Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting

This probably should have been edited for FF.Net. While the author realises this may be slightly racier than an "R", the part of this chapter in question is such an essential piece to the rest of the book, she decided to leave it in as is. Contains descriptive (but not graphic) sex and rough language--Mea Culpa and Caveat Lector--you have been warned.

Part III : Conflict
Chapter Thirty Three : What's for Dessert?

June 21 2003 (Continued)

They were down by the Great Hall when Severus cleared his throat and said quietly, "I don't believe I found the opportunity this evening to express my gratitude for a most--unusual--birthday. I would show you how much I enjoyed it, but I think, perhaps, Mr. Tools has not quite caught his breath from our earlier performance." Following Severus' wicked gaze, Harry saw Stanley lurking in a niche to the side as they passed. Harry snickered and Severus, with waggling brows, continued once they were past the unfortunate young man, "So I intend to thank you properly when we get home."

Harry felt warm relief at his words. It had certainly gone off a little differently than he'd expected, starting from their interrupted snog to the wide range of emotions Severus had publicly let loose while opening his presents.

"The party was only as unique as you are yourself." Harry grinned at Severus' sceptical sniff. "And I especially love it when you're polite." Harry could feel from the shift of their hands that Severus had been thinking of stopping and showing him but had thought better of it, again. Harry knowingly chuckled and was amused by Severus' snort of derision.

Near the stairs to the dungeons, Severus hesitated, and with a glance at his face, Harry stopped to find out what was bothering him. The reserve in Severus' eyes was so different from his normal arms-length keep-away-from-me glare it required a second look. Scanning his whole face, Harry decided his visage held a quality of shyness more than anything else, a foreign uncertainty, as it were. Harry didn't know why it chafed him like an ill-fitting collar, but reckoned it had something to do with what had been happening over the last few months. When Severus drew breath to speak, his "I'm happy you and Ron have reconciled," was the last thing Harry had expected to hear.

Harry jerked in response and then felt a sharp stab of guilt--just one more thing he'd hidden from the man and he now understood the rest behind the words he didn't utter. In a flash of belated insight, that was gone as quickly as it had come, Harry saw in full the ramifications of his actions of the last two years and wondered how Severus was ever going to forgive him. The urgency to tell Severus what had happened was overwhelming, as if every second he delayed would mean a point loss in the odds of him keeping him in his life. But the need to spend time with him, to reconnect with him was as important, perhaps more so because he instinctively knew he had to build it back up before he tore it down. No, now was not the time to blurt out the truth, so he chose his words carefully. "Thanks. I'm relieved it's over." He could see the questions in Severus' eyes about it, but Harry hoped he wouldn't press the issue.

It was all too new and wonderful, this feeling of reconciliation with Ron. He'd been gathering all the gifts in one place so he could shrink them, when he heard Ron call out from behind, "Oy, Harry, can I see you a minute?" He'd taken a moment to compose himself before he turned to greet his friend. It had been almost a year since they'd talked and the last time had been so hurtful, he really didn't want a continuation. He'd looked over at Hermione, but she'd seemed calm, so maybe this would be all right.

His feet rooted to the floor, he'd glanced at Severus, who'd been talking quietly to Dumbledore, and saw him put his hand on Albus' arm stopping him in mid-word. Severus stared at Harry, a worried frown marring his forehead, a multitude of questions had filled his eyes. Knowing full well he'd never discussed the rift with Severus, and why, Harry nodded in what he'd hoped was a placating manner, carefully keeping his face neutral; Severus could be a bit over-protective at times.

He'd met Ron in the middle. "I just--" Ron hesitated, his face almost as red as his hair, now so liberally sprinkled with white it made him look years older than Harry. "I just wanted to tell you--I'm all right with everything." His words had been slightly slurred as if he'd had too much of the punch, but Harry knew it was just a side-effect of his recovery. "Playing in the tournament made me realise I was a lucky bugger to have my mind back at all, and I shouldn't be blaming you for the rest of it." He'd given Harry an abashed, lop-sided smile.

"I-I--" Harry stammered. The words had not come, he'd been so full. Ron pulled him into a warm embrace. They'd separated awkwardly, both misty-eyed. "Welcome back, Ron," he'd whispered. "I missed you so much." Harry had wanted to do a little dance to celebrate that Ron had forgiven him.

Ron had kept his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. I was a right berk about it." Harry nodded, and it was all right. They'd exchanged a few more words and another hug with Hermione there as well, the tears unashamedly wetting her cheeks. When she and Ron had left, arms wrapped around each other, Harry had the strongest urge to be with Severus.

Nearing him, before they'd left the party, Harry had seen only sympathy in his eyes. On one hand he'd wanted to tell Severus about it; hell, he wanted to shout about it to the whole world. Ron was still his friend--and he was grateful for it.

But right now there was also a hollow place inside, the place Severus should have been occupying as he shared his joy with him. Just another thing he'd denied his lover these last two years. Here, at the top of the stairs, the brush of fingers across his cheek and the small soft kiss Severus placed on his lips sent a frisson through his body, and those gestures, coupled with the neutral look in his lover's eyes, told him Severus would wait for Harry to get to it in his own time. Harry was grateful for that understanding.

Tugging on his hand, Severus started down the stairs, Harry following. They reached the bottom when Harry stopped and turned to Severus, not sure he should ask. Severus took the opportunity to kiss him lightly, lips barely skimming over Harry's and with the shivers of stark desire Harry felt working down his back at Severus' sure touch, both on his lips and the contrasting strong grip on his hands, it was hard for him to think, let alone continue. "Sev?" he finally asked, not sure he should bring it up.

Severus asked non-committally, "Hmmm?" his hands moving up Harry's arms to his shoulders,

Taking a deep breath to steady the twitches in his stomach from both his question and the hand creeping up his neck into his hair, Harry asked, "Why were you upset about the cloak?"

Severus didn't say anything, but his eyes were thoughtful as his thumbs caressed Harry's cheeks. Holding his face as if it were the most precious of possessions, Severus leant down and kissed Harry again, softly, his tongue running lightly over his lips. Harry heard himself make a helpless noise from afar as he responded and kissed him back. Smiling, Severus eventually paid due attention to his cheeks and eyes as well and then, with a little nip to his nose, he moved away, reluctantly it seemed, and taking Harry's hand once again, they continued silently on their way down to their quarters.

He stopped them outside their door; Severus face was undisturbed and calm but unreadable. "I wasn't upset, per se. I was more shocked than anything else." Harry raised a brow and he continued, "You see, I gave Sirius that cloak for his birthday." He opened the door after speaking their password and Harry walked in, dazed, a million questions running through his mind.

The moment the lock clicked on the door Severus pulled Harry close and kissed him deeply, his arms sliding around the slender waist; Harry held on to his shoulders, not certain he could stand much longer. The last coherent thought he had, as he returned Severus' kiss with fervor, was that he'd always loved Severus' way of redirecting questions he didn't want to answer. After that he didn't think of much at all except strategizing the fastest way to get Severus' clothes off without breaking their kiss.

And he obviously succeeded because it didn't take long for the trail of clothes to snake its way to their bed where they were soon so involved, Hogwarts could have fallen around them and they wouldn't have noticed.

Much later, Severus was floating on a bed of contentment, satiated for the moment. He tightened his arms around the cause of his repletion, savouring the warmth of his skin, the weight of his head on his shoulder, the tangle of their legs. He heard Harry sigh with the same feeling; his breath warm and moist as it tickled the hairs on his chest.

"So good," Severus murmured, the differing textures of Harry's skin under his fingers both familiar and yet, in some strange manner, new. He was not the least bit tired despite the length of their love-making. They'd taken their time, spending what had seemed like days exploring each other again, as if for the first time. At his words, Harry lifted his face for more kisses; Severus was only glad to oblige him.

After a little while, Harry shifted, half covering Severus, the better to look at him. His face was serious enough Severus stopped wool-gathering and paid him keen attention. "I was wondering, Sev, have you ever regretted our--decision?"

Severus regarded him a moment in the light of the candles hanging in the canopy and around them, giving it the thought Harry's question deserved. "No, not really. I briefly reconsidered it when I thought you were--never mind--but for myself? No, I have no regrets. Why? Have you rethought it?"

"Not at all. I thought about it only for the reasons I think you did, sorry as they are. I still have no real desire for it, though," Harry replied, a tremble running once through his body; Severus held him close.

Severus was greatly relieved at the statement. He shuddered, remembering that night so long ago; Harry ran his hand through his hair in what he took as empathy and snuggled close, protectively, with his arm tight around Severus' chest, the other buried under the pillow to emerge tucked against his shoulder, his leg ensconced between his own. Severus tightened his own hold, shifting Harry closer, and resigned himself to the memories.

It had happened shortly after Ron had been injured, in March of 2000. For some misplaced reason, Harry had wanted to 'do it proper' as he'd said. Severus remembered being sceptical at the time, but with Harry writhing underneath him, his eyes black with desire, he'd finally given in with some hesitation and done what Harry had asked. And Harry had seemed fine, eager, and definitely excited while he was preparing him, slowly, carefully, watching his every movement for the slightest signs of distress. He'd held him close, spooned on their sides, and as he'd sunk into Harry's body, the physical sensations incredible, he'd also felt a fleeting sense of wrongness about it, something he could never explain other than it was as if they were not supposed to be doing this. However, he'd put the feeling aside thinking it was only because of the newness of it.

He blamed himself for what followed. Thinking everything all right, given Harry's delicious noises and vocal encouragement, he'd let slip his vigilance. He'd been so lost in the feel of it, the heat and tightness and Harry's coarse, profane words of encouragement, he'd not noticed when Harry's enjoyment had slipped away. He supposed, looking back on it (something he usually tried to avoid), that the words Harry had used should have been his first clue something was wrong, that Harry was locked into his memories and not really 'with' him. Harry had never spoken before (nor since) like that in bed with him, never called their physical relationship 'fucking', never begged him to 'fuck me hard'--nor did he want him to ever again; the words bore a crudeness that had more to do with old domination games than the fresh sharing they normally experienced. No, it had never even occurred to him at the time--he ruefully admitted he'd only been thinking about the sex.

Harry had been so hard and hot while he'd stroked him to the rhythm his own body was demanding, his body pushing back with every deep thrust Severus had made, and the resulting orgasm had been powerful, Harry's body arched against him, clenched around him as he, too, cried out his pleasure. But the price had been far too high. Kissing the back of Harry's sweaty neck afterwards, his tongue tasting sweet and salt, he'd finally noticed through his own fog and laboured breathing that Harry's head was turned into the pillow and he was crying. Alarmed, he'd withdrawn carefully, not wanting to hurt him, and had eventually coaxed Harry into his arms facing him, his chest absorbing the heavy sobs, his body silently suffering the bruising grip of his hands. In all the years he'd known him, Harry had cried only twice before with him, the night on the Astronomy Tower and this ill-fated night; his emotional excess both times had scared Severus.

He'd held him close long after the tears had been replaced by the steady deep breaths of sleep and later had gentled him through the inevitable nightmares that followed. And all that black night, between dark screaming dreams filled with jagged pain, and quiet sleep marred by soft whimpers of guilt, he'd fought his own demons. Fought his own memories, wrestling with the sharp serrated edges of past betrayal and past injury by those whose only motivation had been hateful and forbidden pleasures.

In the darkest part of the night, when the sun's presence would soon be felt, but was now forgot, he'd forced himself to look at his past honestly, to relive the forfeiture of his humanity and dignity, the humiliating incidents had paraded across his squirming mind's eye, one sickening image after another. And when he'd compared their empty pleasures to this one night of innocently mistaken passion, reconciled their enmity towards him against the love so freely given to him by a man as haunted as himself, he'd found it impossible to condemn Harry no matter how he viewed it. For though they'd never spoken of it, he'd known exactly where their hearts lay.

Balancing the sheet had been easier with the coming of dawn. He'd known, deep inside him where no one followed and all his shadows lay untouched by anything kind, that Harry was as vulnerable to his past as he was. The day, kissed by the first edges of light, had found him peaceful in his knowledge, his reeducation complete. While he himself had been content with his resolve over what had happened, he'd also known the worst was yet to come, for Harry still didn't know.

And he'd been right. In the days afterwards, Harry had apologised, over and over, as if his response to his overwhelming memories were something over which he had control; within his own, Severus knew better and had told him so, each time in a different way, hoping that with each repetition Harry would finally understand what he himself had concluded the night it had happened. It had broken Severus' heart to hear Harry speak as if he'd betrayed him somehow and didn't know how to convince him except to stand steadfastly by his side. Harry had been mortified that he'd been with Draco at the moment of his release and not with Severus; he was afraid Severus was angry at him for it, which in reality was far from the truth. Rather, Severus had been upset he'd not seen it coming; he should have trusted his instincts when they'd told him from the moment Harry had asked that it was a bad idea.

It had taken Severus weeks to finally convince Harry it was all right and they were fine, that he was content and satisfied with their loving the way it was--the way it would remain--Severus had no intention of ever putting them through it again. In one night of clear talk and confrontation, Severus had finally discovered that the whole thing had started with trust. Or more accurately, the fear of trust. Harry had been worried that Severus would think he didn't trust him if he didn't surrender to him this last 'sacrifice' withheld from him out of fear. Where he'd got that idea was vague even now, but at the time, it had been very real. Hours after the first shouted words, Severus had been relieved it was over. Harry had finally heard, and more importantly believed, what Severus had been trying to tell him all along--he did not need, nor want 'sacrifices' in their relationship. He only wanted Harry, in whatever form he got him, scars and all.

And they'd moved on, because it was apparent from their discussion that they'd been damned no matter what they'd done. They were clear on the consequences of succumbing to the infrequent temptations to violate their own agreement, but Harry was the one who'd seen the other side of it and he'd shared it with Severus. It had been the final piece of the conundrum allowing Harry to put it to rest even though, deep inside, Severus never did agree with his assessment. Harry believed that had Severus refused Harry (which is still what he thought he should have done} it would have been more devastating than acceding had ever been, for Harry would have thought Severus was rejecting him out of hand, that Harry was not good enough, man enough, to 'take it', and Severus didn't trust him to make his own choices. Harry felt they might not have ever recovered from such a travesty.

Severus knew he would never be able to tell Harry in words just how deep his trust in him really was. However, maybe the fiasco had needed to happen if only to put the issues of their relationship and sexuality to rest. 'Until now that is.' Forcing himself to relax a little, he said lightly, "Hmm. I have to admit to a certain amount of relief to hear you say you are not interested. But tell me--have I somehow made you think I would ever want to repeat such a catastrophe again?"

Harry chuckled softly as he placed a small kiss on Severus' chest, but his voice was serious as he replied, "No, not at all. I have never felt dissatisfaction from you. It's just... The thought occurred to me the other night when I put you to bed. You were so tired and--it had been so long--I wanted you and I was afraid--but couldn't bring myself to wake you. I couldn't sleep-- You know how it gets at night sometimes, left alone with one's thoughts; I think better when you're awake. You ground me, somehow. Otherwise I think in unproductive circles."

Severus knew exactly what he was talking about. "You were afraid I didn't want you? And that led you to wonder about our decision?"

Harry said sheepishly, "Yeah, the thought crossed my mind. Several times..."

Rolling them over, Severus leaned on his elbow so he could see Harry better. He dipped his head and stole a kiss. "I seem to recall we've been through this at least once before." Severus' eyes followed the route his free hand ran down Harry's side from rib to knees. As he lightly trailed his hands up the front on their return trip to Harry's chest, he murmured, "I certainly hope I have, by now, made it abundantly clear how much I want you. The last time we went through this--"

Harry drew a shuddering breath and placed his hand on Severus' mouth. "Severus, I remember. I remember how I became a victim again and what you felt--I don't want us to ever feel that way again."

"So, we're still agreed?" Severus asked, watching Harry carefully.

"Absolutely--no buggering. And I have to say, after all the lovely things we've done tonight--" He scooted up, drawing his face even with Severus'.

Harry silently begging for kisses had to be rewarded. Severus nibbled gently on Harry's lips and shivered as Harry's hands slid down his back. "Hmmm? You were saying?"

Harry pulled Severus' head down to take his lips with own and, hooking his legs behind Severus, rolled them back to their original position with Harry on top. He whispered, his eyes intent, "--with what you do to me without it, what's there to miss?"

Severus breathed a sigh of relief as Harry laid his head back down in what he'd told Severus on several occasions was 'his' hollow, custom-designed for him before Severus' birth. A silly romantic notion, he'd told him, never saying how good it always made him feel. He laughed inwardly at his own folly, convinced he was a fool for not telling Harry these things out loud, but secure that his lover knew them anyway. He ran his hand slowly down the long length of Harry's spine, loving the stippling of the satiny skin caused by his touch, placed his hand firmly on the small of Harry's back, which was 'his' spot and, nuzzling his head with his lips, sighed with great contentment.

Sometime later, Harry lifted his head with a mischievous glimmer in his eye. "Speaking of performance," he began, "that little book of yours looked like a lot of fun."

"'A right giggle', I believe you said."

Harry chuckled wickedly. "Yes, indeed I did." He got up and clambered out of the bed. "Be right back," he called over his shoulder as he went into the other room.

Severus openly admired his lithe shape as he walked through the doorway, feeling the tightening he knew was going to come sometime soon. He was briefly disturbed Harry would have brought up their mutual decision, but in light of all the doubts both of them had, he supposed the question was natural.

He'd already dropped the subject in his head and was thinking on how he could best satisfy the now rigid desire from which he was suffering, when Harry returned with a tray bouncing along beside him. When he got it near the bed side, the legs underneath folded down making a small table upon which was a dinner tray with a round cover on top. Beads of condensation were running down its sides, so Severus knew whatever was in there was being kept cold. A big red bow covered the lot and another was around Harry's neck.

"Late night snack?" he queried, amused, eyeing both bows. "A late birthday present?"

"Sort of," Harry said, removing the lid with a flourish. "Dessert!"

When Severus saw the contents he started laughing, recognising the items on the tray. "What? No spotted dick?" he couldn't resist asking, incredulous Harry wanted to try this.

"No, it seemed a little too obvious, so I decided to go after the other 'naughty desserts' outlined in the section," he said reaching for the tray.

"No cherries either, I suppose," Severus asked in reference to a comment Harry had made in the margins.

"Didn't seem--appropriate--somehow." He put his knee on the bed and leaned over Severus, stealing a kiss, tasting him with his tongue. "So tell me, oh purveyor of delectable sweetmeats, Chocolate or Butterscotch?" he asked in a mock-sultry voice. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"What? No hot fudge?" he asked, all innocence.

"You didn't put it in the margins," Harry grumbled, "but I'll remember it next time."

"All right, chocolate it is. Can't imagine a banana split with butterscotch." Severus looked over at the tray. "Where's the bananas?"

Harry leered at him as he shook the Muggle can of whipped cream. "We'll just have to improvise, won't we?"

At dawn, Severus woke loose and refreshed thanks to the late night bath he and Harry had taken to wash off the sticky remains from their late night snack. While it had definitely been 'a right giggle', he wasn't sure he was up to such rich fare every day. He felt Harry's light morning snores stir the hairs on his chest. That woke him up--for the first time in four years they'd not shifted positions.

Unlike previous months, he had a whole morning stretching out before him unfilled and clear. Pictures of unhurried, lazy love-making occupied his senses for about as long as it took for him to realise the day would probably be spent trying to figure out what had happened to them over the last few months. They'd not talked about it at all and Severus sensed they were not finished with the difficult revelations; they would need to talk before much longer, although the thought of it left him cold. And there was Harry's school work; he would need to make up the lost time from the days before.

In the meantime, he was not immune to the slow sleepy hand stroking his chest, running down his side and tripping back up his stomach in short tickling touches. He stopped short of a giggle. Definitely tickling now. He raised his head and looked down; unrepentant green eyes playfully stared back up at him.

He held his breath. No, this was definitely not working; he snorted, suppressing the undignified giggles, his eyes bulging. The hands tickled again. Relentless, they pressured his stomach in paroxysms of tickles. He tried to move away. No luck. He did giggle, appalled at the noises leaving his nose. Then he gave up, convulsing in laughter as the hand dug right at his belly button. He writhed, helpless, trapped by Harry's body from pulling away. His toes curled. He felt the hoot of satisfaction at his chest, the hand continuing up, counting his ribs.

It faltered. Ahhh, the break he was waiting for.

He attacked. Went on the offensive. Won the battle but lost the war. Harry was breathless at the end; so was he.

Life was good.

Severus was just about to fasten the clasps on his lighter, summer robes when he felt a familiar pair of arms steal around his waist to lock loosely in front of him. The warm body followed, pressing lightly against him, the head a heavier weight as it settled on the back of his neck, the nose shifting the hair off it so the lips could kiss it. Responding to the little nips ghosting along the sensitive skin of his nape, he automatically put his hands over the clasped hands in front of him and was surprised to feel a slight tremour in them. They tightened and it disappeared so fast he wondered if he'd imagined it.

He didn't really want to go down to breakfast anymore than Harry did, but a body needed sustenance for what they'd been doing for the better part of the night and morning, and he was hungry. His stomach rumbled under Harry's hands, which contracted then released at the same time he felt the laughing sigh on his neck.

"Oh, all right then, I surrender. Let's go to breakfast; I can't compete with your complaining belly, and I admit I'm a bit peckish myself."

Severus turned around in the loose circle of Harry's arms loath to go. He kissed Harry murmuring, "We could just ask the house-elves to bring us breakfast." He pulled him closer, lightly traced his tongue over Harry's lips, his two hungers vying equally for attention. His stomach grumbled insistently again.

Harry laughed, "There's really no sense in arguing with it, is there? Besides, I'm not sure I can face the house-elves quite yet after what we did with the food they brought down last night."

Chuckling, Severus protested, "But that was dessert."

"Uh huh, and now we're asking for breakfast? What will they think?"

Severus nuzzled his neck. "Do we care?" His stomach complained louder.

Harry playfully pushed away, looking him in the eye. "Not really, but let's go down anyway. I'm not quite sure I can deal with my eggs and kippers and you at the same time."

Waggling his brows, Severus said lightly, "Eggs and kippers?" He lowered his hands and his voice, cupping Harry's arse, pulling him tight against him, "I was thinking more on the lines of bangers, myself."

Harry licked his lips and looked like he was about to capitulate when his stomach spoke up, sounding against the noise coming from Severus'. They broke apart, reluctantly but laughing, their hands still joined. "Why didn't you tell me there were four of us? You, me, and the two chuffers wanting food."

With the continuing noises issuing from their neglected hungers sounding like a two fishwives across a fence, Harry and Severus left their other appetites behind to pursue some breakfast.

TBC