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My Sundown	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 5151 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and the only profit I make out of writing fanfiction is the pleasure of putting my weird little dreams into written form.

Chapter List
- 1-My Sundown
- 1
Warnings: internet-translated Italian, oral, anal

A/N: Happy Birthday, (Anonymous)!

Inspired by My Sundown by Jimmy Eat World.

My Sundown

Freedom. It was a word Severus could scarcely understand. All of his life, he'd been slave to one thing or another – to love, to hate, and, most especially, to men who held utter control over his world. He'd even been slave to a cause. Now that he was free of all of that, he thought it best to let the past slip away as well. He'd always had a bad habit of clinging to things. He'd had so few of them to cling to that it was difficult to let go.

Now that he had his freedom, all he could think was, 'I could have had such a different life.'

He stared down from the North Tower. No one knew he was here. They all thought he was dead. His fingers toyed with the tattered collar of his robes. To be perfectly honest, when he'd devised the antivenom for Nagini's poisonous bite, it had only been an idle way to pass the time, something to take his mind away from the devilish role he had to play and where it might lead him. It wasn't even the fear of death, but the product of an insatiable curiosity. He thought it could be handy, but he wasn't certain it would work until he'd used it. Now he found himself with a second chance, and it seemed far more sensible a path to make a clean break of it. It's not as though anyone would miss him anyway, now that he'd 'died'. In Harry's arms, no less!

Still, he found himself hesitant to leave. He'd grown so accustomed to the delicate balance between hating the boy and protecting him, but he was a man now, and whatever trouble he got up to from here was of his own making, and he would simply have to manage on his own.

Severus turned from the tower, from the devastation and slow repair, and moved quickly through the vacant hallways to the headmaster's office. There wasn't much he could take without being noticed, but there were a few personal effects he didn't care to do without – his favorite teacup, his cauldron, and a recently acquired hairbrush that worked wonders on his diffucult, potion-caked hair, and he would be displeased to part with after the extortionate shipping fees he'd paid to import it.

He sat behind the desk one last time, easing, if only for a moment, his weary bones, and issuing orders to the portraits regarding the resignation of his post, and that they were to make some excuse as to why there was no portrait of himself upon the wall when Minerva infallibly inquired about the matter. He cared little what the explanation was, as it really had nothing to do with him at this point.

He wasn't thinking when he picked up the quill and parchment, and began to write out a farewell address, and had finished his signature before he realized what he was doing. He'd left the addressee blank. Even his subconscious knew there was no one dear enough in his life to give it to, even if doing so wouldn't ruin any efforts he might have to disappear. He crumpled it and cast it carelessly into the wastebasket. No one would bother rifling through his refuse during a time like this. The house elves would dispose of it before anyone had the opportunity to notice his indiscretion.

With one last look about, and an order to the gargoyle to let Minerva pass when she came, as she would be taking over the post, he said his last goodbyes to Hogwarts and all that had come to pass there, and removed himself. There was but one other matter to be done with in order to wipe the slate clean and start fresh – a rabbit hole of a house in the discarded refuse of a Mill town. He supposed he could apparate, but he decided to take the train, instead. It was better to say goodbye slowly, he supposed. There was no telling when he would see this countryside again, and he wanted to give himself time to form a plan – where he would go, what he would do with himself once he got there. It was a long ride to Manchester, but he didn't particularly mind it. His schedule had suddenly opened up and left him with quite a deal of free time, after all.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry was rather in a daze. Everyone was celebrating their victory, but with so many dead he wasn't feeling particularly victorious. It was alright, he supposed they needed it, a bit of happiness to distract them, but he was in no mood for a party.

Frankly, he was irritated – they'd cracked open the butterbeer, and everyone seemed to have forgotten that they'd not yet tended to the dead, not all of them. Snape was still left to rot in the Shrieking Shack. Or, so he'd thought, but when he'd gone down to fetch his body, there was nothing there save a dark puddle of blood where the body had been left behind.

He blinked. “What? Oh! Professor McGonagall.”

“Not enjoying the festivities, Potter?” she asked.

“Did you go down and fetch Professor Snape from the shack?” Harry asked abruptly.

McGonagall started. “Oh! Dear, that won't do! Not at all. I am sorry, Potter. It has been terribly busy and the matter slipped my mind, for all its importance. I will tend to it immediately. Would you like to assist me, as you seem to be idling about?”

“No. I mean, Professor, I just went, and he's not there.”

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together, forming a firm line. After a fair bit of silence, she said, “Oh, that man! Honestly!”

“Professor?”

“It would appear, Potter, that we've been had.”

Harry blinked.

McGonagall sighed. “Just between you and I, no portrait of Severus has appeared in the Headmaster's office. The portraits have been telling me this is because he had the post less than a year, which, given the magic involved, seemed fairly logical at the time. However, if his body has disappeared as well, I am far less confident that I am not being lied to. Come. I will let you see it for yourself.”

Harry's pulse raced. He could hear it in his ears. He knew McGonagall was explaining something, but he didn't know what it was, and didn't care. He already got the message: she thought that Snape was still alive. Harry was too busy trying not to act like a sniveling brat (as Severus would no doubt call him) to care much about the details. Sometimes he'd worshiped the man, others loathed him, but Severus Snape had always, always, been the central point around which Harry's perceptions revolved, ever since he first laid eyes on him when he was eleven years old. As he walked into the headmaster's office, that hadn't changed. He moved blindly, any more blindly, and he would have collided headfirst with a curio.

McGonagall was arguing with Dumbledore's portrait. Dumbledore was using a placating tone, but based on the irritated click of McGonagall's tongue, she wasn't feeling very placated.

“Albus, this is ridiculous. Do you really think this is in his best interest?”

“Minerva, the man has earned a holiday. My lips are sealed on the matter.”

“If it was only a holiday, I would not be so insistent, but you know him as well as I do.”

“Better, I would wager,” Dumbledore's portrait replied bemusedly.

“Which is all the more reason!”

“To honor his wishes after all he has done? Yes, I do so completely agree.”

Harry didn't think 'honoring Snape's wishes' was all that important when it meant he might never see him again. As Professor McGonagall argued a very like point with Dumbledore's portrait, he noticed a crumbled scrap of paper beside the wastebasket. He didn't know what compelled him to pick it up. Even once he did, he'd only meant to replace it, but noted a corner of Snape's handwriting and unfurled it instead.

A letter, unaddressed. Harry wondered who it was intended for.

It has come to my attention on many an occasion, that reality often holds a pale flame to fiction. I am sure by morning, the reporters will have painted quite a portrait of me – though I can not currently say in which direction that portrait will lean. One would see me in Azkaban, but the other – loathsome fame – may be a far worse fate for a man of my particular nature.

I have been left much to my own devices this past year, and while Albus's portrait has been a source of constant, and inscrutable, company, it lacks the command of my mentor's presence. As I put these words to paper, I realize that I may have made an error in managing a cure for that infernal snake's venom. While I have no pressing desire to leave this world, I find also that there is no longer a place for me in it. Do not misunderstand these words as bitterness. I was once quite a bitter man. I am well aware of the vast multitude of my faults, and do not care to be so ritually reminded as is the habit on these hallowed grounds, nor do I feel particularly inclined to continue teaching imbeciles with no desire whatsoever to actually learn something of practical use. I have had more than enough of the glazed eyes of youth to last me several lifetimes.

As it is the case that I have nothing holding me in place, and several reasons not to remain, it seems only practical that I let sleeping dragons lie and cut a new path for myself. Perhaps, like a phoenix, I too can rise from the ashes into a new life. I would like to believe this is possible, and so, I shall cast aside all that I was, and use this death of mine as good excuse to start fresh and make something of myself that is not so ensnared by the various follies of my own youth, and made more tangled by the various follies of one Harry Potter. He will simply have to manage without me from this point. I am quite sure he will be more than happy to try his hand at saving his own hide for a change, though I do fear somewhat for the wizarding world if they are obliged to make a young man who has not even graduated school an auror. I perish the thought of such a dim future.

“You bastard,” Harry groused. He didn't notice McGonagall and Dumbledore turn to him.

“Excuse me?” Dumbledore asked, but Harry didn't reply. He was too taken by the letter. A letter that acknowledged his existence.

In so much as the future goes, I will concede I do not yet have a definitive plan. For the short term, I imagine this will be quite sufficient. Even I can enjoy a bit of a holiday, I suppose. I am rather long overdue for one. There is one other matter I must attend to, of course, if I am to cut ties completely with my past, but it is quite a small affair and one that will bring me the greatest satisfaction. Once that last bit of past has been burned away, I should like to be reborn into, perhaps, a much more honest man than one who writes letters which he knows from the first pen stroke would greatly hinder his current machinations.

In retrospect, I understand very well that I have been as much at fault as anyone that I am left so utterly bereft of friendship in this world. I have lost the energy for placing blame on phantasmal images of the dead, and cast these, too, aside.

I would issue a farewell, if there was, perhaps, someone who cared enough to issue it to, but as I have made no such allowances in life, I leave my death equally as bereft of them.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

Harry's mind raced over the words as his eyes scanned the letter twice. Three times. He was alive. He was alive, and he was leaving. And, there was one last thing he wanted to be done with before he did. He would also need things, basic possessions. He didn't seem to take much with him from the headmaster's office, but he never imagined Snape to be a man who traveled light, not without his precious potion ingredients, or his books, at least. He was also a practical man who would take what he wanted, and destroy the evidence that he had it.

“Professor Snape is from Manchester, right?” Harry demanded suddenly. “Where in Manchester? Where does he live there? What's his address?!” He blurted out the questions so quickly that Professor McGonagall didn't even have the chance to blink in between them.

He was so ferociously adamant that Dumbledore's portrait spit out the address in spite of his argument with McGonagall.

“It would seem, Minerva, that our opinions on the matter are of very little consequence,” the portrait said. They were the last words Harry heard as he darted for the nearest working floo.

XXXXXXXXXX

Harry coughed up a mouthful of soot. He wasn't quite sure where he'd landed, though he hoped he was at least moderately on target. From the black streaks on the walls of the fireplace, he thought he had to be close, because a wizard or witch would never keep such a filthy fireplace, and he knew Snape's hometown was a muggle town. He tried to dust himself off, but black smoke puffed up around him, doing little to improve his appearance. He didn't care about that much. With soot up his nose it was hard to tell if the burning smell he detected was just him, or something outside. He pushed out of the building and found himself quickly answered by dark billows of smoke and a golden halo whipping through the town, leaping from one building to the next, licking a row of flames quickly toward the house he'd just emerged. He stumbled and ran recklessly in the direction of the flame, covering his mouth with his sleeve to keep from inhaling too much of the smoke.

Unperturbed, black robes fluttering about, Severus Snape stood with a bland stare at the burning piles of aged, dry wood.

“Severus!” Harry called. He didn't know what prompted him to be so informal, but when the man turned his gaze to the sound, and his eyebrows arched into his hairline, Harry's heart pounded. He broke the short distance between them and snatched up Snape's hand. He gripped it hard. The crumpled letter was still clutched tightly in his other hand.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was liberating, in a way, burning down the house that had felt so much like a cage to him all of his life, but it was just as much a terror to be casting aside the only place he had left to turn. It was just as he was meditating on his life, considering all the places it went long, and feeling just a little sad that no one would miss him, he heard his name cried out in such a passion. He turned to the source just in time to find, of all people, Harry Potter clinging to his hand! The young man was covered in soot, his hair sticking up at peculiar angles. Severus quirked a brow. What in the hell had he gotten himself into this time? He was covered in black, save a rim around his eyeglasses and peeking past the sleeve of his shirt. Severus was trying very hard not to laugh at how comical Harry looked in such a state, and also to avoid looking too startled, as he was really incredibly startled. Harry? Of all people, why was it Harry who'd come running to his side? James would roll over in his grave if he knew.

“Heh.” Damn, it came out. His lips curled upward into a sardonic smirk. “What nonsense have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Harry shook the sooty paper in his face, which he only barely recognized in such a state. “Second chance my arse!” Harry declared. “You're just running away again!”

“Pardon?” Again?! Running away again?! Who did he think he was, arrogant little snot-nosed...

“You ran away to the Death Eaters when my mum dumped you! You ran away to Dumbledore after that. Now you say you want a second chance? What bloody second chance? You're just afraid of letting people see who you really are! You're afraid they might like the man they find underneath the snarky, sneaky old git! Stop running, Severus. If you really want to start over, then start with the people who want to know you better!”

Severus felt his chest constrict. It did that often when Harry was about, but it was a feeling he wasn't comfortable admitting to. If he admitted to that much, then there were a domino of other things he would have to concede were also truth. “As if there were such a person,” Severus scoffed.

“You're such a prat. You said you were going to try to be a more honest man, but words are only words with you, aren't they? Easy to pick up on a whim and just as easy to throw away,” Harry complained, shaking the sooty paper in Snape's face.

Snape's eyes widened when he recognized it. “Looting people's refuse is unbecoming, Potter.” His pulse thundered. Someone had read it. Harry had read it. He wasn't sure whether he was more horrified, or elated that someone cared enough to read that impulsive bloody letter and chase him all the way here. He could feel the chords reigning in feelings best left unnoticed pulling. His subconscious bore the weight, but there was a sense that something was about to break free.

“I didn't loot, you git. It was sitting on the floor,” Harry complained. “I was worried. I went to fetch your body and you weren't there, and then I talked to Professor McGonagall, and she said you might not be dead after all, I...” Harry's voice cracked. He let go of Snape's hand, but only to rake messy hands through equally messy hair. The upward spikes became even more pronounced, and exponentially more comical.

Severus drew his wand and quickly cast scourgify.

Harry spluttered as the spell hit him full force against the chest and tidied him up rather nicely. His scrambled thoughts seemed to snap into shape as well, as he admitted rather fiercely, “I don't want you to go.”

Bollocks. There it went. That barrier between his subconscious and conscious mind severed, and the feelings that were once concealed by 'his mother's eyes' and 'Gryffindor personality' flooded forth. His pounding heart could no longer be attributed to nervous energy. It was another feeling that he knew very well, one that he felt he should not be throwing at the son of a man who's mother he also loved, but there was no denying it. Of all the people in the world to come running after him, he could think of no one he would have preferred, even if he was easily old enough to be Harry's father. Harry was not a child. It was true that he was only barely a man, but Severus found while that mattered to his mind, his heart didn't care about it.

He should have replied far sooner than this, he realized. He had been standing there in silence for far too long to pass it off with a snarky comment. Honesty was really his only option. “Honesty is easier declared than demonstrated, most especially by men whose lives have depended on an intricate web of lies. As for your reckless desire to chase after me, your life is at a turning point. It is only natural that you would want to cling to whatever bit of familiarity you can.”

Harry screamed. With the licking flames burning the abandoned town to ash around them, it felt like they were standing alone at the end of the world. If they were the last two people in the world, Severus wondered if he would hesitate like this. It was easy to imagine, with nothing to lose, that things would be quite different, his propriety included.

“You arse. Why are you so bloody stubborn?” Harry snapped. The letter forgotten, it tumbled from Harry's fingers as he gripped Severus's shirt and pulled him in close. “With all I've gone through these past seven years, you think I haven't learned that the only thing constant is how much the world changes?! Of course I know that! You're not the only one Dumbledore ran ragged, you know. But, at Hogwarts, there was so much to see. My first year, I remember learning all these new things, but what struck me most at that school was you, and that feeling has never left me. I just didn't understand why that was, until you died. Now I find out you're alive after all, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you leave, and if you insist on going anyway, then I'll follow you, because a world without you is too bloody boring a place to even consider wanting to be part of.”

Severus exhaled. He didn't know he was holding his breath through Harry's tirade, but the words struck his heart more surely than a killing curse. He knew what Harry was saying. He was saying, 'take me with you', and there weren't many ways to misinterpret that, no matter how he said it, or how much foul language he used in the doing. “Perhaps it would be in our best interest to take this conversation elsewhere, lest we go up in flames with this poor excuse for a town.”

“No,” Harry said stubbornly. “Not until you answer me.”

Answer, huh? Fool boy. His face was deceptively James, but everything else about him was so very like Lily. That is, perhaps, why he was so hesitant in admitting these feelings, even to himself, because how could he be certain he was not using Harry as a mere replacement? But, it was much simpler than that, wasn't it? Harry was just his type. Stubborn, hot-headed, passionate, kind, with those intelligent green eyes that his mother had also had. They were so very alike, really. It was shocking that it took him so long to admit that. Once he had, he hid behind 'Lily's son' as a title, because the reminder of how wrong it was seemed necessary. With the world around them burning, and the past burning with it, none of that seemed to matter particularly much. So, Harry wanted an answer? Severus decided the only 'answer' he could give the boy was risky – but a bit of strategic daring would clear matters up – it would either scare him off so Severus could proceed as planned, or chain the much younger man to his side. Either way, subtlety was never any use where Harry Potter was involved.

Harry was already rather close. He was still clinging to Severus's robes. Severus looped an arm around his lower back, pressed his palm to the curve of his spine and pulled him in tighter. He caressed his cheek and tilted his chin up, and with him so pinned, kissed him. Even as he did it, he started to regret the rash decision. He began to think this, surely could not be the right choice. But, Harry was remarkably quick to respond. The hands gripping his robes slid around his shoulders, the lips beneath his own parted softly as if pleading for the sensual touch of tongue. Rewarded in such a way, Severus could not help but take what was so freely offered. He wished he could pretend he had more experience with interpersonal relations of this sort, but the kiss became so quickly fevered that even though he should be far past these follies of youth, his mind spun.

When breath pulled them apart his mind snapped right back into place. “You did not ask a question,” he told Harry with a smirk. “Now, whether or not you want to stay in this place, it has become dangerous at this stage, and as I don't particularly want to die twice in as many days, we will be departing.”

Harry's mind was still spinning. Snape had just kissed him! Kissed! And, it was wonderful! He didn't know whether to laugh, or cry, or do a stupid dance, or...or what! Life had just become brilliant again, in spite of all they'd just gone through. The past days had been such a roller coaster he didn't know what to think! But, Severus had grabbed him by the wrist and was pulling him into a house that hadn't yet tasted the lick of flame, pulled him into the fireplace, and Harry had no idea what the word that slipped from his mouth was then, but it certainly didn't sound like English. With a familiar spiraling sensation, they landed with a thud before an elegant green and gold welcome mat.

“This will suffice, I think,” Severus said as he stepped out onto it, dusting himself off.

“Uhm, where are we?” Harry asked.

“Rome. Is it not obvious?”

“Rome? Wait, as in Rome?!”

Severus rolled his eyes. “No, Rome as in Cardiff,” he scoffed. “Don't ask pointless questions. I sent some parcels on ahead, and booked a room. As I currently have nowhere to live, I thought a bit of travel would do me well enough. I see no reason to let you disrupt my plans. If Rome disinterests you, then go home.”

Harry grinned up at him and laced his fingers behind his back. “Can I see your room?”

Severus quirked a brow. “Suit yourself,” he said, though his heart was pounding at the implication. He wished he wasn't so close though, when he provided his false identity to the desk clerk. “Harold Evans,” he said.

“Ovviamente, Mr. Evans. Camera 712, camera d'angolo con vista, come richiesto. Il portiere vi condurra”. (“Of course, Mr. Evans. Room 712, corner room with a view, as requested. The bellhop will escort you.”)

“No need,” Severus replied in English. He knew the man spoke it as he recognized the voice from the telephone. He spoke Italian passably well, but he was sure Harry didn't know it. Better then, to speak in a language they could all understand. “I will locate it myself. I have had a very long day and would prefer not to be disturbed before tomorrow morning.” He glanced at Harry and amended. “...afternoon.”

“Evening!” Harry declared.

Severus's eyebrow reached for his hairline. Evening? “I will call the desk if I require anything before then.”

The desk clerk had come to his own conclusions and offered a knowing sort of smile. “Naturalmente, sir. Mi pare di capire.” (“Of course, sir. I understand.”)

Severus rode the lift up in silence with Harry. There was a tension building between them. Harry looked entirely too smug about the situation. He could sense the younger man practically bursting at the seams, trying to hold something in. 'Maybe this was a bad idea...'

He'd scarcely got three steps into the room before Harry locked the door, leaned back against it and said, “So, Harry, just how many young men do you seduce and bring to European hotels?”

Severus turned a sharp gaze upon the stunning, if infuriating, young man. “If you need to ask me that, then you should leave.”

“Sorry, for a second there I thought you had a sense of humor,” Harry complained.

“I do,” Severus said, offering Harry a bemused smirk. “However, I do wonder if you really are so thick as you appear, following a man twice your age into a hotel room on a whim.”

Harry moved forward. “Kiss me again and I'll show you how whimsical I can be,” he replied.

Severus was not inclined to deny him. He pulled Harry close. “You are making this rather too easy for me.”

Harry wrapped his arms around the older man's shoulders. “Are you still complaining?” he asked.

“Merely making an observation,” Severus replied.

“Well, if we're talking about making observations, I can't help but notice even though you're procrastinating, your pulse is racing. Maybe you're becoming a bit more honest, after all.”

“In fits and starts,” Severus replied with a wry smirk.

“More starts, less fits, I hope,” Harry replied, pushing his body more tightly against the older man's body.

Severus didn't miss the very blatant hint. “Have it your way, then. If you regret it, you've no one to blame but yourself.” He tilted Harry's chin up again. Without the flames surrounding them, the kiss was no less heated. Severus tried to start slowly, but Harry quickly commandeered the kiss, curling his fingers into inky hair and sweeping his tongue across Snape's lips.

Severus conceded, letting Harry take control for a time, intending to snatch it back later, but finding himself entirely too distracted by how surprisingly skilled Harry was at this. He felt breathless, and his mind spun. Kissing. It was such a small thing to most men, but for him, who had spent most of his life alone, there was something miraculous about it. His fingers curled into Harry's shirt. What was happening here was nothing if not unwise, but wisdom would not help him now, not when Harry was pulling his outer robes from his shoulders, exposing the faded tunic beneath. Wait. How Had Harry unfastened so many buttons without his noticing? He didn't have proper time for deduction on that point; Harry's lips found his throat, and it rather stopped mattering, anyway. He obediently lifted his arms as the billowing tunic was pulled up over his head, exposing his scrawny torso. He started to feel self-conscious about it. There was nothing about his overly-slender, marred body that was worth bragging about, and without his thick robes, he looked all the more slender. Harry paused to stare at him, and the gaze discomforted him.

He tried to make a joke of it. “Not up to your fantastical imaginings?” he quipped. “Fantasy is quite often far better than reality.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you're sleeping alone?” Harry replied, tracing his fingers over Snape's narrow shoulders and down his sides. Severus frowned, but Harry spoke again before he could reply. “I know you're good at reading people, but you're not very good at seeing how other people think of you, and you make the wrong assumptions. Your low self-esteem gets in the way. I was just taking a moment to appreciate the view. You could wake up tomorrow when you're not feeling so emotional and kick me out on my arse, so I'd better make as many memories as I can tonight.”

“Are you sure that is what you want?” Severus asked, pulling Harry close. There wasn't a doubt in his mind just what 'memories' Harry was talking about making tonight. In a hotel, already down to half-dressed? No one was stupid enough to miss that context.

Harry answered by putting his glasses on the nearby end table, and pulling his own shirt over his head. “I've never been sure of anything except for you,” Harry answered. “I changed what bit of you I was sure about from time to time, but I've always been sure about you, and I've never been more sure about you than I am tonight.” He looped his fingers into Snape's waistband and pulled his former professor forward.

“And, if tomorrow comes and I've not yet found my senses?”

Harry pulled him down for another kiss. “Then I have more time to make more memories,” he answered. “Until you manage to locate them.”

“Until I come to my senses, then,” Severus agreed. He said the words softly, like a mantra, and caressed Harry's face again before kissing him.

Harry chuckled into the kiss. “Such a romantic,” he purred into the kiss. Severus was surprisingly gentle, gentle enough that Harry wondered if they were ever going to get out of their pants. He was just going to have to take the lead on that front, because Severus seemed quite content with just the kisses and idle caresses.

Harry started to work at the buttons of the older man's trousers. “We really need to do something about your wardrobe.”

He moaned as Snape's tongue slid behind his ear.

“You disapprove?”

“It takes too long to get the bloody things off. I'm buying you jeans and a jumper for your birthday,” Harry replied.

“I can think of far more enjoyable gifts,” Severus replied as Harry finally forced the last button free.

“Maybe, but think of how much faster we'll get to the main course.”

“You are a wizard. There are spells for this sort of thing, if you would bother to learn them,” Severus lectured.

“That's too fast. It's not as fun if I don't have to work for it,” Harry quipped, pulling Severus's pants down abruptly.

Severus stepped out of them. “You sound as if you've done this far too many times for me to be entirely comfortable with,” he replied cautiously.

“I'm a teenager. Things happen,” Harry answered with a bland shrug.

“They didn't happen when I was a boy,” Severus scoffed.

“You're a late bloomer,” Harry grinned. “The older you get, the sexier you get. Anyway, don't get jealous. I haven't done it all that many times. Been a fair bit busy trying not to be killed year after year, you know. But, I've done it enough times to know what I like.”

“I am certain you will not be shy about informing me what that is,” Severus replied. The diminutive crease of his lips curved upward into a small, if bemused smile. Well, for better or worse, there was no sense dawdling. He was standing here in his pants, and Harry was stunning, and he wanted this. He unfastened Harry's trousers and let them drop.

Harry stumbled trying to kick them away, using Severus's shoulders for balance. He laughed at his own clumsiness, and the atmosphere was vastly improved for it.

“Dunderhead,” Severus chastised, even as he wrapped his arms around the younger man's midsection.

“If I'm a dunderhead, then what does that make you for wanting me?” Harry said, wrapping his arms around Snape's shoulders and pressing in skin to skin.

“A glutton for punishment, obviously,” Severus replied. “But, that is not unusual for me. People may change, but not quickly.” He dared to slide his hands under the waistband of Harry's pants and cup the bare flesh of his bottom.

Harry moaned as he squeezed it. “I don't care if you change,” Harry answered. “Well, maybe I want you to change a little, because I'm boiling over here and the only way I can tell you're interested at all is your cock pressed into my stomach.”

Severus smirked. “Feeling impatient, are you?”

“Why aren't you?” Harry complained.

“I am simply determining the proper moment, and enjoying each that leads up to it,” Severus replied.

Harry grinned. “You're nervous,” he teased.

“Nonsense.”

“You are,” Harry sang.

Severus was, but he wouldn't admit it. He pulled Harry's pants down in a firm stroke, intent to prove him wrong. “Apparently, you are so overeager, it has addled your brain,” he told the younger man. “So be it, I will reward your impatience.”

Harry laughed and grabbed the older man by the wrist, dragging him a few steps and tossing him on the bed. “What if I just take what I want?” Harry said, crawling over him.

“It would be rather Gryffindor of you,” Severus replied wryly, even as he lifted his hips to allow Harry to remove his own undergarments more easily.

“You've a thing for Gryffindors anyway, so everyone wins,” Harry replied, tossing the pants carelessly aside. His eyes trailed over the man again, and passion sparked in him anew. He could scarcely believe they'd actually gotten to this point. He was half-mad with desire. Severus's cock was just like the rest of him – long, lean, and stiff. Harry's spine tingled as he threw his legs to either side of the older man's hips and pressed a passionate kiss against his lips.

Severus didn't want to admit that Harry's kisses left him in such a helpless state, but he had scarcely recovered mental capacity when the younger man found other things to kiss – suckling at his throat, still tender from the recently healed injury – then nibbling along his collarbone. By the time Harry's mouth found his nipple, Severus could remain stoic no longer. He curled his fingers into Harry's hair and moaned his pleasure. This only made Harry redouble his efforts. One nipple, then the other, underwent severe abuse – lips, tongue, and teeth. Teeth! Severus never imagined having another man bite him could feel so incredible. He loathed his inexperience in these matters, because it meant every kiss, every caress, was such a remarkable discovery. He was constantly surprised by Harry's zealous attack, and sounds kept issuing from his lips without his permission – all these little rumbles and whimpers, as Harry worked him into a frenzy and traced a path of bliss down his torso, around his navel now, and lower, LOWER!!

How in Merlin's name was he supposed to retain his dignity when fingers were digging into his thighs, when his cock was pressed against Harry's throat and butting against hischin, when the young man's skillful lips were burning a path down his happy trail to...to...

“D-don't!” he gasped, even as Harry did. The tongue. Oh! “Oooh!!!” That tongue, lapping at his...as the palm cupped... “H-haaah!”

Harry purred against his burning flesh. “Don't? You sure you want me to stop?”

“No. I, yes! I mean to say...hngh-aaah!” Harry wasn't stopping. He'd wrapped his lips around the head now, and was lapping, pressing the organ deeper into his mouth. Snape's fingers curled too tightly into Harry's hair as he tried to think clearly enough to form words. “I am not a young man, Harry,” he grit out begrudgingly. “If you do not slow down, you will be disappointed.”

“I won't,” Harry pulled back to answer. “We won't be interrupted until tomorrow evening, after all.”

Severus felt his face flush as Harry swallowed him again, this time taking him to the back of his throat, bobbing his head over the turgid flesh as if he could imagine nothing in the world more worthy of being sucked.

It was not as though Severus did not find this all quite enjoyable, but after a few short minutes, he steeled his resolve and pulled Harry's hair roughly to get the young man off of his organ. He rolled Harry over and pinned him to the mattress. Harry blinked up at him and licked his lips. Oh! He really was delicious! “How much time we have is not relevant,” Severus told him roughly. “I have had a very long day, having died and all, as you can imagine, and I am afraid that regardless of what your teenage hormones might desire, I am currently in no condition to humor them more than once. As such, I would request you behave yourself as much as you can manage so that we might both enjoy the experience.”

“Rather than just you?” Harry grinned impishly.

“Quite,” Severus answered dryly. There was no point in denying he had been quite enjoying Harry's affections. It was obvious.

“I was enjoying it, for the record.”

“Not as much as you will enjoy the culmination of your efforts,” Severus replied, snapping his wrist sharply to summon his wand to his side. It skid across the floor and jumped gracefully to hand.

“That was impressive,” Harry smiled.

“Of course,” Severus replied smugly. “Any wizard worth his salt would demonstrate aptitude in retrieving his wand if disarmed.”

“I guess I'm not worth my salt, then?” Harry sulked.

“As regards the magical arts, even you must admit you've survived on luck at least as often as skill,” Severus quipped. “However, there is no need to be concerned about such things. I am sure if you insist on clinging to my side, eventually we will seek entertainment that does not, by necessity, require us to remove our clothing.”

Harry chuckled. “You're still trying to run off? You want to teach, even now.”

“Now that I've something you want, I feel you might be more inclined toward obedience, and thus prove a better student than you were in your youth,” Severus replied pointedly.

Harry understood that particular bit of subtlety quite well. Severus could very well use sex, or the absence of it, as a remarkably good motivator. And, he was, in Harry's opinion, likely the most brilliant wizard alive. If he could keep his focus, Harry knew he could learn quite a few tricks of the trade from the older man. Later. Much later. “Mmmnnnn....!” he purred as he arched into the magic curling through him – liquid fire burning a path through his lower belly as it cleansed and prepared him for what was to come.

Severus did not delay long before cutting off the spell and pulling Harry's legs about his hips. He couldn't wait. He was a patient man under normal circumstances, but there was nothing normal about such an intoxicating young man throwing himself at him like this, and he found himself completely unable to summon his usual restraint. He positioned himself, breached, and exhaled as he slipped smoothly inside. He leaned over the younger man, gripping the duvet to either side of his hips, because if he gripped Harry's hips, he would be sure to bruise them as passion overtook common sense in him. He'd forgotten that intercourse was like that – an area in which he could exert no control, where it was all but impossible to maintain his composure, especially when he wanted it. Especially when his partner wanted him, which was rare. The look Harry was giving him now was even more rare; it was this unfathomable look that told him there was no one in the world Harry would rather share this with. Severus honestly couldn't recall a single incidence of being looked at in such a way before now.

The younger man pulsed his hips as best he could pinned beneath Severus to encourage him. Please! Move!

“A little patience, Harry,” Severus rasped, his voice a cracked echo of his composure.

“Like hell!” Harry declared. “How can you expect me to be patient, now? Your balls are already pressed against my arse. Just move, Severus. For the love of Merlin! Move.”

The crack in Harry's voice encouraged him. The young man sounded like he might not be able to last very long. That is exactly why Severus wasn't moving. He desperately wanted to, but he felt like he needed to acclimate to the tight heat coiled around him, or he would humiliate himself in his haste. His own pride aside, he realized it was impossible. There was no way to grow accustomed to the feeling of Harry writhing beneath him, and he'd best just accept that.

His train of thought was cut off as Harry's ankles locked behind him, and in a fit of impatience the younger man flipped them over. Severus found himself blinking up at the boy as Harry sat back in his lap. The view was delicious – his thighs spread, toes digging into the bedding, his pink cock hard and dripping precum.

“Fine,” Harry said breathlessly. “I'll move instead, you stubborn bastard.”

Severus couldn't reply. Harry pressed his palms against the older man's stomach and rocked forward slowly, pulling his hips almost fully off the member before slowly sitting back against it, taking it inside anew with a languid pace and a heady moan. Again, the same slow, rocking thrust – delicious friction setting Severus's spine on fire. “Patience is a virtue, but not one of mine,” Harry purred as the pace grew into a rhythm – a slide and a long inhale, a hungry press with a sharp exhale. Slow, so slow, and slowly picking up the pace.

Harry moaned freely as he rode, but what stunned Severus, even through the passion threatening to burst forth, was that Harry didn't break eye contact, not for a moment, as if doing so would be a sort of sacrilege, as if he didn't want to forget, even for a second, who he was sharing this with. Even though he was middle-aged, underweight, and scarred with a large, hooked nose, and wholly unattractive, Harry looked down upon him as if he were an Adonis.

That look alone would have been enough to arouse him beyond reproach, but already quite aroused, and already in the midst of the act, he gave up his pride and his sense of decency. He grabbed Harry's hips, growing frustrated with the slow pace, lifted him completely off quickly as if he weighed no more than a quill, to Harry's delectable whimper of protest, and ,with the same speedy brutality, pulled him down and impaled him again, to Harry's bursting cry of delight.

Impaled anew, Harry's movements became more energetic. He rocked his hips more roughly, and was met half way by Severus, knees bent upward and toes digging in the mattress, to thrust upward into him with some manner of leverage. Harry's throat was getting rough from the sounds of his pleasure as his turgid cock bounced under the strain of their zealous thrusts.

Severus gripped him, and flipped them again, grinding down into the younger man.

Harry gasped and groaned as his hands were pinned over his head. Snape's thrusts became more and more forceful, and as they became more forceful, they also became more erratic. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, and though Severus didn't seem to notice, he was grunting with each forward thrust that drilled Harry deeper and deeper into the mattress.

Harry didn't care what anyone else thought of Severus Snape; he couldn't think of another person in existence he found half as sexy as this snarky older man with his hooked nose and lightly furred chest.

Severus had just enough presence of mind to determine that he was not going to release without making every effort to get Harry to do the same. With that decided, he wrapped his fingers around the younger man's cock. It pulsed hotly in his hand. He thought maybe he was a bit too rough when he jerked it, but found his concern unwarranted. Harry dug his nails into Severus's shoulders and croaked his name, followed by a very distinct, “Yes!”

Severus tried the same again. Again, “Yess!” And again. “Yeeessss!” Harry declared loudly, anal muscles beginning to twitch around his organ.

Severus was trying desperately to hold on, but he knew it was a vain effort. His spine tingled and his breath hitched. He loathed himself for his lack of restraint, but it had been so very long, and Harry was really incredibly encouraging, with such cries of pleasure. Release overcame Severus before his younger man found his.

Harry shuddered in delight when Severus tensed. The white heat filling his anus made him feel as though he were melting, his fingernails dug deep moons into Snape's shoulders as ecstasy swelled in him and dragged him down into orgasm with his lover.

As they lay tangled and breathless together, Harry's only bit of remorse was that it was over. He didn't want the feeling of being joined to Severus to ever end, but he felt the man going limp inside of him. He pulled his face down and kissed him, pleased by Severus's lazy response, the slow slide of tongue against tongue. He wondered about it, if he could, given a short breather, coax that organ back to life again. That's what he had in mind when, as the older man moved to pull out, Harry locked his legs tight around his hips. “Not yet,” he purred against Snape's lips. “Let me feel you a while longer.”

Severus quirked a brow at the gorgeous young man. “If you think you'll reawaken my interest after the day I've had, I am sure to disappoint you,” he said.

“I'm not disappointed,” Harry said, tensing and relaxing his anus around the intrusion. Even flaccid, he loved the feel of it inside him – though, admittedly, hard was infinitely better. “I just want to stay like this a while longer. Is that so bad?”

Severus hissed. That tension around him, then the relaxing of those muscles as Harry held him tightly. 'If I was a younger man, the way he shifts would not go unpunished,' he thought. If only he were a younger man, he would 'punish' Harry all night long. As it was, he wasn't certain how he was even able to continue holding himself upright. It was rather good though, he had to admit – the tongue against his own, the lazy kisses shared as Harry's release went sticky between them. “If you want to 'stay like this', then why are you moving so bloody much?” he asked at last. His cock was tender from their joining. He'd not done this in several years, and each fractional movement made his aching length throb.

“Can't help it,” Harry replied. “You feel too good. I kind of want to do it again.”

“Idiot boy. I already told you. I'm too old.”

The grin Harry rewarded him with as he clenched around his sensitized organ again was more than a little mischievous. “You can't use that as an excuse when you're already firming up again.”

Severus was surprised to find that Harry was exactly right. It was marginal, but he was growing freshly aroused.

“Look, me too,” Harry said, pulling Severus's hand down to his organ, which was well on its way to a full erection already.

Severus wrapped his fingers more firmly around it, and gloried in the appreciative moan Harry let go when he gave the hardening member a stroke. He did feel warm, but he had a bad feeling about this. There was no way a man his age was going to be able to keep up with such a delicious younger lover. For the moment, his body was in denial on the point as Harry pulsed his hips upward against him.

“Insatiable brat,” Severus chided, even as his pulse began to thrum anew.

“Dirty old man,” Harry retorted playfully.

“Dunderhead,” Severus replied as he tried not to reflect on how true those words might be when he was preparing for a second round with a man young enough to be his own son, who very nearly could have been, had he not been such an idiot in losing Lily's affections.

“I love you. You know that, right?” Harry blurted unexpectedly.

It mad the color rise in Severus's cheeks. “Obviously,” he replied tersely. “You must, to actually consider me worthy of bringing to bed.”

“As often as you'll let me,” Harry quipped pleasantly. “And, for as long as you can maintain consciousness.”

“Fool.”

Harry pulled him down into a kiss. “It's alright if you don't want to say it back,” he said against the older man's lips. “You don't need to resort to name calling,” he teased.

“You are a fool,” Severus replied plainly. “That is why my affection for you should be obvious, as I am willing to overlook such an obvious personality flaw.”

Harry's grip around his shoulders tightened. It was more than enough to convince Severus to push his limits and see just how much of the beautiful young man his battered body could take in one night. He thought trying to keep up with a man half his age might well kill him, but as he was already dead (at least so far as the Wizarding World was concerned), he could see no reason not to live a little, and pay the consequences for it tomorrow.

...or the day after that, if it was up to Harry. For once, as he let the boy roll them over again, Severus thought it might not be so bad to let the smug little twat have his way. He might greet the sunrise with aches and pains in places he forgot he had, but at least he wouldn't have to greet that sunrise alone.

~The End~
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My Sundown