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Troubled Blessing	By : Ravne131 Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 11255 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: The Potterverse belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do not make any money from these writings. I write for my own pleasure and the enjoyments of others.

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AN: Okay. I am SSSOOOOO f-ing sorry. I KNOW it’s been like, forever, nearly a year, since I’ve updated. I’m really sorry. I’m just a huge procrastinator. I’m really bad at deadlines…. Well… here’s Part Two. And it’s actually nothing like what it was supposed to be. I was never actually going to write this scene but I was bored in my History of Religions class so I started writing and this is what came out. So anyway… because of this chapter, the story will now be FOUR parts instead of three. Enjoy and please review!

Warning: This chapter involves an explicit sex scene. Don’t read it if you don’t like sex.

Troubled Blessing

Part Two

            Graduation had finally arrived. For the second-year Seventh years, it was an avidly anticipated, welcome relief. After the defeat of Voldemort the previous June, those seventh years that had dropped out to help the war effort, nearly the entire Gryffindor Seventh year class, a few Ravenclaw’s and Hufflepuff’s, and one Slytherin, had been given the opportunity to repeat their seventh year and receive their NEWTs.

            Very few had actually decided to return; Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, under the insistence of Hermione Granger who also returned, Neville Longbottom, and much to the consternation of Ron, Draco Malfoy.

            All throughout the final year of the war, the Light had found unexpected help in Lucius and Draco Malfoy. Ron, for his part, and maintained his stand that the Malfoy’s couldn’t be trusted. Harry and Dumbledore, however, both trusted the Malfoy’s despite Ron’s protests otherwise. Harry and Draco had formed a close friendship, much to the absolute fury of Ron.

            Once the final battle had been won, Ron had gone back to Hogwarts, but only at Hermione’s insistence. But he had severed his friendship with Harry, claiming that Harry must have gone dark if he was friends with a Slytherin; and a Malfoy at that.

            The year had passed with harry, Hermione and Draco studying hard to pass all their NEWTs. Neville had skated through his classes, but he’d taken an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout so he could get his Mastery. Ron had passed with the bare minimum. He’d spent the year sulking through his classes.

            And then, finally, the NEWTs were there. As usual, Hermione fretted over hers, though she’d undoubtedly do perfectly. Harry thought he did alright.

            At the feast the night before the graduation ceremony, the few elder students sat at a separate table, discussing their plans and just enjoying the feel of their impending freedom.

            “I’m still trying to decide between Healing and Transfiguration.” Hermione stated between bites of her salad. Harry, Draco and Neville all nodded. They’d heard this from Hermione before. She’d been mulling over the decision for nearly four months, going over it again and again with her peers.

            “I’ve decided that I’m going to work on my Potion’s Mastery from home. I don’t want to be cooped up in here any longer.” Draco said. Ron sneered. “It figures you’d choose potions, Malfoy. That’s what every no-good Slytherin would choose.”

            “Ronald!” Hermione admonished sternly. She glared at him across the table and he just glared right back. “Don’t bother, Miss Granger. A weasel can never change its prejudices.” Draco said. Although he’d become close friends with Harry, Hermione hadn’t quite warmed up to him.

            Harry glared at Ron. “You seem to forget that I’ll be working on my own Potion’s Mastery along with Draco.” Ron sneered right back, but didn’t say anything. Draco laughed. “You’re not just going after a Potions Mastery, Harry. You’re also going after Defense and Transfiguration.”

  Hermione laughed right with him. “We’re forgetting one. What’s the other one, Harry?” she asked, grinning. “Charms,” Harry muttered, face flaming. Hermione sighed. “Harry, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Being smart is a wonderful thing.” She said, reassuringly, patting his arm.

She hadn’t thought that three weeks prior when he’d first told her that he was going after four Masteries. She had gotten incredibly jealous. She’d always been the smartest. Then suddenly, Harry surpassed her in everything. She had been cold toward him until she realized that she was acting ridiculous. She should be supporting him.

Harry’s magic and control had increased so much upon receiving his magical majority that his ability to perform difficult and advanced magics increased. His grades improved drastically from his sixth year to his seventh. His grades were literally just a hair’s breadth below perfect. It was only Herbology that brought his grade down. He just wasn’t good with plants.

His teachers were all astounded by the improvement and none more so than Professor Snape. Harry’s potion work was astounding. Once the threat of the Dark Lord had passed, Harry seemed able to focus more and his intuition in potions had increased so much that Professor Snape suspected that Harry would have absolutely NO problems getting his Potions Mastery.

The small group soon finished their meal and headed up to their shared common room. The second seventh years had been given a separate set of rooms because there were only five of them.

They all settled into their favorite chairs, relishing the relaxation after so long studying so hard. Ron had pushed his chair a little farther away from the others, but not far enough away so we was completely alone. They sat together, just talking for a while, enjoying each other’s company.

It was nearing 10:30 when Draco gave a wave of his wand and summoned three bottles of firewhiskey that had been hidden in his room. “I figured we deserved it.” He said as he passed around cups. Hermione chose not to drink but remained with the others to watch the festivities.

Neville took only a small amount in his cup but Harry, Draco and Ron all filled theirs. Harry took a generous swallow, holding back a cough when the liquid seared its way down his throat. It was only after both Harry and Draco had drunk a little did Ron start his.

            It was about three hours later and Hermione, Neville and Ron had all retired to bed. Harry was sprawled over an armchair, sipping the last dregs of alcohol at the bottom of a bottle. Draco was in a similar state on the nearby couch. He had already finished his own bottle and was very close to passing out.

            “So, Harry. Who d’you fancy?” Draco slurred. Harry looked blearily across the room at him. “Why d’you wanna know?” he asked. Draco shrugged, almost completely gone now. “Im just curious isall.”

            There was a long few moments of silence in which Harry thought of a certain person. “He’s wonderful.” Sighed Harry. Smiling blissfully up at the ceiling. He glanced over at Draco and saw him asleep on the couch.

            Harry suddenly had an idea. “I’m gonna go tell ‘im.” Harry muttered, lifting himself off the armchair. He stumbled out of the portrait hole and down the hallway, leaning heavily on walls along the way.

            As he descended the large staircase in the entrance hall he was happy that their rooms were on the second floor so he didn’t have too far to go. He descended into the dungeons and followed the winding passageways to the Potions classroom. He realized, upon reaching the room, that he knew where the classroom was and where the offices were, but he didn’t know where the man’s personal chambers were.

            Harry pulled out his wand and said, “Point me, Professor Snape.” The holly wand spun in the palm of his hand and pointed farther down the passageway. Harry followed the wand until it pointed directly at a painting of a cave. Looking hard Harry saw that the cave was filled with hundreds of fluttering bats, making the painting shimmer in the dim light.

            “How fitting…” Harry muttered. He raised his hand and knocked on the painting. Harry was waiting for only a few moments before it swung open.

            Harry’s mouth ran dry at the sight before him. The Potions Master stood on the threshold, staring blearily out at him. His long, inky black hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it. He wore a pair of black trousers, belted low on his hips, and a white long-sleeved shirt. The white linen sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the expanse of milky skin, marred only by the Dark Mark on his left forearm.

            He looked taken aback. “What do you want, Potter?”

* * *

            Snape was tired. It had been a long, torturously slow year since the Dark Lord had fallen. Snape was tired of living in the cold dungeons. He was tired of remaking the same potions, year after year after year. He was tired of dealing with obnoxious children who had no regard for how dangerous and beautiful potion making really was.

            What Snape really wanted to do was spend his days in his own state-of-the-art potions lab at his manor and work on creating new potions and improving old ones for the better. He had decided, after much thought, that this past year would be his last as a teacher. He found that he didn’t regret his decision.

            On the night of the farewell feast, Snape sat in his favorite armchair by the fire, a tumbler of firewhiskey in his hand and an empty bottle on his end-table.

He was thinking over the previous year. Moreover, he was thinking about a certain green-eyed young man. It was rare to say so, but Snape was impressed. Young Potter had well and truly impressed his Potions Professor in the past year. His potions work was absolutely remarkable.

Snape could say he was anticipating, dare he say, excited to see where the boy’s future potion’s work took him.

As he thought of Potter, his thoughts turned toward the boy’s final class potion. In his mind, he analyzed Harry’s nimble hands as the danced across his lab station. The look of intense, almost detached, concentration was very endearing. The boy took his work so seriously. If only he’d had this kind of drive in his previous years of study.

Snape himself had checked over Potter’s NEWT potion work. In both his written and practical, he’d done perfectly. Not only had he done perfectly, he’d exceeded perfect by writing two extra feet on how the potion could be improved, then he proved his theories by applying them in his practical.

The potion he had been assigned was a Giggling Solution. That specific potion had the adverse side-effect of euphoria, nearly a dangerous amount, and it lasted for nearly an hour after the giggling had ceased. Harry had countered the side-effect so now the only thing the potion did was cause incessant giggling for about fifteen minutes.

Snape had been so intrigued that he’d bottled a sample of the potion and copied the essay for future reference. Then he’d gone to his rooms and, after locking the door and warding it from entrance, he’d tested he Giggling Solution out on himself.

The potion had worked perfectly and there were no adverse side-effects; though Snape would never reveal who the test subject was.

Snape remembered Potter’s hands. Those nimble, thin, beautiful hands. The hands that performed such wonderful magic with potions and anything else he tried. Snape’s mind strayed from his hands and to Potter’s face. He remembered the glowing smile that Potter had given him whenever he passively and without comment, passed back his graded work; always with an ‘O’ on the top.

Snape shook his head. He refused to acknowledge the effect that the smile had on him. He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, mussing it up. Who was he kidding? He was infatuated by the young man.

Everything about Potter seemed to fascinate him, to draw him in. Snape, without really meaning to, found himself covertly watching the young man whenever they were in the same room together.

At his continued thoughts of the young Gryffindor, his trousers started to tighten in a very painful way. He groaned and palmed his erection, eliciting a hiss at the spiraling pleasure.

There was a knock at the door. He groaned at the interruption and stood, swaying slightly in his inebriated state. He made his way to the door and pushed it open.

There he was; Potter was standing on his threshold. His eyes, which he’d finally magically corrected during the Christmas break the year before, were huge and shining. His cheeks were tinged red. Snape could tell that Potter had been drinking as well.

“What do you want, Potter?” he asked, surprised. Potter didn’t even blink an eye. “You, Professor.” Snape’s mouth ran dry. He stared steadily back at the Gryffindor.

His raging erection made the decision for him. His hand shot out and clamped onto Potter’s robes. He pulled the Gryffindor inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

Harry was slammed hard into the door, harsh hands gripping his shoulders. He blinked up at Snape, relishing the touch of the man’s hands.

“Professor,” he breathed. Snape’s mouth descended on his own, kissing him hard. Harry groaned. Snape took that opportunity and plunged his tongue into Harry’s mouth, mapping out the hot cavern.

Snape’s hands were not idle. They fumbled with the clasp on Harry’s robes. A moment later, he pushed them off and they slid to the floor and pooled at Harry’s feet. Harry’s fingers were making fast work of the buttons on Snape’s shirt. Once the front of the shirt was open, his hands began running over the porcelain skin.

Harry’s hands encountered some bumps and imperfections that startled him. He pulled away from the kiss to get a better look. He gasped at what he saw. Scars littered Snape’s white skin.

“What happened?” Harry asked, concerned. He looked up and saw that Snape’s face had closed off. He began to pull away but Harry grasped his wrists, preventing him from escape.

Harry leaned forward and kissed a scar. He opened his mouth and laved the area. Snape groaned, clenching his fists. Harry’s tongue danced across the sensitive skin, worshipping, seeming to apologize for the pain that must have come with the scars.

His mouth met a nipple and he gave it due attention. Snape yanked his hands away and threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair, effectively holding his head in place.

Now that his hands were free, Harry began running them over Snape’s skin. He teased the skin under the waistband of Snape’s trousers with one hand and with the other he teases Snape’s other nipple, rolling the nub between two fingers.

Harry was suddenly airborne. He only had time to gasp with surprise before he landed hard on the couch. The sudden change in positioning, especially in his alcohol induced state, threw off his equilibrium and he lay still, dazed.

He lifted his head and saw Snape advancing across the room with a dangerous look on his face. He opened his mouth to ask what he was going to do but he didn’t get the chance. Snape swooped down and his mouth crashed hard into Harry’s.

Their tongues battled for dominance but Harry soon relinquished control, allowing Snape to control the kiss. It was hot and heavy and painful. Snape was biting at his lips, nearly drawing blood. His tongue was mapping out Harry’s mouth, running along every surface.

Harry loved it. He had always been forced to be the one in charge, the leader. The dominant partner, when it came to Ginny. But he’d never felt right when he was with her. But now, with a hard, heavy body looming over him, grinding into him, he knew that this was what he wanted. That Snape was the man for him. He wanted to be dominated, controlled. It was Snape. It had always been Snape.

Harry loved it. Snape’s hands were anything but idle. They were running along his skin, they seemed to be everywhere. His hands, his mouth, they were driving him crazy.

Snape suddenly pulled away and whispered something. Suddenly, both of them were naked; their clothing having been banished to lie on the floor with the rest. Snape pushed Harry back onto the couch and pushed his knee in between Harry’s thighs, pushing against Harry’s crotch.

Harry cried out and arched into the Snape’s thigh. Snape had other ideas though. He muttered a spell against Harry’s chest and suddenly, Harry’s arms were yanked above his head and his legs were wrenched wide apart and immobilized.

Snape sat up between Harry’s thighs and looked down at him. Harry was writhing in his bonds, whining. “Profess-ss-ss-or-r-r-r!” he groaned. “Plea-ea-ea-ea-s-s-se!”

Snape smirked. “What is it you want, Mr. Potter?” he asked, sliding his hands lightly down the Gryffindor’s sides. Harry groaned again and arched. “Ah!” he gasped. “You!” he cried out.

Snape smirked again. He took a couch pillow and shoved it under Harry’s hips. He said a spell which coated his fingers in lubrication and ran his slickened finger around Harry’s exposed pucker. Harry groaned and pushed down on the finger.

Snape ran his finger along Harry’s inner walls, searching for that spot. When he touched it Harry jolted and cried out. “Oh! Do that again!” he cried. Snape chuckled and did it again. Pushing hard on the prostrate and causing Harry to tremble and writhe in his bonds.

“Ah! Please!” Harry was sobbing. The firm pressure was causing his pleasure to spiral out of control. It was almost too much.

Snape quickly added another finger and then another; until he had four fingers pumping in and out of Harry. Harry was so delirious with pleasure that he couldn’t form coherent words. “Ah! Oh, jee- Prof-ah!”

Suddenly, Snape pulled his fingers out and said the spell again, covering his cock in lubrication. Then he lifted Harry’s hips and without further preparation, shoved himself balls deep within Harry.

Harry cried out and tried to pull away. Even with the preparation, it still burned. Tears sprang to his eyes and he gasped in pain. Snape kept still, running a hand along Harry’s flank.

“Just relax, it’ll stop hurting. Relax,” he said, softly. And Harry did, however slowly. It was a good five minutes later when he finally relaxed enough for the pain to be nearly non-existent.

He clenched around Snape experimentally and Snape gasped. He gave a short thrust before he controlled himself. Harry gasped as the thrust brought Snape’s cock up against his prostrate. “Oh,” he groaned. “Move!”

Snape thrust in again, gritting his teeth, trying to control his thrusts, trying not to hurt Harry too much. Harry gasped and arched along with Snape’s thrusts. The feeling of Snape sliding in and out was indescribable. It was so sensitive. It felt absolutely wonderful, the pleasure spiraling. But, at the same time, it felt weird. The sliding feeling was unusual. It was sensual, but it also felt strange to have something poking his insides.

The pleasure was building and both Snape and Harry were losing themselves to it. Harry couldn’t even make a noise. His head was thrown back, neck taught and he was gasping. Snape wasn’t much better. His head was hanging low, hair in a curtain on either side of his face as he pushed in hard and fast.

It was Harry who lost himself first. The pleasure suddenly reached a peak and crashed over him. His muscles clenched to the point of pain and he let out a silent scream, eyes screwed shut, as he came without any stimulation to his cock.

Snape came just moments later, the clenching of Harry’s anal muscles too much to handle. He groaned and shuddered, his seed spurting deep inside Harry.

Snape collapsed on top of Harry, panting. Harry was completely still, save for his heaving chest. They were both silent for a few moments.

“Wow,” Harry croaked, breaking the silence. Snape chuckled. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down at his lover. He leaned down and kissed Harry hard and the Gryffindor kissed back just as hard.

“So… how about we move this to the bedroom?” Harry asked, cheekily. Snape chuckled and they did just that.

…

            Snape woke up the next morning feeling warm, comfortable and sated. He kept his eyes closed, reveling in the extremely pleasant feeling.

            There was something off though, that niggled behind the fog that lay heavily over his mind. Then it hit him. There was another person lying in the bed with him.

His eyes flew open and he looked down only to slam his eyes shut again, hissing in pain. The light streaming in from the fake window seared straight through his eyes and speared his brain.

‘Damn… hangover.’ He slid his eyes open again, breathing heavily through his nose at the pain. Looking down he saw a mop of unruly black hair.

Oh. My. God. It was Potter. The stupid Gryffindor was lying on his stomach with his face pressed against Snape’s chest, who was spooning against Harry’s side. Harry’s right hand was holding Snape’s left, their fingers intertwined.

Snape smiled at Harry’s contented expression. Then his face slipped into one of intense shock. He’d just smiled!

Quickly, he yanked himself away, awakening the young, green-eyed man. “Professor?” Harry asked. Snape schooled his features into a look of disdain.

“Potter. I demand you leave my chambers at once!” Harry rose up on his elbows, ignoring the intense throbbing of a hangover headache right behind his eyes.

“Professor, what’s going on?” Snape just stood from his bed and walked to his wardrobe, ignoring the fact that he had not a stitch of clothing on him. He pulled on a pair of black cotton pajama pants then turned back around.

“Potter, I asked you to leave,” he said, coolly. Potter looked back at him, incredibly confused. He stood from the bed, proceeding toward the living room with a slight limp.

Snape suppressed a smirk and a surge of satisfaction at the limp and a rush of arousal at the sight of Potter’s tight arse.

Harry went into the living room, trying and failing to not limp as he walked through the ache in his arse. He found his trousers, shirt, shoes and socks pooled on the floor by the sofa and his robes on the floor by the front door.

The Gryffindor proceeded to pull on his clothes, feeling incredibly confused. ‘What was going on?’

As soon as he was dressed, he turned around and found that Snape was standing in his bedroom doorway, watching Harry.

“Professor, why are you making me leave?” he asked. Snape scowled. “Potter, it was just a drunken fuck. Nothing more. Now get out.”

Harry’s breath caught. He stood there, in the middle of Snape’s living room, feeling a tightening in his chest and an odd sharp stinging in his eyes. Snape sighed heavily and crossed the room in three quick strides. His large hand clamped on Potter’s neck and he led him harshly toward the door. The Potion’s Master opened the door and thrust Harry out the door. He stumbled and fell to his knees.

Snape ignored the twinge in his chest at his treatment toward Potter. “Good day, Potter.” He said, and slammed the door.

Harry felt heartbroken. His mind was blank and his chest was aching. He stayed on his knees for only a couple seconds longer. He needed to get out of there. He needed to get ready.

He walked mechanically to his rooms. He barely registered anything around him. Students were streaming past him toward the Great Hall. The Graduation Ceremony was going to start soon.

Harry reached the portrait to the second-seventh year students. “Finally.” He said, speaking the password. ‘Finally,’ had been chosen as the password by Harry for the last week of school and the other’s had all agreed. It seemed to be fitting, after all they’d gone through, it was finally almost over.

Harry walked quickly through the common room and into his own bedroom. His formal robes were lying ready for him on his bed. He stripped out of his rumpled clothing and gingerly got dressed, careful of his sore arse. He was sure he must be torn, if at least a little.

Once he was fully dressed, he left, not even bothering to attempt taming his messy hair. He ignored all his aches and pains, his headache, and just went down to the Great Hall. He entered just as the ceremony was starting. He made is way over to his row and took his place in between Draco and Ron.

The entire ceremony went by and Harry barely noticed. He received his certificate and he was applauded when it was announced that he was going after four masteries. But he barely registered any of it.

Finally, about three hours later, the ceremony was done and Harry was an official Hogwarts graduate. There was a round of applause and suddenly he had an armful of Hermione, as she threw herself at him crying.

“Harry! It’s finally over!” she cried. She pulled back and looked at him when he didn’t respond. “Harry?” she asked, studying his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?” She looked very concerned.

Harry shook his head. “I have to leave,” he said. His voice was flat, blank. “I need to get started on my masteries.” Hermione looked alarmed. “Harry, something’s wrong. Tell me!” But Harry just turned away and left Hermione alone in the Great Hall.

He made his way through the crowd, ignoring everyone. Harry made his way up to his room and changed into his muggle clothing. He had his possessions packed and in his trunk in less than five minutes. He shrunk his trunk and shoved it deep inside his pocket.

Harry didn’t look back as he left his room. He made his way down through the castle and left through the front doors, ignoring the calls for him from the Great Hall. He was outside and walking down the steps when he felt a hand tug him around.

Draco stood there, staring hard at him. “Harry, what’s going on?” he asked. Harry just shook his head. “Something happened, didn’t it?” Harry looked up at Draco through his bangs and nodded.

“I need to leave.” He mumbled. Draco nodded, not the kind of person to press. “You be at my manor in three days. We’ll start on our masteries together.” Draco said. Harry nodded. Anything to get away.

He turned and left. It was a couple weeks before he could tell Draco that the person he loved had turned him down. Draco and Lucius both supported him and helped him cope.

Harry never did go and see Hermione. She was very nosy and bossy and wouldn’t have let the subject drop if Harry asked for her too. So he kept his distance, for the time being.

It was about four weeks after graduation that he started to feel sick. He was throwing up and his magic was sporadic. And then he made an appointment with Healer Miller.
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Troubled Blessing