Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Sadness of Eros	By : LoupGarou1750 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 7628 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and her business associates own the world of Harry Potter. I make no money from this, nor anything else. The words 'The open palm of desire wants everything' are from the Paul Simon song 'Further to Fly'. He owns those.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
11

"Anyone home?" Harry didn't bother to knock, just stuck his head around the plank door.

There was a pause and then a guttural, "No!" boomed through the house.

Harry laughed. "Good. Glad I haven't wasted a trip."

He smiled as Snape stalked into the room, his wand still pointed at his throat.

Snape scowled and pointed his wand at Harry. "Haven't you someplace else you should be? I'm really in no mood for your inane chatter today." Somehow even without Sonorus, Snape managed to make a whisper resonate.

"I thought maybe we could...you know...pick up where we left off."

The vein at Snape's temple pulsed. "Go home, Potter. If you're randy I'm sure your wife would be more than happy to accommodate you."

"She hasn't got what I need at the moment." Harry couldn't believe how easy it was to dismiss all thoughts of Ginny, but seeing Snape, being in Snape's house, made him feel reckless and invincible.

"Then I'm sure there's someone in a public toilet or the wildwood at Holland Park."

"Yeah, I'm sure there would be, but that's not what I want. It's good between us. You know it is."

Snape rubbed an eye with his middle finger, a gesture Harry already recognised as habitual. "Fine. Go into the lounge." Snape jerked his head in that direction. "Get on your knees. I'll join you in a minute."

"No," Harry said, his lips set in a determined line. "That's not what I want. We've got something, Snape. I want to know what it is. I don't just want to suck your cock and then have you toss me out on my ear."

"Gravity being what it is, and given that we don't exist in a vacuum, I'm sure the universe would arrange for you to land on your over-sized arse."

Harry twisted his spine to look at the item in question. "It's not a bit over-sized. I've got a perfect bubble-butt. You're jealous because you've barely got an arse at all."

"Don't be ridiculous. You've never seen my arse. And, knowing the way your mind spins like a hamster's wheel, I hasten to add you never will."

"Do you grow any frozen tundra type plants, or only tropical and desert?" Harry thought it wise to change the topic before Snape really hit his stride with the insults.

"Hamster," Snape muttered before pushing past Harry on his way out the front door.

Giving a silent cheer because Snape had not thrown him out on arse or ear, Harry trotted after him.

"You won't be impressed," Snape said without turning around as he led Harry through the gate of his walled garden. "Nothing flashy enough for your child-like brain to appreciate. Here, put this on." He threw Harry a ratty and unbelievably filthy jacket. "Don't be squeamish. You'll be glad enough of it in a moment. And you'll probably want these as well," he said, turning over a flower pot and extracting a pair of thick gloves and a woollen watch cap.

Sure that there would at least be spiders, if not nesting mice, Harry shook everything thoroughly before putting it on. Snape did not wait.

"Mosses, lichens, a few shrubs, the odd grass–" His whisper seem to fade away completely as he walked away, leaving Harry behind.

"Wait!" Harry yelled as he struggled to catch up. They were passing through the tropical zone and sweat beaded up on his face and dampened his armpits. "Christ! You might have told me to wait to put this rubbish on. I'm about to smother."

He looked around in wonderment. The foliage here was dense and the air close. Several great trees with leaves bigger than serving platters formed a canopy above them. By squinting he could just see the bright blossoms of what he took to be orchids nestling in the crooks of branches.

"Don't dawdle," Snape snarled. "The sooner you see what you came for, the sooner I can be shut of you."

"You don't mean that," Harry responded complacently. "This is fucking stunning, Snape! Are all these useful, or merely ornamental?"

Snape paused and pointed to a bright red and gold spiky flower. "Potteriensis," he said smugly. "All flash and of no earthly use at all. Well named, don't you think?"

"Really?" Harry asked excitedly. "You named a plant after me? Gryffindor colours too, you old softy!"

"Sod off," Snape said mildly. "I am not responsible for the name. I'm not even responsible for it being here. It merely popped up, uninvited and unwanted. I've tried to uproot it several times as I consider it nothing more than a weed, but magical plants can be hard to kill."

"Good thing for all of us, don't you think? Tell me why I'm wearing this jacket again? It's like a rainforest in here."

"It's not like a rainforest, you cretin. It is a rainforest. And stop whinging, we're nearly through." As he said it, they stepped out from under the canopy into a desolate landscape.

Although Harry knew that outside the garden the English skies were overcast, here everything was bathed in a harsh yellow light. He looked up, half expecting to see the sun shining fiercely, but the sky was as grey as it should have been. He turned around trying to spot the source of the light and saw nothing. "How–"

"Magic," Snape said drily, punctuating the word with rolling eyes.

"Ah, thank you. I was wondering. About this jacket?"

Snape took off again, kicking up powdery dirt as he walked. He pointed out a few plants, citing both their botanical and their common names. Harry was impressed; he'd had no idea that frankincense grew on trees, nor that Shrivelfigs' natural habitat was the desert.

They passed through a section of nasty, spiny cacti that seemed intent on stabbing Harry and he was suddenly glad of the thick jacket in spite of the fact that it now seemed to be clinging wetly to him. And then he had even more reason to be glad of it as the temperature suddenly seemed to drop about a hundred degrees.

"Fucking hell!" Harry gasped through chattering teeth.

"We are now, metaphorically speaking, above the tree line. The weather is set to late summer; as you can see the blooms are nearly gone."

Harry looked around, seeing some vaguely mossy stuff and nothing that looked like flowers, although there was a little patch of red in the distance. "No snow? I expected snow."

Snape sighed and pulled his wand from a pocket. "It's a little soon for this, but seasons can be unpredictable in the arctic north. This will probably do little harm." He described a complex pattern in the air with his wand and muttered a long incantation.

Harry looked up. The visible sky was unchanged, neither darker nor more ominous, but fat flakes of snow began to slowly drift down. Filled with the same sort of glee he'd experienced as a child, when he'd first seen intentional magic done, he wanted to applaud.

"Bloody well done! Can you teach me? Will you?"

"Weather charms are not particularly difficult. Applying them appropriately can be. Whether or not I can teach you depends entirely on you. The Potter I taught at Hogwarts did not exactly have the patience for learning."

"The Potter you knew at Hogwarts suffered under the thumb of an incredibly bad teacher. The man had no patience, no finesse, no–"

"Well, that's that then. Good day. I trust you can find your own way out." If Snape was trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice, he wasn't doing it well.

Appalled that his joke had actually wounded, Harry threw caution to the wind. He advanced on Snape, threw his arms around him, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. There was a horrible moment as Snape tensed, jerking his mouth away, but then the clever, long-fingered hands clamped like vises around Harry's biceps and Snape pulled him closer.

He held Harry like that for a moment, not kissing him, his fingers digging in harder and harder until Harry made a noise of protest. Snape's hands immediately fell away and he stepped back.

"No. It's OK, just a little rough." Harry grasped both of Snape's hands and placed them on his shoulders, before leaning in for another kiss.

"This is a very bad idea." Snape said, dropping his hands again. "Your wife–"

"No. Don't bring her into it. I think it's a really good idea. Kiss me, you idiot."

Snape's hands, previously so strong and firm, were oddly tentative as they rested on Harry's shoulders again. The expression on his face was unsure, vaguely irritated, and he was maintaining an uncomfortable distance, one completely unsuitable for kissing.

Harry was startled by a sudden, incomprehensible thought. He doesn't know what to do! Has he never done this before? How is that possible, he's how old? Nearly sixty, anyway. What about all the rumours of Death Eater orgies? Maybe orgiasts aren't big on kissing? It's not like I'd know. Maybe he's just out of practice? And then his thought processes were completely short-circuited as Snape loomed closer, so close Harry could see nothing but glittering black and the tiny red veins that threaded the yellowish whites of Snape's eyes. Their noses smashed together awkwardly and somehow as they shifted away their teeth jarred together hard enough for Harry to see stars and taste blood in his mouth. Harry laughed.

"If you're incapable of taking this seriously–"

"No!" Harry yelped. "You have to admit it's funny, but."

Snape's face was so rigid and cold, Harry was afraid his attempt at gentle teasing had made things worse.

"We'll try it again. For the love of God, keep still and let me come to you. I'm of an age where teeth start falling out on their own, without the assistance of your clumsiness."

Snape's expression was so professorial Harry wanted to laugh again. Instead, he nodded and said, "Yeah. We can try again." Maybe I should be the one leading this since I'm the one with experience.

Maybe you should just stop thinking in case you do something really stupid, like mention the reason for your experience.

Snape glared for a long, agonising moment, eyes so dark with suspicion that Harry worried about Legilimency and hastily closed his own eyes, trying to shut off all thought. In an unexpectedly unified movement they shifted closer together and while their noses tangled briefly their teeth didn't clunk. It was less than a heartbeat before Snape's tongue was in Harry's mouth.

It wasn't a good kiss – Snape's mouth was sour, his lips firm when they should have been soft, and soft when a little pressure would have been good – but all the same, it made Harry's toes curl with delight and made the hairs on his arms stand straight up; his cock wasted no time following suit. He made a half-hearted attempt to take control of the kiss, but Snape was having none of it; his hands held Harry's face hard enough to make his jaw ache and his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once – sloppy inside and out, hard, warm, wet, messy. OK. I'm wrong again. It is a good kiss. Hot. Really hot. OK, literally hot, that's not right.

Snow was still falling and the temperature was even colder than it had been. Harry realised with dawning horror that the heat he felt was not Snape's but the cold burn of Snape's saliva freezing on his lips and face. He pulled back abruptly, wincing as their flesh seemed to rip apart. "Not here. Inside. We have to go inside." Snape wasn't listening; he was trying to recapture Harry's lips with his own. Precious moments were being wasted dodging him. "Snape! We'll freeze. Not a bad death, from what I hear, you pretty much just go to sleep and that's it. Poof! The candle's snuffed. But all the same, I rather not die just yet. Especially not right now."

Reluctantly, Snape pulled away. "Potter."

"Yes, what? Make it snappy, or better yet, talk while we're legging it for the house. I really don't think frostbite and gangrene of the face is something to aspire to."

"Do shut up," Snape grumbled. "Is this to be a feature of our every encounter? You babbling like a brook during snowmelt?" There was no bite at all to his words, and he had already started walking back to the house, dragging Harry by the sleeve behind him.

Snape's bedroom was a revelation, although Harry realised later it shouldn't have been. It was large, dark and dusty. Books were stacked on every available surface, including the floor and the bed. Snape ignited a torch which cast only a dim light and smoked badly; there were sooty black smears on the wall and ceiling above it.

"Maid's week off, is it?" Harry quipped. He was feeling giddy and young, and a bit unsteady on his feet.

Snape didn't even bother to snarl. He simply pushed Harry backwards until his knees met the mattress and he tumbled onto his back amid the rumpled bedclothes. Wasting no time, Snape stripped off his Barbour jacket and flung it in the corner. He sat on the bed to pull off his wellies and kicked them away as he stood to remove his trousers. Harry struggled upright and peeled off the borrowed coat and gloves, tossing them on top of Snape's Barbour, then stared in a kind of disgusted wonder as Snape began to unbutton his shirt, revealing the grotty, old-fashioned one-piece combination underwear he wore beneath.

"Wow. Just...wow. Those are–"

"Intend to remain clothed for this, do you?" Snape asked as he began to undo the approximate twelve-hundred buttons of his underwear.

It occurred to Harry that a shower might not be a bad idea, but the look of determination on Snape's face stopped him. "Right. Clothes. Off. Good idea. My cock's about to punch a hole through my pants and trousers." Harry unzipped his jeans and started to wriggle out of them, pushing them down as far as his knees before he got distracted . "I was right, you have no arse."

Harry'd barely got his shirt off when Snape clambered onto the bed, pushed him flat on his back and straddled him. He barely had time to notice the cold grittiness of the sheets and the earthy funk rising from them before Snape's nose and lips mashed against his own, effectively cutting off both his capacity to think and his ability to breathe.

Nothing that was happening was like anything Harry was used to. There was none of the give and take he experienced with Ginny; Snape took and Harry was merely along for the ride. It shouldn't have been that good, that overwhelming, that shattering.

Snape pulled away suddenly. He efficiently stripped Harry of trousers and pants, then rasped, "Turn over."

Excitement beat a sharp tattoo in Harry's chest, but he knew he couldn't; not now, not today. "Uh, I uh, no, I can't."

Wow, if looks could kill. Harry tried again. "I've never done that." He winced, expecting scathing derision, but Snape merely nodded abruptly and repeated the words, "Turn over."

Hesitantly, afraid to trust and more afraid not to, Harry did as he was told.

The tentativeness that had coloured their first kiss was gone. Snape's hands were again strong and sure as they stroked down Harry's back and slid between his arse cheeks. Harry flinched, all his muscles tightening in fearful anticipation, when Snape's thumb brushed across his hole.

"I can't...I don't want you to," Harry gasped. She'll know. If I let him do this she'll know. This isn't something I'll be able to hide. He was so tense breathing was becoming difficult.

Snape leant over, his chest pressing against Harry's back, his lips to Harry's ear. "Trust me."

Harry couldn't speak. I want to trust you, but she'll KNOW! He could feel Snape's cock pressing against his crack and clenched his cheeks together, resisting, repelling. But Harry's hips seemed to be operating independently of his will, they shifted side to side, humped the mattress, ground his cock relentlessly against the sheets. Oh god, don't. Please don't. Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgod!

"For fuck's sake! Will you just relax? I'm not going to fuck you!" Snape's fingers were like vise-grips on Harry's bum.

"Then what's your cock doing prodding and poking me that way, eh?" Something cold and slick dribbled down his crack. "Bloody hell! That's freezing! You might warn a bloke. And I thought you said you weren't going to fuck me."

"You are utterly without imagination, aren't you? Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you. You asked for this. You practically begged for it. It's a little late to get missish."

Snape's cock slipped through the cool slickness of the lube until it was wedged between Harry's arsecheeks like a sausage in a bread roll. The mental image was hilarious and Harry would have laughed if Snape hadn't flattened himself against Harry's back and moved his hips just enough to send his cock sliding smoothly up and down Harry's crack.

It was hard to move with Snape's full weight on him, but Harry did what he could to rock his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock against the sheets again, assisting Snape with whatever he was doing was called. The position was oddly comforting; he felt safe with Snape covering him, and the whole fucking/not-fucking thing was hot as hell.

Suddenly Snape's sharp teeth latched onto the skin of Harry's back and bit down hard. Harry yelled and his body fish-tailed, nearly pitching Snape off. There was a strange moment where time seemed suspended, then Snape slammed down against Harry's back again, his chin connecting painfully with Harry's skull. Snape hurriedly flung himself to the side and rolled onto his back, one arm covering his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I thought...It seemed...Oh for fuck's sake! I'm no good at this! This isn't what I do! And if you think having to apologise to you doesn't make me want to grind my teeth..."

"Snape, shut up." Harry yawned, rolled from his stomach to his back, and stretched out. He wasn't touching Snape at all but he could feel him – his heat, his damp sweaty skin, the throb of his pulse.

Snape rolled onto his side and looked at Harry, his face solemn. "I suppose, all things considered, I should invite you to call me by my given name."

Harry grinned. "No, don't bother. You're Snape. You've always been Snape. You can never be anything but Snape. If it makes you feel more cozy, you can consider it a pet name. Or..." He rolled on top of Snape, his still half-hard cock rubbing against Snape's belly. "You could punish me for my insolence."

Snape shoved Harry off of him, then waved a hand lazily in the air. "Don't be ridiculous. We're disastrous together. Anyone could see it, I can't imagine why you don't. I'm sorry to leave you like that." He gave Harry's cock a half-hearted squeeze. "But I think I need to sleep this madness off." He looked at Harry through a single open eye, a smile playing around his lips. "If you need to be punished, you can wake me in an hour with tea. There's eggs and bread and any number of tins–" The end of Snape's sentence was cut off by a long, shuddering yawn. His one open eye closed and with a slight flare of his nostrils, a flutter of his lips and a soft snore, he was asleep.

"Sodding wanker," Harry said grumpily. He began to stroke himself briskly, needing to finish what Snape had started. When he had had what was, all things considered, a remarkably satisfying orgasm, he looked at Snape's sleep limp body and pushed ineffectually at his shoulder. "Budge over. Fine, fuck it," he said. He flung an arm across Snape's belly, burrowed into his chest and was asleep in an instant.

The late afternoon sun had broken through the clouds and sent a harsh beam of light through the window. Harry awoke and blinked, confused at the unfamiliar surroundings. He almost yelled when he rolled over and bumped into Snape's hard, angular body, then grinned and stretched as he remembered where he was and who he was with. "You awake?" he asked softly. There was a grunt that could have been 'yes' or 'no' or just an aborted snore.

Smiling, Harry rolled onto his side and lightly touched his fingers to Snape's parted lips. When there was no response he grew bolder and bumped his forefinger over the line of ragged yellow teeth. Snape opened one eye and glared. Harry stilled his finger but didn't take it out of Snape's mouth. Snape snarled and bit down hard. Harry snatched his hand away, barely resisting the urge to thump Snape on the nose. With a wary eye, he cautiously moved his hand back and paused with the tip of his finger just touching the crooked teeth. When Snape didn't snap at him again, he began to run the fingertip back and forth, enjoying the feeling.

"What exactly are you doing?" Snape's words were slightly garbled.

"Just touching you. Feeling you."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh do spare me the romantic claptrap, Potter. I fucked you. More or less. You liked it. That doesn't mean we're going to go traipsing off, holding hands as we run through the fucking tall grass, which, I've no doubt, you would promptly trip over. Don't make it more than it is."

Harry grinned crookedly. "It already is more than it is."

"That may well be the most asinine thing you've ever said."

His expression suddenly serious, Harry pressed the palm of his hand to Snape's chest.

Snape simultaneously rolled his eyes, kneed Harry in the ribs, and moved back until there was at least two feet of space between them. "You've horrified me quite enough for one day. That's it! Go! Leave! Now!"

"I'll go," Harry said, trying for serious, "but you care for me, Severus Snape, and one day soon, you're going to admit it."

Snape's look of mingled horror and amusement sent Harry over the edge and he collapsed in a heap on the bed, giggling like a ten-year-old. "The look on your face," he gasped.

"Thank god," Snape said grumpily, "I thought you were serious. Not funny."

"Funny," Harry said.

"Not a bit of it."

"A little bit of it." Harry held his thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart and said, "At least this funny."

Snape threw Harry's shoes at him. "Go.

~*~*~*~*~
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Sadness of Eros