"Are they asleep?" Hermione whispered as Ron appeared in the kitchen.
"Yeah I think so. Probably just pretending though. You know what they're like."
Hermione sighed as she whisked the last of the dishes away with her wand.
"Harry didn't come to work today." Ron stated more as a fact than a statement of any real consequence.
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows before opening her lips to speak, yet she was cut short as Ron turned and began to walk towards the lounge.
"Called in sick apparently." He added, grabbing a bottle of mead on his way past before sitting on the couch.
"I do hope he is alright." Hermione sighed as she strode over to join him.
"I'm sure he's fine." Ron gave the witch a dismissive wave as he whisked his wand out before aiming it at the bottle.
"I'm not so sure he is."
"You're not still on about that are you? I'm sure Harry will find someone soon, the last thing he needs is a match maker."
"Perhaps you're right." Hermione sighed, though her skeptical tone failed to hide the fact that even she didn't believe her own words, even as she was speaking them.
*~.~*
Harry closed his eyes. It seemed that any ounce of resistance had evaporated from his body. Not that there was much there to begin with, if he were to be completely honest with himself.
"You're not wrong." Harry whispered, yet he seemed almost afraid to open his eyes once more, afraid to witness the expression on Snape's face.
But why was he so afraid?
Perhaps it boiled down to that age old apprehension that rejection would always be the end game in any relationship he managed to forge. If the past was anything go off of that is.
Harry barely flinched as his forehead came to rest against Snape's.
"Despite what you think of yourself, I think you are truly incredible." Snape whispered, his voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire.
Harry couldn't deny the overarching sense of doubt that lingered in his heart, as though it were his instinct to doubt every kind word anyone spoke in reference to him.
"Dumbledore thought so too." Snape added, as though referencing the most revered headmaster would add weight to his words.
Harry shook his head slightly.
"No, your the true hero of the war." The words left his lips with such conviction, yet his eyes remained closed.
A strange, warm wetness brushed across his lips, before lingering, soon to become intertwined with his own.
Harry could feel all sense of control fading as though it were disappearing into some strange unfamiliar dimension and yet, he had no desire to pursue it. Instead he basked in the unfamiliar sense of freedom left in its wake. He had relinquished control.
Was he really kissing his old potions professor? The one he had spent his entire Hogwarts life despising?
He had barely had a chance to comprehend his own thoughts when he felt fingers trace through his hair, drawing him in closer still. Yet he found himself unable to resist. He wasn't sure who wanted this more, Snape or himself.
"Stay the night." Snape stated as though it were a demand spoken by a hungry animal rather than simply a generous offer.
Harry's jaw hung open, as though he were waiting for words to spawn from his lips, yet none manifested themselves.
Snape rose from the couch before gliding in front of the younger wizard, his elegant movements resembling that of a raven. He grasped the man by the forearms before falling to his knees in front of him. Harry could no longer ignore the pounding in his heart as his eyes lingered upon his old professor, watching as he positioned himself between the younger wizard's knees.
"I want to please you." Snape whispered, this phrase seemed strange upon his lips, unfamiliar, as though this combination of words had very rarely been spoken from his own lips.
"You already do." Harry stated softly, as though his words were a universally recognised fact, yet his eyes betrayed him. Confusion edged at them, as though desperate for clarification, yet afraid of what they might uncover.
Snape glanced up, his eyes searching for Harry's with unwavering determination. It wasn't long before he had commanded the younger wizard's undivided attention.
"I think you know what I mean." Snape's drawl whisked through the room as it stood quietly, soaked in the ambient light of the fire. His fingers seemed no longer content with resting on Harry's knees. They craved more, adopting a mind of their own as hunger fuelled their advances.
Harry felt a pang strike his heart, his body seemed to slacken as he felt the sensation traverse down his body, through his abdomen before settling in his groin.
There was no use denying how he felt when it was so apparent that Snape already knew exactly what was going though both his heart and his mind.
But what if he were wrong?
Harry began to doubt whether he had indeed interpreted Severus's actions correctly. Yet as the man's fingertips crept steadily up his thighs towards his aching groin, all his doubts evaporated.
"Is this okay?" Snape whispered, his voice slightly undulating, as though Harry's earlier doubts had somehow transferred abruptly on to him.
Yet his anxiety was unfounded as Harry's breathing became more apparent, each breath more distinctive than the last as the essence of desperation began to consume him. He slid his fingers over his trouser button, hoping he wasn't being too forward, yet at the same time, in that very moment, he couldn't honestly say that he cared. After fumbling around for a second he had it undone. His heart pounded in his chest as he slowly slid his trousers down his thighs, his actions laced with a renewed sense of hesitancy. Yet he seemed unable to resist the surge of hormones tearing through what felt like every vein in his body. Snape slid his hands over Harry's, entwining their fingers as he aided the younger wizard. It felt as though they were both on a mission, a mission to vanquish Harry's cock from the now suffocating constraints of his trousers. The professor leant forward, wasting no more time as he brought the tip of Harry's member to his lips.
It was a moment he had been waiting his whole life for, and yet this seemed to be a fact he had only just realised.
Harry gasped as though some kind of demon had possessed his body. It seemed to be acting as though of its own accord, no longer obeying the will of its commander. In turn it was hungry, craving more of what was being offered until it demanded nothing less. He wanted to scream out, but for once it wasn't because of Voldemort's curses, or sheer frustration at the ceaseless disappointments in his life. No. This time was different. He felt as though the noose around his neck, forever tightening, strangling him until he felt as though he could barely cling to life, had suddenly relinquished it's hold. He felt, for the first time in his life, truly free.