Harry stumbled down the steps of Grimmauld as the noisome bell rang for a second time. He was infinitely grateful for the silencing spell Remus had found that had permanently stifled Sirius' screeching mother. In his hurry, the Wizarding Savior tumbled the last few steps when he tripped over a loose board. He chuckled at his own lack of grace as he threw the door open.

"Should I be concerned that there is a herd of Hippogriffs behind you?" Came the silky drawl.

Harry snickered. "Not as such. Heard me coming, did you?"

"It would have been impossible not to."

Harry moved aside as Snape stepped inside, over the threshold. He closed the door. Turning back, he almost tripped over the Troll leg umbrella stand he was forever forgetting to toss out or move. Snape's warm chuckle brightened the dim hallway.

"As graceful as ever, Potter."

Harry chuckled as well. "Nah, I'm a walking accident just waiting to happen," He said. His gaze softened as he stared at his former professor. "It's good to see you, Snape, really. I had thought, with my graduating…Well, it's good to see you in any case."

"And you as well, Mister Potter."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Harry broke the eye contact, his libido making itself known. When he looked back up, he'd managed to stamp down the wave of desire that had crashed over him. He grinned playfully.

"I-"

"Severus!" Remus appeared suddenly in the front hall from the doorway into the library. "What are you doing here?"

Snape produced a potion phial from the pocket of his robes. "I am delivering your Wolfsbane."

Remus grinned. "Oh, I was beginning to wonder why it hadn't arrived yet. Don't know why you went to the trouble, you could have just posted it via an owl, as you usually do. A blue moon's no different than any other."

Snape declined to answer, but Harry caught a solicitous glance of black eyes that spoke volumes. They both knew, without saying, that Snape had really come to see him. Harry was unfairly heartened by this knowledge, as the three of them moved into the library. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't stop the blossom of hopeful longing in his chest at knowing Snape had come for the sole purpose of a visit.

Once in the library, Harry stood by awkwardly as Remus tried and failed to engage Snape in conversation. Each attempt was met with monosyllabic responses. After a few minutes, Remus seemed to realize he was getting nowhere, and the room devolved into a tense silence. After another minute, Remus finally understood that Snape wasn't leaving as yet, and that it was not him for which he remained. The werewolf cleared his throat delicately.

"I'll just…uh…go and take my potion, shall I?" He said.

Harry nodded, smiling innocently, and his honorary godfather left the room a little hastily. When the door had closed, Harry smiled a little nervously at the Potions Master.

"Tea?" He suggested. "It's not as good as Madame Rosmerta, but Dobby is still pretty good at it."

Snape gave a stiff nod of acquiescence and Harry called for the House Elf that had adopted him as a master. Dobby appeared immediately with a small 'pop'. After explaining what they wanted, Dobby bowed low, a habit Harry couldn't seem to break him of, and popped away again. Harry shifted nervously in the silence that followed.

"I got your letter," Snape said softly.

Harry blushed. "Did you? I'm glad. I…I wasn't sure if I should send it."

"Why shouldn't you have?"

"I-I dunno," Harry shrugged. "After what happened? I mean, our friendship was all well and good when I was at Hogwarts, but I wasn't really sure you'd want to continue it once I'd left. It caused more than enough problems while I was your student."

"I am always glad to hear from you," Snape admitted.

Harry blushed again. "O-oh, okay." He drew a deep breath. Why the hell was this so hard?

At the school, it had been so easy to dismiss his wayward feelings for the Potions Master. There had been rules, and a thousand accusations, standing between them. But for whatever reason, here, away from the school and the rules that had bound them to their roles, the world seemed full of opportunity. Nevermind that Severus could never possibly feel the same, Harry couldn't quash the nervous hope that rose in his chest each time he caught those brightly burning onyx orbs. Why weren't things ever simple?

Dobby reappeared with a silver tray carrying a tea set. He set it down silently on a low table and disappeared again. Harry moved immediately to pour the tea, grateful for something to do with his trembling, sweaty palms. He very carefully poured them each a cup of the steaming brew, trying and failing to hide the tremor in his hands. Without asking, he spooned out a bit of honey from the open jar and began to stir it into one cup. The tremble of his hand worsened, and the tea cup rattled on it's saucer.

Harry started when slim fingers touched the back of his hand. The spoon fell from his fingers onto the carpet. He immediately bent to pick it up, setting the tea cup aside. Snape had the same idea, and their heads collided on the way down. Harry grunted with pain as he started to fall back, and hands on his arms stopped him.

"See," He mumbled, reaching up to rub at his bruised forehead. "A walking accident."

"Are you alright?"

Harry nodded. "M'fine…You?"

"I shall survive." Snape murmured.

Harry looked up sheepishly, his hand falling to settle on his bent knee. "Told you, I'm more trouble than I'm worth," He joked.

Snape's face was serious as he stared into Harry's eyes. "I could use a little trouble now and again."

Harry frowned uncertainly, and then Snape was kissing him. Green eyes slid shut as a swell of emotion burst in his chest. He pressed forward, but before he could really respond, Snape was pulling away. Harry's eyes fluttered open, and he stared into the uncertain black gaze with mingled surprise and lust. He had no idea what had brought that on, but he definitely wanted it to happen again.

This time, Harry closed the distance between them, breathing deeply of the desire wafting off the Potions Master as their mouths clashed. Magic sparked harmlessly between them, and long fingers burrowed into his hair, drawing him even closer. He reached out with a driving need and dragged the man nearer to him, shifting onto his own knees to diminish the space between them further. He should stop; he should pull away and laugh it off. This was a mistake. This was…this was playing with fire, and Harry wanted to be burned.

As can only happen when caught in the throes of mutual passion, Harry discovered their clothing was only barely an obstacle as he was laid back against the carpet in the library at Grimmauld. The rough feel of the fabric scratched at his naked back as he fumbled with the Potions Master's belt. He finally found the small key, and slipped the black leather loose of its ring. After that, their pants proved as small an obstacle as their shirts had been. Harry arched up into feel of nails raking over his stomach, and he felt the glide of a gently weeping head press against him. He wiggled needily against it.

Snape pulled away to stare breathlessly down at him. "You're sure?" His deep baritone rumbled softly.

Harry shifted so his hips rose off of the scratchy carpet beneath him. "Take me," He murmured. "Make me yours."

And so, the Death Eater stole away inside of the Savior of the Wizarding World. The Gryffindor gave a shout of pained ecstasy as their bodies writhed together. Their passions took them, and they rode together towards oblivion, their cries echoing off the library walls. Fingers clawed and hips pressed together in a frenzied rhythm. Teeth bit and lips suckled wherever they could reach. This wasn't the gentle caress Harry had dreamed of. Their bodies thrust together with a fervor more befitting of his age, and he moaned loudly in response to the throaty, lustful groans being elicited above him. This was more than simple desire, this was a driving need to consume, and be consumed by, one another.

The explosive fire of climax drew closer, like a naked demon clamoring to be free of it's cage. Harry shouted his excitement into the thick air, pressing back with each cloying thrust. Snape slammed forward angrily, each thrust driving Harry nearer to the edge. Oblivion crashed upon him with a tidal wave of fire that boiled the blood in his veins.

With their passions spent, Harry gasped for air as Snape collapsed onto the carpet beside him. For the longest moment, they lay beside each other, the only sound their lungs clawing desperately for each breath as the heavily saturated air cooled their naked, sweat-soaked skin. Suddenly, Snape sat up, sidling away from Harry as if he were a poison.