Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 02 : A Bit Of All Right
by I Got Tired of Waiting
Edited for FF.net--just a little--778 sexy words were sacrificed on the altar of the rating gods.
I apologise--this is missing an entire section--coitus writus interruptus is never a pretty thing. Remember, if you are of age, the full version is available at my site.
Part V : Together
Chapter Fifty Four : Harry's Fantasy
24 October 2003
The cauldron arced through the air, sailing with explosive force from the middle of the potions classroom over the heads of the students who, after four years of Snape's tutelage, had at least developed the survival instincts to duck low. Unable to stop it from his position in the back of the room, even if his wand wasn't tucked in his sleeve, and certain it would harm no students in its perfectly calculable trajectory, Snape closed his eyes, unwilling to witness first hand the devastation it would create when it hit the front of his classroom.
End over end it flew, the volatile cargo held securely inside by centripetal force, content to stay there until, by every other law of Newton, its forward momentum was abruptly halted by Snape's desk. With a thunderous explosion, the bulky cauldron tore through the fragile antique, shattering it into hundreds of pieces, the boiling, botched potion inside splashing and coating almost every remaining surface of Snape's precious possession and the splintered parts of the bookcase beyond. The dull ferric thud of the cauldron landing and rolling on the stone floor was preternaturally loud in the absolute silence reigning in the classroom.
Torn by resignation and an anger so profound it threatened to erupt into the wild wandless magic of his childhood, Snape snarled a barely intelligible dismissal to the cowering students, who, like a bunch of disturbed swarm of cockroaches, scuttled out of the classroom as fast as their relieved legs would carry them. When the last of the students cleared the room, he strode to the front to assess the damage.
The bookcase he barely gave a glance; even if it had been utterly destroyed, which was pretty close to its current state, the reference books, along with all the years of notes in them, scattered all over the floor, were protected against such an accident by every spell (light or otherwise) he could devise to keep them intact. They would be fine as would the contents of the desk. But the desk itself? His eyes travelled over the pieces laying helter skelter over the front of the room. It might be possible to repair, although it would never be the same.
He pulled his wand and spoke the first spell to clean up the mess. It disappeared slowly, reluctantly, and by its resistance, he knew instantly what the potion had become. He cast a second, more powerful cleansing charm and this time the muck evaporated instantly, leaving the gruesome remains of one of his favourite pieces, now totally destroyed. He didn't even bother to try to put it back together; he knew it would be a futile endeavor, for the potion had become one cancelling certain types of magic, including the ones used for repairs. Cursing his luck, he hoped this would take care of any further misfortune lurking about on this, the eve of his wedding.
So, during his missed lunch, he'd supervised its replacement. As the house-elves floated it in, he gazed in dismay at the simply awful, huge table-like affair with closed sides and a deep apron in front running almost to the floor. He soon learned the front piece kept him from stretching his legs out all the way, an annoyance he tried to alter, but, as he tried to correct the problem, found his spells simply bounced off it with no effect. It was most vexing and only served to fuel his ire. As it was almost time for his next class to arrive, his last of the day, he determined he would have to get a new one when he and Harry returned from their honeymoon.
While he waited for his double potions class with the Second Year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, he decided to dismiss them early and just give them a surprise essay, detailing the potion they worked on in the previous class that would take up half of the period. He could then grade the assignments from the class before and not have to deal with the little reprobates. He liked the idea and, riffling through a pile of parchment on a side table, pulled out the right form. He waved his wand and soon 30 duplicates were there in front of him complete with anti-cheating charms, all neatly rolled up, waiting for the unsuspecting victims.
Harry pulled the invisibility cloak around him, hoping Severus' preoccupation would keep him from noticing that Harry had snuck in just as the house-elves were leaving. When he'd heard the explosion from their quarters, where he'd been making a list of the things he still needed to do the next day, he'd rushed to the lab terrified something had happened to Severus. Weaving his way through the scurrying students, he'd slid to a halt at the doorway. One look was all it had taken to assure himself his lover was physically fine, but from the stiff line of Severus' spine to the mumbled invectives pouring out of his intended as he surveyed the devastation, Harry easily recognized his temper and knew from long intimate experience it was best to retreat unnoticed than face the wrath ready to lash out at anyone stupid enough to get in its way. Severus would eventually calm down--someday.
The replacement desk had been his contribution as was the spell he'd cast to keep Severus from changing the front, which he'd known Severus would not like much. When he'd heard Severus order a new one, Harry had instructed the house-elves to use this one. Seizing the opportunity it presented, he'd run back to their quarters, got the cloak, and come back. His afternoon was free; he was supposed to be working with Dumbledore on some detail or other about the wedding, but he'd begged off, claiming jitters and a need to be alone. Dumbledore hadn't been fooled, his blue, knowing eyes glittering over his glasses, but Harry hadn't cared.
He still didn't like all the fuss with the wedding and he knew Severus was equally ambivalent. However, he supposed, from the participants' perspective, where it was being held, at what time and on what date, held some importance for them all. And of course, there were the little details on which Poppy and her little band had insisted. Severus had been antsy all week. Harry didn't think it was nerves, per se, but rather the difficulties involved in writing their Epithalamium, the traditional, formal poem Dumbledore insisted they write as part of their vows for the wedding tomorrow. He knew he wasn't too happy with his either.
Spontaneous as ever, Harry had decided it was his turn to use The Book to his advantage and, as a beneficial side-effect, to calm Severus down quickly. Severus had, over the years, made good use of the section titled, The Titillating Uses of Invisibility Cloaks, after reading Harry's note in the margins that the cloak was kept in the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. Later, he'd used his own cloak, the one Harry had now, as it was longer and fuller than his old one, which had a tendency to show his feet if he wasn't careful. That would just not do right now; he was about to embark on an adventure sure to stupefy Severus into voluntary silence--or get him killed.
For Harry was about to live out a fantasy, one he'd had since his Seventh Year. He had the cloak, he had the time, he had the Potions Master, and he had the desk. The infamous Nibble-While-You-Work aka Getting-aHead-at-Work-Blow-Job--he couldn't count the number of times he'd wacked off to this particular scenario before he and Severus had got together, the only thing holding him back all these years had been that damned open desk Severus favoured. There was no way he could have done it unobserved, even with the cloak, with the desk's sides and front open. Hence the replacement; ugly as a boil, emminently useful.
He sharpened his attention as the students started coming into the classroom, his heart starting to pound in anticipation. He needed no other stimulus. He'd been ready ever since he'd put the cloak on and made up his mind to do it. Once all the students were seated and Severus was passing out the assignment, Harry silently moved and knelt under the desk, arranging the cloak so it was covering all of him, including his feet. He sat back on his heels and waited.
True to form, Severus came back to the desk and stood in front of it a few moments while the panicked students bent to their task, eyes looking up every now and then, glazed, as what little thought they had was drawn to the surface in a futile attempt to write the essay. Satisfied he had, once again, managed to terrorize them, he went around and sat at his new desk. It felt odd, cramped, but he dismissed the feeling and grabbed the first paper to grade. He'd no more dipped his pen in the ink when--
Harry eyed the delicious sight in front of him. He leaned forward and gently ran his hands up the tops of Severus' thighs, his thumbs skimming the insides. He felt Severus' jerk of surprise and then a hand came down and touched his as if making sure he wasn't imagining it. His face soon followed and Harry, dropping the hood of the cloak, grinned at him--
SNIP Sorry kiddies--even magic couldn't clean this one up! SNIP
--Severus slumped in the chair utterly undone. He was not sure he could rise from it, let alone collect the papers. He could feel Harry gently fastening his trousers. The whispered cleaning spell he faintly heard removed all trace of their recent activities. He smiled, replete.
One lone Ravenclaw, who looked up at that moment, was mesmerised by the mellow, smiling face of the old sod. Almost sure she was imagining things, she bent back to her paper. When she looked up again, not quite convinced, the smile was gone to be replaced by his normal stern visage, but she wasn't as scared of him as she had been at first.
Harry sat back on his heels and waited for the class to end. This had been most satisfying. He heard Severus call time and heard the summoning spell as all the essays, finished and otherwise, flew to his new desk to arrange themselves into neat piles.
"Class dismissed," Severus said at the bell, watching the little cretins gather their things at the speed of sound and pelt out of his classroom. When the last one had left he stood and moving away from the desk called out, "They're gone. You can come out now, Harry."
Harry crawled out from under the desk and stood only to be captured by long, strong arms wrapping around him while a hard body pressed him against the desk, the lips hungrily fastening on his, making him ache for him again. 'Merlin, what a mouth,' he thought as he always did.
Neither one heard the hurried footsteps as a Ravenclaw, the one who had seen Severus smile, ran into the room. She squeaked when she saw them kissing and in a terrified whirl, ran back out the door, the book she'd come to retrieve forgot.
They broke apart at the high-pitched sound of her surprise and watched her run out of the room. Severus waved his hand and the door closed and locked.
"I wonder what tales she'll tell when she gets back to her common room," Harry chuckled dryly.
"Whatever they are, you can be sure they'll grow with the telling," Severus murmured, pulling his attention back with wet nips up his neck. He tilted his head, this time getting the kiss he wanted undisturbed.
He never did replace the desk.