It all started when he was thirteen. Actually, it started before that, before Hogwarts, even. It had always been part of him; it just happened that he didn’t know it right away.
Harry suffered from Non Somnus Requirere Magical Disorder. It was something that he had inherited from his mother. All it meant was that he didn’t need to sleep at night, at all. But he didn’t discover this until his third year at Hogwarts, and it was from a most unlikely source: Sirius Black.
Harry cornered the escaped convict one night when he snuck into Gryffindor Tower after curfew. Harry heard the entire story of how Sirius had really been framed by Peter Pettigrew, and decided to believe him. As the conversation wound down, Sirius had grown curious as to why Harry had been up so late after curfew. When Harry had told him that he rarely slept, Sirius explained that Harry’s mother had suffered from a magical disorder that kept her from sleeping, and how Harry had probably inherited it from her. Sirius had eventually left, telling Harry to write him if he managed to capture Pettigrew.
With the help of the Marauders Map Harry did manage to catch Pettigrew, and turned him over to the Ministry.
Sirius became a free man, and Harry no longer had to live with the Dursleys. He had a home to go to with his godfather, shared with his favorite professor, Remus Lupin.
Right before going to school for his fifth year, Remus sat him down, and they had ‘The Talk’. It had left Harry rather confused, but the twins had no problem straightening him out the next night. They even had visual aids. A whole pile of magazines: gay, straight, and all different types of kinks.
“Is that even possible?” Harry was turning a back issue of Swish and Flick* around in his hands, trying to figure out which way was up.
Fred, or was it George, looked over his shoulder. “Oh yes, that’s quite possible.” He bent down and whispered in Harry’s ear, “And a lot of fun, too. Do you want us to show you?”
Harry’s eyes must have bugged out because the twins backed off a bit. George, or was it Fred, smiled at him. “Why don’t you just borrow those, and have a look. Feel free to mark the pages of anything you would like us to demonstrate, love.” He ended the offer with a lascivious wink.
“All right then, I’m uh… gonna go.” Harry grabbed his magazines, and took off. He spent the entire night going through them.
Whereas the night before was engrained in Harry’s mind as one of the most interesting nights of his life, the following morning wasn’t. First day back, first class: Potions. And Malfoy was a prefect.
“10 points, Potter. Your homework is in deplorable condition.”
Harry glared at Malfoy, but didn’t argue with him. He knew better. His friends obviously didn’t. Ron elbowed Hermione in the side.
“Well, 5 points to Gryffindor for having your homework in on time, Harry.” Hermione nodded her head, pleased with herself.
Ron wasn’t too happy. “He took off 10 points, Hermione!”
“But Harry’s homework is messy, it could have been neater.”
Malfoy picked up Harry’s essay to look it over. “5 points, Potter. This essay is half an inch too short.”
Malfoy moved to sit behind the tri. Ron’s head made a thud when it hit his desk, Hermione bit her lip as she debated what she should do, and Harry just hoped that his friends would stop trying to save him from the Slytherin.
Ron lifted his head up a few inches off the desk. “Do something, Hermione,” he hissed.
“Hmm. 5 points, Harry, for being to class on time.” She turned her head to look at Malfoy; the look in her eyes said, ‘your move’.
“Stop it, Hermione!” Harry glared at her. “Don’t get me involved in your power games with Malfoy.”
“Potter, detention. I do not tolerate yelling in my classroom.” Professor Snape had entered.
“I swear Snape has it in for me,” Harry muttered under his breath.
Malfoy leaned forward. “I heard that, Potter. 10 points for slander against a teacher.”
Ron elbowed Hermione again, and she leaned over toward Harry. “10 points for keeping your head.”
“Potter, another detention. How many times have I told you not to talk to your fan club in my class?”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“Shall I make it a month?”
Harry didn’t respond.
“5 points for not answering your professor when he asked you a direct question.” Malfoy drawled from behind him.
Ron grabbed Hermione’s arm. “Hermione, do you want us to lose the house cup?”
Harry heard. He turned toward his two *former* best friends. He had every intention of informing Neville that he was his new best friend right after class. “STOP IT! Both of you.”
“Potter, that’s it. A month detention.”
Harry gathered his books. “Professor, can I please move next to Neville?”
“What, so that the two of you incompetent dunderheads can destroy my classroom? I think not. SIT!”
“Hey, Potter.” Harry turned around to face his nemesis. “5 points from Gryffindor for asking the stupidest question in the world.”
Ron started to say something to Hermione, but stopped when Harry sent him a death glare.
Harry hated the days and weeks that followed. He became the battlefield for the prefects’ war. Malfoy, or one of the other Slytherin prefects would take points; then one of the prefects from another house would award him points. And Harry never did anything. But Snape was always lurking around one of the corners, waiting to give him another detention. Harry got to know the inside of Snape’s cauldrons really well.
“So, Potter. Your little friends don’t mind getting you in trouble, do they?”
Harry didn’t answer, he just scrubbed harder.
Snape came up behind him, only inches away. At first, Harry was uncomfortable, but gradually he relaxed. It wasn’t like Snape was going to do anything. “Always letting others walk all over you, Potter. You aren’t anything like your father.”
Harry didn’t say anything; he didn’t even acknowledge that he heard what Snape was saying.
“Your father would have protested all the detentions. After all, you didn’t do anything to earn them, did you?” Snape’s hand brushed over his arm as he reached inside of the cauldron. One long finger pointed to a small speck of brown. “You missed a spot, Potter.”
Harry shivered as Snape’s breath caressed his ear, and there was an unmistakable tightening in his groin. At least now he had solved the question of his sexuality. He definitely wanted to try out the things he saw in Swish and Flick. And he didn’t think he would mind doing them with his potions master. Between those hands and that voice…Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be of legal age in the wizarding world for another year.
Snape stepped away from him, and Harry let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “That’s enough for today, Potter. I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”
Harry left the dungeons intent on going directly to Gryffindor Tower and marking pages in those magazines. He needed to practice.
A little over a month later, Harry was wandering the castle trying to figure out a way to get his revenge against the prefects. Malfoy and Granger, in particular.
What happened next was the best thing that ever happened to Harry. He wandered into the Astronomy Tower, and there sitting on one of the window seats were Hermione and Draco. Snogging. His prayers had been answered.
The past summer, Sirius had taken Harry aside and taught him how to mimic Snape’s voice. For kicks, he had said. And with Harry’s knowledge of Snape’s speech patterns…
Harry made sure he was invisible in the darkest corner of the room under his cloak. If he played it right he could scare the banes of his existence enough that they wouldn’t even question if it was really Snape.
“Malfoy. Granger. I expected better from two prefects. Out after curfew and carrying on in the Astronomy Tower. That’ll be detention. Granger, report to Filch at eight o’clock next Monday.” One detention wouldn’t hurt Hermione too much. And then she could no longer lord it over him and Ron, that she never got detention.
Hermione visibly swallowed, and scurried out of the room. Malfoy straightened his tie and began to leave, but Snape’s voice stopped him.
“A mudblood, Malfoy? I thought you had better taste. You have detention next Tuesday. Filch at nine.”
“Do you want me to tell your father of your choice in companions?”
“No, Professor Snape.” Malfoy left the room without further complaint.
Once he was sure that neither of the two prefects would be coming back up, Harry left the shadows and made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. He wondered how many other prefects he could catch breaking the rules after curfew. After all, he didn’t have anything better to do.
There was of course still his revenge against Ron. Once he figured that out, he would officially say that Ron and Hermione were once again his best mates.
He was looking through one of the magazines Fred and George lent him, when it dawned on him. Ron was in love with Hermione. Hermione was in love with Ron, but, for some unknown reason, was snogging Malfoy. He was sure that she liked Ron. He could get his revenge, and maybe set his best friends up at the same time. All he had to do was hide a couple of the magazines that Fred and George gave him.
The following Monday, Harry was sitting down in the common room playing a game of chess with Ron, when Hermione wandered in a little after midnight.
“Hermione, where have you been? I needed help on my Tranfiguration essay, and this blockhead,” Ron pointed at Harry, “wouldn’t help me. I think that he’s still mad at us for the whole point thing.”
Harry hid a smile, and just looked at Hermione curiously. “Yes, Hermione, where have you been?”
Hermione’s cheeks were red. “Uh. In the library, studying.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Really? I heard that you had detention tonight with Filch. What did the bastard make you clean?”
“You had detention, Hermione?!” Ron knocked the chessboard over when his hand hit the table. “What did you do?”
“Nothing, I was just out a bit late, and Snape caught me.”
“What were you doing, Hermione, snogging Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower?”
The deer caught in the headlights look was good on Hermione.
“No way, Harry. Our Hermione wouldn’t give Malfoy the time of day.”
“Oh, I know that. Just joking around.”
Harry watched as Hermione took a deep breath. It was fun tormenting her. She deserved it, after all, arguing with Malfoy about house points, and snogging him on the side. It was rather unbelievable.
Just as planned, the twins came downstairs. Harry had made a point of telling them he had returned the magazines, complete with marks on the pages of all the things he wanted to try. The twins had looked rather giddy at that. Told him they would look over his ‘wish list’ that night.
Harry looked at the twin speaking. There was a ‘G’ embroidered on his robes, right below the Gryffindor badge. “Yes, Fred?”
“We’re still missing two of our magazines?” Fred batted his eyelashes.
“I told you, I returned them all. Though it’s possible that Ron borrowed one or two without my knowing. You did let me borrow a lot.”
“Ickle Ronnikins borrowed our magazines.” George crossed over to where the trio was sitting. Ron was still staring at Hermione in shock. “I can’t believe it, and such daring ones too.”
Ron snapped his head around to look at George. “What are you on about?”
Fred, who had slipped upstairs to look in Ron’s favorite hiding place under his mattress, returned brandishing two magazines in his hands. The Swish and Flick: The Annual BDSM edition** and Sugar Spice & Everything NOT Nice.
“What is that?” Ron was pointing at Sugar and Spice.
“A cross dressing magazine, my dear brother, but I’m sure you already knew that. Didn’t you?” Fred or George replied. Harry had lost track of who was who.
Hermione had gone pink in the face again. “Ronald Weasley, what are you doing with magazines like that?!”
“Nothing, Hermione. They aren’t mine. I swear it. It’s probably all a plot by those two. And most likely Harry.”
The twins and Harry looked affronted. Hermione raised her eyebrow at Ron.
“Honest, Hermione. I’m not gay!”
Hermione placed her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Prove it.”
And Ron did. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and kissed her. Full on the lips.
Harry started to clap, and soon the whole common room had joined in. One person in the crowd even yelled out, “Finally, we can get some peace and quiet.” The clapping disintegrated into laughter.
Harry sidled up to Hermione and whispered, “So I guess this means no more snogging Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower?” Harry started up the stairs. He had some lessons with the twins to attend.
“Harry?” Hermione’s voice made him turn around. “Where do you get your information?”
“Only from the best, Hermione.” Harry gave her a lopsided grin, and took off up the stairs. Fred and George were quick to follow.
Harry divided up his time wisely. On some nights he would head out of the tower in order to catch prefects out after curfew. He always gave them detention with Filch. That was the safest thing, after all. Filch would never ask where all the new detentions were coming from. At least, Harry hoped he wouldn’t.
Other nights he spent in the company of Fred and George learning everything that he would need in order to please prickly Potions Masters. They had no problems with the reason that Harry was interested in all their fine tutalage. It appeared that both of them had actually wanted a go with Snape, but, according to George, they didn’t have the balls to carry it out. (Harry actually thought they were quite ‘gifted’ in that area.)
When he was recuperating from his rather exhausting nights with the twins, or after he had caught a prefect or two, he finally got around to doing his homework. He still maintained his top marks, right alongside Hermione and Malfoy, but when one doesn’t need to sleep at all at night, there is so much more time for things other than studying. After all, he wasn’t Hermione.
Summer arrived eventually, and he went back to his home near Ottery St. Catchpole with Sirius and Remus. Ron or the twins would come over every now and then to spend the night. It didn’t take long for Sirius and Remus to figure out what actually went on when the twins stayed over. Sirius made it a point to teach Harry silencing charms. He said to teach them to the twins.
“You make it seem like we don’t have silencing charms up, Sirius. It’s not *my* fault that the twins are absolutely horrid at them.”
Sirius had then made it a point to have permanent silencing charms put on Harry’s room.
Remus had caught Harry and the twins working on a plan on how Harry should go about catching Snape, and he asked to join them. After all, according to Remus, since he himself had never been able to have a chance with Snape, the next best thing would be Harry having that chance. Remus had all sorts of useful ideas since he had known Snape while in school. But by the end of the summer there were still no concrete plans. Remus did make a point that he shouldn’t let Sirius find out, since he was going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts that year while Remus stayed home. There was no question in Harry’s mind who wore the proverbial pants in that relationship.
Sixth year began rather slowly. Harry still went out at nights to catch prefects. He had hoped that the Prefects’ War would finally end, but Harry was out of luck in that department. It seemed that Malfoy used it as an excuse to get back at Hermione since she had dumped him for ‘the Weasel’.
Harry also didn’t have the twins around any longer to further his sexual education. They lived in Hogsmeade now, above the store that they were planning on turning into a joke shop, but other than Hogsmeade weekends Harry had no way of seeing them. It was disappointing, but not overly so. After all, the person that he really wanted was Snape, but Harry still had no idea on how to go about that.
Harry got the feeling that his ‘prefect hunting’ had turned into a cat and mouse game. Someone was trying to catch him. He didn’t think that it was Filch, but he couldn’t be sure. On most nights the hairs on the back of his neck would stand on end, almost as if someone was breathing down his neck. It was disconcerting.
So were his still constant detentions with Snape.
For the first time in over six months Snape was having Harry brew a potion. It was one of a group of twenty potions that needed to be brewed for the hospital wing. Harry was sure that for the next week he would be doing nothing but helping Snape brew potions. It wasn’t like he was abysmal in the subject. Of course, Snape would just let the cauldrons pile up until all the potions were done, and then Harry would have to clean them all out during his subsequent detentions.
“Potter, you would think that after five years of potion class you would learn to stir properly.” Snape reached over from the other side of the worktable, and wrapped his hand over Harry’s forcing it into a steady figure eight pattern.
Harry could feel his hand begin to sweat. He didn’t think that Snape noticed. In fact, his professor’s hand stayed over his a little longer than necessary.
Most of his detentions went that way. Little touches that Harry figured he wasn’t supposed to notice. The way that Snape would lean over and grab the same ingredient as Harry. Or how he’d brush Harry’s side on the way to the supply cabinets even though there was always plenty of room to go around him. Harry had no intention of complaining.
And then there was the day Harry made the Skele-Gro explode.
Harry had never made that particular potion before, and he was surprised that Snape was actually going to let him make it. Snape had just muttered that there was no way that he would ever be able to fill the potion requirements if he didn’t have some help. Besides, who would likely be needing the stuff anyway? Snape had glared at Harry pointedly.
Harry had looked rather abashed. It wasn’t as if it was his fault that Lockheart had made all the bones in his arm disappear. Snape didn’t seem to care that he had insulted Harry, and started to list instructions in his steady, silky baritone.
Harry put his body on automatic; following the directions as best he could as he soaked in his professor’s voice. He was startled out of a delicious daydream about that voice telling him all the things he planned to do to him, by the touch of a hand covering his, and a body pressed against his back.
“Shush, Potter. Now pay attention. You almost dropped all of the powdered bat wing in at once. I don’t want to be cleaning this stuff up for a week. And neither do you, trust me.” Each breath the man took pressed his chest against Harry’s upper back. The hand that wasn’t gripping his own was resting on the table on Harry’s other side. Harry was surrounded by Snape, he had never been in a more comfortable place.
“Of course, Professor.”
“You have to add the bat wing a pinch at a time until the total 5 grams are mixed in.” Snape turned Harry’s hand until it was palm up, and then pried open his fingers. Taking a pinch out of Harry’s hand he dropped it into the cauldron.
Harry wasn’t paying as much attention as he should. Little jolts started where Snape’s fingers had brushed across the palm of his hand and went down his arm to his spine and ultimately to his growing erection. Not that Snape’s breath against his ear was helping matters.
Harry squirmed a bit. His jeans were getting too tight, and he couldn’t think straight with so much delicious Snape around him.
Snape leaned forward a bit to see what was going on inside the cauldron. The movement pressed an obvious erection against Harry’s backside. Harry gasped and jerked. The sudden movement caused him to drop the rest of the bat wing into the cauldron.
Within seconds, the two of them were covered in sticky purple goo. Snape had backed away from him as quickly as possible. Harry missed the feel of Snape’s body almost immediately.
That scene had the staring role in many of Harry’s daydreams. Except those dreams never ended with the potion exploding. Most of the time the potion just disappeared into nothing as Snape kept talking, pressed up against his back. His hands would run up Harry’s sides, under his shirt, eventually pulling it off. And then Snape would run his hands over Harry’s chest, pinching his nipples and mapping his body. Those hands would travel further down until… Hermione would shake his shoulder and demand that he help her teach Ron how to do something or other.
Harry really needed to learn not to have that dream while around other people. Unfortunately, it always seemed that there were other people around. Most of the time he couldn’t even get the showers to himself. The only time he was ever alone was in the middle of the night in the Gryffindor common room. And that wasn’t exactly private. If only his dorm mates hadn’t banned him from taking midnight showers the year before. It was the only time that Harry ever regretted those magazines that Fred and George had lent him.
Two weeks before Christmas break it happened. Harry’s cover was blown.
Harry caught Terry Boot, a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect, smuggling a seventh year Hufflepuff girl into the prefects’ bathroom.
“I don’t know what the two of you think that you were going to do in there, but I can assure that it isn’t going to happen. That’ll be detention, Boot. Prefects are supposed to set a good example, not abuse their power. Meet Filch next Wednesday at ten o’clock for your detention.”
Harry waited in the shadows until the two students moved off. He slowly detached himself from the wall, and was about to head down the corridor back to Gryffindor Tower when a voice stopped him. The same voice that had come out of his mouth only minutes before.
“The After Curfew Vigilante.”
Harry really didn’t want to turn around and face the man behind him. Harry wished that he was safely ensconced in his invisibility cloak. He no longer wore it, however. He was instead bundled up in a black cloak, in order to give a physical form to ‘the voice’.
“So, Potter, you didn’t get a prefect’s badge, but that doesn’t stop you from making sure that those prefects get their just desserts. Does it?”
Harry swallowed and turned around. Snape was standing at the end of the corridor, not even fifteen feet away.
Snape lifted one elegant eyebrow. “And you even borrowed my voice to do it. Follow me, Potter.”
“More cauldrons to clean out, sir?”
“I’ll save those for when you actually get detention with me. Which, I can assure you, will be often.”
Snape led the way down into the dungeons. Harry was surprised when he didn’t lead him to his office and instead to his private rooms.
“Sit, Potter.” Snape pointed to a large green leather couch. Harry didn’t hesitate; he sat down and watched as Snape moved around the room. Eventually, he settled himself down on the other end of the couch. He handed Harry a glass of water.
“You realize, Potter, that between the detentions that I gave you, and those that you gave the prefects last year, I now hold the record for most detentions given out. Ever.” Snape smirked. “Good thing that Filch doesn’t mind filling out the detention slips for me.”
Snape nodded. “Detention slips. Everything has to be recorded properly. You didn’t think that the teachers only kept track of that house point nonsense, did you?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure, Professor.”
A momentary silence fell between the two of them. Harry eventually broke it.
“Professor, how did you figure out it was me?”
Severus looked down at his fingernails for a moment. “It wasn’t that difficult, Potter. There were, of course, the rumors saying that I was constantly prowling the school looking for students out of bed, and catching more prefects then not. But that wasn’t what did it. You see, I ignore rumors.”
“Then what did?”
“Right before the school year began Filch approached me. He wanted to know if I was planning on sending more prefects to him for detention this year. It seems that they clean better than the average student. All except Malfoy that is.” Snape paused in his story to take a sip of the drink he had made himself. It looked like whiskey, but Harry had no way to know for sure. “It didn’t take me long to put the pieces together. The only other person in the castle that suffers from insomnia is you.”
Harry looked surprised. He hadn’t exactly been hiding his disorder since he discovered that it was semi-normal, but neither was he telling people.
“Don’t look so shocked, Potter. When Black gained custody of you he informed the school that he thought you suffered from Non Somnus Requirere. Pomfrey checked you for it during one of your hospital visits, and all the teachers were informed. It’s that simple.” Snape took another sip of his drink. “Like I was saying, the only other person that suffers insomnia in the whole castle besides me is you, and you also like to cause trouble, and you think that the rules do not apply to you.”
Harry decided that a token defense was in order. “But, Professor-“
Snape held up a hand. “No, Potter, I didn’t bring you down here to punish you. I actually brought you down here to offer a trade.”
“Yes, a trade.” Snape didn’t continue right away.
Harry started to squirm in his seat, uncomfortable with the heavy silence.
“I will help you perfect your little costume, turn a blind eye while you use my voice to give detentions at night, and even supply the detention slips to Filch, if you help to cure me of my insomnia.”
This was sounding too good to be true. There had to be a catch. “And how would I help you cure your insomnia?”
Snape set his glass down on the low table in front of the couch. He propped his elbows on his knees and folded his hands. Turning slightly toward Harry, he leaned forward. “They say the best remedy for insomnia is exhaustion. Do you know of any exhausting activities, Potter?”
Definitely too good to be true. “Quidditch?”
“No, Potter.” Snape reached out one hand and pressed a fingertip to Harry’s cheek and stroked. “Guess again.”
Harry grinned. He didn’t have to try to seduce his professor after all; his professor was going to seduce him. “Sex?”
Snape nodded. “Correct. Tell me, Potter, are you a virgin?”
Harry almost burst out laughing. As if the twins would have left any stone unturned. “Not bloody likely. I had a lot of practice to get in, if I wanted a chance with the object of my desires.”
“And who is that, Potter? The littlest Weasley?
Harry did laugh at that. “No! I prefer older men.”
Snape seemed satisfied with that answer. “Perfect. I like my partners younger. Well, Potter, do we have a deal?”
Harry held out his hand, Snape shook it. “I guess we do, Professor.”
That was all the permission that Snape needed apparently. He leaned forward and caught Harry’s mouth with his own. Harry didn’t bother trying to dominate the kiss; there was no point. It was obvious from the outset that Snape was in full control. The instant that Harry opened his mouth Snape’s tongue entered savagely, mapping the contours of his mouth thoroughly. They only paused for air a moment before Snape started to kiss him again. Harry wondered if he would be able to breathe properly at the end of this encounter.
Snape didn’t stop with just a kiss. He pressed his upper body against Harry’s, using his extra weight to push Harry back into the couch. Harry willingly went; he had spent too much time dreaming of it to put up any sort of resistance now. Snape soon had Harry on his back, clutching his shoulders. Snape positioned himself so he could kiss, lick, and bite his way down Harry’s neck. His hands were yanking at Harry’s shirt. Unfortunately, Snape couldn’t get the shirt off with Harry on his back. Breaking the kiss, Snape sat up and pulled Harry up and onto his lap. Harry quickly situated himself so he was straddling Snape’s thighs. One of Harry’s favorite positions.
Harry slid his hands into Snape’s hair. Though he wasn’t quite sure what to expect, he wasn’t surprised at the greasy feel at all. He couldn’t get a good grip on any of it, and finally gave up, resting his hands on Snape’s shoulders instead. His hands didn’t stay there for long as Snape finally got around to taking off Harry’s shirt.
Being naked from the waist up made Harry decide that Snape should be in a similar state of dishabille. He started at the row of tiny buttons that began at Snape’s throat and went all the way down to his waist. Harry knew that it was going to take a while to get them all undone. And with Snape’s hands moving over his chest, pinching and then twisting his nipples, and his mouth licking and sucking at the abused flesh, Harry had no idea how he was supposed to concentrate on all those little buttons.
Eventually they all got released, and Harry pushed off the black over shirt. Just to be met with another button up shirt.
“Goddamnit, Snape. Do you have a button fetish or something?” Harry set to work on the new row of buttons.
“Or something.” Snape’s teeth clamped down on his shoulder. Harry hissed in pain, but that soon turned to a moan when Snape started to suck the wound.
One by one, Harry undid the buttons to the white shirt. He had to pause in between each one as Snape pressed down on the bulge in his jeans. It was torture, and Harry was enjoying every minute of it. Finally the shirt was open, and Harry was able to pull it off. The sight that greeted him was fascinating.
He had always known Snape was pale; the man had barely any color to him at all. But this was breathtaking. The skin that was always hidden by his clothes was practically translucent. Harry could see the veins near the surface, thin blue lines that traveled over his chest and arms. He wondered if his thighs looked the same. His hands trailed to the buttons at Snape’s waist.
His hands were roughly jerked away, pulled apart and pushed back. The move caused Harry’s chest to press forward, and Snape clamped a mouth over one nipple. He licked and teased for a moment before biting down, but not hard, just enough to make his nipple slightly oversensitive. Snape moved to the other one and repeated the action. Harry was left gasping for air.
Not wanting to just sit there, Harry tilted his head until he could reach Snape’s ear. He took the lobe in between his teeth, pressing down slightly. He could feel Snape’s sharp intake of breath against his nipple, and laved the shell of his ear with his tongue. Harry then licked his way down Snape’s jaw line. It was obvious that the man hadn’t shaved since that morning; his skin was rough with stubble against Harry’s tongue.
Snape moaned, and slid his hands around Harry so he could run them down Harry’s back, lightly scratching now and then. The sensation caused Harry to wriggle in Snape’s lap, his cloth covered erection brushing against Snape’s.
Harry’s hands went to the first button at the top of Snape’s trousers. Within seconds Harry had the short row undone. He was shocked that Snape had no undergarments underneath, but it made him happy. He was sure that if Snape wore the things that they would have buttons.
Harry wrapped his hand around Snape’s cock, and heard the older man’s sharp intake of breath in response. He started a series of steady strokes up and down its length. Harry listened to the change in Snape’s breathing; it was now quick and erratic.
Harry barely noticed that his own pants were being undone until he felt Snape’s hand grab his cock. The feel of those long, cool fingers wrapped around him left him breathless, and his hand stilled. Then Snape’s hand started to move. Long, slow strokes that were feather light. His other hand pulled Harry’s head toward his, and he started kissing Harry again. The mixture of sensation had Harry groaning into his partner’s mouth.
As suddenly as it all started Harry found himself pushed off Snape’s lap and onto the floor. “What the-“
“I forgot something. I suggest that you remove those.”
Harry knew that he was talking about his jeans, but goddamnit. It wasn’t bloody fair. He had been enjoying himself. The greasy haired Slytherin bastard.
Snape returned with a small jar clutched in one hand. He held out the other one to Harry. “Don’t know how to stand up, Potter?”
“Actually, I just think that my legs forgot how to work.” Harry grabbed Severus’ hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. What he didn’t expect was Snape to drop to his knees afterward.
“Never thought I’d be kneeling down to the Gryffindor Golden Boy.”
Harry kicked off his shoes; Snape pushed Harry’s jeans down the rest of the way and helped Harry step out of them. Immediately Snape took him all the way into his mouth. Harry felt his knees begin to buckle, but Snape expected that and grabbed one of his knees in each hand, bracing them, and keeping him upright. Snape began to move; he sucked and licked every inch of Harry’s length, and soon Harry felt his balls tighten in preparation for his orgasm. Snape released his grip on one of his knees and squeezed them in his fist. Harry shuddered in response as his release was unexpectedly stopped.
Snape stood, and brought Harry over to the couch. He divested himself of his pants before pulling Harry back onto his lap. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking for permission. Harry nodded before bringing his lips to Snape’s for another bruising kiss.
The feel of one of Snape’s slick fingers pressing against his entrance made Harry break the kiss to bite his lip. Snape didn’t let up the pressure against his hole, but did use his teeth to coax Harry back into the kiss. Harry hissed against Snape’s mouth as Snape pushed his finger through. Neither Harry nor Snape moved until Harry licked at Snape’s bottom lip.
Snape pulled Harry’s bottom lip between his own and bit down. Harry pulled back, the movement causing him to impale himself further on Snape’s single digit. Snape pulled his finger out a little before pushing it back in. He started a steady rhythm and didn’t deviate from it until Harry was squirming in his lap, he lips pressed up against his neck.
Snape added a second finger, pushing both of them through the tight ring of muscle before scissoring them. Carefully stretching Harry. Eventually he added a third. Thrusting them into Harry as Harry pushed down. When Snape pushed against Harry’s prostate a long keening sound escaped Harry’s throat.
Snape kept fucking Harry with his fingers, sporadically brushing against his prostate. With each brush, Harry would lightly bite down on Snape’s neck, only to exhale a second later. The feeling sent shivers down Snape’s spine.
Harry grabbed Snape’s free hand and pulled the small jar out of it. He pulled the cork out with his teeth and poured a liberal amount into his hand before rubbing it over Snape’s erection. The older man moaned, and pulled his fingers out of Harry’s arse.
Harry quickly positioned himself over Snape before impaling himself on Snape’s cock. Harry exhaled, and remained perfectly still; Snape did the same. After a moment, Harry began to press small kisses over Snape’s face, and when he had finally adjusted to having Snape inside of him he lifted up and slightly off the older man slightly.
Snape brought his hands to Harry’s sides, helping him to raise himself up, and then pushed him down. Harry groaned as Snape pushed against his prostate.
They started out slow, but picked up speed, Snape pushing up at the same time that Harry pushed down. The thrusts became deeper, and both men were panting. Snape slid one hand in between their bodies and grabbed Harry’s leaking cock and started to pump it in time with their thrusts.
Soon Harry felt the building tension once again. Snape must have realized it too because he whispered into Harry’s ear. “Come for me.”
Harry came hard, his arse muscles squeezing in response as the hot, sticky fluid covered his chest and Snape’s hand. A second later he heard Snape groan as he reached orgasm. Harry collapsed against Snape’s chest. They were both breathing hard.
“Exhausted?” Harry breathed out.
“Not in the slightest. You?”
“Of course not, I’m only sixteen. You think that one go like that is going to exhaust me?”
“Shall we try the bed then?”
“We better -- you might just fall asleep after the next go.”
“Impertinent Gryffindor brat.”
“Slimy Slytherin git.”
I know that Sirius is going home for the Christmas holidays. And I’m sure that you want some time alone with him. You wouldn’t mind overly much if I stayed here at Hogwarts until the 23rd, would you? You see, I’ve got this Slytherin snake that needs training.