Now that they picked a date to seal the deal, the next Hogsmeade weekend, waiting seemed absolutely impossible. Two weeks felt awfully far away and the tension between them was simply unmanageable. The very agreement in setting a date spurred them into choosing a closer one: next Friday… and they were staying in.

When the day arrived, Harry thought he should at least try to make himself presentable for the occasion. Sorting through his old clothes, he weighed all the bad options. They truly looked like rags at this point, and nothing nice for 'a date.' All of his favorite clothes had holes in them, which in theory would be easy to mend, but 'Reparo' did not bring his old clothes back to life. Other clothes were too small, stained, and he even had several backup shirts of Dudley's that finally fit him, but those shirts reminded him too much of Dudley so he couldn't wear them on principle.

With that thought, an entire rack of fine wizard's clothes materialized from the ether for him to peruse, a fine selection too. But they were all so… not him. Each garment was beautiful and well made, ranging from the gregariously fancy (something Dumbledore would wear,) to dignified and very fine (something Malfoy would wear,) simple, thick, and well made (something Snape would wear,) but none of them were what he would wear. He wanted something casual and… not fussy.

Not liking the Room of Requirement's style, he ended up trying cleaning and repairing charms on his existing clothes, which did not work well, and prayed this night had a 'come as you are' invitation.

Thankfully the clothes under his robes did not matter at all: he was barely a foot inside the classroom door when he was yanked in and pressed against the wall, trapped into an aggressive kiss.

"Oh, you're not forcing me to make potions today?" Harry breathed when it broke.

"Don't tempt me, you could use the practice…"

"Don't think I will tonight, thanks."

Inside the next room, Snape made a show of sealing the leather book containing Dumbledore's frameless portrait into a black bag, placing a pointless amount of spells on it, and literally threw it out into the classroom, warding that door too, all for Harry's comfort.

"What a gentleman," Harry scoffed.

"No prying eyes then," Snape bent down andtreated him to akiss.

Instead of tea, wine uncorked and poured itself, and it turned out to be the best wine Harry ever tasted. "What is this? Do they sell this in Hogsmeade?"

Snape looked at him in mock-offense. "I made it."

"Really?" Harry looked in the glass. "You made this? It's delicious." He swirled it, trying to find some sort of tell. "Did you add the Draught of Connection today?"

"No, I wouldn't want you to think I'm deceiving you," came an answer that probably could have fooled Voldemort.

But Harry could feel the lie. There was no tell in his face or that neck vein, but he just knew. "Are you sure? Because today would be the day to add it, I think. I'd expect it under the circumstances." He lifted his drink to hand it back. "So, you better put some in then."

After considering him for a moment, Snape took it and rose with the bottle. At his workstation, back to Harry, he poured something from a container so discreet, it could have fit in the palm of his hand. As he studied Snape as he poured, Harry thought he found a tell. The more graceful Snape moved, the more he was probably lying. And he was never so graceful as he stepped back to the couch, practically floating, and handed him back the glass.

Taking a sip, it tasted like nothing but wine, but he gladly would have bet 1,000 Galleons there was already some in there. "Does it work better when you add more to it?" he joked knowingly as he took another sip of the extra-adulterated wine. Snape didn't answer but slinked into an unusually good mood.

Drinking, they delved into light banter for the next ten minutes. Snape almost looked human through his casual laughter and smiles, his normal disdain for mankind temporarily shed.

"And that's how we found out she's been talking to Moaning Myrtle."

"NO, she HASN'T," Harry gasped, already feeling a little inebriated, loving this gossip that didn't involve him for once.

"Oh yes- so when we can't find her, we just check the bathroom. She's almost always in there commiserating."

Harry laughed, imagining Trelawney and Myrtle talking on the toilets like it was their own private confessional. "She's such a bad teacher. I don't understand why she still has to work here."

Leaning back into the arm of the couch, one of Harry's legs casually threw itself on top of Snape's- a suggestive invitation. A hand found it and rested on it immediately. Harry couldn't help but think Snape looked a lot more attractive when he smiled genuinely, all guards removed, but the change was unnerving as much as it was appealing.

"So, who do you think is the most attractive student at school?" Harry laughed into his glass.

"This may shock you, but I don't imagine my students that way."

"Come on, tell me," Harry smiled further at his own gull.

"What a stupid game. Out of my Death Eater colleagues, who did you find the most attractive? And picking the Dark Lord is all but cheating- his cheekbones were unmatched."

Harry laughed but then his face darkened, thinking of the graveyard.

Snape redirected the second his face fell. "Hogwarts staff then- real colleagues. Go."

Harry managed to pull on a smirk. "Oh, definitely Filch. But according to the girls? Firenze."

"Really?"

"I don't think so, but all the girls talk about it."

"…You're serious. Well, that is uh… different."

"He does teach class naked. Go on- most attractive student."

"Irrelevant."

"Come on- objectively. Just tell me. I know it's not bloody me."

"The answer is no."

"Come on."

"Detention." A wand flick forced him to sit upright and a hand slipped around the small of his back. He accepted the kiss.

"Mmmmm..." Fingers pulled him in, adding pressure and deepened it. Hands caressed his sides and his back, but pesky clothes were in the way. Robes were undone by a quick hands and soon his shirt lifted while the button to his pants popped open.

"WAIT- stop. This is a little unbalanced, I think."

Snape stopped, very annoyed at the accusation. With two swipes, Harry undid all the buttons on Snape's robes and shirt- both splitting open because he finally got the spell off Hermione.

"Very clever." Snape frowned heavily and pried Harry's wand off him and put it on the coffee table where he could easily reach it if he wanted. Trying to hide his discomfort, he started to remove his robes.

"Do you want me to do it?"

"No."

To ease his discomfort, Harry brushed the hair away from the scarred neck and sucked. A few deep sighs later, Snape finally folded his robes and placed them on the floor.

"How are you going to be naked around me if you don't like showing your body?"

"I'll manage."

Harry eyed Snape's small, thin, pale little waist. Through his semi-inebriated state, that little waist looked very tempting to grab, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Snape wouldn't appreciate the contact. "Can I grind on you?"

"No," Snape shot down without a second thought. But he paused and bit his lip, evidently guilty about denying such a simple request. "I am not prepared for that," he softened the rejection with another kiss. Harry decided to make a grab for his little waist anyway and pulled him in a few inches. It did feel very good to hold- soft as a girl's, squishy even. Apparently Snape wasn't very physical outside of wandwork, opening tight jars, and berating children. Two firm hands materialized and pressed on his chest for him to stop.

"Why are you fighting me?" Harry mocked as Snape maneuvered to regain control. "I thought you said I could have anything I wanted."

"One thing at a time..." lips whispered directly on his cheek.

After getting in a few more good test squeezes, he let go and moved his hands to Snape's chest instead, exploring there, but those were also removed.

"It's fine," Harry whispered. But this sentiment was not shared- the concave chest going in at the sternum a sore spot. It didn't look attractive but it wasn't disgusting either- it was just a body. "How would you like it if I kept pushing your hands away when you tried to touch me?"

"I would say you came to your senses," but his lips were being bitten and kissed so he let it be. Delicate hands became aggressive as a mouth found his neck. Harry grunted, bending his head back, giving him free access. A hand found both of Harry's wrists, fingers encircling them, and an arm pulled Harry bodily into his lap.

The fire crackled beside them, filling in the silence.

"How about… we play a game?"

"Yeah? I game?" Harry breathed, heart pounding a little, sitting in Snape's lap and feeling how ready they both were.

"I game where I have all the power."

"Yeah?"

The polite hands that held Harry's wrists guided them behind his back and some unknown magic bound them there. Not uncomfortably so, but enough where they felt like they were stuck in a comfy elastic sleeve.

Under his control, Snape stared at him, greedy, hungry already at him bound. Hands ran over his shirt delicately, smoothing thumbs over his nipples.

"Mmm," Harry moaned lightly, more from the tension than anything. "You have a real delicate touch," Harry complained. "If you're going to do it through the shirt, you don't have to be that gentle."

Snape raised his eyebrows at the invitation.

The touch strengthened. "Mmmm… pressure," Harry added. The note was received and the fingers tightened around... "Mmmmmaahh…" he breathed. He was never really touched in this way and it felt all very new. "Move your shirt out of the way, I want to see your waist while you do it."

"My waist...?"

"Yeah, let me see it."

Although confused by the request, Snape did as he asked and moved his open shirt out of the way so it was perfectly visible. Fingers went back to Harry, tracing his neck to a clavicle, brushing his hands all the way down his shirt, stopping right at the waist band, fingers tracing it.

"Tell me Potter, why did you feel the need to stop me from removing these?"

"For this? To savior the moment?" And it was- the tension felt so thick it was foggy. "You said we were going to play a game?"

"Yes," Snape agreed, grabbing him and pulling him in even closer, positioning him right on top of… "Are you ready?" he whispered, twisting a nipple with a gentle hand until it wasn't gentle at all.

Harry squirmed. "Feels weird," he said, not quite understanding the sexiness of getting twisted and pinched. "The thumb-thing feels better."

He did do the thumb thing again. Harry moaned but then gasped in surprise as he felt a massage charm wash over his back, the kneading starting at the shoulders, slowly working down his back… all the way down to…

Fingers moved underneath his shirt to his sides, the long perfect nails gently raking down the length of him, making his skin jump and tingle. "Are you ready to play?"

"Yes," Harry said breathlessly.

"Mmmm, good…" Snape looked at him with half lidded eyes, like he was drunk too, but not on wine. "We are going to play… the Game of Seams."

"The Game of Seems?"

"Mmmm… I am going to ask you a series of questions… History of Magic questions, and if you get them wrong, I win."

"Yeah?" Harry laughed softly, "What do you win?"

"Everything."

"I see that." No doubt about it, Snape already felt ready for him, clothes on or not. Harry's fingers squirmed for his wand, feeling nervous without it. "History of Magic, huh? You really want me to suffer, don't you?"

"Unequivocally."

"Crack on then."

Snape took a deep breath before starting in a silky voice, "Who was Justin the Swallow and why did his prosecutors forgo Azkaban to drown him?"

"Uhhh, no idea," Harry admitted. He never paid attention in History of Magic, and definitely didn't remember any drownings.

"Mmmm, pity," and the thread on an arm of Harry's shirt undid itself, coming apart at the seams.

"Oh… seams."

"A Javelin was the murder weapon. Who was 'Stumpy' Stephan and why is he still famous to this day?"

"Hmmm, I don't know," and Harry didn't. The thread of his second shirt sleeve undid itself and it slipped down his arm and hung there.

"My, my, my. Thick as I feared. One more to win the round, it seems." Although his voice sounded like they had all day, his eyes were starving. "Who was Alberta Abigail Anderson and what extra body parts did she create?"

"Uhhh, tits? On her bum, obviously."

"Close, but no cigar."

The thread on both shoulders unwound and the fabric fell to his waist, revealing his chest.

"I am the victor, it seems."

Lips found his neck and hands found his back, Snape's hair spilling over his chest as he kissed down to a shoulder. "You smell incredible," came a soft voice that kissed the top of his clavicle and worked its way lower, bending Harry backwards as he went. What used to be a coffee table was now transfigured into an oversized plush ottoman at an advantageous height. He laid him down, sprawled out, as he relinquished an entire parade of kisses down his abdomen to a partially exposed hipbone.

"Mmph," Harry grunted uncomfortably, now laying on his hands. "Can you secure my hands in front?"

Snape sat up and positioned himself casually between Harry's legs so he could look down at him. A wand flick, and both of Harry's wrists snapped apart and back together in front.

A hand ran down his chest, savoring the visual. Although he was starting to feel warm, he was also feeling uncomfortable. This position made him feel vulnerable and 'off,' like it didn't quite represent him.

"Are you ready to continue?"

"Were those even in the textbook?"

"Of course they weren't."

"You cheated. There was no way I was going to guess those."

"Oh, but Potter, all of their crimes are very well known. They don't publish sex crimes in students' textbooks."

"Oh…" Harry said. "So I was never going to win- you made sure of that."

"I told you this was a game where I had all the power. Round two." Hands held his waist firmly like they couldn't wait to hold them all night, and the things they would do to him.

"Mmm," Harry agreed, ready, feeling exposed and nervous against his unrelenting gaze and his legs open, Snape's body resting just inside of them. "Okay…"

"Who was Richard the Rabid and why did his brothels get torched despite ruckus public support?"

"I don't know… Pixie burlesque shows?"

"Mmm, close again," Snape raised an eyebrow at the guess.

"Do I get a point?"

"That's not how this works."

Harry had no idea how close he was in this guess, but two hands started massaging his thighs- a deep massage. He couldn't help but moan under the slow intensity.

"Can I take your glasses off...?"

"Yeah… fine." The massaging stopped and gentle fingers removed his glasses and folded them with a careful little 'clink' on the floor. The hands resumed the massage and Harry resumed making the noises he hated.

"Silence me," he moaned.

"No."

"Please…" he begged.

Snape shivered. Okay, Snape liked begging. Mental note, yep- got it. "You sound incredible… you're doing fine."

Vision blurred, the mixed sensations swirled and amplified.

"A centaur lived in Hogsmeade from 1659-1642. The heard, though banishing him, left the forest to kill him in the night. Why?"

"He was a prostitute, obviously."

"Potter, Potter, Potter…" he chastised, "always jumping to conclusions." The seam of his waistband undid itself, jeans now feeling very loose around his hips. "Just a simple illegal inter-species marriage."

Despite feeling humiliated on his back and powerless, the massaging made all the noise in his head shut up and melt away. He felt a tightness in his lungs and his spine tingled its approval and…

"What was the Minister of Magic caught doing in 1892 that triggered his impeachment and what did he get caught doing in 1894 to cause him to get re-elected?"

"Uhhh…" The hands around his thighs were massaging higher, and although the thumbs weren't touching anything, they felt very close, and the reverberations felt very good. "Is this an emperor with no clothes situation? He wore invisible robes?"

"Much, much, worse..." and the thread holding the button of his pants fell away and his zipper un-seperated, teeth splitting one by one.

"Final question… Tiffany Torbond, the headmaster in 1732, used to punish rule-breakers quite severely… how?"

"Uhhh, pulled a Filch? Strung them up and whipped them?"

"She stepped on them," he whispered like this was very funny. "Rumor has it, the children were terrified, but some older students were weirdly into it."

The side seams on Harry's pants un-sewed themselves and they just sort of... fell away. He was nervous, very nervous, more nervous than he thought he'd be, unable to moderate the feeling of being bare while his body was inspected and explored by eyes. Fingers were touching, and no matter how good the hands felt...

"Do you want me to stop?" Snape asked, feeling his unease.

"No," he said with a frown, not wanting to be restrained anymore.

"You're shutting me out. Tell me what you want."

"Continue- it's fine," he said in a sour voice.

"Do you want me to stop?" came the second ask.

"No," Harry squirmed. "Can you undo my wrists… you already won."

"I did, indeed." Snape bent into him to undo his restraints, pushing their bodies together as a by product. Harry felt him between his legs and tried not to squirm under the direct contact. Restraints gone, Snape readjusted both of them to be more comfortable, but it did not sooth him. Harry was almost naked, waiting underneath in nothing but his boxers with pieces of his clothing fallen away, legs open, heart beating, feeling the death of his perceived masculinity.

"Better…?" Snape asked, eyes still hyper-focused on his discomfort.

When Harry didn't answer, Snape patiently waited, watching Harry's heart beat out of control. "Can I touch you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, go on then," and although he was feeling weird, the hands that touched him felt wonderful- nails down going his sides again, another hand massaging his upper thigh. Harry's head rolled to the side, breathing deeper as the pleasant sensations smoothed over the unpleasant ones. "Okay…"

"Yes?"

"Okay, yeah." His head was spinning. There was nothing even sexual in the way he touched. It was sensual and weirdly loving, like Snape the potion maker had an unmatched hand with these kinds of things.

"It's fine, just go slow, okay?"

"I will."

Snape bent over and captured his mouth, sucking on it while Harry moaned directly into it. They rocked into each other, and it was wonderful, their breaths close, Harry losing his hands in Snape's spilling hair.

Like he was truly evil, Snape took his time, ensuring he would get Harry all hot and bothered before the main event. The moan that Harry released next could not be suppressed, holding onto him while they were entwined, begging him for more with the enthusiasm in his voice. Snape breaths were shuddering too, sounding like he was losing part of himself in thebuild up. "Severus, please..."

"Call me Sev…" came a whisper in his ear. Harry instantly thought of the Pensive. He shoved these thoughts VIOLENTLY away, wanting to enjoy the moment, everything else be damned.

"Sev…" Harry begged right in his ear. Snape shuddered, losing steam like this was some magic button. "More…" he begged and bit an ear. Snape let out a pitiful breath and started to suck on his neck. With the weight on top of him and the heat and the attention, Harry was unable think. Shutting down his thoughts, he allowed himself to only feel, his body warming to a slow boil, the world melting away and just becoming sensation.

Everything looked blurry- why? He stumbled around until his glasses were handed to him. Putting them on, the first thing he saw was Snape, who looked confunded and off center.

Now that it was over, the embarrassment crept in but the Adrenaline and oxytocin remained, giving Harry many mixed emotions by their encounter. He never pictured himself bottoming.

Beside him, Snape's pants were already fastening like he couldn't be exposed for too long.

"That spell to prevent finishing- it's different than the one in the book. Is that one better?"

"It is."

Water flew into Snape's hands and he drank directly from the pitcher like one glass wouldn't be enough. Harry slumped over, thoughts racing while Snape replenished. After a few moments, Harry started pulling his clothes on too.

"Do you want to continue? Or do you need space?" Snape asked, giving him a reproachful look.

"Oh!" He stopped halfway through a pant leg. "Yes, I… I don't know the etiquette here."

"It would be poor etiquette for me to kick you out…"

"Yeah, well, your etiquette is shit sometimes." Removing the pants he almost put on, he sat down next to him, giving him a short absentminded kiss, which was gladly received.

But that one kiss turned into many. Post high, they made out for what felt like an hour, giving themselves room to kiss badly, exploring, figuring out what worked for them and what didn't. It was easy to feel ready again, grinding in a blissful snogging session, like they could just be messy all night.

"Sev…" Harry moaned and Snape held him tighter. Reminded of his mum a second time, he swallowed, banishing her to a mental box where he wanted her to stay.

By the time they broke apart their faces were red and raw. "So…" Harry said, unsure. "So, listen, if I uh… if we..."

"Mmmm?"

"Umm… could we…"

"Spit it out, Potter."

"It's Harry, actually."

"It's Potter when I say it's Potter."

"Okay, Professor," Harry rolled his eyes. "I was going to ask… if I… uhh, for this next round, can you… uh, just stick out your tongue a bit?"

"Whatever you please." Before he indulged in Harry's weird requests, Snape summoned some wine and tooka generous swig,offering it to Harry next.

"Thank you, sir," Harry mocked. After he drank his portion he set the glass down, nervous, unsure of how to start. Perhaps there was no reason to be nervous, because Snape was giving him another one of those deep fervent gazes. Tension where he needed it to be, Harry reached up and touched Snape's lips lightly, and after a gentle tracing, he took two fingers into his mouth. He wasn't prepared for how… sexual would feel. After a minute of squirming through a very sensual show (a good squirm,) the fingers were let go. Harry bent in first, wanting more, and his tongue got the same royal treatment.

They broke.

"Can I hold your waist while I do it?"

"Do as you must…"

Next, Harry tried the same, taking in Snape's tongue and trying it. It tasted like… nothing, nothing but wine and warm soft flesh.

Snape's heavy breathing shuddered as he tried sucking and experimenting.

A hand stroked his cheek encouragingly. During a small adjustment, fingers found the frame of his glasses, begging. "Please…?"

Harry folded his glasses and hand them over. They tried again, Harry enjoying being the one 'giving,' enjoying that control, hands on Snape's waist and administering the intense 'kiss.'

But something was bothering him.

His eyelids were practically burning.

Although his eyes were closed, he could tell that Snape's were not. And wasn't that fixation a little... inappropriate? Despite that he was enjoying himself, the 'what if's' got the best of him. He opened his eyes too, and there he was- black eyes meeting his. They broke the kiss slowly. But instead of being awkward, the intensity caught him, the closeness- their gazes matching each others- hungry. Relaxing into the couch, he held scorching eye contact and maintained that wicked gaze.

"Let me do a lust charm…" Snape whispered unexpectedly.

"I don't think we need that..."

He kissed him again, eyes fluttering. Snape's hair kept falling in their way and Harry enjoyed brushing the hair behind his ear gently, and as he did so, Snape stared at Harry as if he was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Something was cracking in Snape's demeanor.

Seeing him lose all composure, Harry was struggling too. Not with these acts… but an unfamiliar uncomfortable feeling of… importance. He felt… important.

All of this behind closed doors, everything said and unsaid, all the terrible things that happened… he felt Snape wasn't just going to… disappear from his life when things got awkward.

He had him.

Unlike everyone else, he would not disappear. Snape wanted him, desired him, and he wasn't going to leave. He had him. And nothing was going to keep him away.

Hair cascading down and hitting his shoulder, Harry felt like Snape looked very attractive with his strong features, eyes only for him. They leaned in for another kiss. "Look at me. Don't stop…" came another whisper.

So he didn't stop looking. Kissing his mouth and sucking his tongue, hearing Snape's heavy breathing catch. "Yes… look at me…" Snape touched his face, a thumb resting near a cheek and close to an eye.

Harry's anger flashed.

...He wasn't stupid. He tried to continued the kiss the best he could while trying to keep his temper, wondering if this was a huge mistake after all. But before Harry could punish him for his assumptions, a thumb found his scar and brushed over it lovingly. Okay… so he does see me after all.

Calming himself and bringing his emotions down, he kissed slower, softer, and then harder, taking the kiss as deep as he could. Snape was losing it, his breaths coming soft and uneven- erratic. When he knew Snape could absolutely take no more torture, Harry broke the kiss, pushed Snape back into the couch with a hand... and lowered his head.

When it was over, Harry sat there awkwardly between Snape's legs, unsure how long he was supposed to stay there after the end to be polite. Sitting back up, he waited while Snape recovered, still tasting the taste although he already vanished it from his mouth. Wanting to taste something else, he reached for the wine.

Beside him and redoing his pants, Snape was very, very quiet, not looking at him, and very frosty.

"What?"

Snape averted his eyes, agitated.

"What!?" Harry asked, confused and affronted, watching Snape ignore him. He just blew his mind, and now he's angry? "I'm putting my glasses back on," he huffed and snatched them from on top of the ottoman.

"You left some information out, I think." Snape finally said, putting his shirt back on like he needed his armor.

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"Who else have you done this with?"

"Really!?" Harry demanded. "Unbelievable." He snatched his wand and transformed the ottoman back into a coffee table. "You think I've been with a bunch of other blokes, have you? Did it feel that way in the beginning?"

"No, you were fumbling at first… but…"

"BUT! I was just doing what I thought I'd like, and what you might like by default, and you were enjoying it, so I kept going!"

"I see…" Snape said, doubt laced in his voice.

"Don't look at the floor. Tell me it was great."

"It was…"

"It was fantastic- tell me it was." He vanished the conjured rug that protected his knees. "I know it was! I could feel it. Compliment me or I'm not doing it again."

"The first part was weak. You could have swallowed."

"Really!? Not even a thank you?" he huffed and turned away, feeling around for his discarded socks. He didn't like this new, jealous, quiet Snape who refused to look at him. And how dare he? He didn't have the right to question him, not after he eye-fucked him tonight. And did that mean exactly what he thought it meant?

But even through his anger, he remembered how Snape kept brushing the scar on his forehead with his thumb and felt very powerful again. With a little roar burning in his chest, he decided he enjoyed having that much power over him. "Was it that good?" Harry asked, turning back and smiling a little.

Snape nodded uncomfortably.

"Do you really think I've done this before?"

"I don't know who you have been with, running around the castle at night."

"How…! What!? You're impossible! I've been with one other person. ONE!" Suddenly his cheeks were very hot, realizing how inexperienced this sounded. Snape smiled through his temper tantrum, recognizing the truth when he heard it. "…What about you?" Hairy asked, trying to sound conversational while putting on his socks.

"I have… experience. Nothing… long term…"

Yes, that made sense. "I don't have to leave, do I?"

"No…" Snape said softly. And although he still looked very uncomfortable, he pulled in Harry for a kiss, who reluctantly kissed him back, still insulted. The kiss deepened anyway.

"Stop… my face still hurt, and my jaw."

Snape raised his wand.

"No more spells! Let it hurt! Isn't this discomfort 'another layer,' or whatever?"

"It is…" Snape agreed.

Harry was led back into the bedroom. Seeing it for the first time, he was surprised how barren it looked. Just for sleeping, and not much of it. When he imagined Snape's bedroom, he expected a lot of interesting 'Dark' things to look at.

Sitting down on the bed, Snape sunk into it like he was exhausted by their encounter. Stealing his chance, Harry shoved him over and climbed on top of him, kissing him, forcing him down into the bed, taking control. On top, he continued his barrage of kissing and neck sucking. Snape's arms acquiesced, moving around his neck. Harry roared internally. YES! Grabbing him by his small waist, he felt how thin it was, soft and malleable. Yes, he could work with that. On top, he demanded control.

He may have gotten… sixty seconds of blissful authority in, being submitted to. "Enough," came a voice too soon. Harry groaned, going for the scarred neck again, Snape forfeiting power as long as his neck was sucked and hard, but as soon as Harry took a breath… hands shoved him off. It was over. He would not allow any more.

When they crawled under the covers they got into a second nonverbal fight over who got to be the big spoon. Harry lost.

The mattress was much firmer than he liked and struggled to get comfortable. A few neck kisses later, they were entwined and Harry was feeling sleepy.

"Tell me…" came a whisper in his ear. "I won't get upset- tell me the truth."

Harry was reminded of Riddle. "Mmmm?"

"Was this really your first time with a man? Just tell me- you don't have to lie about it."

Harry rolled over so he could properly squint daggers at him. "And why would I lie about that?"

"How many people have you kissed?" Snape asked jealously.

"Two." The heat rose up in his face. "Three, if you count you," and he turned around, not feeling cuddly anymore. Harry tried to move out of the arm but the grip around him got tighter.

"I don't care. I just want to know."

"You want to know what a whore I am? Well, you're wrong, aren't you?" When Snape wouldn't let him go, Harry turned around to face him, practically spitting. "Tell me! When was all this sex supposed to be happening? The Triwizard Tournament?"

"Yes," Snape shrugged like this was obvious- how popular Harry must have been as School Champion.

"Wrong. When Umbridge was cutting my hand open?"

"Oh- the LEADER of a secret rebellion? Yes."

"Hermione's idea. Having a go with all the girls in sixth year, was I?"

"Quidditch Captain!? YES!" Snape relished with hatred towards Harry's limelight.

And the insinuation hit him: Your father was a whore. "I think you're confusing me with someone else," he said in a cold voice. He turned around again, giving him his back.

"I'm not confusing you with anyone else." Fingers found him, claws sinking in, holding him greedily. "I am perfectly fine with what I have, and the condition that it came in."

"What? Broken?" Harry snorted, torn between laughter and anger.

Snape squeezed him to let him know their shared past was a perk and not a bug."

"Why is it so important I haven't been with other people?"

"It's not important- I am only surprised..." Soft fingernails raked slowly down his back, making Harry's skin tingle excitedly despite his annoyance. "I just didn't expect to get this lucky."

Lucky.

Harry turned his head, paused, and kissed him despite all his stupid insinuations.

"Are you really this jealous?" Harry asked, knowing the answer. What was he supposed to do knowing how jealous he was? This ugly side of him? "Do you really want to know why I haven't been with more people? Stress. I'm stressed all the time. And… I think I'm… picky?" Harry thought about it, really thought about it. "After knowing Hermione and all these… incredible people, I don't think I can just date anyone, especially with what I've been through. It's like... I fell into a hole, a deep hole, and I can't date anyone who also hasn't fallen into the same crater. Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

And despite Harry was very tired, they were face to face again, grinding, kissing although both of their faces hurt. "Put your arms around my neck again," Harry begged.

"No."

Instead of kissing him, Harry grabbed Snape's soft waist again, touching it, massaging it while he sucked on the scarred neck again and wasn't stopped, getting in his fill before they settled.

Harry woke up to the sound of a drawer slamming and other bangs. Snape was loudly getting dressed to go to work on the castle. Rolling over, Harry pulled up the covers to protect himself from the noise and the light of a wand, trying to make himself comfortable again.

He stirred awake, blinking. Where in the… where was he?

Snape's bed.

Blinking through his disorientation, he tried to wake up…

He felt... displaced. It may have been… four in the morning? Four-thirty? Or was it three? Too early. He laid in bed, feeling the dead quiet of being alone in an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night.

"Lumos." Groggy, he sat up and rubbed his face before he started putting on his clothes. A brilliant idea cut through his sleepiness: taking off the shirt he just put on, he folded it and placed it under Snape's pillow, then made the bed by hand. Still feeling sluggish, he put his robes back on and walked out into the other room.

The Lung Preserver he had been working on for his C.H.A.R.M.S. rested on the counter along with two new potions that Snape was in the middle of. He walked around the room, alone and free to explore. The potion workstation (and kitchen?) was the most impressive one he'd ever seen. The large perfect surface to work on, the ingredients, the bottles, the smells, the everything. Harry wondered where he hid the Draught of Connection and opened all of his cupboards, expecting to find a secret stockpile there.

Snape was right- Harry didn't have much interest in potions. After checking every single cupboard and shelf, he discovered they contained mostly ingredients and very little food or dishes. Getting bored reading the endless labels, he moved to read all the covers of his old books instead, and stopped when a book was watching him back, blinking from it's spine. He moved to the large barren writing desk, wondering if the drawer handles were cursed or if he could snoop here without consequences.

Temptation won. Opening each drawer, he peaked inside, but found mostly parchment, quills, and other practical items. In the bottom drawer, something moved and Harry quickly slammed it shut, terrified. But it was too late. He already saw… IT.

And IT was terrifying.

After a few seconds, Harry dared to open the drawer again, slowly... but ready this time. A horrible, bright, familiar smile flashed in the dark. Like it had been just waiting for someone to find him and pay attention to him. Gilderoy Lockhart smiled at him from the front cover of a book. Jaw dropping, Harry picked up the book, Gilderoy giving him his most winning smile yet.

101 Hair Spells and Potions for Enchanting Witches. Charm friends and Dazzle at Parties! 12-Hour Hold Guaranteed. By Gilderoy Lockhart.

Mouth still open, Harry literally dropped the book back into the drawer and closed it, the author looking devastated at being put away.

Well, that was enough of being nosey. Feeling rather awake now, he left.