A/N: Involves BDSM themes, smoking, and Breathplay.

Ignite a Spark

Severus slipped out the backdoor of the Hog's Head and cursed Aberforth again for changing the rules of the tavern after it had gained a larger clientele. For that matter, damn the war for making the Hog's Head a more popular establishment. He wasn't keen on the possibility of anyone of consequence (Poppy, especially) seeing him, of course, but he'd still prefer that to being banished out into the rain just for a short breather.

At least Aberforth hadn't seen fit to change anything besides a few rules, determining that if people wanted to see the Hog's Head, then they'd get the authentic experience, or whatever it was that had been quoted in the Prophet. Severus had tried pointing out that smokers and a few other 'unseemly' habits were part of the authentic experience, but to no avail. Unfortunately, Aberforth was like his brother in at least one aspect: it was pointless to argue with him.

Casting an umbrella spell to keep himself relatively dry, Severus stepped out from the shelter of the eave over the door and moved towards the dark tree about twenty yards away, outside the glow of the lamps. He stopped halfway across the trodden and muddy tract between the Head and the half-fallen boundary wall of the village as his eyes adjusted and the shadows coalesced. There was someone already huddled under the leafy branches, and he debated going back as he eyed the silhouette. The last thing he wanted right now was to be stuck in the rain with some chatty villager or other unsavory patron.

Then the silhouette lifted a shadowed hand to their face and a bright, glowing ember illuminated their features, deciding the matter for him. The orange luminescence cast into relief high cheekbones, pert lips with a perfect bow wrapped around the filter of the cigarette, and bright green eyes that seemed to burn in the brief light, still visible even behind those ridiculous round frames. Unsavory patron it was, but Severus would not be scared away by Harry Potter of all people. Besides, Minerva made him promise to play nice when the boy -well, man now for five years- had been hired to replace her in the Transfiguration classroom. And it wasn't like he had any reason to expect the brat had designs on talking to him. He knew better than that by now.

Continuing forward, Severus sheltered himself beneath the thickest grouping of branches and leaves in an effort to escape the worst of the wind-blown rain. This, however, put him against the tree and directly beside Potter. Needs must. He fished out a half-empty pack from the pocket of his damp cloak. Snagging one of the long coffin nails from within, he replaced the pack, only to realize his wand hand was wet when he tried to cast the spell to light the fag and it fizzled.

Before he could spell his hand dry, a small flame appeared before his eyes, sitting atop a slim finger. After a very brief internal debate, he wrapped his fingers around the other man's wrist to steady the finger as he lit the tip of his cigarette. As far as peace offerings went, it was probably the most subtle one a Gryffindor was capable of.

Dragging deeply, filling his lungs with the toxic smoke, he exhaled slowly as Potter lit a second fag of his own. Again Severus watched the handsome features light up in the brief glow of the cigarette's ember. Those striking eyes seemed inhumanly bright as they stared unseeing at something in the distant pitch dark.

"Potter," Severus greeted, breaking the silence and surprising himself.

The younger wizard nodded in acknowledgement as he flicked ash. "Snape."

"Minerva said you weren't due at the castle until closer to the new term."

The comment rolled off his tongue before Severus could stop it, and he was left questioning his own sanity. Since when did he invite conversation with former students? Particularly this former student who couldn't even be bothered-? No. Right, he was supposed to be playing nice. He didn't need the Headmistress coming down on him again, and that was bound to happen if he started extolling Potter's sins of the past five years.

"My plans changed unexpectedly," Potter answered the unasked question. "But my rooms won't be ready until tomorrow at the earliest. Hence, I'm here instead."

Severus grimaced involuntarily as he looked back toward the tavern. He was well aware of how unaccommodating the rooms above Aberforth's pub were. "You couldn't get a room at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Nope," Potter said, blowing smoke in a huff. "Aberforth was the only option."

Severus waited, drawing on his cigarette, but it was clear that was all the explanation he was going to get. "You can't be serious. Surely there's somewhere else you could've stayed in the castle. It isn't as if yours are the only rooms available."

Potter finally looked at him with a half-smile and a gleam in his eyes. "Offering to put me up in your bed for the night?"

Severus choked on the smoke he'd been steadily inhaling, exhaling in a rush and swallowing the desire to cough. Before he could cobble together some form of acerbic deflection (because outright refusal seemed inexplicably unachievable in his scattered thoughts, despite all the reasons he should), Potter chuckled.

"Yeah, I know, 'keep dreaming'," The infuriating 20-something said. His eyes flicked towards the second story of the Hog's Head, before returning to Severus' startled gaze. Potter sucked lightly on the dwindling remains of his cigarette, and the glowing ember almost seemed to ignite deep inside the emerald-ringed pupils even as he blew a trail of smoke into the air above them. "Don't worry. I intend to."

Severus was completely stunned, not only by the fact that he was fairly certain he'd just been propositioned by Potter, but also at the fact that he hadn't balked at the idea. In fact, in spite of himself, he found he was highly intrigued by the thought. Potter quirked his lips in a playful smile and flicked his butt out into the rain. Before he could walk away, and before Severus could really think through the decision, he tossed aside his butt as well and potion stained fingers wrapped around a firm bicep.

"What the hell sort of game are you playing, Potter?" Severus snarled.

A pink tongue darted out to wet carmine lips, but the smile didn't disappear. "Contrary to recent polls, Snape, I do not, in fact, play games. At least not where my heart's concerned."

Severus looked the brat up and down, sneering. "Your heart or your prick?"

Potter shifted, and suddenly Severus found himself pressed back against the tree, a thigh folded between his legs and a hand around his throat. He swallowed thickly and knew that he should be fighting back, but he couldn't seem to make his limbs move. When had Potter gotten to be as tall as him? And so dominant? This was not the Runt-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord that he remembered. This was a fully grown wizard who'd survived a war. Or perhaps a dangerous animal on the prowl. Maybe both.

"The two seem to be in agreement on this particular venture," Potter murmured inches from his face. He smirked and his eyes flashed. "But don't worry. I promised Minerva I wouldn't try anything. Something about not making things uncomfortable between us once we're both living in the castle. She never said anything about not telling you before that, though."

Severus blinked. Oh. Oh. That was why Potter was staying in a dump of a room in the worst tavern in Hogsmeade. He swallowed again and reminded himself why he should be trying to push Potter off of him. "Last I checked, you haven't spoken to me since I got out of the hospital nearly five years ago, and that after an underwhelming attempt at reconciling our differences whilst I was still recovering."

Potter shrugged, flexing the fingers still wrapped loosely around Severus' throat and dragging out a gasp. "You shot me down, what was I supposed to do? You of all people should know how hard it is to want something you can't have. You chose to serve a deranged psychopath in order to forget. I chose to… master my predilection for dominant gits. Figured if you can't have him, join him. Imagine my surprise when it turned out my preference made us even more incompatible."

It took an embarrassingly long moment for Severus to piece together all the implications of that statement. This was made difficult by the current evacuation of the majority of his blood supply from his brain to an organ that lay further south. By the time he realized Potter had somehow come to the conclusion that he'd joined the Dark Lord because he'd been pining for Lily, that Potter had apparently been looking for more than just reconciliation after the war, and also that the imp had made an entirely inaccurate (but not unexpected) estimation of Severus' chosen role in bed, the hand on his throat had withdrawn. He snagged his fingers in the fabric of Potter's jumper and held him fast before the thigh between his could withdraw as well. A hand against his shoulder stopped him pulling the younger man bodily against him.

"Wrong on all counts, Mister Potter, as per your years in my classroom," Severus drawled. "Or was I wrong in my estimation of your brief relationship with Miss Weasley?"

He knew, of course, that he wasn't. Their break-up a few months after the war had been publicized with relish, especially when Potter was seen not a week later enjoying the company of another young man in a club in London. Weasley hadn't been bothered, had been quoted as saying she was glad Potter was embracing his inner self, and some other equally sappy bullshit that made it clear their relationship had been little more than a stopgap as Potter figured out who he really was… and who he really wanted. Severus wondered if the girl was aware her boyfriend had been pining not only for men, but for a man who'd spent twenty years being or playing a Death Eater. That would make for a hell of a headline.

Potter arched his eyebrow curiously. "You're serious?"

Severus smirked. "Teenagers aren't well-known for their ability to think straight where hormones are involved. Especially when there are expectations and stigmas heaped upon them. She was my best friend. And you… well, I suppose you were right about me knowing what it's like to want something you can't have."

Potter smirked. "Really?"

Severus gave a slow nod, smirking as well.

"Good to know," Potter murmured, stepping further into Severus' personal space and removing any distance between his thigh and the turgid erection he could no doubt feel despite the thick cloak and trousers hiding it. He hummed curiously as Severus bit his lip to stop a moan. "The evidence certainly seems to support the claim. You said I was wrong on all counts?"

Cautiously releasing his grip in the damp fabric of Potter's jumper with one hand, Severus grabbed the hand not currently pressing a bruise into his shoulder and lifted it to his lips. Keeping his gaze locked with Potter's, he placed a lazy kiss on a couple of fingers before dragging them lower to press against his neck. The response was immediate, Potter's hand shifting to wrap firmly around his throat again as green-ringed pupils blew wide and a pleased smile crept onto the younger wizard's surprised features. Still smirking, Severus curled his fingers in the jumper again and leaned into the hot palm, the fingers flexing unconsciously as he closed some of the distance between them. He hissed in aggravation as Potter's hand clamped down more firmly, calloused fingers falling just shy of marking him as his Adam's apple was restricted, stopping his lips a hairsbreadth from their goal.

"All counts," Severus agreed hoarsely, his words ghosting across a nearly feral grin.

He moaned as Potter shoved him back against the rough bark of the tree again, their mouths crashing together. A gasp escaped him as sharp teeth bit his lower lip, and Potter took advantage, licking inside his mouth. Severus groaned, rolling his hips against the hard thigh pressed against his cock as he responded eagerly to the kiss. Apparently, Potter preferred the taste of cherry tobacco as much as he did, and Severus had an idea that the flavor, combined with the unique taste of the Boy Who Lived, may prove more addictive than nicotine. It was certainly a headier sensation than a cigarette had ever produced on its own.

Potter drew back to breathe, but robbed Severus of the same choice, closing his grip on a scarred throat and cutting off his access to oxygen. Severus, in response, ground his cock harder against the firm thigh, digging his fingers into rough denim over hard hips. After a six count, the hand on his throat loosened and he sucked air into his lungs. Sparks of light danced in his vision like a thousand glowing embers. Fuck. It had been years since he'd been this turned on.

"Don't stop," He growled as Potter made a move to release him.

Potter arched his eyebrow again and did exactly that, pulling away entirely and putting nearly a foot between them. "I must have misheard you, because that sounded remarkably like an order, Professor Snape."

Severus swallowed. "Please, sir, don't stop," He tried again, praying he wasn't about to hear a repeat from Potter's Sixth Year Defense class.

"Better," Potter said instead with a smirk, curling his fist into Severus' cloak.

He dragged Severus forward and went back to consuming his mouth brutally, holding him in place with a hand burrowed in lank raven hair until Severus melted against him. Only then did he withdraw, but when Severus moved to follow, he was surprised by hard fingers gripping his hair and dragging his head back. He whined, and it turned into a keening mewl when firm lips latched to the small bundle of nerves behind his jaw.

"Sorry, pet." Severus whimpered at the name, or perhaps it was the sharp bite to his earlobe, he wasn't entirely sure. "But I have no intention of having you for the first time up against a tree in the middle of a summer storm."

Severus gasped as a rough tongue slid along the shell of his ear. "But…"

He really hoped Potter wasn't about to fuck off and leave him like this. If he did that, then Severus had every intention of making his tenure as a professor a living hell. He hadn't wanted something, someone, this much in… well, five years, but before that it had been at least a decade, if ever.

Potter ignored his plea, nuzzling the intensely sensitive skin of the scarring Nagini's venom had left on Severus' throat. "However, I noticed before that you failed to actually answer my question earlier."

Question? Severus tried to think past the pleasant fog of endorphins. Potter had asked a question earlier. Had he? He must've. And he hadn't gotten an answer, apparently. What had he asked? Teeth sank lightly into the ropy scar tissue, and Severus groaned needily. How the hell was he supposed to be able to form a coherent thought if the man insisted on marking him like that?

"Sir?" Severus finally grunted, losing patience with his own inability to think of anything besides wanting more.

Potter hummed and took mercy on him, licking a trail from the sensitive scars back up to his ear. "Are you offering to put me up for the night?" He asked again huskily.

A spark of understanding penetrated and Severus nodded as a vision of Potter pounding him into his own mattress danced before his eyes. "Yes, fuck yes."

A hand trailed down the front of his cloak to cup his cock through too much fabric. "It'll be awfully hard to walk all the way home like this," Potter pointed out teasingly. "Would you like me to help, pet?"

Severus tried to focus on the question for a moment. He was incredibly, desperately hard, but he was also over 40, wizard or not. "No," He rasped finally. "I want to come on your cock. We can floo to my rooms."

"Good answer," Potter murmured, placing a tender kiss on his cheek.

Severus whined again as Potter pulled away and turned to return to the pub without looking back. It took several deep breaths before Severus felt centered enough to follow. Merlin, what the hell was he doing? What was it about this Potter that had him folding like a pack of cards? Even when the imp (incubus) had been a student, his constant challenging of authority had been peculiar and had left Severus feeling off-kilter. Now, however, they were on equal footing, and that challenge had evolved into something else entirely. Something that Severus wanted more of.

Of course, if Potter thought he was going to just walk away after tonight, then he had a few more lessons left to learn. Like not igniting a spark in a dry field without expecting a brush fire to follow. There was no reality in which one night was going to satisfy after five years of, apparently, mutual pining.