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The Twelve Days of Smutmas	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14927 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
Summary: “I have tried to understand why a handsome young man like yourself would want anything to do with someone like me, but I have come up with no feasible answer,” Severus murmured, the low timbre of his voice making Draco shiver.

“You do not see yourself as I do Severus,” Draco said simply, and smiled slightly when Severus did not correct him. He delighted in the man's surname on his tongue. “Handsome, brilliant, courageous, a hero, and fucking hell, have you heard yourself speak? Your voice is like dark chocolate. I want you, all of you. All that you are, and all that you keep hidden. I've wanted you for years.”

BONUS FIC! Happy New Year! When I wrote the first drafts of the fics for this series, I did it all insanely fast, and during the editing run I decided that I didn't really like this story, I thought it was kind of cliché, and I wound up completely rewriting the story with a new premise(See: I'll Cover You). I still kinda liked this one though, so as a New Year's gift, here's a cute little Snaco PWP. Enjoy! (In between this, Festivus, and four family parties my brain is mush. Apologies in advance for any grammatical errors I may have missed!)
Persistence

Following the Dark Lord's downfall, Draco Malfoy had no taste for parties.

Unfortunately, his mother did not agree with this sentiment, and as a result the annual New Year's Ball had continued to be hosted every year at the Malfoy Manor as though nothing had changed.

Draco was bored. Those of his classmates who had managed to escape Azkaban no longer spoke to him—save for Potter, who seemed determined to become bosom friends with him—why, he had absolutely no idea.

Draco was easily the youngest guest in attendance, and as the Malfoy heir, he would never hear the end of it if he chose to not attend or Merlin forbid, leave early.

The high point, at least for Draco, was a certain guest that stood across the room from him, in deep conversation with Kendall Washburne, editor of Potioneers Today.

Severus Snape had been very lucky that Potter's heart of gold knew no bounds, and beyond having the man exonerated, he had been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class for his part in the war, along with a veritable mountain of gold that allowed him to live in comfort and peace ever since.

Times of peace and such riches had done wonders for the man. Tonight, he was dressed in sleek black robes that covered every part of him, but made him look elegant, rather than like the overgrown bat from his days as Draco's professor. Even at a distance, Draco could see the streaks of silver that had begun to adorn his curtain of black hair, but Severus Snape always had such presence that he could be wandering around starkers and still have the command of the entire room.

Draco snatched a wineglass off the tray of one of the passing waiters, and attempted to covertly watch the man while he talked, utterly ignoring everyone else in the room. Draco was uncertain how well he succeeded, given that Snape had been a spy, and was therefore very good at observing everyone around him, but all the same, Draco looked on while his mind jumped back to his innocent school days and the first time he'd laid eyes on the man.

His pull towards Severus Snape had started during that first Potions lesson, when he heard those words in that velvet tone, “There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class...”

At eleven, Draco hardly knew what it meant, only that he knew without the shadow of a doubt that he liked this man, and he could trust this man.

At eighteen, his feelings towards Snape hadn't changed, but they'd certainly evolved well past starry-eyed adoration and into something akin to lust.

Returned to a reconstructed school to re-take his final Hogwarts year, Draco's pull towards Severus Snape was of a different breed entirely.

How was it, that in all those years, Draco had never noticed the perfect lines of Snape's form, the curve of his arse, the downright sinful sensuality of his damnable voice? He need only utter his name and it took all of Draco's willpower to swallow the moan of longing that had settled itself in his throat.

Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin, and getting what he wanted was a matter of thought processes; planning it out carefully to keep the margin for error as small as could be. Even so, Draco had absolutely no idea what to do about his budding crush on his professor.

The first thing Draco did was refer to the school rules Filch kept in his office. As Head Boy, it would not seem out of the ordinary for him to be seen in there, and for all the grubby caretaker knew, Draco was checking something for a student, not himself, and he was quite pleased to find that in the four hundred and eighty-three rules in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct, a physical relationship between a student and a professor was not against the rules, provided the student was of age.

Unfortunately, this wasn't enough for his dear professor.

“No, Mr Malfoy,” Professor Snape said firmly.

“But—why? It isn't against the rules, I checked!”

“Be that as it may, but it would still be inappropriate. I am your professor, you are my student. To be anything but would be most unwise. Now, if you do not have any actual Head Boy business to report to me, I will ask that you excuse yourself.”

The memory stung, and his persistent attempts following it had yielded poor results. All it managed to do, it seemed, was aggravate the older man, and something told Draco that the way to Severus Snape's heart was not through being a complete pest.

Draco took a step back, and approached Snape only for official Head Boy reasons, and nothing else. This too, did not seem to work. The man did not seem to appreciate nor disapprove of his actions, and instead eyed him suspiciously, as though he expected Draco to spring forward and attack him at any moment.

The waiting was infuriating, but Draco forced himself to endure it, and the moment he'd finished his final N.E.W.T, he made a mad dash for the dungeons.

“No, Mr Malfoy,” Snape said in that same firm, crushing tone.

“But...I'm not a student any more, what's your excuse this time?”

“I am too ol—you are too young for me, and your mother would skin me alive. Go play with your friends.”

“What friends?” Draco asked acidly as he stormed out without looking back.

Eight years out of Hogwarts, and Draco had not seen hide nor hair of the man, save his publications in Potioneers Today. He had come to the conclusion that the man was not interested in him (though Draco could never work out why. Who wouldn't want him?) and had kept his distance.

Tonight however, perhaps Draco could incant the spirit of the season, of a sort. If he couldn't have the older man as his lover, a permanent fixture in his bed...One night would have to do.

As with his attempts in the past, Draco wanted to plan his attack—so to speak—carefully. He was not immune to the man's acid tongue, and he wanted his efforts to yield a success, not another failure.

Draco decided to start with something simple, and circled the room slowly, to brush past Snape while pretending that he hadn't even noticed him. Draco was certain he would see right through his charade, and was therefore not surprised when he felt a burning glare boring into his back.

Draco paused by the buffet table to chat with some Ministry grunt his father had invited, though their name escaped him. He prattled on about the comings and goings of things in their department, and Draco hardly listened to them except to add the occasional comment here and there. His main focus was on the hors d'oeuvres he'd selected off the table, a miniaturized shish kebab, speared with prosciutto, pear, and goat cheese. He very carefully closed his teeth over each food item and slid it off with careful precision, and tried to not look too pleased with himself when he felt Snape's eyes follow his every move.

Draco caught a droplet of fruit juice from the piece of pear that clung to his lip with the tip of his tongue. This time, he turned to catch Snape's eye, and arched a brow in challenge at the older man. Snape answered Draco with a glare, and he turned bodily away from him.

This was fine with Draco.

He had all night, after all.

The game began in earnest, with Draco doing his level best to attract the professor, and the professor in turn doing his damnedest to not notice his ex-student.

It all came to a head after Draco's third distinctly phallic appetizer, and Snape's iron control finally began to crack.

Draco had been making for the loo when Snape's hand appeared out of nowhere, coiled around his upper arm, and dragged Draco bodily into a darkened alcove.

“What are you up to Draco?” Snape snarled angrily.

“Nothing Severus, why would you think I'm up to something?” Draco asked innocently.

“Professor Snape,” he snapped, “don't play dumb. Now I shall repeat the question: What are you up to?”

Draco could have said a great many things to that simple question. His silver tongue was almost as renowned as his, after all. There were many things he could have said that would either make or break what he was trying for, but instead, Draco chose the most painfully Gryffindor route imaginable; that is to say, leaping forward without thinking.

He threaded his fingers through the front of Severus's robes, dragged him forward, and kissed him.

It did not last nearly as long as Draco would have liked, nor did it include as much tongue as Draco would have preferred. It was chaste, and Draco did not want it to last long enough for Severus to react to it.

“I'm sure you can figure it out,” Draco purred against his mouth.

He then slipped out of the alcove and towards his original destination, a faint smirk playing across his lips. The game was as good as won.

The night wore on, with Draco using every dirty trick he knew to lure the professor in, while Severus danced around him, clearly determined to not indulge him, though the hungry look in his eyes told another story altogether. Draco knew for a fact that Severus wanted him. One would have to be blind not to see it. Draco simply could not understand this reluctance the man had to indulge him—or himself, for that matter—in such a thing.

The festivities wound down slowly, and Draco had begun to get desperate. He was too much the Malfoy to let it show, of course, but he was beginning to run out of ideas for how to get the man to bed him. He seemed obstinately immune to his charms, and Draco had begun to wonder if it would be considered too crude to try dosing him with lust potion.

After four hours Draco began to doubt that his persistence was enough to crack the older man's steadfast stubbornness, and at ten-thirty, Draco gave up. He hid his disappointment behind a neutral mask as he bid goodbye to his parents, threw on his fur cloak, and made for the doors. He'd just barely crossed the threshold when a hand on his shoulder stopped him short.

Draco paused just outside the elegant French doors, and looked up to see Severus standing there, eyeing him with a look that seemed to be a strange combination of anger and lust jumbled together, and Draco could not determine which was the dominating force in the other man's mind in that moment.

Snow fluttered down around them, clinging to the shoulders of Draco's cloak and falling into Severus's hair. The whole scene seemed ridiculously festive, and Draco's cool aloof demeanour crumbled as he struggled to hide his absolute joy at Severus's sudden appearance.

“I have tried to understand why a handsome young man like yourself would want anything to do with someone like me, but I have come up with no feasible answer,” Severus murmured, the low timbre of his voice making Draco shiver.

“You do not see yourself as I do Severus,” Draco said simply, and smiled slightly when Severus did not correct him. He delighted in the man's surname on his tongue. “Handsome, brilliant, courageous, a hero, and fucking hell, have you heard yourself speak? Your voice is like dark chocolate. I want you, all of you. All that you are, and all that you keep hidden. I've wanted you for years.”

Severus reached forward, his fingers threading through Draco's cloak, and he dragged him forward without a word. Draco went willingly, his mouth twitching at the corners as he struggled to hide his smirk.

“I do not enter into anything lightly, Mr Malfoy,” Severus murmured, the low purr of his voice almost enough to make Draco moan out loud. He leant in close, his breath ghosting over Draco's lips, close enough for a kiss—but not quite. He could smell cinnamon and cloves on his breath, as well as the tang of alcohol from the mulled wine he'd been nursing for the better part of the evening. “Is this truly what you want?”

“How many variations of my consent do you need, Severus?” Draco replied, arching a brow. “I have wanted you since I was eighteen years old. I wanted you then, and I still want you now.”

It was then that Severus kissed him.

It was not the chaste kiss they'd shared inside, but slow and languid, with Severus's arms snaking under Draco's cloak to pull him closer, while Draco willingly stumbled into the embrace, and his fingers threaded through the front of Severus's robes to holding him in place as securely as Severus held onto him.

“Shall I escort you to my home, Mr Malfoy?” Severus purred, while he reached up to brush his fingertips along the edge of Draco's jaw, eliciting a soft sigh of longing from the young man. “I believe you will find it more than satisfactory to your...needs.”

Draco groaned and arched himself back in the embrace to gaze skyward. A number of snowflakes landed upon his cheeks, and ever so slowly he refocused his gaze upon Severus. He stood there waiting for Draco's answer, and Draco felt himself relax somewhat, reassured in that moment that Severus's presence was not some sort of highly detailed mirage.

“You have no idea how long I have waited to hear those words,” he said at last, and Severus merely chuckled as he raised his hands to brush away the moisture left on his cheeks.

“I believe I have some idea,” Severus purred, “you never were one for subtlety.”

“Take me home?” Draco prompted, ignoring the jibe, and Severus's arm around him tightened slightly.

“With pleasure.”

~*~

Draco knew that Severus had come into some money after the war, but he still did not know what to expect when he followed the older man by Side-Along Apparition to his home. What met his eyes when they at last reappeared was a quaint little cottage.

It was more warm and homey than Draco would have expected from someone like Severus Snape, at least in contrast to what he knew of the man. It was a simple one-storey home, built from cobblestone and sporting a very large piece of land, tilled with all manner of flora one may use in Potionmaking, clearly charmed to maintain a summery temperature year-round, if the full blooming skullcap and edelweiss was anything to go by.

“Does it meet with your approval Mr Malfoy?” Severus asked, keeping an arm around him as he guided his young guest to the door.

“It's not what I was expecting, but this is good—for you,” Draco replied, and Severus snorted.

“Please do not tell me that my Slytherins were also operating under the misapprehension that I was a vampire and resided in a coffin,” Severus said dryly, and Draco laughed.

“Of course not,” Draco replied with a roll of his eyes, his sardonic expression shifting to a faint smile as he followed Severus's lead up the pathway and to the front door. “I simply meant that I expected less of a rustic homestead and something more elegant...ah, like this.”

Inside, the small cottage was decorated closer to what Draco would have expected of his former professor. The front room they now found themselves in was adorned with antique pieces of furniture, a crackling fire burst to life in the grate the moment they crossed the threshold, and a crystal carafe of some sort of amber liqueur rested upon the coffee table. There was also a dab here and there of the expected green, black, and silver added to the décor but overall it was a tastefully decorated place, certainly beyond what Draco had expected.

“Yes, well, not all of us can reside within Manors so large that it could hold the entirety of the Goblin Rebellion forces within its walls,” Severus responded while Draco took in the sight of his home. To his words he chuckled, freed the clasp upon his cloak, and hung it up, with Severus following suit a moment later.

“Luckily for you that I have not resided there, as you say, in months,” Draco replied at last, and smirked a little at the look of surprise that overtook his aloof expression.

“Oh?” Severus asked, arching a curious brow as he led Draco further inside.

“Something about my bringing shame to the name of Malfoy for daring to refuse to marry the little wife my father had picked for me, and instead choosing to be a homosexual,” Draco replied with another chuckle, “I was still expected to attend the New Year's Ball, or people might talk, of course.”

“Of course,” Severus replied, smirking faintly, “keeping the family name in good standing, especially considering Lucius's affiliations during the war, would take precedent over everything else.”

Severus rested a hand upon the small of Draco's back and led him further into the front room, while his slid up the young man's spine to cradle the back of his neck gently. Severus paused when they reached the centre of the room, and Severus turned to face him, his hand never leaving its place on the back of Draco's neck.

“Can I get you something before we...proceed?” Severus asked, and Draco did not miss the flicker of doubt in the older man's eyes. Did he seriously doubt Draco's attraction to him, after he literally spent years trying to seduce him?

“You hardly need to ply me with drink to get me into your bed, Severus,” he replied smoothly, and Severus smirked in response.

“True, true...” He trailed off as Draco leant in to kiss him, and responded in kind, his hand moving to the small of Draco's back to pull him flush against him, and Draco let out a feeble moan of longing.

“It's been a long night,” Draco murmured before he leant in for a chaste kiss, “you can romance me next time, if you are so inclined.”

Severus did not respond except to smirk at his young partner, then turned and led him down the hall and to second door on the left. Inside Draco found a simple bedroom of a canopied bed and fireplace, with windows that faced the front garden and the street beyond. The colour scheme of silver, green, and black screamed of Slytherin pride, though it was understated enough to not strike Draco as tacky.

“House pride never dies,” Draco observed with a small smirk, and Severus chuckled next to him.

“When one is regarded with mistrust and disdain by three-quarters of the Hogwarts alumnus, pride is all we have,” he replied smoothly, pulling Draco's attention away from the décor and back to him, and Draco met Severus halfway with another heady kiss.

Had it not been for his ever-present Malfoy dignity, Draco was certain that he would be grinning from ear to ear. As with everything else Severus did, his kisses were expertly done, and Draco found himself so enthralled by it that he had not noticed Severus move them to the edge of the bed, but he certainly felt it as the back of his knees brushed against the duvet.

Draco moaned against his mouth, and shifted closer to press his blatant erection against Severus's thigh. The older man chuckled, and he took his sweet time coaxing the blond onto the bed. He leant forward and began to flicked the buttons of Draco's robes open one by one, and Draco groaned impatiently, while Severus chuckled again.

“So eager,” Severus purred against his mouth, “I'm flattered.”

“You're—you're one to talk,” Draco panted, his deeply ingrained Malfoy dignity melting away as he lost himself to his desire for Severus. He moved to help Severus strip him, only to have his hands swatted away, while his comment was met with a smirk. Severus took one of Draco's fair hands in his and pressed it to his groin, allowing the young man to feel the sizable bulge that resided there.

Draco gave it a sharp squeeze, though aside from a small groan the action did little to even begin to unravel the Severus's iron self-control.

I've got my work cut out for me... Draco thought as he shouldered out of the garment and tossed it to the floor, wearing nothing underneath save for a pair of attractive silk pants.

Shifting further on the bed, Draco reached out and all but dragged Severus up with him, his fingers working feverishly at the infuriatingly long trail of buttons down his front while Draco crashed their mouths together, lost in desperate need.

Severus was quite happy to indulge him, their tongues tangling together as he balanced himself above Draco, his breathing already remarkably shallow, though they had done very little thus far. The older man seemed highly amused by Draco's lack of control, and abruptly pulled back to regard him curiously. He reached up with one hand and brushed his thumb across Draco's cheek; Draco leant into the touch, and Severus studied him for a long moment before he at last began to speak.

“Draco,” Severus murmured, and Draco flicked his eyes up to meet Severus's, though in the heat of the moment he found it rather difficult to stay focused.

“Yes?” Draco asked, flushing a little at the breathless quality of his voice.

“May I ask you a personal question?” he asked, and Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

“Severus,” Draco began, “we're in bed together, I am down to my undergarments and I am in the midst of relieving you of your clothing. Do you seriously think I would object to a personal question at this stage?”

“True enough,” Severus replied with a smirk. He leant in to capture Draco's lips in another kiss, then murmured his question so softly that Draco almost had to strain his ears to hear it.

“Are you a virgin?” Severus purred, and Draco choked.

“A...a virgin?” Draco sputtered in shock at the question. “Severus, I'm twenty-five years old, what on earth gave you that impression that I'm a...a...yes,” Draco mumbled the last word barely above a whisper, and felt himself go red. He silently cursed Severus's intuition—it was amazing how little got past him.

Draco braced himself for a rejection following his admission. He seriously doubted that someone like Severus to want anything to do with someone as inexperienced as Draco. To his pleasant surprise however, instead Severus cupped his chin and pulled Draco's focus back to him. He brushed his lips over Draco's lightly, and he felt some of his self-conscious anxiety slip away.

“It is endearing,” Severus murmured, his breath tickling Draco's lips gently, “though if it makes you feel better, I highly doubt anyone else would have caught on.” Severus shrugged out of his own robes, and they tumbled down to the ground to join Draco's. Like Draco, he was wearing nothing beneath them save his undergarments, and at last Draco was able to look upon the bare flesh of the man of his dreams for the very first time.

If he was to put a name to Severus's skin tone, it likely would have been alabaster. Severus was so fair that Draco guessed it had likely been years since the man's skin had seen daylight for any extended period of time. Nagini's bite marks registered upon his skin barely as a pearlescent sheen, and the man was so thin that Draco was certain that he could count every rib.

All for that, there was still a physical strength about him that seemed to be a recent acquirement. His arms were thin but sinewy, and Draco could see the curve of developing muscle in his upper arms.

“Is it everything you imagined, Mr Malfoy?”

The low rumble of Severus's voice drew Draco from his daze, and when he locked eyes with the older man, he saw the faintest trace of self-conscious uncertainty in those onyx eyes. Draco smiled and arched up to kiss him.

“And more,” he replied softly, just loud enough for it to be registered as a purr, and Draco arched up to kiss him.

Severus responded with something close to a low growl, his fingers tangling in the hair at the back of Draco's head as his kiss grew rougher, and Draco leant into it with another moan of longing.

Undergarments were shed quickly, and Draco did not even have a moment to take in the glorious sight of a naked Severus Snape before he was roughly turned onto his stomach.

His Malfoy smirk stretched into a genuine grin as he shifted onto all fours and hissed as cleansing, preparation, and lubrication spells all shot through him in quick succession. Behind him Severus shifted, and Draco's breath hitched as he felt the older man's cock brush against his entrance. He pressed his chest against Draco's back, and his teeth found the shell of his ear.

“You will remember this,” Severus murmured, “no matter where you go...” his hand slid from Draco's hip to trail along the top of his thigh, “no matter who you're with,” his mouth moved to brush the back of Draco's neck, eliciting a soft shiver from him, “you will always remember what it felt like with me inside of you.”

Severus pushed in slowly, carefully. Draco groaned and dropped his head forward, breathing shallowly as he slowly grew accustomed to the strange but incredible sensation of Severus's invading (but wholly welcome) presence.

“Relax,” Severus whispered, while his hand moved to massage the small of Draco's back, “just relax, that's it...”

Draco did as he was bidden, breathing through his mouth as he forced his muscles to relax, and the mild ache that had built up slowly began to recede. It left him with a peculiar sense of completion as Severus fully sheathed himself inside the young man.

Severus froze his movements, allowing for Draco to grow accustomed to the sensation, then slowly began to move.

At first, Draco did not move, revelling in the sensation of Severus sliding in and out of him with slow, steady thrusts, but then Severus adjusted his angle, and Draco saw stars.

“Oh!” Draco gasped, and from behind him he heard Severus chuckle. He did not explain what that was, but instead continued to move, hitting that spot with every alternate thrust, and continued to elicit from Draco a gasp of pleasure each time. As Severus moved, Draco slowly found a rhythm and moved with the older man, both of them panting heavily from the combination of pleasure and exertion.

Behind him, Severus's breathing became slightly more ragged. He muttered a word of encouragement here and there to Draco, but the words did not register in his mind, as he was completely lost to the sensation of Severus pounding his arse into blissful oblivion. Despite his best efforts to stave off his orgasm and draw out the encounter, Draco cried out and spilled his seed over the bedspread. Severus did not comment on his lack of control beyond an amused chuckle, and continued to pound into him, finding his own release a moment later.

Severus pulled out of him and flicked his wand once to clean up Draco's mess, then started slightly as Draco shifted closer to him. To the reaction, Draco glanced up with a frown.

“Did I misread the situation?” Draco asked softly, swallowing the hurt that threatened to lace his words, “should I go?”

“Only if you wish to,” Severus replied, while he reached for Draco and pulled him back toward him, while he eyed the younger man cautiously. “I must say, when you voice an interest in going to bed with me, I had not anticipated there to be anything to follow, regardless of your earlier statements.”

“I say what I mean, and I mean what I say,” Draco replied smoothly. “I will stay as long as you wish to put up with me.”

With a soft laugh, Severus drew Draco close, and he pressed his cheek against Severus's chest. From his vantage point he could see the clock on the wall, and noted that it was just past midnight. Severus did not seem to notice, as he was too busy stroking Draco's hair.

Draco settled into Severus's embrace and shut his eyes. His year was already off to a brilliant start, and Draco could only see it getting better.

-Fin
- 12
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The Twelve Days of Smutmas