Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Human All the Way Through	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 10449 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

Chapter List
- 1-Human All The Way Through
- 2-Chapter Two
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- 2
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“You understand what the ritual is going to do, Harry?”
Harry wasn’t really surprised that Dumbledore had summoned him to his office one more time before the ritual. He would want to make sure that Harry understood all the implications and what he was giving up.
After last night and the way he had felt pulled on when Snape swallowed his blood, Harry was less sure that he did. But he wasn’t going to admit that. According to Dumbledore, the power of this ritual had the ability not only to destroy the Horcrux in Harry but to destroy Voldemort’s bodily form, through the pull on the magic that was linked in Severus’s Dark Mark and body. If he was reduced to a spirit again, then all they would have to do was destroy the cup and the snake, and then Voldemort would lose his hold on the world and be gone completely.
Of course he was going to go through with it.
“I understand it, sir,” he said calmly, and met Dumbledore’s eyes.
“I wish you would call me Albus, Harry.”
Harry couldn’t even call Snape by his first name with any consistency, but he smiled and tried. One way or another, tomorrow everything would change. “Sure, Albus. As I said, Sn—Severus and I discussed this. We both know that we have to live together and sleep together once a month. We both know that we’re not in love. We both know that it’s going to be unequal in the bond, that he’ll have to be the one in charge since I’m a virgin. We’re agreed on the consequences of that.”
The way the bond was going to work was one reason Harry had cut his throat last night. He reckoned it only made sense for Snape to drink from a more intimate place than he did, since they were unequal.
Dumbledore sighed in a way that seemed to take most of the air in the room. “Ah, my boy,” he whispered. “If I could have spared you this…”
“You would.” Harry didn’t have any doubt of that. “But you can’t, and I can.” He grinned when Dumbledore went on looking at him mournfully. “Come on, Albus, can you tell me that you think this is the worst thing to ever happen to me?”
“I suppose the Horcrux was the worst,” Dumbledore had to concede, his expression lightening.
Harry hesitated, then shook his head. “The Dursleys.”
Dumbledore winced. “And that was my fault as well.”
“It’s over now,” said Harry firmly. With all the attacks Voldemort had been launching in the past two years, Dumbledore had determined it wasn’t safe for Harry to return to the Muggle world. The only times Harry had even been outside Hogwarts had been in battle. He hadn’t seen the Dursleys since he was fifteen, which was perfectly all right with him. “And anyway, this doesn’t even count on my personal top ten list of horrible things.”
“What are those, then?”
Seeing the way Dumbledore’s eyes had begun to twinkle, Harry obediently listed them off on his fingers. “The Dursleys, finding out I was a Horcrux, losing Sirius, the basilisk, having people think I was crazy, seeing Voldemort come back to life, seeing Professor Quirrell burn to death, the time I thought I’d lost Ron over the bloody Tournament, Dementors, almost getting killed by that vampire last month.”
Dumbledore had allowed himself to be soothed and cheered. Harry knew that was part of his role in the war, and he didn’t mind. He understood his role so well, and even though the adults around him tried to think of him as a child…well, he hadn’t been a child in years. He did know.
And he chose. He was nineteen years old now. More than enough of age to choose.
“I will be there, of course, at the ritual. To make sure nothing goes wrong.”
Harry felt his face immediately burn like a forest fire. “You aren’t going to watch…”
“No, of course not. I am not such a voyeur.” Dumbledore smiled at him. “But I will be guarding the spells from the outside, to make sure that the flow of magic is as it should be. And I’ll stand vigil.”
Harry nodded, letting his paranoia retreat to a normal level. “Ron and Hermione want to join you, si—Albus.”
“They will be most welcome.”
*
It is like a demented parody of a wedding.
That was the thought Severus couldn’t prevent as he watched Potter walk towards him, clad in dark and formal robes appropriate for a good many occasions, but not usually worn to a wedding. There was only a small touch of color on the robes, a lining of gold and red on the cuffs and hem where dress robes would have lace. Severus snorted a little. He supposed the boy needed some outlet.
Then Potter lifted his eyes, and Severus caught his breath at the force behind that gaze. Those were not the eyes of a boy.
No, they were the eyes of someone who had chosen his fate, and even if it wasn’t the one he would have chosen with every option unconstrained and free, Severus still felt something relax in his chest. There was—merit to being chosen by someone like that.
There was no moon overhead, and it was only because of the small floating lights Albus had conjured along the path Potter was taking that Severus, waiting next to the ritual circle, could see at all. Behind Potter walked Weasley and Granger, hand in hand. They both wore student robes, with Gryffindor ties. Their faces were pale and solemn. They touched Potter’s shoulders before he crossed into the ritual circle and whispered something, one into each ear.
Potter reached back and grasped their hands. He was smiling.
The smile made Severus’s throat ache. He saw Albus lean in and say something to Potter, too, which Potter nodded to but didn’t smile for. That made Severus feel obscurely better.
Potter faced him, nodded again, and stepped across the boundary of the ritual circle.
There was an immediate blaze of power, waking from the circle as if all the blood they had spilled there over the past month had suddenly returned and caught on fire. Severus blinked at the sullen red glow, shocked. It took the form of large, pointed flames, burning so slowly that he could see them as individual peaks, but also continually blinking in and out, taking different places around the circle.
“That—was not supposed to happen,” Severus said, and knew his voice was hoarse.
Potter looked a little wide-eyed, but a second later, he shrugged and began to unbutton his robes. “I think it’s probably because of the power,” he said. “The fact that we both have bits of someone else’s soul in us, and the willingness, and the magic we have.”
Severus could only make sense of part of that ramble, given that the ritual had been designed to destroy unwanted connections to someone else and that of course they were both powerful wizards. “Will can affect things like this.”
Potter turned unblinking green eyes to him as he shed the robes and dropped them to the ground. Underneath, he wore a white shirt and his pants, and nothing else. “Of course it can. You know it can.”
“I—did not realize there would be so much.”
Potter studied him for a second, and then his face softened. Stepping forwards, he rested his hand on Severus’s chest. It was unfair that he was so steady when Severus could feel his own breath wheezing. “You really didn’t believe I was willing.”
“No.”
“And you were.”
“Yes.”
Potter nodded and then pulled off the shirt. Thin, shiny battle-scars caught the light of the flames and the blurred reflections of the conjured ones Albus had burning outside the circle—thank Merlin the flames shielded them from any possibility that Albus or Potter’s friends could see inside—and traced his chest down to his waist. Severus caught himself looking for where they vanished into the band of Potter’s pants.
“Let me show you how willing I am,” Potter said, and tossed his glasses aside.
When he leaned up to kiss Severus, something broke free in Severus at last, and he knew, from the sudden bright gold of the flames around him, that the ritual had truly begun. But by then, he was too caught up in the taste of the man beneath him to care overmuch.
*
Strangely, at least for the first few moments, Harry thought he was actually more powerful than Snape.
He was the one who’d had friends escort him to this. Even Dumbledore had followed him. Snape had been waiting all alone, as he had been most of his life, and he hadn’t had the words Ron and Hermione had whispered to Harry.
We are always with you.
Nor had Dumbledore told Severus that everything would be all right. Harry hadn’t actually needed that reassurance, but he thought Severus would have appreciated it if Dumbledore had told him.
And then it occurred to Harry, as Severus dropped them both to the grass and kissed him so thoroughly that it was like being swallowed again, that he had the chance to correct that oversight.
“It will be all right,” he whispered, when Severus had lifted his head and started to strip off his own ritual robes with frantic hands.
Severus paused and stared at him with narrowed eyes, his hands freezing. Harry smiled, and tried to show compassion instead of pity in it. He wasn’t really experienced at showing Sn—Severus either one, but he must have succeeded, because finally his bondmate-to-be nodded and started pulling at his robes again.
Then they were off, and Harry blinked a little. He’d always thought of Severus as someone who was practically gaunt, because that was the way black made him look, and it wasn’t like he wore any other color, especially tonight. But he was actually as slender and tough as a Quidditch player, and he has fascinating scars.
There was a golden one on his belly, right above his navel. Harry reached out to touch it.
Severus caught his wrist in one hand, and shook his head. Harry grinned and lay back, stretching, letting Severus see all the scars he wanted. Harry wasn’t exactly proud of them, but on the other hand, they said he had survived. He was prouder showing them off than he would have been telling the stories.
Severus leaned forwards and traced one of Harry’s scars. Harry looked at him lazily. It was the scar that he’d got when he and Dumbledore had destroyed the diadem. Riddle’s soul had conjured something like a snake that had latched onto Harry’s chest and tried to drag his heart out of it.
Harry had stopped the thing.
“You have been eaten,” Severus said slowly. “Gnawed on by the world.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “I don’t recall promising you anything but my arse that was untarnished.”
Severus’s expression darkened so fast that Harry thought he would pull his hand away, and he regretted saying it. But instead, he leaned forwards, bracing himself with his hands on Harry’s chest, and stared into Harry’s eyes. Harry stared back, getting more and more breathless, and not because of the weight.
“I know we spoke about you asking my permission for certain things,” Severus said dangerously.
“Yes?” Harry’s voice was so quiet it was hard to hear himself in the rustle of the grass and the soft crackling sound from the flames that danced around the edges of the circle.
“I may not give it for all of them.”
Before Harry could ask what he meant, Severus bent down and kissed him, and this time was savage enough and hopeful enough that Harry allowed himself to be swept away by it, and to stop worrying about the future.
*
It was easy to move forwards now, swept and tossed by the magic. It was so easy that Severus was easing slick fingers into Harry’s arse before he thought about it.
Harry was so hoarse beneath him by then that it made Severus’s hands tingle. And I’ve barely touched him. What will it be like when I get deeper?
The scars that twined around Harry’s shoulders and arms and chest and legs were so unexpected that Severus kept having to lower his mouth to lick and suck on them. And Harry responded to that, too, arching his back—Severus had had him turn on his knees—and making soft noises that sometimes wandered into the realm of words.
“Yes…you can touch…want…yes…”
But still he never begged.
He will, by the time I’m done, Severus thought, and pulled his hand out fast enough that Harry didn’t have time to make a noise mourning its loss. But by then, Severus was rubbing the potion, an oil that should prevent any pain for Harry, into his cock, and his eyes were fastened on the profile of Harry’s turned face, the fluttering lashes and the way he breathed into one of his own hands.
“Put your hands on the ground,” Severus said, working his voice through a web of thickness in his throat. “You will need them to support you when I thrust.”
Harry nodded, dazedly, and slid his hands into place, gripping dirt as if it were bonds. The image of him actually tied up dizzied Severus for a moment, and he had to steady himself before he settled his own hands on Harry’s hips and slid forwards.
There was such a flare of magic when they joined that Severus felt the all-consuming heat strike up his body and dance around his head. He opened his eyes and found it was true, small, crackling flickers of red that struck and whipped at the air around his ears.
He shook his head in wonder and slid further in, whispering, “We will be doing this again.”
Harry, being Harry, found some will that wasn’t consumed by the ritual and his first time feeling such pleasure, and said, “Once a month…I know…”
That is not what I meant, Severus thought, but between his body’s demands and the trouble he had shaping his voice into words, he could either speak or show Harry what he meant with his cock, not both.
He chose his cock.
*
Harry had never expected the music he heard through their coupling to be his own heartbeat.
Oh, he heard the grunts and the slaps of skin, and his own gasps, and the way that Severus was groaning above him, although sometimes the sounds he made were muffled against Harry’s shoulder. But it was Harry’s heartbeat that was loudest and closest of all.
He felt it when Severus grabbed his hip and turned him a little to face one point of the circle, by the leap in his throat that the flames might fade and expose them to Dumbledore and Ron and Hermione.
But nothing happened, and his heart calmed down a little—until Severus slipped and did something, or twisted, or another motion that had him touching his cock exactly where Harry needed it most, and then Harry cried out while his heartbeat soared and rang in his ears. Yes, this, this was what he wanted most of all right now, what he needed.
It was so warm. It was so close. It was so thick. Harry sank back on his heels and interrupted Severus’s neat rhythm, because he wanted more of that feeling of something stabbing him to pleasure.
“The ritual—”
“There’s no requirement we—do this a certain way.”
Harry was very impressed with himself for getting all those words out, and then he lost himself again in the rush as he fucked himself on Severus, over his lap. Every motion they made had an echo in his heartbeat. There were sudden surges where Severus repositioned himself on Harry’s back, and there were sudden moments of pain as Severus dug his nails or his teeth in, and there was such an unexpected pleasure that it was hard to breathe.
And all those things were true all through his body. All the way through.
Harry knew at last that he wouldn’t come back from this, he wouldn’t calm down, and he clenched his arse because he wanted to share the sensation. Severus went so still above him that Harry’s next thrust backwards knocked him over and off his back. But Harry followed him down, spreading his legs and widening his hole and doing everything he could to keep him inside, to keep him doing that.
And the moment hit when he came, and he could hear nothing but the frenzy of his heart’s drum, and the pleasure crashed over him and hit him, and he was feeling so good.
*
Severus had never imagined he could feel the way he did now.
It wasn't something he had wanted to feel. It wasn't something he had wanted to do, this frantic grasping at Harry's back and sides and the mutter in his lips that was too much of the brat's name and not enough of his own pleasure, and the twisting of his hips that had started because he couldn't imagine not sharing some of what he felt with the boy.
The brat. Harry. Potter.
All the different names poured through his head, all the different words, and Severus gasped and felt himself stir in blatant interest. A thrust, and another thrust, and Harry was giving out beneath him, giving up, giving in and leaning on Severus in a way that made him lurch forwards before he knew what he'd done and sink his nails into Harry's shoulders like talons.
There were concerns, worries, that they weren't performing the ritual correctly. Severus could feel them pressing on the edges of his mind, worrying and tearing, because they always did. He was never alone, but walked in the company of his worries.
They vanished in the rhythm that overcame them.
Severus thrust up, once, again, and then slower, a tease, even though Harry had already finished and there was really nothing to tease him with now. Harry moaned obligingly anyway, and Severus felt as though someone was scooping his heart out and offering it on a platter.
But he got the pleasure, and Harry's complete, soaked vulnerability, in turn.
Harry tilted his head back, flopped it onto Severus's shoulder, and made a kissing motion with his lips.
That was the end for Severus, that and the impertinent squeeze the brat gave at the same time. Severus tumbled, his face pressed against sweat-slick skin but his hips moving through the last of it, anyway, giving what he had to give, his heart spinning through space.
The landing was a jolt, brought back to him as Harry stretched and rippled in front of him. Then he moved forwards, and Severus was out for the first time in what felt like hours. The guardian walls of flame curved inwards around them now and pulsed like a drumbeat.
“Did—did we complete the ritual?”
Severus kissed the back of Harry’s neck and spent a moment stroking his muscles, not able to answer that question right away. He was—overwhelmed. He just wanted to touch skin and stare at the wrinkles that formed as Harry tried to sit back on his heels. He murmured, “Be still, Harry.”
To his astonishment, Harry did that, leaning backwards on him and closing his eyes. Severus glanced at the flames and wondered if Albus and Harry’s friends were anxious on the other side.
It didn’t matter if they were. They could bloody well wait.
Severus cradled Harry back against him and moved the back of his hand across Harry’s cheeks and nose and eyebrows. Harry stirred, but only to turn his head a little more into the stroke. Severus swallowed. Although it might have been wiser to wait, he couldn’t stop the words from sliding out. “I do not want to give you permission to have another lover.”
Harry said nothing, and Severus thought perhaps he hadn’t heard and the dangerous moment had slipped past in a way he hadn’t anticipated. But then Harry whispered, “You feel like that right now because the bond is new and not settled. Let’s not say anything hasty yet. You might feel different later.”
Severus snarled a little, because those were the wise, mature words he should have spoken, and he did not like Harry saying them. Nor did he like the way Harry inevitably began to separate from him as he regathered his senses, or the way that they seemed to flow back into their own bodies and away from one joined being as the moments went on.
“I know what I am saying.”
“You want to be saddled with someone who has James Potter’s face?” Harry asked, without looking back at him, and stroked Severus’s arms. “You have to give yourself time to think about it—”
Severus seized Harry’s throat and pulled his head back, ignoring his thick gasp of surprise. “Does that mean you wish to part?”
*
Harry knew what he should say. He should say that he didn’t expect Severus to be capable of loving him. And he wanted someone to love him. If he ended up being the one in love with Severus and it couldn’t be returned, that would be agony. So he had to hold back and speak wise words for his own sake, as much as Severus’s.
But the blaze in Severus’s eyes would have hardened him again if he hadn’t been so exhausted. So he swallowed, and met his fate head-on the way he had when he heard about the bonding, and said, “No.”
“Good. Good.”
I won’t ever tell him he sounds like a werewolf with a bone just now, Harry thought, and knew that thought was at least as wise as any words he could speak. He settled back against Severus and then thought of something. He arched his head to the side to look at Severus’s Dark Mark. It had to be to the side, because Severus wasn’t about to let him actually move out of his lap or turn around.
The Mark was gone. By squinting, Harry thought he could make out a faint outline where it would have been, but he could have been fooling himself. He traced one finger over the bare skin and sighed a little, then raised his hand to his forehead.
Severus’s hand was there before his, rising so swiftly that Harry almost flinched before it landed and he felt how soft it was. Severus traced his fingers in random patterns, and then said, in a voice as soft as the touch, “Your scar is gone.”
Harry nodded and closed his eyes. That had to mean the ritual had worked. Dumbledore had explained how the scar was the visible sign of the Horcrux inside him, and except with something like the ritual, there was no way to get rid of it.
Or a basilisk fang or Fiendfyre. There had been a time in the war when Harry had been desperate enough to consider those options, but Dumbledore had made him calm down and promise that he would never use either one of them to try and get rid of the Horcrux.
Now, sitting in Severus’s lap with the gentle flicker of flames around him, those moments seemed a thousand miles away.
“He is not entirely dead,” Severus murmured.
“No. He’s a spirit, and that gives us more time to find a way to get the cup and snake.” Harry thought of something, and chuckled a little. He ignored the way Severus stiffened behind him, since he was going to explain. “Dumbledore thought he might take shelter in Nagini’s body, the way he apparently did when he was a spirit before. That will just make it easier for us to kill him if he does, when we kill her.”
“That is true.” Severus traced a hand over his hip. Then he said, “Did you realize, in the book, that there was no strict procedure for after the ritual?”
Harry blinked. “No. I mean—I thought we needed to put on our robes and dismiss the flames and go back out there to show them that it worked?”
“The flames themselves do not dissipate until sunrise,” said Severus, and leaned Harry gently forwards until his knees touched the ground. Then he ran his hands over Harry’s hips and up onto his back, in firm circles that Harry thought was some kind of massage.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed as he felt a stirring beneath his waist. “I think we should—”
“Stay here and get ready for another round?” Severus nipped the back of his neck. “That is the only suggestion I intend to lend a sympathetic ear to at this point.”
Harry laughed and reached back with one arm to loop it around Severus’s neck. “That’s what I was going to suggest. You need to learn how to listen.” And he gave Severus a kiss over his shoulder to show he meant it and didn’t mean it at the same time.
Some private time with his new bonded sounded surprisingly good.
*
I need not fear anything from him again.
As Severus stroked and coaxed Harry back to life, and listened to his soft moans, he wanted to snort at himself. That sounded as if he expected some kind of miracle from their relationship. He did not. He only thought that there would be nothing unforgivable between them, which was not something he had ever thought before.
They had been allies, but not friends. Severus had always hesitated around Harry. What if one of them said something that damaged their ability to work together?
But now…
Now he knew they would hurt each other, but they could forgive. They could come back together. They had seen each other as human, and it was impossible to go back to seeing each other in the distorted fashion they had been using again.
That was…
That was special.
And for now, in the wake of future visions of coming back together, Severus thought he would see if he could make Harry simply come again.
Harry gasped as Severus touched him, and he was already almost hard again. With a smile that was less like a smirk than he had expected, Severus kissed his shoulder.
Let the world wait. They had saved it tonight. That was enough for right now, more than most people could have managed.
Let us have this.
And it was not a plea, but a desire, one they could both answer.
The End.
*
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Human All the Way Through