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Until Last Night	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 5849 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm not making any money off of it. If I did, it would be porn, and I'd be rich, got it? Good.

Chapter List
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- 2-ii
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- 4-iv
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IV.

...and he got it, but nor until several hours later, with the predawn light casting vibrant colors and strange shadows across Severus' alabaster skin. He tried to memorize every detail, devour every possible centimeter of flesh, hyper-aware of the fact that Severus was a stubborn man, not likely to be swayed into letting him stay over something so simple as a few rounds of incredible sex. He convinced himself that he should be grateful to receive at least this much – to be permitted to hold him after their intercourse, to kiss him and feel him kiss back, to enjoy that level of intimacy with a man he now realized he never thought he stood a chance in hell of having even a taste of.

But, eventually, the dawn came to an end, the sun rose high in the sky, and Harry could no longer pretend their night together would never end. He had to get up, bathe, dress, and go home to his lonely house – better to do that now, before Severus outright told him to go. He kissed Snape one last time – his forehead, his cheekbone, then his lips. "I love you," he whispered. "So much more than I realized, or than you'll ever believe, for whatever that may be worth." He got up, though grudgingly; his muscles ached from their furious passion. "I'm going to take a shower, then I'll get out of your hair."

Severus laid there for a long time, feeling the lack of Harry's body beside him poignantly. It was ludicrous – one brilliant night with a man half his age, nothing more. And yet, he found he wanted to believe those words. Harry had come all the way here, just to see him. He couldn't ignore that, could he? A man didn't travel halfway across the world just for sex, did he? Maybe he did. Severus didn't have any experience in such matters, but, he had to admit, it was, by far, the best sex he'd ever had. He tried to sit up, but it took him quite a while, and every muscle between his shoulders and knees ached. He fumbled into the kitchen to put on a pot of tea, too sore and too exhausted to worry immediately about his current state of nudity. He sat with his cup blearily at the table, which he now realized was just big enough for two, and tried to sort out his tangled emotions about last night.

Harry took quite a long shower, no doubt delaying his exit, but after three cups of tea all Severus had managed to establish was that he hadn't really felt alive since the war ended, not fighting to survive Nagini's venom, and not for a moment since...until last night.

When Harry came out into the kitchen, dressed, but with wet, unkempt hair and skin flushed from the recent shower, only then did Severus realize he had his answer: that Harry made him feel alive, that life without him in it lacked a certain degree of immediacy.

Harry stood breathless in the kitchen doorway. Snape sitting naked at the kitchen table with a cup of tea was a sight he would happily spend the rest of his life getting used to, if only the older man would let him. His chest ached to know he'd come all this way just for sex (as wonderful as that sex had been), when sex was only one expression of what he really wanted from Severus Snape. Suddenly, he was an eleven year old boy again, looking up the long tables of the Great Hall, seeing a dark clad figure, and being instantly fascinated. He'd spent so much of his life actively forgetting that moment, before Snape picked on him in his first class ever, before he'd saved his life, before they'd both nearly died, and before they'd gone their separate ways. He didn't know what to say. There was no way to explain the emotional roller coaster Snape put him through just by existing – least of all when the man had already made himself clear that one night was all he was going to get, and only barely granted him that. "So, uhm..." 'Would it be pushing it to ask for one more kiss before I go?' he wondered. He didn't get the chance to ask.

"...do you cook well?" Severus asked rather abruptly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Do you cook well?" Severus repeated calmly, as if he were fully clothed, and it were a perfectly reasonable question under the current circumstances. "I was considering permitting you to stay for breakfast, if you can make pancakes. The American variety are not quite the same, you see."

"Pancakes are easy!" Harry declared. "No problem!" Anything, to stay a little longer.

"Then I leave you to not burn down my home while I shower."

Severus didn't get his pancakes for another three hours – two of which Harry spent trying to locate the nearest grocery, and the necessary ingredients. After such an active night, Snape fell asleep waiting.

Harry risked kissing him awake. Snape responded to the kiss before consciousness fully sifted in.

"Breakfast is ready," Harry said.

"What time is it?" Severus asked.

"Two in the afternoon," Harry grinned playfully.

"Nngh. No wonder I feel as though I haven't eaten in a week," he answered frankly as he sat up. "Your pancakes had best not be a disappointment."

They didn't. In fact, Severus thought they might well be the best pancakes he'd ever tasted – but a lazy day after a brilliant fuck on a tropical island did wonders for one's appetite. And, as he'd slept, he'd dreamed. The dreams were of fragmented moments, tiny instants of perfection, like waking up in the morning to find the other half of the bed still warm, another man's scent on his pillow, going into the kitchen to discover someone had already put the kettle on, a meal on the table that didn't come out of a box. Snape could cook, mind you, but for one, it seemed scarcely worth the effort.

Awake now, he couldn't help but feel the lingering echo of warm lips against his own. He didn't comment on it, and Harry didn't dare bring it up. They didn't say much as they ate, and afterward, as Harry washed the dishes at a pace so slow Severus was curious to see how long Harry intended to delay on two plates and two places worth of silver.

"With the time difference," Severus said, breaking the long silence, "it is already quite late in Britain. Considering all of the port keys you will have to take to get back, it will be the darkest pit of night by the time you arrive."

"...I guess that's true," Harry answered, doing the mental calculation of the time zone difference.

"Perhaps, it would be advisable for you to stay on."

Harry's pulse raced at the permission, but he didn't dare take it for more than the practicality that it was – though he wanted it to be so much more. "For the rest of the day, then?" he asked, finding his hands shaking as he stared out the window. He startled when the water running over his hands turned off. He could feel the heat of Snape's body directly behind him, and could scarcely breathe.

"Perhaps," Severus answered cryptically.

"..I...if it's...not too much of a bother," Harry choked out. Why couldn't Snape ever just tell him what he was thinking.

"It's quite a bother," Snape answered. "But, it may be that I have spent far too much time, of late, somewhat under-bothered."

Harry turned about, finding himself pinned against the sink by the tall, dark-haired man. Snape's piercing gaze went straight to his groin. "What is it you're trying to say?" he asked, eager for an answer that he was equally as afraid of receiving.

"Gryffindors," Snape scoffed. "Not an ounce of subtlety."

"Severus," Harry complained.

"Stay," Severus said, hovering too close, breath ghosting over the shell of Harry's ear. "I won't tell anyone your name. Who would I tell?"

Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, knotted up in his chest. 'This must be what a miracle feels like,' he thought, and that was the end of his thinking. He curled his fists in Snape's linen shirt, pulled him close, kissed him passionately, and impatiently tore the shirt open and cast it carelessly away.

Severus gasped at his eagerness, but offered no protests – not at his ruined shirt, nor the equally as ruined trousers. He didn't complain about the mark Harry left on his throat, the rough abuse his teeth performed on his nipples, and he had not a word of protest when Harry bent him right over the sink and fucked him in front of the open window. He didn't try to hold in his moans, and he didn't complain when their afternoon passions found their way to the couch. He was still sore from the previous night, but that did nothing to dampen his arousal and it certainly didn't prevent him from enjoying Harry's continued affections. It might have seriously hindered his ability to walk, but he was confident, in his lust-addled brain, that the ability to walk was severely overrated anyway, by comparison to Harry's near-constant confessions of love – confessions which, Severus was surprised to discover, he very nearly believed.

"Stay," Severus groaned as Harry pounded him into the couch. "Stay," as he drilled into his prostate. "Sta-ay..." as Harry palmed his tense cock. "Staaaaayyyy!!!!" as he came, spindly legs wrapped about Harry's back. "Stay with me," blearily and half asleep, as the rampant sex took its toll.

"For as long as you're willing to keep me," Harry answered heavily as he buried his face into Snape's throat, just as unable to move for all their excitement. "Or forever, whichever comes first."

As Severus drifted off into a deep sleep, sated and heavy in the late afternoon, he thought their names was a small price to pay for something this raw, this real, this much like falling in love.

~The End~
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Until Last Night