The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXXIX
One, hot, kiss.
He stole it, barley giving the man space to run.
He felt large hands, delicious hands, tell-tale, burning, beautiful hands, at his chest, starting over the two cloth covered dusky buds that scorched to be touched. Harry thought he'd be pushed away, but instead those hands came up, upwards icing and stoking the heat that roared in his neck, in his pulse, in his blood.
They reached his face, gentle and smooth, and then slowly the pressure around Harry's cheek bones started, slowly the fingers went from wanting to cruel. Then, at once, he was wrenched away from his stolen prize and met with the angry black gaze of his biology professor. My fucking biology professor, Harry thought, staring into the man's face and thinking of how surreal it was to begin to know him in this way. A new high for me. The mission, the mission.
"Against my better judgement," Snape started, frighteningly low and calm, "I will allow you to explain yourself, even though I would like nothing better than to throw you out of this classroom and never allow you across that threshold again."
Harry was almost panting, his eyes skidding to all parts of Snape's face. "You're hot?"
"Try again," Snape said immediately, his hands seemingly glued to Harry's face, probably so he could push the boy back if he decided to attack again.
"Can you let go of my face?"
"Not until you provide a satisfactory answer."
"This isn't a fucking exam, there's no right answer!"
"I do not care."
"No, seriously, you're hot. I'm attracted to you. That's all I know."
"Liar," Snape said, squinting suspiciously.
"Put your hand over my trousers if you don't believe me," Harry responded softly, smiling. At that, Snape pushed Harry away forcibly.
"Disgusting! Leave."
"No."
"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" he roared. He was breathing hard, eyes furious and concentrated on Harry's face. He'd never seen the man this angry.
"Why are you so mad?" Harry said, truly bewildered. "All I did was tell you I was attracted to you!"
"It is the ultimate insult," Snape hissed, "to know that some part of you, however small, thought that your advances would be welcome, that I," Snape emphasised, pointing a finger to his chest, "who has done nothing for you and the other boys in this godforsaken school but try to teach you some sense of decorum, give you some idea of the inescapable consequences for your actions that you will have to face in the real world when you leave this place and you," Snape sputtered for a moment, and Harry watched him have to search for words for the first time, "you throw my efforts back in the face with this," he spat, gesturing to Harry's entire body, eyes glittering.
"Nobody asked you to teach us anything but biology!" Harry yelled, infuriated. He was getting so sick of Snape's strange compulsion to "fix" them.
"I am obligated!" Snape yelled back.
"I know, I know," Harry said, closing his eyes, frustrated. "Listen, just..." he breathed in deep. "I'm sorry, okay? I just really see nothing wrong with approaching someone that I find attractive."
Snape looked away from him, crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. "That was not an approach, it was an attack," he said scornfully.
"God, I didn't know you'd be so ridiculously sensitive about it, okay?"
The man snapped in a second, his arms unfolding, and facing Harry again. "I was not being 'sensitive'," he said, spitting out the last word like it was bile in his mouth. "Pray, tell me Potter, how else was I supposed to react? What on earth did you expect, that I would be grateful?"
Harry was so angry he could scream. He burst out before he even had time to think about what he was saying. "Oh for fuck's sake! I'm trying to tell you I want to have sex with you and you can be nothing but foul and overreact like a stupid git!"
"I could wring your neck, right now," he said quietly, looking away from him again. "You are crossing so many lines," he continued and Harry started to talk over him just to shut him up.
"I don't care about lines, about rules," Harry said. "They're stupid, not to mention outdated. People should be able to pursue relationships, physical or otherwise, with whoever they want. Trying to control that is just...stupid."
Harry stopped, expecting some sarcastic jab about his eloquence. Instead: "Find someone your own age."
Harry laughed. "I have. Loads of times. Now, I want you."
Snape ignored the last comment. "What about Nott? What's wrong with him? The poor boy adores you," he said softly. And that's exactly the problem, Harry thought. "But I suppose that is the problem, yes?" he finished and turned to look at Harry.
Harry refrained from showing any reaction, seething inside. He wanted to kiss Snape again, smack him. "Shut up," he blurted. So much for showing no reaction. "I hate it when you do that," read my mind, "when you pretend to know what I'm thinking and feeling and when you overanalyse things that just," he shook his head, "absolutely don't need to be analysed."
Snape shook his head slowly, smirk slithering to his lips. "So clever, aren't you?"
Snape's words chilled him from within. He practically ran from the room, the man's glittering, smiling, black eyes suddenly unbearable. As he walked off in the direction to his room, he heard a dark chuckle fill the space he was desperately putting between them.
He moved, he moved.
He twisted and turned every which way during class (in one of those little desk chairs they stick the students to) in a manner that managed to annoy and arouse Severus at the same time.
"Stop fidgeting," he finally barked at the boy one day, trying not to look him directly in the face for fear of remembering he knew what it was to be half a centimeter away from it; knew what it was to be pressed against it, too.
Severus expected the first come back from the boy like a reflex. "I can fidget all I want."
He was forced to look directly at Potter. He glared with all his might, the tension of threat sizzling. He said nothing, just stared, which probably caught the brat off guard. The boy kept stum, catching Severus off guard, and leaned back in his chair, making a physical effort to stop moving so much. But Severus still spotted one of the boy's foot behind his other, bobbing, shaking, ankle twisting, hanging loosely this way and that. A thought stuck him clear and blue, and rang through him until the end of classes that day.
Severus wanted that ankle.
He wanted it twisting, hanging loosely this way and that, in his hand. It reminded him of that mouth; he wanted again the clear taste of hot watery nothing, the empty, formless, slippery haven of that mouth. It reminded him of everything so beautiful so close. One, hot, kiss.
That was when he knew something had been unleashed. Damn you, Potter.
Gregory sat next to Harry in the common room that night, speaking in hushed tones, or as hushed as Gregory could be. Harry was watching the light from the fire flit on and off of Weasley's red hair.
"You and the professor don't seem very lovey dovey," he said, not seeming particularly angry about it.
"Don't question my methods, Goyle," Harry answered, lip quirking.
There was pause. "Listen," Gregory started, "Snape's kind of an arsehole, but all in all...I think he's a good guy. Maybe we shouldn't-"
"Oh no," Harry said. "We're doing it." Snape had rejected him at least a week ago, and still it stung. He'd never been pushed away like that. He was going to get what he wanted.
Gregory frowned and Harry thought he might fight it again but instead he just nodded, and turned away.
Theo tugged at his hand by his side and Harry had to stop himself from jolting. He'd forgotten Theo was there.
"You tried to kiss him, didn't you?"
Harry almost snapped his neck to stare at Theo. "No!"
Theo gave him a wane smile. "Don't try to deny it, I...heard some of your conversation the other night."
Harry was furious. His first instinct was to tell Theo so, but he tamped it down, not wanting to make a scene in the common room. "You were eavesdropping?" he said disdainfully.
Theo blushed and looked away. "I was curious, I wanted to know..." his voice fell off.
"The man has higher morals than I expected," Harry admitted.
"I figured he would be difficult..."
"Really? Why?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. In his experience, any man could be bought with sex. No matter how old.
"He just doesn't seem like the type...should've warned you, probably," Theo shrugged, smiling lightly. Harry felt something like affection tickle at him. The poor boy adores you...
Harry, not really thinking about what he was doing, leaned over to peck the boy on the cheek. "You're really sweet sometimes, you know?" he whispered in his ear. When he pulled away, he noticed a couple of people staring and looking away fearfully when they met his eyes. It made him feel like a sort of beast.
Theo wasn't smiling anymore. He looked reverent, adoring. Grateful.
Harry's brow furrowed, and he immediately regretted doing anything. He wished he could take it back.
"Don't look at me like that," Harry said and got up to leave, knowing he wouldn't be able to bear that look on Theo's face for another second.
The next morning at breakfast, when the post arrived, Harry received a letter. He groaned and wailed inwardly, knowing it couldn't be anyone or anything besides a social worker or a barrister or court. The others thought it strange as well because Harry rarely received letters, but they didn't ask questions, didn't even look at the thing, as though it were evil and possessed.
When Harry opened it later in private, he found that he'd be expected to speak to the new social worker again, Hermione, about his 'progress'. He sighed. The coming Friday night. The exact time he usually had detention with Snape.
"Fuck."
"I can't make detention this week."
Harry's placed his arse right on Snape's desk after the last student left the classroom.
Snape tensed. "Remove your posterior from my workspace."
"So, we're just going to have to reschedule or something," Harry continued, ignoring the man, putting his hand behind him and leaning back slightly.
Snape dragged his chair back and moved away from the desk swiftly. "And what, pray tell, is your no doubt sorry excuse for asking to miss a detention."
"First of all, I'm not asking, I'm telling you," Harry smiled a bit to let Snape know he was half-joking, "secondly, it's not a sorry excuse, it's actually quite legitimate." He pulled the folded square of the letter out of his pocket, and offered it to Snape. He'd decided if he wanted Snape, he had to get to work; to stop getting angry, to stop pushing him away...to make him feel sorry for him.
Snape's arms were crossed for a good half a minute before he started to approach Harry cautiously.
"I'm not going to try to kiss you," Harry placated, exasperated.
"Keep your voice down!" Snape hissed, and snatched the letter out of Harry's fingers without touching him. Harry frowned and waited, rather nervously, for Snape to finish reading.
"I feel sorry for this...Hermione Granger," Snape said after a minute, handing the letter back.
"Don't. She chose her profession." Snape was not sympathetic enough for Harry's liking.
"That does not mean you have to give the girl hell."
"I'm not going to give her hell! What do you know about how I'll treat her?"
Snape pursed his lips. "You are an intolerably rude nightmare with your professor, I cannot begin to imagine the things you must say to your social workers."
"Well if they didn't feel the need to watch me and check up on me every fifteen seconds, I wouldn't have to put them in their place," Harry said matter-of-factly.
"It's not as if they do it to you and to you only. These checks are quite routine."
Harry frowned. He'd never thought of that before. "How would you know?" he asked suspiciously.
Snape snorted. "Please, Potter. Hogwarts isn't the only school I have taught in. And it certainly isn't the only school with orphaned youth."
Snape seemed so dismissive and confident, Harry almost forgot about it. But something made him think... "I don't believe you."
"I honestly could not care less. Stop asking inane questions."
"Oh okay so," Harry started, leaning forward and sliding off the desk slowly, making sure his trousers tightened around his legs and other enticing places as well, "you're allowed to interrogate me about anything it is you'd like to know, but I'm not to know anything about you? How is that fair?"
"This is not a relationship of equals, Potter. I am the professor and you are the student," Snape said as though Harry were slow.
Harry approached him slowly and Snape tensed as though not knowing whether to move back or stand his ground. He chose to step back. "Really? Than why is it, professor, that you seem to be...scared of me?"
"I am weary of being sexually molested, I think anyone would be if they had reason to beli-"
"Oh come on," Harry smirked. "I'm harmless," he finished innocently.
Snape gave him a look that said he seriously doubted that. "Leave."
"I don't think inspirational teachers are supposed to tell their students to get out of their sight as much as you-"
"Just. Leave." Harry stepped closer, closer, until Snape wouldn't move back any longer, seeming to decide he had to stand his ground.
"No," Harry said firmly. He reached his face to Snape, breathed over it, smiled, giggled.
"Impertinent little-" He stopped and took a deep breath. He gave away nothing in his face, his eyes, his mouth, which Harry was so dangerously, so deliciously close to...but still, Harry knew. Knew that all he had to do was push. "Get away from me."
"I know what you want to do," Harry said. "I know you want to push me over that desk and," Harry half closed his lips around Snape's bottom one, pulling it down and open, breathing into his mouth, "do all sorts of things to me." Harry kept kissing, small, reverent kisses into and around Snape's mouth. The only sign of life Snape gave him were his short, soft heaving exhalations.
Suddenly, there was a stinging pain at his scalp.
"Oi!"
"I told you more than once!"
"Let go of me!"
"You asked for this. Remember this," Snape growled, dragging Harry to the door by the hair, "the next time you decide to inflict your inappropriate attentions on some other sorry subject!"
Harry was thrown out the room, his head hurting, his arse on the floor, and his cock hard.