CHAPTER 25
A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in my fic and for your reviews! This story is far from over, by the way. The journey goes on - along with my writing and your reading :-D
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Harry took Snape's face in his hands and slowly pressed a shy but firm kiss upon his lips. It was the very first time he was kissing a man.

Snape stiffened, then returned the kiss with a full-mouthed one – a lingering, languid, luscious kiss. Both closed their eyes in order to savour this exchange of intimacy as much as possible. Harry had learnt from the experience with the blindfold that his other senses increased when his eyes were covered. It was the same now as he and Snape kissed again, this time rather heatedly. Snape got up, making Harry stand up with him; but he did not release him; he drew him into his arms, his warm mouth explored Harry's neck and shoulder. Harry suppressed a sharp exhalation and dug his fingers into Snape's back instead. The tall wizard took his hand and led him out of the attic.

"Severus, where are you taking me?"

"Your bedroom or mine?"

Harry swallowed.

"I…Uh…I've never…you know…done 'it',' he explained timidly.

"I thought as much," Snape said with a glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, I have no intentions of stealing your innocence."

Harry blushed; Snape, seeing the colour in his cheeks, smiled.

"However, it doesn't mean that I don't have some things to teach you, provided you are willing to learn."

Harry's colour deepened.

"My bedroom."

Snape smirked and the two wizards were soon in Harry's room.

Harry, who had managed to regain his composure to a certain extent, remembered that he was the host and took over the role of the leader, pushing Snape gently onto his bed and sitting boldly on his lap again.

"Teach me," he said. Snape, with a swift movement, lay down on the bed with the young wizard and rolled him over, pinning his wrists to the mattress.

"Learn from me," he replied, his voice seductively silky as he kissed Harry deeply. His hand slid down to Harry's hand; the teen's fingers were raking the mattress with increasing arousal.

Snape invaded his grip; their fingers interlocked, twisted and squeezed.

A gagging sound from the empty portrait in the room startled them; they looked at each other, then at the picture.

"Disgusting!" a familiar snide voice said.

"Shut up, Phineas Nigellus!" Harry bellowed, conjuring a black board over the portrait, which immediately fell silent.

Snape snickered appreciatively.

"Excellent," he said. Harry used his distraction to change their positions so that Snape was underneath him. The black eyes blazed with desire.

"What shameless tactics," he murmured, crushing Harry's body to his, tangling his legs with Harry's and nudging his knee between Harry's thighs. The two men rocked together, drowning in delicious sexual friction.

Molten lava burnt timidity to nothingness; the room was filled with scalding heat like fire escaping an erupting volcano when the two figures on the bed reached the height of their pleasure, gasping, kissing and clutching at each other frantically.

Harry collapsed on top of Snape, feeling ecstatically dizzy, his hand tangling with a curtain of soft black hair. It was like having made love with all their clothes still on.

Snape slid on top of him.

"I would not mind a repetition of this activity. A change of position may refresh us, however."

"Do you have to talk like that in bed?" Harry asked him. Snape licked lightly at the sweaty circles around his green eyes.

"Naturally."

"I would prefer your tongue to do something else besides talking," Harry hinted.

Snape complied by engaging Harry's tongue in a furious wrestling match. His hand slid down to the hard evidence of Harry's reawakening arousal, caressing the flesh through the jeans material, but not undoing the button and zip. Harry jerked on the bed.

"Severus…! Oh my-"

A soul kiss silenced him successfully.

Later, they lay together calmly on the bed, Harry's arms wrapped around Snape's neck. The Potions Master rose after a little while. He looked down at Harry with a smile.

"I'll see you for lunch, recalcitrant brat."

"Definitely, you snarky prat."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"How poetic, Harry."

He left the room in a flurry of seductive black robes. Harry propped himself up on his elbow.

"I must be dreaming," he murmured.

"I heard your dream," the annoying voice from behind the boarded-up picture announced nastily.

"What! You eavesdropper!"

He reversed the charm. This time, the wizard was in his portrait.

"You have just dirtied my ancient house with your disgusting…deed!" he spat, struggling for an adequate last word.

"Go back to Hogwarts and mind your fucking business!" Harry shouted, "Or I'll fling something at you!"

Phineas glared at him, outraged.

"Filthy scum in my house!" he roared. "I will indeed go back!"

The portrait was empty within a second.

Harry swore mightily and went to have a shower.

During lunch, Snape and Harry behaved as usual, their conversation peppered liberally with sarcastic verbal duels. Neither of them mentioned what had happened in the morning; and in the afternoon, Harry convinced Snape to help him build a snowman outside – without magic.

"Childish stuff," Snape muttered, slapping some snow onto a large white ball. Dobby joined them with two walnuts, a carrot and several slices of an apple to serve as eyes, a nose and a mouth. A saucepan, too, ended up in the mix, making an ideal hat for the snowman.

"So, have we finished with this childishness?" Snape asked crossly.

"Come on, it was fun!" Harry smiled.

Snape snorted and turned to go into the house. A snowball hit the back of his head.

"POTTER! YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!"

He darted back and flung an abundant amount of snow at Harry, who successfully avoided the missile. Snape, growling, threw another handful of snow at the laughing teen. He missed a second time and was rewarded with snow slamming against his shoulder. He strode towards Harry and flung him down on his back. The two men rolled over in the snow; passion took over; wild kisses and hectic embraces were the consequence.

"You brat," Snape hissed, his wet hair trailing across Harry's face and kiss-bruised lips.

"You prat," Harry quipped, laughing. Snape pulled him to his feet and ushered him into the house, where they kissed some more and finally calmed down enough to play of Wizard Chess, Snape beating Harry without effort; they went out for a walk in the evening after tea, and brought in the New Year with champagne and Dobby, who was delighted to be included in the celebration; Snape was prim and correct in his black robes; Harry exuberant in casual trousers and a green sweater Mrs Weasley had knitted for him, Dobby tearfully delighted in a multi-coloured self-knitted outfit. Neither Snape nor Harry were befuddled by the small and prudent intake of alcohol when they spent the night in Harry's bed, not making love technically, yet shedding their clothes to caress and explore each other's bodies with their hands and lips before falling asleep exhaustedly in a sweaty embrace.

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