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Weird Science, Dark Magic, and an Appetite for ...	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 6476 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter, and still quite poor, which makes it rather obvious that I'm not making any money off of writing fanfic for it.

Chapter List
- 1-Weird Science, Dark Magic, and an Appetite for ...
- 1
Warnings: bottom Snape, young snape (well, sort of), character death (cannon, also 'sort of'), rampant teenage hormones, oral, hand job, anal, bondage, rimming, inappropriate use of magical implements, inappropriate use of household implements

A/N: Written as a Christmas Gift and inspired by: Weird Science by Oingo Boingo.

Yes, I have a mailing list. If you're interested, check my profile for details.

Weird Science, Dark Magic, and an Appetite for Trouble

He'd always known Potter had an appetite for trouble, but this was more than Severus had ever given the boy credit for. He stared disdainfully into the mirror.

“Don't look at me like that,” the enchanted glass said. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Far behind him, Harry Potter stood worrying his lower lip. Severus could see the way his fists continue to clench and unclench, and the obvious tightness in his jaw. He was going to crack soon, but Severus wanted to make him suffer for this. Harry needed to understand that he couldn't do whatsoever he pleased! Especially not with another man's corpse! What he'd done was completely unacceptable! It wasn't salvation, it was entitlement, self-gratification. He was no better than the Dark Lord they'd sacrificed everything to defeat, if he would do such a thing merely because he could!

Severus wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He wanted to rage at the young man, but he could only glare at the mirror, because, in some small way, in spite of it all, he knew the thrall of dark magic very well. He knew what it could do. He knew why it was forbidden, why he shouldn't be standing here. And yet, there was a small part of him that was just so very grateful to be alive, to have this second chance.

His fingers rose shakily to touch his as yet unlined face. With Voldemort gone, the Dark mark no longer marred his skin. He was still himself, still big-nosed and sallow-skinned, but this chance to start over, however it had come to pass, could he really turn up his nose at it? What was done, was done? The line between gratitude and rage had blurred so completely that Severus didn't know where to begin to enunciate how he felt about it all, but Harry had to understand that this was not okay.

“Professor Snape, please. Say something. It's been hours,” Harry said at last.

It was a miracle really, that Harry had lasted hours.

Severus turned his piercing gaze upon the boy who lived, and who brought him back from the dead, and tersely replied. “Where is my wand?”

“That depends on what you plan to do with it,” Harry answered stubbornly.

“I am sure you have not failed to notice, Potter, but this clothing is far too large. I did realize, of course, that the constant flow of pies and tarts at Hogwarts were doing little for a slowly stagnating metabolism, as comes with age. However, I did not quite realize how far I had let myself go. I will require my wand to adjust my clothing to fit properly, now that you've turned me into a child. What I do with it after that will depend upon how thoroughly you understand the weight of your indiscretions.”

He had expected Harry to argue. He had even expected him to demand thanks. He expected bitterness and anger and their usual repertoire of snide comments and bitter dismissals. What he did not expect was for Harry to fall to his knees and break down in tears. No, he did not expect that at all.

“It's in the drawer there, with whatever other of your possessions I was able to grab on short notice. Just take it and get out,” Harry choked. “Just get the fuck out!”

Severus was not prone to obedience without argument, except as a survival instinct, but Harry's outburst so shocked him, a hasty retreat really was the only sensible avenue to take. He opened the drawer, snatched up his wand and his spare few possessions, took his newly teenaged body and skittered up the hall of the Black Estate to the only room he could enter without feeling the oppressive aura that had surrounded him since he'd awakened – the one in which Regulus had once resided. The residual aura of a kindred spirit was cold comfort, under the current circumstances.

XXXXXXXXXX

Understand? Of course he understood! How could he not? That callous bastard! He'd spent seven years of his life running from, and fighting, Voldemort. Then he had to watch Snape die after finally admitting to himself that the reason he hated him so much wasn't that he was evil, but the sheer fact that he was completely infatuated with with the snarky old prat. He'd watched him die, and then had been willing to throw his own life away to protect everyone because he couldn't endure the thought of Severus Snape having died in vain. When Harry ended up not dying after all, when he'd made that choice to come back to a world without Severus Snape, it was devastating. The more it sank in, the more it choked him, the harder it became to breathe. Of course he understood; he understood how easily he'd turned to darker paths at the thought of living in a world where the one he loved was dead. Snape, of all people, should understand what that felt like.

Harry had sat there quietly for hours, weighing it – how he'd stolen Hermione's time turner, stolen Snape's corpse before it could be buried, how he'd stolen that text from the restricted section, several ingredients from Snape's personal stock, the remnants of a defeated horcrux – with no power remaining other than its connection to the man who had orchestrated Snape's death. He'd sat there, watching Severus stare at his own reflection in shock and horror, going from ghostly pale to – well, alright, Snape had always been rather pale in the first instance – and all he could come up with was that he'd do it all again. He'd sell his very soul just to see the man living and breathing. Even if Snape never forgave him for it, even if his friends and the whole wizarding world hated him, and even if he ended up in Azkaban with all the dark wizards he'd put there, he could accept that. He just couldn't accept a world without Severus Snape in it. He knew he'd done something unforgivable. He knew how dangerous and foul a thing dark magic was. He didn't care, not if it meant Severus was living and breathing somewhere, even if it wasn't somewhere near him.

Yes, he'd botched it. He'd underestimated his friends, who had stumbled in on him at exactly the wrong moment. He'd underestimated Hermione's brilliant ability to thwart any locking spell imaginable. He'd overestimated his own powers of concentration. He'd only intended to turn back the clock a bit, to the point right before Nagini's bite took hold, but the door swung open, and he'd dropped the bloody turner, and frankly he was lucky he caught and stopped it before Severus was in diapers because he was in no way ready to be a father, least of all for a man he wanted to shag.

Harry couldn't deny that he rather liked the look of him. There was a strange attraction to it – underweight to the point of appearing frail, without the creases beside the eyes, and less weathering about the hands, skin a bit more taught, sharper angles about the chin, but retaining those dark, omniscient eyes and long, tangled hair that he just wanted to grab a handful of and...

Harry shook his head and wiped his eyes. It was hard to have an emotional breakdown when you had half a mind to take another man, shove his face into the carpet, and have your way with him. Under the circumstances, it was rather obvious the sentiment was unwelcome.

Harry screamed to vent some of his frustration. “Ungrateful bastard! Like I don't already know! Of course I fucking know!” He hated himself for it, he really did. He hated admitting to being so weak as to turn to the very sort of magic he loathed just to have one pompous, ungrateful, mouthy old sod in the world.

With Severus back from the dead now, and Harry rather likely in trouble with the law, they were both under house arrest here at the dark and dreary old Black house in London. Snape didn't know that bit yet, that he wasn't allowed to leave. Frankly, the fact Harry was a war hero was the only think keeping him out of Azkaban, especially since sending him to the very place he'd sent so many dark wizards was rather like sentencing him to death by proxy, but the house was under surveillance. Hermione and Ron were allowed to pop by with basic necessities – groceries and such, but they weren't allowed to stay. Kingsley was demanding Mrs. Weasley stop trying to sneak them in pies. This was the chaos only three days after the crime. Snape had taken that long just to wake up. Once he did, he took one look in the mirror, and didn't move for hours. Now he was angry, which made Harry angry, which made Snape angrier – it was really a rather vicious cycle.

Harry sank to a seat and sighed, raked his hands back through his hair. They were saying all the pressure had caused a mental breakdown. They were going to have him go through a psychological evaluation to determine whether or not he was fit to continue existing in society. He'd escaped Azkaban by sheer force of fame, but St. Mungo's Mental Ward was one wrong word away. He honestly wasn't sure which was a worse prospect. Either way, he was sure Snape would be pleased to see him suffer for pulling him back from beyond the grave.

Now that he thought about it, he wondered if there was really anything to be grateful for. An eighteen year old Snape? Sure, it would have been brilliant for Harry, if the man didn't loathe him so deeply, and if he'd not been completely lost over Harry's mum his entire life, but with everything he cared about dead and gone, and no real friends to speak of, he wondered if Severus even thought he had a reason to keep living. 'It'd be just like him to think nature ought be left to take its course, and off himself.'

That thought made Harry's blood chill in his veins. Convinced that must surely be what Severus was up to, a panic took hold and he barreled up the hall, bursting into the room where Severus had taken refuge to stop him from removing himself from the world that Harry had worked so hard to bring him back into.

XXXXXXXXXX

'Bollocks.' Severus had forgotten what it was like to be such a very young man. He'd forgotten that sometimes the body had a mind of its own. He'd made rather quick work of adjusting the clothing to a better fit, though he'd had to remove them to do a proper job of the seams. That was fine, as he wanted a better look at just how far Harry had regressed him in the first instance. One would think he'd had a good enough look, having stared in the mirror so long, but he was in such shock that he barely scratched the surface. Now that he had a few moments alone to try to take stock of his situation, shock had given way to curiosity, which he was sure would become upset soon, but not quite yet.

He was upset with Harry, but that had very little to do with his revival, and far more to do with the means to which Harry had gone, against all sense of right and wrong, to see to it. But, upset about still being alive? No, he couldn't say he was. He had so little to live for, and yet, he did not feel as though he was ready to leave the world just yet.

That being what it was, and thinking he would be left to his own devices for a time, he stripped down and stood in front of the full length mirror. He wasn't appreciating the signs of youth – even on his best day, there was not much to look at under the robes he layered to try to add bulk to his narrow frame – but he imagined he would be able to make a good estimate as regarded his biological age by inspecting his body for scars. He knew them all quite well, remembered clearly when he got each, and how. By examining himself carefully, he would be able to make a proper assessment of where he stood, and with that, what stage of hormonal growth he had found himself reverted to.

'That one was a tree root, when Potter, the senior, pantsed me in front of the school. Once he released me, my shoulder collided with that barb,' he remembered with a scowl. He'd been so humiliated by the prior, that he couldn't bring himself to seek proper medical treatment for the latter. He'd cast the splintered wood out himself, and applied a salve, but in his overly emotional state had done a less than perfect job of the matter. 'Older than sixteen, then. I thought as much.'

He found another scar beneath his kneecap that he got on a thorn bush while spying on Sirius, trying to get him expelled, but that didn't give him any particularly new information. There was a scar missing on his ribs, though, which he'd received very early in his time among the Death Eaters, before Harry was born. 'Less than twenty, then.'

He'd proceeded like this, carefully inspecting his anatomy, trying to narrow it down in this matter until he remembered a particular scar on his inner thigh left during a night of dark passion which he didn't much care to think about, as he was really quite drunk at the time. He lifted his organ to inspect the area, and found the skin unmarred. 'Eighteen, then,' he deduced. It had been very briefly past his nineteenth birthday when he received that scar, and the burn scar on his right wrist he'd inflicted in a brewing accident when he was seventeen was present. So, his best surmise was eighteen. It was a very reasonable guess.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully, trying to remember the state of things so many years in the past, when his body reminded him. Still in hand from the perfectly innocent gesture with of moving it aside for a better view, his cock stirred to life. Severus scowled at it, but that did not prevent the organ from swelling. 'I remember now. I was...sensitive. Too sensitive.' He supposed that was because up to that point in his life, no one had shown an interest in him but his left hand. Depressed and lonely after Lily's abandonment, Severus was eighteen when he'd finally lost his virginity, and while it had been emotionally disappointing, physically, it awakened his body, which thereafter refused to be put back to sleep. The lack of prior contact had left him easily over-stimulated. That is the physical state to which Harry had returned him. Now he found himself naked, alone, and erect, glowering at his organ as if disdain alone could wither it back to its dormant state. He knew better than to think it would actually work, but he had regressed in body only, and his mind raged against the thought of responding to his reinvigorated teenage hormones with stereotypically teenage behavior.

He was having this debate with himself – to wank and be done with it, or to dress, and suffer in silence until it went away on its own, when the door suddenly swung violently open, and Harry declared, “Professor, don't!”

Snape's eyes flew wide, a good match for Harry's fish-mouthed expression at what he'd just walked in on.

“Uhm, I, nevermind!” Harry's voice cracked. “Carry on, then. I'll just...”

Severus blushed brightly. “This is not what it looks like!” Severus croaked, only belatedly having the presence of mind to scramble for his clothing.

“No, I mean, of course, I mean, you know, you'll be here a while, so you should make yourself at home. It's totally alright!” Harry waved his hands frantically, trying to fix the irreparable damage that had already been done.

“I said it's not like that!” Severus said, holding his bundle of clothing in front of his groin with his back to the wall because this covered him much more quickly than attempting to get dressed with his hands shaking in frustration at being discovered in such a state. “I was simply...” he coughed to clear his dry throat. “I had to remove my clothing to manage the seams neatly. While I was at it, I simply thought it was in my best interest to thoroughly inspect my current situation, and properly determine how far you've regressed my body.”

“Far enough, I'd wager,” Harry said thoughtlessly, his mind quite full of Snape's naked body, in spite of the fact he had the most important part covered now. He wanted to throw that bundle of clothing aside, force the man to the bed. He willed himself to concentrate. Snape would really never forgive him if he brought him back from the dead only to rape him. He was not a rapist! He was apparently not as far from the dark side as he'd wanted to believe, given the spell he'd performed, but even Harry drew the line somewhere.

“What did you come rushing in here for?” Snape asked tightly, wondering at the play of emotions over the young man's face, and what had him storming into the room without knocking.

“I thought, I mean, it seemed like you to... to not want to be alive, under the circumstances.” Harry blushed, realizing the idiocy of his own assumptions only too late as Severus stared at him the way he often did, like he didn't need words to tell Harry that he was such a buffoon that there were no words to properly describe it.

“You actually thought I would kill myself?” Snape asked, confounded by the revelation. “And, you came running in here in a panic because it would undo all of your dark work if I had? What did you revive me for in the first instance? Some sense of guilt? Did my death weigh so heavily on your conscience? I assure you, my choices have always been my own, and on that subject – whether I approve of your actions or not, I am not so vindictive as to kill myself merely to spite you, nor depressed enough to not take what chances this insanity of yours has offered me.”

Harry was relieved. Severus had no intention of ending things, then. He realized that was just the type of man he was, anyway. “Sorry,” he muttered, scratching behind his ear, “It was stupid. I just couldn't bear it. I...”

Severus was stunned as he watched Harry choke on his words, and his eyes grow moist. He had seen many emotions from the boy, but tears? On his behalf? It was mad. It begged the question, “Why?” He'd asked it before realizing. “Why risk so much to turn me into this?”

“I didn't mean to!” Harry blurted. “I mean, I only intended to return you to right before Nagini bit you, but, my hand slipped.”

“Dunderhead,” Severus sighed. That was just like Harry, really. He was surprised at the mild affection that leaked into his tone of voice. “However, this doesn't answer my question. Why would you do this, Harry? Why is it so important to you that I live? Guilt doesn't seem strong enough a motivation to risk Azkaban over.”

“I won't go to Azkaban,” Harry said, sinking into the nearby chair as if all the energy suddenly drained out of him. “There is talk of the Mental Maladies ward, though. For now, we're under house arrest. You as well. They want to monitor your physical condition before they let you out and about. Right now, if anyone saw you wandering, the press would have a fit over it. All things considered, they feel house arrest is the only option at present, until they've properly decided what to do about me, since they think I've gone mental.”

Severus edged away further to the wall. “You don't think you have?” He shifted the bundle of clothes in front of him. Just being this exposed in front of another man was making his situation quite troublesome, really. He was going to blame his perky nipples the cold, if Harry dared mention them.

The broken look in Harry's stunning green eyes floored him when the other man looked up at him. “Maybe a little, when it comes to you,” Harry admitted, then looked away. “I just couldn't bear the thought of living in a world that doesn't have you in it. That's all,” he admitted morbidly. “If you're not alive, I don't want to be. I started thinking that way. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd already decided to bring you back, even if you loathed me for it. Just as long as you were alive, I didn't care. I know you want me to apologize and admit I made a mistake, but it wasn't one, not to me. I'd do it again. As much as I hate the magic that brought you back, I'm glad that you're here more than I hate how I made it happen. It wasn't all so bad, anyway – no sacrifices, not even so much as a rat, just a little blood, and it was my own, so I don't mind parting with it. As much as I lost during the war, another drop or so won't do me in.”

Severus felt his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to chide Harry for taking dark magic so lightly, but there were more important messages in the young man's words. Even if he tried, there was no way to misunderstand what the young man was telling him. Harry Potter had feelings for him. It wasn't guilt, or pity, but actual feelings. He didn't know how to process that. He couldn't imagine someone actually feeling such things for a crotchety old bastard like himself, but it seemed to be the case. His body would be happy to respond. Even if Harry resembled his loathed nemesis, James, now that he'd grown there was enough in his features that made it impossible to mistake one for the other. He would not be at all averse to letting Harry touch him. He was sure that must be his hormones talking, but they were really rather convincing. He thought on it only a moment before making a decision. In his life up until now, his greatest fault was that he was far too cautious. The things he'd lost in life, he'd lost predominantly to that caution. He dropped the bundle of clothes to the floor.

“Don't tell your therapist that,” he said. “You'll find yourself medicated and locked away before you can bat an eye.”

Harry looked up and his breath caught in his throat as he watched Severus pad toward him. Naked. Naked, and still hard. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't.

Severus sighed softly. “Well, you've always tended toward reckless behavior. I shouldn't be surprised. I suppose most Gryffindors do, and you're the most Gryffindorish of the lot. The means aside, as long as you promise to burn that book, and not fall onto paths so dark as those I've walked in my life going forward, I can learn to forgive, if only this once, and show you my gratitude, for arranging things in a manner which allows me to live a while longer. I might even have the opportunity to have a life this time around, though I can't imagine what I will do with it, now that I have it.”

Harry forgot how to breathe as he looked up at Severus. Standing in front of him. Naked. Erect. It played over in his mind like a scratched record. Naked. Erect. Severus Snape. Offering. Offering! Harry was no good with subtlety, but he understood very well what, 'show you my gratitude' meant when a man was standing naked right in front of him. “That's just your hormones talking,” Harry said, though his own responded eagerly. 'Hormones, and a sense of obligation, most likely.'

“I won't deny that,” Severus conceded. “All the same, I think I understand what it is you want from me, though I can't imagine why, and am currently in a situation where it would be to my benefit to reward your hard work.”

Harry watched, dumbstruck, as Severus lowered himself to his knees between his thighs. He didn't know whether to be devastated that it was only Snape's hormones that were bringing them to this, overjoyed that any opportunity for it should be granted to him, or disgusted with himself for having no willpower to hold out for love. It was obvious that the only one in love here was him. Snape was only doing him a favor, and even that was only because he also got something out of the doing.

Severus rested fingers on his belt buckle and looked up at Harry inquiringly. Those dark eyes asking if this would be acceptable.

Harry nodded tightly and leaned back in the chair. Severus was strictly business over the matter – the way he unfastened the buckle, the trousers, pulled Harry's already throbbing organ from his pants. There was no evident affection when he licked the pink head and swirled his tongue around it, closed his lips, sucked. Harry moaned anyway. He laced his fingers into inky hair anyway. He encouraged Severus to take him deeper. Severus did so obediently. Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He wanted to watch, but he didn't want to look. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He'd wanted to be intimate with his Professor for so long, but it was wrong. This was all wrong. It had nothing to do with the body. It was the cold calculation of it. It was skill without passion, and it was Snape's passion he wanted more than anything.

“Stop,” he croaked, pulling Severus's hair to get him off.

Severus released the organ upon request, the unspoken inquiry in his gaze. He had been told he was quite skilled at this, so why was Harry stopping him? He was disappointed, really. He'd been just starting to properly familiarize himself with the velvety feel of Harry's shaft sliding along his tongue. The feel of fingers curled tightly in his hair was also rather alluring. His body felt warm, even though he was giving pleasure, not receiving it. It was wonderful just to touch someone. Harry apparently had other plans, going so far as to pull his hair to get him off. Severus didn't want to admit he liked it – that strong grip tugging his head back. He liked his long hair and had no intention of going bald over the fetish, as he knew it was merely a matter of the control, of someone else having it over him, that was shamefully alluring. He hoped that didn't carry too much into his gaze. He was good about hiding his emotions, so he felt certain that they were not on display for a young man who would be prone to use them against him.

Harry released him. “Just, go sit on the bed,” Harry said. “I'll take care of you instead.”

Severus didn't protest. Harry was so used to fighting with him, it was more than a little strange. He bit the inside of his cheek as he tucked his erection back into his pants before moving over to the bed.

“I suppose I am out of practice,” Severus said after an awkward silence passed between them. “I apologize.” What other reason could there be for the change, other than that he was not pleasuring the young man efficiently?

Harry blushed brightly. “It's not that. You were brilliant. I was half-wild from it.” He moistened his lips. “Right then, I'll just start with this, yeah?”

Severus gripped the bedding as Harry's warm hand wrapped around his organ and started to lightly stroke it. This damnable body! It was so sensitive! He'd buried his face into Harry's shoulder before he could stop himself. Better that then let Potter watch him unravel. “Apparently, the other half was in control,” he answered, and gasped as Harry's thumb grazed along his slit. It was just a hand, the gentlest of touches, but it felt wonderful.

“It's not as though you wanted to do it anyway,” Harry said calmly. “You're just horny. Guess it makes sense, being so much younger again, so suddenly. It was all backward. So, I'll take care of you. It's fine. I'll take care of you as often as you like. You don't have to reciprocate.”

Severus found himself shaken by Harry's words – so frank and calm. So mature. He'd spent so much of his life seeing him as a child, but the hand pulling on his organ was clearly that of a man, the voice was the voice of a man, and the vocabulary was also much improved, but the sentiment... There was something very wrong with the sentiment. “I don't mind reciprocating,” he purred against Harry's throat. Just the hand. It was only Harry's hand on him, and it was so good. He was near blind from the pleasure.

“You may not mind it, but you don't particularly want it, either,” Harry answered, his own voice rough with need. He was trying his best to hold it at bay. He could so easily let go and just pound that slender young body into oblivion, but the body was only the outer shell. He wanted more of Snape than just that.

“You are making assumptions,” Severus answered through grit teeth. He was not going to sit here and be pleasured, and leave Harry to suffer. He slipped his hand into Harry's trousers, and quickly under the band of his pants to curl around his organ in kind. He was rewarded for his efforts. Harry moaned, pulled him closer, tightened his grip around Snape's shaft and stroked him with more vigor.

“You don't want it the same way I want it, then,” Harry argued breathlessly.

“That is very likely true,” Severus answered frankly. “That does not, however, mean we can not both enjoy it, all the same.”

Harry knew it was lust that fueled his response. He batted Snape's hands off of him and pushed him into the mattress. The way Severus looked at him made his stomach leap to his throat. Calm and expectant, like he was waiting. 'Waiting for me to get on with it and shag him,' Harry thought. He wanted that fiercely, but that didn't mean he didn't hate himself for casting his morals aside over the man again. He knew Snape was only acting this way in an effort to compensate for adjusting to the change in hormonal balance. From Snape's perspective, he just wanted sex. Anyone would do. Harry was using that vulnerability for his own gain, to be with the man he loved. He would be guilt-ridden later, and Severus would hate him for taking advantage of these early hours of his new found youth. But, right now, as Severus Snape lay calmly naked with his cheeks flushed and his thighs spread, morality and love was all just noise.

Harry produced his wand and penetrated Severus with it. Severus moaned in delight even before Harry murmured the cleansing spell, the muscle relaxing spell, and the cleansing spell again, not because Severus needed it twice, but because the way his back arched and his mouth opened wide, he could tell the sensation of cool liquid swirling through his innards and rubbing his muscles was quite pleasurable for him. Harry didn't strictly need to plunge his wand in to the hilt, but the eager way Snape's body swallowed it made it impossible to resist toying with him a bit – plunging the wood in, twisting it around ...casting the cleansing spell a third time.

Severus didn't mind being toyed with in the least. His eyelashes fluttered and he arched into the rather thorough wand-fucking Harry was giving him. The cool, liquid swirl of Harry's cleansing spell – cast repeatedly, made his eyes roll upward. So good! When he was behaving like a reasonable adult, Severus would never admit how good it felt, but there was nothing reasonable or adult about his current behavior. He moaned his delight as Harry's magic skillfully stretched him open, and cleansed him so thoroughly that the dishes in the cupboard were not likely so clean. He imagined if Harry rubbed his insides firmly enough, he'd squeak – a thought that reminded him how hormones often got in the way of intelligence. His intelligence told him that being sexually submissive was not a trait a man in his position could openly admit to, or indulge in. In his youth, he'd fallen in love with a woman, so any interest in this 'darker' side of intercourse, as it had been deemed at the time, was something he knew he should be ashamed of, even as he experimented with it in the privacy of his four-poster bed. It was a craving he didn't permit himself to delve too deeply into, until she married someone else.

Now, that thinking was as old-fashioned as Severus's wardrobe. No one particularly equated homosexual tendencies with the dark arts any longer. Many wizards and witches laughed at the fact that they ever had. In that way, and with Lily long since gone, there was no particular reason to hide this any longer. He had known for many years that while he had loved a woman, she was the exception. If he were not so devoted to her, he would give himself to other men more readily than to the fairer sex, and had done so easily once any chance he had of winning her had slipped through his fingers. He had used reason as an excuse for this behavior; he told himself his heart would always belong to Lily, but he was still a man, and his body had needs. Finding himself spread out beneath the young man most similar to her – in every way from his emerald eyes to his firey temper – felt rather like the necessary end to a cycle of torment.

'I died,' he reminded himself. 'Best to let the past die with me.'

It was easier said than done, but the way Harry cast his wand aside abruptly and lifted Severus's hips several inches above the mattress made forgetting a far simpler affair.

Harry positioned, and pulled those slender hips down upon his own with far more strength than his short stature implied. Severus couldn't be certain with the pleasure of the abrupt penetration racing through him, but he thought he may have cried out. Yes, he definitely cried out, if the way Harry groaned his name responsively was any indication. Pleasure raced to Snape's core as Harry's zipper brushed against his buttocks with each rough thrust. The hands that gripped his hips were no more gentle, and it sent Severus spiraling. Propriety forgotten, he tossed his head and moaned. There were some situations in which even Severus could not maintain his staid persona. His body was on fire. Harry was not a gentle lover, and he had no idea how the young man knew that gentleness was not his preference. Oh, how he'd needed this! He thought he could live without the physical attention of another, convinced himself of it, but that was just the depression of a battered, old man. He knew, of course, that he was not strictly 'old', rather middle-aged at best, but he'd lived such a hard life it was, at times, difficult to tell the difference. With this young body, though, he knew masturbation alone would only go but so far.

“Yesss....” he hissed through his teeth. “Oooh, yes. Yes...!”

Harry was little better off. The state of his heart notwithstanding, his cock felt brilliant, squeezed so tightly by that slender body, slipping in deep with Snape's knees cast over his shoulders and his arms flung up over his head, gripping the rungs of the headboard for dear life. In this position, Severus was nearly upside down, his hips far higher in the air than his head. He looked beautiful. Harry couldn't wait to see how much more enchanting he would look once he came all over himself. He wanted to see it. He wanted to make a mess of what he considered a body made more beautiful by the fact it was so marred by his difficult youth. Yes, Severus was going to look stunning splattered with release.

It was not, however, only the physical attributes that had Harry so riled. He never imagined Severus would be so vocal! He cried out, hissed and moaned, even begged. Severus Snape begged! He pleaded for it, harder! Harder! Yess!!!!

“Please, Harry!” the revitalized man declared. Please! It only made Harry want to debase his beloved. He hated that bit of darkness in him that came out during sex – the way he wanted to toy with his lover, the way he liked to make them beg and cry, and reduce them to a puddle of lust that wanted nothing more than the privilege of his cock. To make Severus beg, though – that was the ideal; there was nothing more perfect. He hated himself for that, because he loved Severus and didn't want to bring him down to the level of his previous conquests. He was wonderful, though, completely brilliant.

Harry leaned over him and lapped at his throat, kissed him where the fatal blow had landed – now unmarred porcelain flesh.

Severus reached up blindly and raked his fingers through Harry's hair. Oh, damn it all, Harry couldn't resist it. He wanted to torment Severus a little, just a bit! He was so cute! “I'm not going to touch your cock,” he purred into the man's ear. “And, neither are you.”

Severus's eyes shot wide at that dominant tone. In spite of himself, a ripple of excitement raced up his spine. He whimpered as Harry sat back again, still thrusting, but out of Snape's immediate reach. He clutched the headboard anew. There was a hint of the sinister in Harry's gaze, not enough to invoke fear, but still enough to make Severus's thighs quiver with anticipation.

“You like taking it up the arse so much, surely you can come from just that,” Harry taunted.

Tears edged in Severus's eyes. He was really so close. Harry had stroked his prostate once or twice, but he had the distinct feeling he was intentionally missing it, just barely, the rest of the time. All it would take though, what his body was begging for, was just a stroke or two to his aching cock to send him over the edge, and Harry had just forbidden it. He didn't know whether those words made him more frustrated, or excited. He wanted to come! But, on the other hand, the game of it! The new 'rule' that Harry had inflicted upon him with such authority! He didn't want to disobey. He liked it rough, and he liked a little play in his sex. He liked to be teased and tormented within an inch of sanity. He didn't know how Harry knew these things about him, but he was too far gone to feel ashamed.

“Harry...” his voice was barely a whimper. “Please...”

“Are you telling me you can't?” Harry purred. “You can't come from just your arse?” He enunciated it with a particularly sharp thrust.

“I can!” Severus mewled. “I...I can...” Harry's figure blurred through the moisture pooling in his eyes. He really, really needed to come. It wasn't fair! 'Life's not fair,' he reminded himself of his old addage. He was feeling the delicious sting of those words now.

Harry turned his head and kissed the inside of Snape's knee. “That's a good boy, then,” Harry smirked. “Then hurry up and do it. I'm getting close, and if I come first, you'll have to finish yourself, without touching your cock, of course.” He thrust again, and this time slammed into Snape's prostate.

Severus found his voice hoarse when he screamed his pleasure. Harry hit the prostate again. Severus cried again. “Please! Again! Please!” Severus begged, and Harry obliged. It fit within the 'rules', after all.

Tears fell as his prostate was pounded time and again. Over and over and over! It was proof positive that Harry had been missing on purpose, dragging things out and using his body as a toy. It probably made him a bit of a masochist, but Severus thought if this was the type of man Harry really was, then he'd have made a brilliant Slytherin, almost as brilliant a Slytherin as he was a shag.

He vocally expressed his appreciation for the abuse in a series of pants and moans, completely lost any sense or track of what he was saying.

“G-good! So good! So close! Harry, Harry, Harry! Yesss, so good so...gaaahh!!!!”

In spite of how close he knew he was, when orgasm hit, it felt sudden. His cock suddenly tightened and seed exploded from it. With his hips high in the air as they were, it spattered all over his chest and was a violent enough release that it splashed across his face, into his mouth – open and moaning in ecstasy.

His body was limp as a ragdoll by the time Harry slipped out of him. Completely lost in his own violent release, he didn't realize he had enjoyed it alone until his senses started to return at exactly the moment that he found the young man who had demanded such authority over his body straddling his face.

“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered, and before Severus could ask for what, the swollen cock forced its way past his teeth and deep into his mouth. “I'm so sorry,” Harry whispered again, even as he gripped the headboard and started thrusting against Snape's already cum-splattered face.

Harry meant it. He was sorry for everything. For so much! He was sorry for stealing his corpse and forcing him to come back to life. He was sorry for botching the spell and turning him into a teenager, for walking in on him naked and proceeding to use his body as his own personal playground, for being a brutal, overeager lover, and for this, for pulling out while Snape came to hold off his own orgasm, because he had gotten a fancy to make the man drink it down. He was sorry for not just accepting the loveless blow job in the first place, and letting it all spiral so far out of control. He was sorry he was so consumed by lust that he would use even a man he loved as a mere vessel on which to exert his salacious will. It was cruel of him, and Severus would be in the right if he never forgave him for it.

Severus was not so distraught over the new situation as the commanding young man, though. He saw no reason to protest opening his mouth to an organ it was his intent to swallow in the first instance. That Harry was thrusting only made it more exciting. He pressed his tongue upward so that it dragged along the base, relaxed his throat, and sucked. He purred around the organ, causing it to vibrate in his throat and tearing a moan from Harry's lips. All the while, Harry continued to apologize. Were his mouth not otherwise occupied, Severus would have assured him there was no need. There was no shame in intercourse that both parties enjoyed. He would have to tell Harry this, later.

Harry didn't last long. He'd been set to burst when Snape's orgasm overtook him, and gripping his base was the only thing that stopped him. He just saw that seed splattering across Snape's face and tongue, and Snape not closing his mouth against the flow of his own release, and got it into his lust-crazed thoughts to give him more. Before he knew what he was doing, he was making use of his former professor's face, whether Snape liked it or not. He felt like a rapist. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He wasn't like this! He wasn't the type of person who made another man suck him! All the same, Snape sucked. He licked, too. And, he purred. It made his worries a moot point, because he couldn't think with that mouth doing such delicious things to him. Harry only managed a handful of thrusts before he pulled back. He couldn't do it. Surely, jerking himself to completion over Snape's face was marginally less cruel than making him swallow it. Maybe? He was about to pull out, stroke himself and release on Snape's face, hating himself for that, too, when Severus surprised him by gripping his hips and pulling him forward again, taking only his head in his mouth and sucking it. He gave Harry no leverage to pull back, and Harry let go in the dark-haired man's mouth.

“Swallow it,” he rasped, tears edging in his eyes for still trying to demand things, even now.

Severus did. He drank it all down. With Harry spent, he let the organ slip from his lips and the man crash to the bedding beside him.

Harry opened his mouth, trying to will voice enough for words, but no sound would come out while he was still gasping for breath after such an intense climax.

“I would have swallowed it even if you hadn't asked,” Severus said, dragging his finger up the corner of his mouth and lapping the escaped droplets that had dribbled down his chin off his finger. He'd wanted to. “You needn't apologize. There is nor morality in intercourse; there is only that which is enjoyable, and that which is not. I think we both rather enjoyed that, so apologies for acts which are pleasurable for both parties are extraneous.”

In fact, he felt much better now. With his lust sated, his mind cleared. Harry would ever be a rather complex subject in his life, it seemed, second chances or no, but he certainly couldn't deny they'd just had an incredible shag that he would not at all mind repeating. He stood and padded to the nearby desk, taking up his wand to cast a quick cleaning and freshening spell on both his body and the room.

Harry lay against the mattress, completely unwilling to move. He thought it was a pity that Severus cleaned up so quick – he rather liked the look of him in such a debauched state, though he did note the other man sat in the chair with a bit of a wince, in no apparent rush to get dressed.

“I was way too rough,” Harry protested weakly.

“You were precisely rough enough,” Severus countered casually.

“I forced you onto the bed like a rapist!” Harry said more vehemently, sitting up cross-legged on the mattress.

“Nonsense. I hardly remember protesting,” Severus replied.

“And, I made those completely uncalled for demands!”

“A demanding lover is often the best kind. You are making a fuss over nothing. There is no rule stating that intercourse can not have a degree of play in it. That aspect is what keeps it from getting boring, don't you agree?”

Harry opened his mouth again but no words came out as he stared at the naked young man. If he wasn't so young, and so naked, he could easily imagine Severus back at his desk at Hogwarts. His elbows resting on the arms of the chair, one leg crossed over the other, his long fingers steepled.

“A-and, I basically rammed my cock into your mouth,” Harry listed another of his offenses.

“Which is what endeavoring to do in the first instance when you interrupted me and forced me to the bed,” Severus countered.

Harry pointed dramatically at the man. “So, you admit I forced you!”

“I also admit I could have stopped you, and preferred not to,” Severus replied, inclining his head. “Your sense of guilt is completely unwarranted. I did not once tell you 'no' or ask you to stop. In fact, as much as I will deny it for all eternity if you dare tell anyone else, I do believe my actual words to you were quite the opposite.”

Harry blushed. Yes, they were. Severus had begged. He'd done so loudly. “You were so loud,” Harry couldn't help but smile shyly up at the older – he supposed – man. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

Severus cleared his throat awkwardly and lowered the steeple to a more casual pose resting over the arms of the chair. “There are certain situations in which concealing your desires is counterproductive.”

“Even so, I forced you down, like an animal,” Harry complained about his own behavior. “That's just not how you treat someone you love!”

It was already obvious between them, but the outright admission of it struck both men quite silent for several moments. Severus was the first to speak. “Yes, well, I suppose there is that.”

“What does that even mean?” Harry complained.

“It means, Harry, that that particular word is one which I will have to consider for quite a long while before I feel comfortable tossing it about. However, you can rest assured, that lust and love are two completely different emotions. While I do not know if I can respond to your heart's desires, attending your body's needs would be as pleasant a way to pass the long hours of our incarceration as any. In fact, I would go so far as to suggest it may likely be more pleasant than most. There is no need for you to complicate the whims of your body with the tangled web of the heart. One, I am quite content to give you freely. The other I cannot promise you, but you are welcome to try and win.”

“So, what? You're suggesting we just ignore my feelings and shag whenever we like?” Harry sounded a little aghast, but he was trying to process it. The prospect of another naked romp with Severus Snape was too appealing to not consider the offer, at least. Really, when Snape explained it that way, so coldly logical, it made perfect sense, but he wasn't sure if it was true or not, that the heart could want one thing, and the body another. The way Severus had begged though! Even though Harry knew the man had been in love with his mother, his body obviously had its own ideas of what was worth wanting. He frowned. Thinking through these complex problems had never been his strongest suit. It wasn't that he was unintelligent, but all these matters of philosophy were really quite beyond him.

“Not at all,” Severus countered. “I am implying that the two things are quite separate matters, and as such should be treated as such. They can both be dealt with on their own terms.”

“So, you're suggesting we shag whenever we like, and I, what exactly? Try and make you fall for me in between?”

Severus sighed. “Essentially, though when you word it that way it sounds ridiculous.”

Harry grinned. “Alright! Brilliant, then!” He liked it in the end, the idea that he didn't have to try and reconcile the fact that he wanted to dominate and torment Severus, with the fact that he wanted to hold him close and kiss him gently. If they were two separate things, they didn't have to make sense, right? It was actually far less stressful to think of it that way. He brought Snape back from beyond the grave because he loved him. He'd not been thinking about a shag at all at the time, but once he awoke, Harry couldn't help but appreciate his body and want to do filthy things to it. And, he had. But that had nothing to do with the other bit, the part of him that just couldn't bear the thought of a world without Severus in it. All that was, was being trapped in a house with a bloke who also happened to be bloody sexy, and brilliant in the sack. It made it all so much easier to wrap his head around, once it all sank in.

Severus quirked a brow as he watched the play of emotions across Harry's face as the young man thought it all through. He could practically see the proverbial light bulb go off above Harry's head. 'Foolish boy,' he thought bemusedly.

“Right then,” Harry decided. “Want to have another go, then?”

“Now?” Severus asked. After that shag? He was ready to go again?

He watched Harry peel off his shirt and drop it aside. The bespectacled young man was already half out of his trousers by the time Severus had gotten that one syllable out of his mouth.

“Yeah, of course. Why not? There's not a bloody thing to do. They've stripped the house of anything interesting on the grounds it could be dangerous. Even took the chess board. We're lucky we got to keep the crockery. You're a young bloke now, and I'm a young bloke, so, with nothing else to do, let's have some fun being young, randy blokes together, yeah?” Harry laughed at his own sense of humor.

Severus couldn't say that the sight of Harry naked didn't appeal to him. He also couldn't insist he was too old to go another round. “Well, I suppose if we can't even play chess, there's no helping it,” he answered, returning to the bedside and offering not the slightest complaint when Harry playfully threw him down upon it.

XXXXXXXXXX

Youth was not without its merits. Severus had decided that several weeks ago, but it bore repeating.

“Mphmph!!”

“Sorry, didn't quite make that out,” Harry smirked against his lover's throat.

'That's because you've gagged me, you twit!' Severus thought, glaring daggers at Harry with those bottomless dark eyes.

Harry just laughed, kissed his shoulder, and kept up what he was doing.

Being gagged, really, was the least of Snape's troubles. Harry, it turned out, could cause all manner of trouble with ordinary household implements. Snape's wrists were tied in satin that Harry had stripped off the bottom of the study curtains. The material was used to pull his arms far above his head, and seal them in that position with a fastening spell to the ceiling. A cushioning spell beneath his knees was the only kindness he was granted as he knelt on the kitchen table with a chilled platter between his knees that he couldn't see. He did, however, know that Harry had laden it with what he could only describe as torture devices at this stage of the evening. When Harry had teased him about being made to 'work' for his supper, he had known it meant sex in the kitchen, and it had excited him to imagine what Harry might have planned. Three hours later, his cock was still petrified, his nipples tender from excessive abuse, and he'd found himself on the intimate end of so many kitchen implements that he didn't know that he'd ever be able to enjoy a meal without an erection again. Harry had reached orgasm four times without him, and Severus found himself still quite excited about his prospects for the rest of the evening.

“Mmphgh!!” he protested again as the tongs slipped into his anus and deposited a frozen present therein – that had to be at least the eighth cube. His eyes teared. It was so cold. It was wonderful. Harry leaned down and lapped at his abused hole as the ice melted inside of him, lapping up the water that leaked out. It really was brilliant, being a wizard –no strange muggle diseases to worry about. He often wondered how muggles managed to trudge through life without the simple conveniences of magic, but even more than the conveniences, the brilliant sex free of all worries but a bit of muscle soreness in the morning. It must be a miserable existence, to have to live without sex the likes of which Harry was making sure he grew quite accustomed to. Just when he thought he'd have a bit of reprieve, as Harry's mouth pulled away, three more ice cubes were slipped into him in quick succession. “Mmphh!!!!”

“Sorry,” Harry purred. “You're going to have to speak more clearly.”

Harry Potter was, clearly, an incubus of the most sinister variety, and Severus, for all his false protests, adored him for it. It had scarcely been necessary to adjust his clothing to fit his more slender frame. In the ten weeks they had been trapped together in this house, he did not think he wore it for more than a quarter of an hour at a stretch. Every day, he woke up naked in Harry's arms. Every night, he fell asleep the same way. And, in between that, oh! The pleasures that came in between that! No, youth was definitely not without its merits. It was his youth that found him able to endure Harry's sinister torments, his depraved desire to make him beg, sob, and completely ignore his pleas for release when he did.

Basically, it was bliss.

“Mmgh. Hmghff. Nnphmnpph...” He mumbled around the gag. His words would have made no more sense if Harry had removed it. He was completely insensible as his intoxicating lover climbed up behind him and sheathed himself deep in his body again. He could feel Harry shiver.

“Fuck, you're cold,” he hissed.

Not all the ice had entirely melted, though it was doing so quickly. The pulsing heat of Harry's cock in him certainly sped up the process.

“Mmmp mm nh hmpn,” Severus replied blearily.

Harry reached up and pulled the gag down, letting it drape around Snape's neck. “Sorry, come again?”

“Warm me up then,” Severus croaked. He knew his voice would be rough, but he didn't realize how very. He licked his lips to try to moisten them.

“Gladly,” Harry answered. “But first, I think you need a drink. I've gone a bit too far this time, haven't I?” His words were so tender as he lifted the half bottle of seltzer water that was on the table to Snape's mouth. “Careful. Drink slowly.”

Severus knew he'd drunk the other half of that bottle as well, but not with his lips. It didn't matter. He was utterly parched, and besides, that knowledge only made him want to wrap his tongue around the neck of that bottle all the more. Harry really had turned him into quite the depraved little trollop. He'd thought, at first, that it was just hormones. Of course, there was an extent to which that was true, but after ten weeks pressed against Harry's body he knew that wasn't all there was to it. It was Harry. He was intoxicating. Sexy, delicious, and his perfect match in every way – at least so far as bedroom habits were concerned. He found his guard dropping more and more each day, and not just when they were joined. That last bit frightened him.

Harry put the bottle down. “Better?”

“Immensely,” Severus purred, letting his head fall back against Harry's shoulder. It felt good to have something to rest his weight against without straining the bindings around his wrist. He moaned softly as Harry began to pleasure him more gently. He rocked up into Severus with slow, shallow thrusts.

“Want to come?” Harry asked, dragging his finger along the magically bound organ between Snape's thighs.

“Yes,” Severus answered, “but not yet.”

Harry lapped at the shell of his ear. “You really are a glutton for punishment.”

“As you love to punish me, that works out quite well for both of us,” Severus answered, tilting his head to allow Harry better access to his throat. Harry seemed particularly fond of kissing him there – right where the wound from Nagini's bite would have been.

“I do,” Harry answered. “I like you naked. I take off your clothing, and it's like your soul becomes just as naked as your body. When there's sex involved, I can always figure out what you're feeling. Then you cover yourself up, and you're a mystery all over again.”

There was something different about this. Those slow thrusts, the gentle kisses, the honesty of it. Strange, really, considering their current engagement was their kinkiest yet. Severus found his pulse racing, and not because Harry had just un-clamped the clothespins from his nipples and was rubbing the viciously abused buds between thumb and forefinger – which, point in fact, was wonderful.

Severus wanted to say something snarky. He wanted to answer in a way that would be sarcastic and typical, but no smart remarks came to mind. What actually spilled from his lips was, “I've had to be that way.”

Harry licked the shell of his ear. “Not around me,” he said. “Not anymore.”

“Old habits are hard to break,” Severus groaned at a thrust that was just a little harder than the last. Why? What was it about this? This was sex, but there was some aspect of it that had very little, if anything, to do with sex.

Harry unbound his hands and healed them with a softly spoken spell, then kissed each gently in turn. Uncertain of what to do with them, Severus let one fall to his side, the other curled behind him into Harry's hair as the young man tilted his chin enough to claim his lips.

The kiss was almost better than the sex. Severus curved his spine and opened his mouth to another.

“New habits can conquer old habits, can't they?” Harry whispered against his jaw.

“I don't know,” Severus answered honestly.

Harry pulled out and cast the tray of makeshift toys to the ground. It clattered loudly against the tile, and Severus could hear there were still several items on it that Harry had intended to use on him, but had lost patience enough to get to. He smirked to himself, 'something to look forward to in the future,' he thought.

Harry turned Severus about and laid him out on his back, slid back in, and hovered over him. He kissed him again, just as tenderly, then lowered his head to lap at the hypersensitive nipples. One, then the other.

“Aah!” Severus cried out. They were so sensitive already! Harry sucking on them when they were so like this was almost as much pain as it was pleasure, and Severus adored Harry for both aspects of the abuse.

Harry released the bud and looked up at the slender man beneath him. His hot breath ghosted over the bud. “Want to come yet?” he asked with a smirk.

“Not yet,” Severus rasped.

“Your cock must be aching,” Harry gave it a squeeze that caused Severus to lock his ankles around Harry's hips and arch his back up off the table.

“Unbearably,” Severus confirmed. Really, he was so overdue for an orgasm that it wasn't wise to keep delaying it, wizard or no, and even the barest breeze ghosting across the organ was agony. It was more pain than pleasure, really, but Severus was quite adept at ignoring pain. The pleasure rippling through the rest of his body far outweighed the tortured state of his cock.

“But you don't want to come?” Harry smirked down at him. It was a look that said it all – that Severus was quite the dirty old man. Severus already knew it. After months of bending to each and every of Harry's whims, the fact was news to neither of them. It was no more news to Ronald, who had likely been traumatized when he arrived unannounced and found the two of them having a bit more fun than they ought with the fruit bowl on the sitting room table. If it was not news to a Weasley, then their relationship – whatever that relationship was – was likely plastered all over the gossip column of the Daily Prophet by now.

“Not yet,” Severus confirmed again.

“Why not, Severus?” Harry purred, kissing his throat again.

“Why do you like kissing me there so much?” Severus countered.

“To remind myself that you're alive,” Harry answered without hesitation.

“Then our reasons are the same,” Severus answered. “Your desire for me reminds me that there is yet a place for me in this world.”

“Nothing to do with the fact that you love sitting on my cock, then?” Harry joked, grinning down at him.

“I will not deny that it is quite a splendid cock,” Severus returned, surprising himself with a smile of his own.

Harry was more surprised with the fact that, for the first time, Severus was the one to initiate a kiss. The sex, Severus was as likely to initiate as he was, but kissing? Kissing had always been Harry's way of telling Severus he loved him without forcing his feelings on the man and ruining the mood. He would kiss Severus every time those words were so very ready to spill past his lips in the heat of the moment, and he needed to quash them before they ruined the mood for his lover. For Severus to smile at him while they had at it – that wasn't as uncommon as the older man liked to believe (and he was an older man, the state of his body aside), but Severus had just kissed him, and that was a shock. Harry melted into it. He tried to retain some semblance of calm, to drag this out with slow, pulsing thrusts, but he couldn't help the long, deep thrust that resulted from Severus getting him so riled.

“Mmn. I want to say it,” he complained. “When you do that, how can you expect me not to...”

“I have never stopped you from saying what is on your mind, Harry.” Severus tried to sound collected, but he never was when they were together like this. His voice gave out under the weight of their lust, of their depraved and endless string of sexual encounters.

“You're wrong,” Harry said.

That wasn't the phrase Severus had been expecting.

“About love and lust having nothing to do with one another. You're wrong, Severus,” Harry said more insistently. “I've thought about it, and I do all these horrible things to you. I want to do them, but the reason I want to do them so badly, is because I love you, not in spite of it. Because I love you, I want to possess you. It's because I want to possess you that I have a hard time resisting the urge to tie you up, and spank you, and tease you. The fact you like those things so much only makes me want to do them more, because it makes you happy, and I want to make you happy because I love you so much. I wanted to believe your words about sex and love back then because I didn't know how I could love you, but still want to strip you naked and objectify you. I thought the two things were very different desires, like you said, but now I understand that they're really one in the same. They're all muddled up together, like a stew, where you put in all these different ingredients until you have something that's brilliant, but you can't quite identify all the smaller bits that made it up. You and I, we're brilliant together, Severus, if you'd just bloody admit it. So, you're wrong. You might be able to have sex with someone who you have no emotional attachment to, good sex, even, but not great sex, not sex like ours. That's what I've come up with. You're wrong about lust and love.”

“I'm not sure I can call it great sex when you stop in the middle to lecture me about philosophy,” Severus complained.

Harry laughed. “You don't want to come yet, anyway.”

“Because I'm going to lose consciousness the moment I do,” Severus complained. “And, I wasn't wrong. I just lied.”

Harry blinked. “What? What do you mean you lied?”

“Of course I lied!” Severus snipped irritably. “I'd just had the most brilliant shag of my life, and was inclined to convince you into a repeat performance. It's not my fault you were gullible enough to believe me. There's no sense in getting angry about it. You've enjoyed the past two and a half months as much as I have.”

“Well, yeah, obviously. What's not to enjoy? Aside from when the therapist comes around, we do nothing but shag and sleep.”

“It is rather an enjoyable way to pass the time.”

“But, you said you don't love me, and now you're saying you lied, so which is it, Severus?”

“I said I lied about there being no connection whatsoever,” Severus answered. “I also said you are welcome to make efforts to win my heart. I will not deny I have, over the years, developed a degree of affection for you. When Albus told me you were raised to be a sacrifice, I was infuriated. Affection, however, does not necessitate love. In that regard, I require time to form a proper opinion. However, if you ask if I care for you, then the fact I have allowed you to take such liberties with my body should suffice as more than answer enough.”

“Alright,” Harry smiled, leaning down to give Severus a more innocent kiss. “I get it. I'll accept that much for now, and keep working on weaseling my way into your heart.”

“I expected no less.”

“So, want to come now?” Harry smirked.

“Stars, yes!” Severus replied.

The last thing he remembered clearly was the incantation whispered into his ear that unbound him, releasing the invisibility-charmed velvet ribbon – which had also been part of the drapery – with a sensual slide along his pained organ, and Harry's hands sliding down to grip his hips in the same firm way they always did when their endeavors were coming to a proper fruition. His body convulsed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Severus stretched, and winced at aches in muscles that clearly never got proper exercise, as he didn't realize they could be sore. He took stock. Naked, but under a blanket, which means Harry had levitated him all the way upstairs.

“Did I black out again?” he asked lazily.

“It's my fault for overdoing it,” Harry replied, kissing Snape's temple, and then his lips.

Severus idly accepted it. In the four months they had been living together like this, the sex had never become dull. In fact, Severus had to admit each time was better than the last, even if Harry had a tendency to torment him to such extremes that he often lost consciousness during orgasm. And, regardless of the state he was in when he entered said orgasm, he always awoke clean, dry, and curled into bed with Harry beside him.

“It is quite alright. We were celebrating your therapist finally giving you a bill of clean mental health. Though, I would venture a guess that if you told her what you'd been doing with all the spare time, she would not have been so quick to sign off on it.”

“Well, that's why I didn't tell her,” Harry quipped. “You love it anyway, so what does that say about you?”

“That without a proper brewing laboratory, I will do just about anything to pass the time,” Severus replied flatly, though his lips did quirk into a smirk.

“That you're quite a dab hand at healing magic, if as much as the doctors have poked at you, they've not found a single sign of your latest hobbies,” Harry countered. “Ah, speaking of, looks like I've missed a spot, hang on a moment.”

Severus propped himself up on his elbows and watched Harry peel a strip of white candle wax off of his abdomen, flicking it into the bedside wastebasket. “One would think you should have become a bit better at cleaning spells, as often as you perform them.”

“One would think,” Harry echoed, kissing the freshly exposed spot on his lover's abdomen and sliding up his torso again and pressing their lips together.

Severus considered that, how kissing had become such an integral part of the afterglow of late. He desired Harry's kisses as much as Harry enjoyed giving them. “One would also think, having been given your freedom, you'd have run out of this house hours ago.”

“One would think,” Harry replied, smirking playfully up at Severus.

“And. yet, here we are.”

“Well, obviously,” Harry replied, spitting what he considered one of Severus's favorite words back at him. “If I were to run outside without pants, the muggles would arrest me.”

“The dresser is only three feet to your right,” Severus replied blandly.

“Mm,” Harry replied. “I noticed, and I've decided it's entirely too far.”

“Lazy sod. You just don't want to get out of bed.”

“Not so long as you're in it with me, I don't,” Harry answered firmly.

“Then we are at an impasse,” Severus answered. “As I find myself currently all but paralyzed from the ribcage on downward thanks to you. So much for freedom.”

“Well, we've plenty of it. Freedom to get dressed and go out, or freedom not to, yeah?” Harry answered, stealing another kiss, which Severus found himself obliged to grant him.

“We shall have to leave the house eventually. All that's left in the cupboards is a jar of peanut butter and a bag of carrots.”

“Hmm, I can make quite good use of both,” Harry purred. It was a tone he used that told Severus in no uncertain terms that he was thinking of something filthy.

“I'm certain you could,” Severus chuckled. “However, it will leave us with not a single edible thing in the house. Your friends will not procure groceries for us if we are capable of doing it for ourselves. I would wager that Weasley, in particular, is eager to stop buying our produce for us.”

Harry barked out a laugh at the memory. It had been mortifying at the time, but they'd done so many filthier things since that, in retrospect, Ron walking in on them was just funny.

“We are only delaying the inevitable,” Severus stated when Harry finally stopped laughing.

“That's what take-away is for,” Harry answered.

“You will still need your pants to retrieve it from the delivery wizard,” Severus noted.

“Not necessarily. Some delivery wizards might consider the view a treat.”

“Some would see you fined for indecent exposure,” Severus replied.

“Oh, fine,” Harry sighed, sitting up. “If you think you can walk in a straight line, we'll get dressed and grab a few things at the muggle grocery before they close.”

Severus got out of the bed. “All the months we've been together, and you still underestimate me,” he quipped. It was true he was sore, but he was accustomed to soreness. It was nothing so substantial that it would keep him from moving about for a short trip to the grocery store. If he didn't go, Harry would only stock up on junk food, sausages, and vegetables with an intrinsically phallic shape. They would need more substantial fare than that, if Harry intended to keep 'celebrating their freedom' when they returned home, and the twinkle in the young man's eye told him very clearly that is precisely what he intended. Severus couldn't be bothered to mind. It was, after all, the means by which Harry preferred to express his love.

He padded toward the door. Even if he'd not slept in Regulus's old bed since that first night, he still kept his possessions there. It wasn't that he would be too put out to move them, but knowing he had a bit of personal space in the house was important to him, whether or not he made much use of it. Harry seemed to know that, and never said anything about his naked treks up the hall for clothing and reading material to pass the time between shags.

“I can't help but notice, all this freedom, and you talk as though you intend to continue living here with me,” Harry hedged.

“Obviously,” Severus replied. “We have a rather pleasant arrangement, you and I. I see no reason to disrupt it. Though, I will move more of my possessions in, now that I have been given permission to fetch them.”

“Just admit it. You're madly in love with me,” Harry grinned.

Severus chuckled. “It will be quite a long while before you pry those words past my lips, Harry Potter,” Severus said, glancing over his shoulder at the delicious young man with a smirk and thinking, 'Even if they are true.'

He closed the door behind him with a soft click. 'And even if we both already know it.'

On the other side of the door, Harry rolled his eyes and laughed to himself, getting up to rifle through the wardrobe. “Stubborn prat,” he said to the empty room. He would get Severus to admit it though, eventually. He was sure of it. Gryffindors were also known for their stubbornness, after all, and Severus had said himself, on many an occasion, that Harry was the most Gryffindor of the lot.

~The End~
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Weird Science, Dark Magic, and an Appetite for ...