Chapter 11

Snape shot up in bed and out of his arms. Harry'd been drifting warmly into sleep and the movement jolted him awake.

"What," Harry said, blinking, trying to see Snape clearly as he slipped out of bed and started a fire in the grate. He reached for his glasses.

"Idiot," Snape said, pacing.

"Oi," Harry said, his sleepy peace leaving him. "Why're you starting with me?" His tongue felt heavy but he started to sit up.

"Not you," Snape said, exasperated. "Me. I'm an idiot. I haven't made a mistake like that in years."

"What mistake?" Harry took off his classes again and rubbed his eyes.

"We just kissed. I just kissed you, out there," Snape said, pointing to the wall of the dungeon. "In front of the east wing of the castle for anyone to see, as if-," he stopped, pressing his palms to his eyes. "As if you're not Harry bloody Potter and I'm not- well, me."

"Relax," Harry said, "It was dark. No one saw us." He'd never seen Snape this agitated and it was putting him on edge. He'd never seen Snape be this human, except sometimes during sex.

Snape dropped his hands from his face and demanded, "Do you know that?"

"Well no, but-"

"It's unforgivable. I was thinking with my cock."

Harry rolled his lips in to hold back a laugh. "I kind of like the sound of that."

"Of course you do," Snape said, giving him a look of disgust. He put his hands on his hips and started pacing at the foot of the bed, beside the couch. "I suppose I'm still intercepting Skeeter's mail. Maybe I can catch it that way if someone tries to go to her with it."

"Yeah, exactly," Harry said, but he didn't bother saying much else because Snape didn't seem to be listening to him.

"Still doesn't change the fact that someone might have seen, someone might know," he said.

"But do you really think it's that probable?"

"You're not fully grasping how serious this is."

"No, you're overreacting. It was dark, like I said, and we were out there for an hour after dinner. Probably everyone was getting ready for bed, not just sat at their windows watching every movement out on the grounds."

"What teenager do you know gets ready for bed at 9 o'clock?"

Harry freed himself from the covers. He saw Snape spare a glance to his bare legs, and Harry knew, like he knew his own name, that Snape wanted him again. Even after they'd just got done orgasming in each other's hands. He scooted to the edge of the bed.

"Even if no one goes to Skeeter with it, they could spread rumors here," Snape went on.

"Spread rumors about their demonically scarry Potions professor? They'd think twice before doing that."

"They wouldn't be scared of me if they thought I was attracted to men. Do you remember how the muggles you lived with felt about anyone not strictly heterosexual?"

"Yeah," Harry said. Dudley used to call him a faggot regularly and Uncle Vernon would laugh. One time he said he hoped Harry really was a faggot so they'd have a reason to get rid of him for good.

"Wizards are even worse- ages behind muggles about that sort of thing. Even Dumbledore wouldn't come out because he thought it might hurt his position as headmaster."

Harry gasped, getting on his knees in excitement. "Dumbledore was gay?!"

Snape looked at Harry like he was a door knob. "You can't be serious."

"What?" Harry said, almost giddy. "I didn't even know I was gay. When did you know you were gay?"

Snape shook his head, looking puzzled. "Sexuality's a spectrum. I've- obviously- found women attractive before."

One woman. Harry deflated like a balloon. "Right."

"But I'm clearly not straight, either." Snape was also clearly uncomfortable. "You're not the only- the only man I've ever been with."

"Okay, um," Harry said, eyes down at the carpet and now desperately wanting to talk about something else. He hated thinking about Snape finding women or other men attractive. "So wizards are really intolerant. I mean wouldn't that make it even harder for people to believe that we were involved? Harder for them to imagine?"

Snape stepped toward the bed post and leaned his shoulder against it. "That's a good point."

Harry smiled. "Yeah? I have another one for you."

Snape looked at him and blinked, slowly. "Go on."

"People think I'm still with Ginny."

Harry saw Snape's tongue move behind his teeth as he thought about this.

"Even if they find out soon that we broke up, we were together for so long. It wouldn't make sense to anyone." Harry thought about the things the Dursleys would think about Snape. "What do they know about sexuality being a spectrum?"

"It's possible," Snape said, considering.

"And another thing," Harry said, lifting onto his knees so his feet didn't go numb. "So what if they did find out?"

Snape eyes lit up with the moment. "I would think you'd care."

Harry really didn't know if he'd care. He would hate for his and Snape's secret bubble to be burst but he wasn't sure he cared what they said about him in the papers anymore.

"I'm used to people whispering things about me being my back and telling me to my face they don't approve of me. Why would this be different?"

"Because no one disapproves of you now. You'd go back to being ridiculed and villainized. Do you want that?"

"I don't care," Harry said and suddenly he knew he was sure. "I haven't forgotten what they did to me during the war. I don't owe them anything."

"I'd be crucified," Snape said, looking at him. "For corrupting Saint Potter. They'd think I have you under some sort of spell."

"Oh, but you do," Harry said, edging closer to him. "A terrible one that makes me desperate for you."

Harry would pay an obscene amount of galleons to bottle the feeling he had now, Snape's eyes boring into him with laser focus.

"I dislike when you say things like that," Snape said.

Harry was getting hard. "That's a lie."

Snape came off the bed post and wrapped a hand around Harry's neck. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Harry's breath hitched. "Yeah. A dirty, filthy liar." He whispered it like a dare.

Snape spanked him, on the back of his thigh.

He cried out. How could you want something so badly without knowing it?

"Oh my god, do that again."

"Say something else to deserve it."

Snape's hand was tighter around Harry's neck than it usually was, but it wasn't so much that as Harry's own needy distress that made it hard to breathe.

"I hate you," Harry said, not meaning it, but it earned him another spank and he felt like he would melt in Snape's hand.

"Do you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you hate me when I'm fucking you?"

"Yeah," Harry lied, holding on to Snape's wrist. He looked down and saw Snape was hard. He bit his lip. "The most when you're fucking me. For making me like it."

Snape made the lowest noise, like a hum, like something terribly good just happened to him.

"You're going to kill me, Potter." The hand at his throat fell and swept across his chest. "I survived the war but I don't know if I can survive you."

"Right back at you, babes," Harry said, which earned him Snape's smile, with teeth.

The next morning, Harry retrieved the letters from his room to read during breakfast. When he was seated snugly between Snape and Neville, he fought the urge to scoot closer to Snape and chose Hermione's letter first.

Harry,

I'm so glad you and Ron had a proper talk about what happened with Ginny. He won't say it but I know he misses you and it's been hard for him being at the Auror's office without you. I think that made it easier for him to be furious with you.

The post started flooding into the Great Hall. A thick roll of scrolls dropped heavily in front of Snape. Harry was looking at it curiously when another scroll was dropped in his plate, again from Hermione. Ron'd most definitely told her about the latest in the case.

I know he didn't say this to you either, but I think it makes it harder that it's about sexuality, too. I didn't know this but wizards are even worse than muggles about it.

Harry resisted the urge to show that line to Snape, who was eyes deep in his own mail. He also had to resist the urge to try to read over Snape's shoulder. Who was writing to him?

I only found out when I tried to find books and… other things you might find useful about it published or made in the wizarding world. But there's virtually nothing. I'm embarrassed I didn't know about this till now, although I suppose it's not surprising considering houselves have been enslaved by wizards for hundreds of years and wizards have all sorts of other bigotries. I've been wondering about what's made the wizarding world predisposed to these types of prejudices and I think it's fascinating. Disgusting, but fascinating.

I know, no lectures.

Harry smiled. He missed reading Hermione's letters, the way she devolved sometimes into intellectual topics that didn't interest him at all. Although, he supposed he should take an interest in this.

Right, so I was thinking if you can't come out properly in the wizarding world, we'll just have to do it in the muggle world. And it'll be even better because if we go to a gay bar or club or something like that, no one will recognize you! I know you probably don't want to do that sort of thing and I can't force you but I think it could be really good for you to meet other people you can relate to in that way.

Even if you really don't want to, I think the least we should do is browse a muggle book shelf or two.

Let me know when you're free.

Love,

Hermione

Harry grabbed for her latest scroll. Before he opened it, he looked at Snape's letter, still in his hands.

"So, you have friends?" he muttered, snidely. "Who'd be writing to you?" He was channeling his father and hoped Snape would think it was funny rather than curse him into next week.

Snape smirked, and then hid it with his cup of tea. A warmth filled Harry's chest; the intimacy of their inside joke. He swallowed and said, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Harry went back to opening his letter, rolling his eyes.

Harry,

I know I just sent you something but I just wanted to say Ron told me about what you found in the flat. I didn't sleep at all last night. I've been so worried about you.

Don't be upset with me for saying this, but please be careful, Harry. Don't walk alone at night, even at Hogwarts. Put some extra wards up around your rooms, including Salvio hexia. Have Professor Flitwick help you with it, I'm sure he knows tons of others that are useful.

Make a trip here soon or I'll come there looking for you.

Love,

Hermione

Little did Hermione know that Harry barely slept in his room anymore and when he did, he was never alone. She'd be comforted by that.

He spooned some eggs into his plate. "Neville, I'm starting study hall this week. Thanks for covering me."

"No problem," Neville said. "You'll have an easy time of it with Snape, the kids are really well-behaved around him."

"I wonder why," Harry said.

They were nicest to each other in the dark.

Most nights after dinner, they'd purposefully lose each other on the way out of the Great Hall and then find each other again by a designated meeting spot that was different every time on Snape's insistence. Sometimes they met by the Whomping Willow or the tall birch trees not far from the entrance or by the rock face on the west side, careful to avoid the direct line of sight from Hagrid's hut.

Wherever they began, they always ended up at the lake. By the lake and covered in black, Harry felt like he could ask Snape anything or tell him the stupidest thought swimming in his brain on any given day.

"Do you think the giant squid knows all our secrets?"

"Most definitely," Snape said. "But he also doesn't care at all."

"What do you reckon he does care about?"

"Playing with his food before he eats it," Snape said.

Snape started creating little spaces for them to sit or lay by the water, never adding light so they could stay hidden, just warmth or dry heat so their robes didn't soak the wetness of the grass. Once, he conjured a wooden platform that was hard when they laid down but soft on their joints and Harry praised him for it.

"When did you know you could first do magic?"

"My father was beating my mother and I threw him off her without touching him. Made him angrier. He didn't like that I took after her."

"Shit."

"When did you know?"

"Well I didn't really know until Hagrid told me but the first time I really remember doing it was when my aunt cut my hair and really hacked it. I was supposed to go to school the next day, the first day of the year, and when I woke up, I'd grown it back."

"Bet Tuney did not like that." It felt strange that Snape knew his aunt. Really knew her.

"No, she did not," Harry said. He turned on his side to face Snape. He reached a hand out and it landed on what felt like Snape's chest. He was laying on his back. The stars weren't enough to illuminate him but Harry knew that's what he was looking at.

Conspiratorially, Harry whispered. "Horrible Harry was locked in his cupboard everyday for a week after school and went to sleep every night without dinner."

Snape shifted to his side and Harry took the lapel of his shirt to keep his hand from falling from his chest. "A cupboard?"

"Mm-hm. I lived in a teeny-tiny cupboard, under the stairs."

"Cave inimicum," Snape said to shield them from view. Then he waved his wand again, and was forming an illusion made of light around them, like he had with the rubix cube.

Then it was like they were inside a television version of Harry's cupboard, with the slanted roof and the door almost exactly as Harry remembered it. Snape conjured a pillow big enough for both of them under their heads.

"Like this?" Snape asked.

And it was just like that, except for one thing. Harry raised his head to look down at his legs, which had enough room to straighten out.

"Tinier," Harry said, as he laid his head back down.

Snape looked at him as he waved his wand again, and the cupboard shrank around them until they had to scooch closer together, their knees bending and knocking. Their foreheads were almost touching.

"What sorts of things would you hear?" Snape asked.

Harry took Snape's wand arm and draped it around his hips. "Sometimes in the morning, Dudley would jump up and down on the stairs to wake me up."

Snape added the sound to his illusion, wandlessly this time. Thump, thump, thump over their heads and little pieces of light falling and fizzing over their faces, imitating ceiling debris.

Snape was rewriting his memories.

"Wouldn't have been so bad if I'd had this sort of company." He dared a few fingers past Snape's shirt, feeling for collarbone. "Makes me wish we'd been kids together. Privet Drive Harry would have liked Spinner's End Severus."

Snape tightened his arm around Harry. "Do you really believe that?"

"Of course," Harry said. "You could have shown me all sorts of magic tricks. We'd be panting bullies together."

Snape smiled. He kept doing that lately, casually, like it didn't break Harry's heart every time.

"I could have snuck into your cupboard without anyone seeing. Charmed the door to shake or let off steam to scare them."

"I could have blown up your dad into a great big balloon. I did that to my Aunt Marge once."

"Too much fun," Snape said. His eyes got sort of far away like they were wont to do sometimes, but Harry liked watching them anyway in the light of his casting. "It's probably for the best that we were decades apart, now that I think about it," he finished.

But they seemed the same age that moment, two little boys sharing secrets and enemies.

"Petunia kept everything magical from you until your Hogwarts letter?"

"Yeah."

Snape went quiet. He reached for Harry, fingers finding his temple. Harry removed his glasses so Snape's fingers could touch him unchecked. He swept the fringe from Harry's forehead. Harry closed his eyes.

"What?" Harry asked, because he could feel Snape still looking at him.

"The promise of magic was the only thing that got me through those years before Hogwarts."

"Mmhmm," Harry said, lulled by Snape's fingers.

Snape went quiet again.

Harry opened his eyes. "Spit it out," he said, imitating Snape.

"How did you manage?"

"Oh," Harry said, closing his eyes again. "I think I thought I just needed to stick it out until I was 16. And then I could leave and have my own life. I fantasized about having a real flat and never cutting my hair until I wanted to and I used to think I'd do anything for money. Clean toilets, wait tables. Whatever."

Harry heard movement in the water, like something briefly breaking the surface and going under again. He remembered they were on the grounds at Hogwarts and not his cupboard.

"I thought one day I'll have a family and I'll do it right. We'll be nothing like the Dursleys. Did you ever think that?"

He thought Snape would be more honest if he kept his eyes closed, so he did.

"Having a family never really seemed possible to me. I never thought about it much, really." Snape's hand left his face. "Perhaps I knew it wouldn't be any different."

Harry blinked fast. "Of course you'd be different. You wouldn't hit your wife."

"How can you be certain?"

"The same way I know I wouldn't starve my kids or lock them in cupboards."

"We're different, you and I." Snape pressed his finger over Harry's heart. "You were born with all the right moral compass parts. I don't know that I ever had any of that, naturally."

"You're mad," Harry said, sitting up and disturbing Snape's light magic. Suddenly the cupboard disappeared and they were in the dark again, blind to each other. "That's so stupid. You do have moral compass parts. Clearly you do. Someone who makes a mistake and then spends 17 years dedicated to fixing it definitely has morals."

"You would never have made my mistake. No one has to die to teach you a lesson."

"Oh yeah? What about Sirius?"

"Intentions matter. You were trying to save Black." While Harry was searching for something to say, Snape talked over his thoughts. "It's alright. You don't need to try to make me feel better. Firstly, it won't work and secondly, I don't pity myself."

"No, you just hate yourself," Harry said, lying back down on the platform.

"I deserve it," Snape said. " You'll see that too, one day."

"Who cares?" Harry said, refusing to feel sad. "The sex is amazing."

And in the next week, they had sex more times than Harry could count. They did it mostly in the comfort of one of their rooms but sometimes, and it was usually Snape that started it, they kissed like teenagers in a broom closet or an empty classroom with the door warded. Then it was never just snogging. It was Snape's big hands all over him, pulling at his clothes like they were reigns he could use to twist Harry's body into the positions he wanted him in. They both really liked it with Harry bent over or braced against a wall and Snape behind him. Snape's lubrication charm got more efficient every time until it was just a whispered word (Facilis) and Harry could feel it, already warm inside him. Just the sound of the charm alone could make Harry hard, make him moan and spread his legs further, anticipating the feel of Snape's fingers pressing into him.

When Harry was too sore to keep doing it without stopping Snape, mid-penetration, that made him feel like he would lose his mind. The pain and the hot wish for Snape inside him were opposites battling, leaving him so frustrated he felt his chest would explode.

The first time this happened, Snape wanted to stop fully but Harry begged him not to, begged him for healing charms, ointments, any creative use of magic or potions to get past this major tragedy.

"Always begging," Snape had said, his whole face in the crook of Harry's neck.

"You like it."

Snape obliged that same night with a potion the color of egg yolks and they fucked mindlessly.

Sometimes he wondered if he should want Snape in other ways, if he should want to fuck him, to be inside him. He wondered how other gay men felt, wondered if he was abnormal even by queer standards. But what his body called for was always the same. He wanted the split in two, bliss feeling. The powerlessness of being under him and the power of holding Snape inside him, controlling him, unraveling his inhibitions with a well-placed hand or moan.

Sometimes, even shortly after they'd just done it, all they had to do was catch each other's eye to get started again.

Looking at each other was like looking down the well of their desire together. Their twin needs reflecting back at them, they made eye contact and weren't sure if that's what created the want or if it was just that they knew what the other was thinking.

From there it was like a countdown. We're 3 seconds away, 2, 1, take off. Violent torrent of so much sex and need, driven by something neither of them understood or questioned because it scared them, scared them into each other's arms and sometimes made it hard for them to look at each other afterward because one of them or both of them weren't sure that they should've given in.

"We're disgusting," Snape said once, right after.

Harry was flattened on his back, staring at the ceiling. "It's wonderful," he said.

Harry wrote with Hermione back and forth during, making plans for the weekend. In the end, she managed to pry out of him an acceptance to go to at least one gay bar and spend the night so that she didn't have to worry about him splinching herself.

She dangled Ron as a persuasive tool, telling him if he stayed the night he could go over some case details with Ron in person and they could really talk things through.

He told Snape Friday night, as Snape was sitting on the floor with his back against the base of the couch, reading. Harry loved it when he was like that, straight-backed and barely clothed, his socks higher up than his ankles, reaching around his calves. It was easy to imagine him as vulnerable that way, without the pomp and circumstance of his robes.

Harry was laying on the couch, above him. "I'm going to Hermione's tomorrow and I'll probably sleep there."

"Why are you telling me this?" Snape looked up from his book, which was sitting flattened and open over his criss-crossed legs.

"We sleep together every night. I thought you might have questions if I just disappeared."

Snape looked back at his book, not answering.

"Hermione wants to celebrate my coming out. She wants to like, get me gay books at the bookstore and take me to a gay bar."

"Your big gay weekend," Snape said, as he bookmarked his page and closed the book.

Harry nudged Snape's shoulder with his foot. "Don't make fun of me."

Snape grabbed him by the ankle. "Sounds like Granger wants you to meet other gay men. Explore your options."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I don't think she thinks of it that way. It's not like she disapproves of you."

"You should, you know," Snape said, letting go of him and rising from the floor.

"Explore my options?"

"Yes," he said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Harry was glad Snape suddenly wasn't in the room anymore and couldn't make out his feelings on the matter. It hurt but he'd die before he let Snape see that.

"Of course I know that. You don't own me."

Snape reappeared in the threshold between rooms. "Fortunately for you."

Harry got up from the couch and took off his shirt. "But aren't you going to miss me?"

"No," Snape said blankly, eyeing Harry's nipples.