon.

Snape kissed off a teardrop. "Do you want me to stop?" He whispered, gently offering a way out.

To stop? This? That was impossible. This was unleashed now, freed of its cage and even if Harry wanted to close it back up, he doubted he could ever catch up with it.

"No, Severus," He used the name consciously now, on purpose, putting just a little emphasise on it. "I don't want you to stop."

The little pressure of the thumbs over his hipbones told him to lean back. He trusted his body onto this man with almost frightening ease. Why had he never been afraid? Logic said he should have at least be a bit cautious around Snape, always a Slytherin at heart, but he had trusted him since the end of the war. Was it the truth? The memories? A part of his magic in Snape?

Their gaze connected again. What pulled him to Snape? What had pulled him to the Half-Blood Prince? His intelligence? His darkness? His wit? They could have been friends from the start. Harry would have admired Snape. It was better this way. He relished the intensity of all their meetings. He savoured the taste of Snape's anger on the tip of his tongue, like he did now with his kisses.

Harry watched with incredulous amusement as his belt unhooked itself. The button of his jeans popped open. The zipper lowered itself.

He laughed. Such immense power resides in this man, he could destroy walls, lives, conquer half the world with the help of it, yet this is what he uses it for? To undress Harry? Outrageous.

There goes another bit. Another piece of me is falling for you, for your stupid heart. How dare you take me away from myself. Must you be selfish? There won't be anything remaining here unless you give you to me. Just bit by bit. Or all at once.

Severus could be proud of himself. Thoughts flew of Harry's mind the moment hungry mouth was lowered onto the top of his cock. He bent back, let the strong arms hold his weight. You might as well. I have more me in you now, than I have in me. He concentrated instead on the sensations.

Severus kissed the head of his cock. He had an easy enough job, it was perfectly outlined through the stretch of his jeans. He dragged his mouth over the length, dragged, slowly, languidly. Teasingly. He sucked, just a little, still Harry felt that dragon coil up in his stomach.

Magic pulled his pants off, and once uncovered, his cock sprang up demanding attention from those lips. Snape never touched him, not with his hands at least. They remained on Harry's waist, fingertips digging into his lower back as he was held half-way above nothingness, pieces of him falling off gradually.

His eyes though, those endless blacks, those caressed. Harry could feel it. Maybe it was magic too, or just his imagination, he was high enough on endorphin and adrenalin to have hallucinations. They wandered up on his shaft, hesitated on the tip. Flashed across to Harry's green gaze, making sure he was watching, then, only then, Snape gave a small lick, no more than a test, a sample of the goods.

"Good god," he moaned, "You are more delicious than the Kiss of Death."

Harry's body shuddered. His mind was so focused on that one tiny motion the rest of the world was forgotten. Then Snape licked again, longer now, swiping his tongue all the way up, like a child ate melting ice cream on a hot summer day. They were no children, it was a winter night, but Harry was melting, all right.

"God fucking Christ," Harry cried out.

Severus laughed, just a soft chuckle in that deep, velvet voice, but Harry's ears rang with it for days to come. Another piece lost.

"I know you've done this before," Snape said, but of course, his words meant a lot more. There was a question there.

"Not like this," Harry answered. "Not with you."

"Is there a difference?"

There it was, the child, the little boy, the insecurity in him, the doubts that talked to him, whispered to him, untrue voices in his head.

"Of course," Harry said softly. "A vast difference."

Lips quirked and the little boy disappeared, went back to the dungeons. The man remained and that wall around him crumbled. The Harry-sized hole became big as a mountain troll. Harry smiled back.

The lips, those lips, those kissable, beautiful lips returned to his cock. They kissed, they drifted, caressed. How? Ginny had sucked him, it was good. Snape hadn't even taken him in his mouth, and it was better. Soft lips glided across the tip of his cock, a stroke, a kiss, a hot breath against it and Harry begged. "Oh please, oh god please."

Wild heat enveloped his cock. Only the shock kept him from coming right there. Snape sucked, lightly, tongue pressed against the soft head. He moved it, swiped it inside the slit, sucked out the precome.

"Holy fuck!" Harry's back threatened to break.

The deeper down Severus went, the deeper Harry fell. Endless and eternal. Darkness so vivid it became light. Turquoise and blue, vibrating, all around them. His eyes were open. There was no magic. And yet, he could feel it, everywhere. Glowing, bringing light, bringing warmth.

He keened, he hummed, shuddering. Wanted to cry out, to scream, but he couldn't. His mouth was open, but no sound came out, when it did, it was just, "Severus…"

The sounds in his ears, dirty, exciting; the eyes that bore into him, wild and aflame; how could this evoke a greater burning inside him than that immense magic?

Snape let him go, Harry fell, hands seized his thighs. Death grip opened them wider, pulled him apart as Severus took him in balls deep. Harry was in the air, floating nothing more than feathers on the wind. His lower back barely even touched the balustrade. The world tipped.

"Fucking hell," he gasped. Nothingness was above, stars were below; stars and Severus.

His head pulsed, too much blood. "Oh god, please," he cried into the darkness. His cock pulsed, too, Severus moved, raspy flesh against his shaft, rubbing down on the tip, sucking.

"Oh hell," Harry came apart, flew gradually into the abyss above him. And Severus swallowed him up, little by little, every drop. He could feel it, not just his magic, something else in there now, too. Oh god yes, mine. In you, like a virus, see? You'll feel it, too.

Stillness, perfectness and chaos all around. Noise, high pitched buzzing and silence, deep and echoing. Did he lose his mind? Did he lose himself?

What are you doing to me? Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to deserve you? To deserve this? Your trust? Your wings? Why, Severus, why?

When he came around, he was among arms, tender and gentle, soft hands caressed his back.

"What happened?"

"Too much blood in your head happened."

You happened. Don't you dare believe it was anything else.

"Are you all right?"

Harry laughed. He laughed incredulous, happy. Blissful. He looked at Severus. "How can you ask that? You've just sucked me to oblivion."

Severus snorted. He watched Harry. He smiled, not just quirking lips, but a real smile, eyes twinkling, dimples showing. It made Harry's toes curl.

"There'll come a time," said the deep voice slowly, soft at first, darkening gradually, "not the first time, but there will come a time, when I'll fuck you raw."

Harry's breath hitched. His whole body hummed in agreement.

"I'll make you feel every strike of lightning inside me, every electric sting of your magic that courses in me. It is your fault, as much as it is mine and you deserve to feel it."

This wasn't the little boy, this wasn't real anger. A child takes, but a man gives, and Severus clearly wanted to give back a little. This was want, not just lust, not just a physical need but something deeper, something a soul offered and demanded in return.

"Both of us deserves to feel this," Harry said then kissed him deeply enough that even the little boy would feel it.

"Stay the night," Snape breathed against his lips. "You might as well."

He wanted to fall, too, Harry could tell. The little boy held him back. His fears and doubts, the whispers telling him lies, that buzzed around in his mind like annoying beetles on a quiet night. It was dangerous. He would leave. What if? Is it a joke? Can he love me? Will he? Harry could all but hear the dark whispers of the little boy.

"Yes," he told Severus and hopefully the boy heard him, too.

They went inside, showered – separately. It was strangely domestic. Harry was already in bed by the time Snape appeared steam like smoke of cloud behind him whirling like his robes, grey not black now. He was wearing old, worn, grey pyjamas, long sleeved, with buttons – always the buttons. Harry just put back on his boxers, he wasn't afraid he would be cold this night.

He was towelling his hair dry and Harry suddenly felt the absurd need to make him sit between his leg and let him brush out those long tresses.

"It's too long. I'll need to cut it," Severus noted when he noticed the attention.

"Don't even think about it," Harry said quickly from the bed. He folded his arms across his chest when he noticed Snape's smirk.

He let go of the towel which drifted back to the bathroom on its own. He came to bed, sat down on the edge, his back to Harry. It seemed he was gathering courage to climb underneath the covers, though why, Harry couldn't understand. After what happened tonight, Snape should have welcomed the bed – with or without Harry in it.

Harry gave him a minute. This had to be Severus' decision. He didn't want to force it, no matter how much he wanted to reach out and touch that lean back, how much he wanted to kneel behind him and wrap his arms around the man.

"Why is this so hard," Snape said at last. "I want you here."

Who are you? How come you're so honest?

"I can leave," Harry offered. He could give time. He could.

"Don't you dare. I want this."

"Then come here."

Do it. Send the boy back to the dungeon. Be here with me up in the tower.

Snape turned towards him, one leg on the bed already. Little by little. It was all right.

Severus sighed shuddering. He was a man who, if he allowed himself to fall, would fall hard. And Harry wanted to be there when it happened.

"I…" Snape swallowed. Black eyes watched Harry. "I want you here." He repeated not as passionate as before, more thoughtful. He was tasting the words as much as tasting the idea itself.

How does it feel, Severus, to say it? Is it liberating? Is it damning?

Harry dropped his hand onto the bed, let it fall near Severus. He was there, a crutch, if needed. Severus watched it, the palm, motionless, just there, barely even shaking. He turned a bit more. Reached for it. He didn't grasp it like a drowning man seized a rope. He touched it tentatively, fingertips fluttering, sensing.

There was no electricity, no sparks. It was all timid, yet beautiful. Only fingertips brushing his digits at first, dashing over Harry's palm, just to return to the top. Severus took the crutch in the end, holding only Harry's fingers in his hand, just a bit, not fully, not taking all, just a little for now.

He looked up, black eyes unguarded. He was nervous. Shy.

Shy.

There will come a time, when I'll fuck you raw – that man. The man who had told him that, who had looked him in the eyes and said those words now watched him shyly.

Who are you? The question was there again.

"Severus…" Harry whispered. He didn't dare say anything else. Just the name. The name of the boy and the man as well. There wasn't one without the other. He either convinced both of them or neither would come.

Snape leaned down on the bed, pressed a kiss to the middle of Harry's palm, then pressed the side of his face to it. He curled around Harry's hand like a child nestled close to the warmth of the fire or the body of his mother.

Harry edged closer, lifted the head onto his chest. Severus let him. He didn't pull away, just let himself be taken, be held, embraced.

"Nox," Harry whispered, welcoming the gentle blanket of the darkness.

Logs cracked in the fireplace and he caressed Severus into sleep. He stroked his hair until all the little curls were fully straightened and it was dry and soft like iridescent feathers.

Harry might have been the one who grew wings, who learned to fly. Yet it was still Severus, it seemed, who bit by bit regained his freedom.