The dark eyes flared. "Your cheek is admirable, Potter, if nothing else. I think I am in the mood to reward it". Harry felt that his eyes twinkled like on his first real Christmas, the first with presents, here in Hogwarts. "Really?", he drawled and stretched in a way he knew got to Snape. Well, and it brought himself closer to him all along. A hard hand grabbed his hair and brought his face as close to that of Snape as it could get without noses ramming into each other.

"Yes really, Mr. Potter, but if you can't take my being so out of character, think of it as a reward for the first time I heard you admit that something was your fault." The hand went down along Harry's cheek, his neck and shoulders and rested there. "Even if it was in jest." The other hand travelled his back, desperately near his spine. Harry shivered and couldn't avert his eyes from the black ones of Snape, even if he felt a little like drowning. The hand travelled further down, went to his buttocks and grabbed them. Hard. Harry had to suppress a moan. "And rest assured, Mr. Potter", Snape's lips nibbled his ear, his cheek, his chin, his throat, "that my bearing as a teacher doesn't impede my being able to – take – you. In any possible way."

Harry shivered and pressed down harder. Into the hand. And into something that nudged his rear end insistently. "Would not be completely out of character, too," he mumbled rather incoherently.

"No it wouldn't, would it", Snape murmured and with a flourish that would have been becoming Gilderoy Lockart removed his robe and threw it on the floor. The next moment Harry found himself lying on it, and deft and rather urgent hands opened his robe and shirt, while lips and teeth and a tongue greeted every millimetre of flesh that was laid bare. He shivered and it was not from the cold. Nerves, rather.

"Oh, you child," muttered Snape, but it didn't sound as embittered as it could have. He waved his wand and a blazing fire lit in the fireplace, warming everything around, even heating up the sallow skin of the Potions master and giving it a healthy glow.

Harry sighed, relieved, and started to get completely undressed. But his hands were slapped away. "Mine", Snape growled, and Harry wasn't the one to contradict him. Not just now. When Snape was acting, after all that racket before, he would rather not throw him into another fit of anything. Plus, he loved his hands. On himself. Everywhere. And not just hands. But hands usually lead to – more.

He whimpered. Snape's hands were soft and callous at the same time, and rather cruel just now. Good thing that he didn't much like his clothes. They didn't take Snape's treatment well. Well, his body was another thing completely. It squirmed and writhed in a rather undignified way, and not away from the hands that could be so deceivingly soft in one moment and hard in the next. And quick. He was undressed completely in a matter of a minute or so.

Snape threw Harry's clothes away somewhere, in an unconcerned way no one who had seen him handle his potions would have believed him capable of. Then his dark eyes moved about the body he had just undressed. The lips muttered something. It sounded like "I love this", but Harry didn't trust his ears enough to believe that. On the other hand – why not? Snape risked a lot indeed by doing this. He must have reasons for it, Harry thought smugly.

Said smugness was wiped away from his face completely when Snape fell onto his body again, fingers now roaming over skin and flesh, wildly, mercilessly, decided to make him scream. Harry didn't want to scream, but he did. He always did. Once the man had him in his mouth, that hot wet talented mouth, he was a goner. And rather fast at that.

This time was like every time. Harry bucked helplessly into Snape's mouth within minutes, and the smug smile was on Snape, who wiped his mouth in a way Harry knew he should feel bad about but wasn't. It looked – arousing. The dark eyes over the hand, the mouth Harry knew was behind it, and what he had just done – Harry shivered all over. The eyes threw dark fire. "Now, young man", the voice was dark and so low that Harry had to strain his ears to hear it. "Satisfied?"

Harry grinned a rather beatific smile. "Well", he drawled lazily, "for now. But I don't consider that as keeping promises". The eyes, nose and mouth were directly in front of him. "You don't?" Menace pure, Harry shivered again but held the gaze of these black unfathomable depths. "Pity", delivered in a tone reminiscent of first year. Harry grinned again, delighted. The delight grew, the grin was gone, when strong hands grabbed him none too carefully and turned him around to face the floor of the dungeon. Not quite the place he would have chosen, but then again, he had, hadn't he?

Harry bit into Snape's robe when he felt the long forefinger of the man at his entrance. He wouldn't give his teacher the satisfaction to hear him scream. Not again. Not again so soon after. And he might be a pervert, as Ron told him often, but he rather liked feeling the texture of that dark forbidding piece of cloth between his teeth, the one that had hid the man from him for years. The one he used so well to torment him one way or other. Swirling it, swishing along, making his walk appear as flying, inducing all kinds of hormone-crazed ideas in his mind, which made his Potions lessons an even worse pastime than earlier, when he had thought he hated the man. But ever since the bike accident, as Harry called it by himself, the robes, billowing around the man, had held his curiosity high. They smelled of smoke and unspeakable things, but Harry bit into it happily.

Where ever Snape had got the oil from, Harry was sure glad he had. He wriggled happily and a bit excited, yet again. It was not as if he did this only to please Snape, after the man had pleasured him that nicely, he could feel his own interest grow again, against the robe on the cold floor of the dungeon.

He moaned when an oiled finger penetrated him. Snape was so good at that. So damned patient, Harry would have called him a bloody tease, if he had had the breath to do so. He was occupied with gnarling his teeth. He didn't want to scream, not yet, not yet again, not when only a finger, two fingers, three fingers opened him expertly. He could do that later. Oh okay.

"All that potion stirring surely helped with your stamina, Sev", he gritted out through clamped teeth. "Don't you think this is enough bloody preparation even for a virgin? Which I am not, by any means." The fingers stopped. Oh okay. He had thought he could bring Snape to do something, anything rash with his words. He had been wrong, it seemed. Severus Snape was not an easy man to handle, and any time Harry thought he could look through him like glass, he was taught otherwise very soon indeed. He wriggled invitingly. Surely, Snape hadn't had the time to cast a spell on himself that helped him to resist temptation?

Harry felt sweat breaking out on his whole body. He couldn't stand the anticipation. Snape behind his back, Snape not saying anything, not doing anything, that reminded him uncomfortably of his years as a student of this man. Well, technically, he still was a student of this man, but who cared? It was not right that the man could do that to him. Make him shiver and squirm and moan nearly, so very nearly, just with his unmoving silent presence behind him. Something like that should be ruled out by the Ministry. Oh, well, perhaps it was. Harry couldn't imagine going to the new Minister, Arthur Weasley, and tell him that he and Snape – oh no. Well, Arthur Weasley didn't even know about his own sons, so he had no reason to presume he'd understand Harry any more than he did the twins, for example. Well, he was a nice enough man, and not too prone to follow stupid rules, but to think of him and sex in the same sentence was something that did sorry things to his bodily state. Then again – Arthur and Molly must have had sex – at least six times. Ouch!