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Advances	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11340 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Potter universe belong to JK Rowling. I am making no money from this.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
CH5 AN: Thank you Book_addict_89 (and Thunderbird) for the love for that one line scene. I toyed with adding stuff to it but always came back to leaving it as it was, as anything else would have detracted from the impact that single line had. And I thought it was hilarious! Book_addict_89 – in response to your question: yes. Usually I don't reply so clearly, but there you go.
Thunderbird, I've always thought intent should matter in magic. And, it is kinda canon too, as Harry HAD to face his death without preparing to defend himself. He had to be willing to die. After all, in life, you can do the right thing for the wrong reason, and the wrong thing for the right reason. A friend of mine, who freely admits to consistently making bad decisions, even acknowledged recently (when we were discussing it) that just because a decision/event is bad doesn't mean the outcome has to be. Indeed, isn't that the entire point of Changes?! The horcrux isn't a major thing until the end. After all, we know it is only needed if Snape dies.
As we're into a bit of philosophy, it's kind of accepted that most Death Eaters can't cast Patronuses. Well, why? If you love torture (as say, Bellatrix does) surely remembering that would be a happy memory to allow a Patronus to form? If not, does that mean the magic itself knows what constitutes 'happy' (and decides what can be counted as a happy memory?). If so, then magic has some element of free will and sentience. In which case, should all these magical beings force it to do what they want?!
And that is quite enough head twisting for now. SP
Chapter 5 - Should I Leave It On The Inside?
After discussing various options, and making sure they knew of the curse attached to saying the Dark Lord's name, Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone to Grimmauld Place and settled in there. It was infinitely safer and pleasanter in the house (even with a crochety house elf hurling abuse) than it would have been outside.
Time passed surprisingly peacefully; well, other than Ron's passive aggressive complaints. And since working out who RAB was and hearing Kreacher's tale, they were even beginning to like the old elf. And they were certainly liking his cooking. At least, Harry enjoyed it when he ate, but felt dangerously nauseated at unexpected moments.
August 18^th was the full moon, so Harry knew he would have to make a hazardous trip to Hogsmeade by the tenth at the latest if he was going to have any Wolfsbane potion to take. He was glad, then, when Kreacher apparated suddenly one day, holding a writhing Mundungus Fletcher by an ear.
“Here's the thief who stole Master Regulus' locket!” the creature announced standing on the table so that he could keep hold of the trickster, and glowering at the man who was holding an armful of potions, all coloured like abalone shell.
“What's the bleeding idea?!” Dung asked, then took in Harry. He gulped and shifted backwards. “Look, Sirius would never have cared what happened to any Black stuff.”
Fletcher suddenly found himself with a wand pointing directly between his eyes. “You don't get to decide what Sirius would have wanted,” Harry snarled, yellow eyes glowing, “And honestly, I don't care about your petty pilfering. But you took a locket one time whilst you were here. Where is it?”
“Look, I ...”
Harry growled and pushed his face close to Fletcher's. “Where. Is. It?” he repeated slowly and clearly, a very dangerous tone in his voice. He sniffed the man, and both he and the wolf recoiled at the unwashed smell oozing from every pore of their captive.
“All right, all right! It's here, ennit! It's in my pocket...” Mundungus wriggled out of Kreacher's grip, apparently innocently, and dug into his pocket. He seemed to be struggling to get something free and the four watchers waited quietly, eyes fixed on the pocket. Drawing out his wand from the unobserved pocket, he grinned and began to turn on the spot. Hermione realised what he was doing and cried out, grabbing at him with desperate fingers. Ron yelled and waved his arms frantically to distract Dung. And, in the confusion and the movement and the noise, one of the potions the thief had been holding opened and spilt brightly shining fluid onto Harry's skin.
Harry stared down at his arm. And then the skin began to bubble.
The youth screamed and clutched where he had been wetted. Dropping to the floor, he curled up and shrieked, eyes screwed up against the pain.
Kreacher grabbed ahold of Mundungus and bellowed, “What has the thief done to Master Harry? You fix him right now! Right now! You fix him!” Kreacher shook Dung's ear for good measure.
“OW! You're a bleedin' menace you are!”
“What have you done to him?!” Hermione screamed. She dropped to her knees and looked at Harry's arm. It was blistered with angry looking pustules.
“What's in that potion?” she demanded, glaring up at the short man.
“It's 'armless,” Dung said, “It's just a standard anti-pregnancy potion.”
“Standard?!” Hermione shrieked. “Does that look like a standard reaction to you?!”
“It is!” Fletcher shouted back, “It just has Silverbush added to hide the recognisable stink!”
“Silver...?” Hermione choked out, looking down at the werewolf still whimpering on the floor.
Kreacher, who had been told about Harry's 'fluffy half', tugged hard on Mundungus' ear, forcing the visitor to sit down. He stayed on the table, breathing rather heavily, and muttering dire warnings of what would happen should the man even think about moving.
Quickly casting the spell to call her bag to her, which had slid off a chair in the confusion, Hermione dug inside. Finally hooking her fingers around a small bottle she drew it out and began spilling this new liquid over Harry's raw flesh.
It took only a moment, and then the redness faded. Harry stopped yelling, and the room was filled with an almost painful silence.
“L-look,” Dung stammered into the quiet, “'e should never 'ave reacted like that. 'onest.”
Hermione, still checking she had applied essence of dittany everywhere needed, managed to ask, “Why are you selling an anti-pregnancy potion?”
Fletcher chuckled. “It's good, ennit? Any silly bleeder who comes to me wanting a potion to protect from You-Know-Who gets that. I've even had some silly sods try and ask me under Veritaserum, and of course I said it would protect 'em. I just didn't say what from!”
“You asshole,” Harry panted, tears shining on his cheeks. “How many women who were expecting a child have you made miscarry? You absolute asshole!” He got up, holding his stomach as it knotted painfully. Feeling as though he understood all too well what any woman might feel, Harry pulled back his fist and punched Dung with all his strength. As that included werewolf induced anger, it was a good hit.
“Ow! You little bastard!” Mundungus protested, but at Kreacher's warning tug on his ear, he stopped complaining.
Harry leaned towards Hermione and offered her his now whole arm to help pull her up. Gratefully he hugged her, whispering his thanks softly into her ear. She had realised at once what it was that had affected him so badly – the addition of Silverbush to the potion made it dangerous for werewolves. Harry was grateful, once again, that the cleverest witch of his age had agreed to stay with him and help in their ridiculous quest.
The two settled into chairs at the table; neither noticed Ron's narrowing eyes as he watched the woman he loved sit next to the black haired boy.
“Now, Dung,” Harry ordered, voice a little hoarse from screaming, “tell us about the locket...”
***
With Fletcher gone – and not a minute too soon! - Harry was finally able to focus on Hogsmeade and getting to the Shrieking Shack. He knew he should have been considering how to get the locket out of Umbridge's clutches, but his own personal issue was looming large. Oddly, the wolf seemed distant, almost distraught, and Harry found himself missing the shared moments of humour between them.
Knowing it was going to cause an argument, Harry announced the following evening, “I need to get my Wolfsbane tonight.” He saw the light of battle come into Hermione's eyes and held up his arm, still privately astounded at its lack of scarring, “I know, I know. But I have to take this risk; I won't risk biting and turning anyone here.”
Brown eyes worried, Hermione at last nodded. “What's the plan?”
“Dumbledore's...” his throat wanted to close around the name, but he pushed past it, “his brother owns the Hog's Head and the head said he was going to write to him, back before...” He cleared his throat once again, “If I apparate near that I have at least got an ally if the place is swarming with Death Eaters. Hopefully it won't be and I'll be able to sneak into the shack and get the potion I need.”
Ron, who had clearly not considered Harry's fluffy problem before this point, suddenly asked, “Hang on, who's making this potion for you?”
He saw the unhappy expression on the younger man's face and exploded. “SNAPE! You're trusting him?! Didn't you see what he did to George?! Or has that slipped your mind? All cos my family isn't fucking important!”
The wolf stepped out of his self imposed isolation and came growling to the fore. Eyes yellow, face pointed, teeth sharp, Harry snarled, “This is about bigger things! We can trust Snape. We do trust him.” Luckily for Ron the rest of what was said was delivered as a series of barks and growls.
Hermione intervened. “Look at him, Ron. Can't you see he needs the potion? And, he can trust Snape. I know it seems hard to believe, especially after what happened, but he wouldn't hurt Harry.”
“No, just my fucking family!” Ron roared.
Clutching at the red-head, she pulled him away as Harry stalked past, fingers spread and tense, as though there were claws instead of nails at the end of each digit. His jaw worked violently, but he forced down the wolf enough to resist killing Ron. But he was thinking about it – he was imagining his fingers sinking into the soft skin of the neck, digging in and pulling out the wind pipe. He had to escape before the red-head met his inner beast.
He stormed up to his room and then quickly left, banging the door as he did so.
***
In the Shrieking Shack, Harry felt almost calm. Despite his own awful memories of this place, he could smell Severus and it made him horny and depressed at the same time. Under the loose floorboard were seven vials of potion wrapped in a piece of parchment.
“Take care, sweet idiot! Keep reminding your fluffy half who's boss,” the note read and Harry smiled even as tears spilled from his eyes.
He pulled out the items and transferred them to his pockets. That done, he placed a note of his own in the secret hidey hole and reluctantly stood up. Sniffing deeply, he filled his senses with the teacher, trying to re-create the man's actions from the scent he picked up.
This place that smelt of Severus, he didn't want to leave it. The aroma was strongest at the loose floorboard, and he wanted to stay there; he really didn't want to go. Certainly not when the alternative was returning to Grimmauld Place and another argument with Ron.
However, now that he had a good sense of where the room was in the Shack, he would be able, in future, to apparate straight to it, rather than into the village and walk up.
Hating how much he missed Severus, and knowing there was little chance of their having a chance to meet up any time soon, Harry looked around the room. He still hated this space, because of what had happened here, but with Severus' scent, it couldn't hurt him in the same way. Drawing in great lungfuls, trying to fill his whole body and soul with Snape, he returned to his house.
Inside it was quiet; Ron, presumably had pissed off somewhere to sulk, which meant Harry could hurry to his room, his nose still fill of Severus' smell, and wank ferociously. Which was exactly what he intended to do...
Closing the door to his room and bolting it, he stripped and lay on his back on the bed. He let his thighs fall apart and his eyelids droop. One hand roamed over his chest, rubbing a nipple so sensitive that he gasped and arched up, desperate for more. His cock swelled as he became more aroused. His nipples were tight buds on his chest, aching and sore, and yet he wanted nothing more than to be touched there, to feel strong slim fingers twist and pull at his needy flesh...
Harry moaned as he suited the action to the thought: pinching his nubs almost painfully and squeezing them between finger and thumb. His legs shifted restlessly, wanting to spread and expose his empty channel. He needed to be possessed so much!
Panting a little, he left his throbbing nipples alone and stroked over his shifting stomach and on to his thighs. Gritting his teeth he ignored his cock; he would torment himself a little, just a little, before he touched that hot hard length.
Using his palms, he stroked over the delicate skin of his inner thighs and nudged his legs further apart. Now he could rub at his entrance, delighting in the wetness there, and the ease with which one digit slid into his passage. He groaned helplessly, wanting it to be Severus inside him like this, wanting more than just one finger, wanting that thick hard prick that stretched him and pounded his body until he knew nothing any more: well, nothing other than that he needed to come.
And speaking of...
He used his unoccupied hand to curl around his dick and begin pumping. The shaft was already slick with his fluid and he had no trouble gripping and handling his hardness. Between his legs he pressed in and out, whilst his other hand stroked and tugged in rhythm to the feeling within him.
It was wonderful, but not as wonderful as being with Severus.
Harry moaned as he imagined Severus doing these things to him: that finger inside him was Snape's, and it was going to tease him by not touching his bundle of nerves; the grip on his cock belonged to the teacher, who was going to school him in the ways of sex.
Biting his lip, Harry bucked up and cried out, body tingling with the pleasure coursing through it, ass clutching again and again at the digit invading it.
He sank back and drew in shaky breaths.
- When are we going to see him again, little cub? -
I wish I knew.
***
When the night of the full moon came, Harry settled into his bedroom and handed his wand to Hermione for safe keeping. Ron noticed, and took it as a slight that the black haired boy automatically gave the magical item to the witch rather than to the wizard.
Now though, he lay on his bed, naked, and missed Severus desperately. He rubbed his stomach idly, aware of the ache in his belly that had been with him for a week now. As his body shifted, he shrieked in pain, feeling that pulling agony in his belly.
- We were pregnant, little cub, - the werewolf said almost gently once he was fully in command. - That potion the clumsy idiot spilt destroyed the pup. Our pup. -
Harry, aware but trapped in the wolf, was gobsmacked. Why didn't you say anything to me before?
- I was planning on telling you tonight. My voice is clearer during the change. But it's gone.-
Feeling numb, and yet oddly grief-stricken, Harry asked, Can I carry another of his pups?
- Of course. Pack leader pairs should have six cubs. Any more than that and you'll start having problems. -
Six?!
- Don't you want six? -
And suddenly, Harry did. He could imagine them, his and Severus' children. All black haired, some with his emerald eyes, others dark eyed like Snape. Smart, funny, snarky. Their children.
- And all born werewolves. -
What does that even mean?
The wolf padded around the room before settling back on the mattress. He circled around until he was happy with the bedding then curled up. He yawned and then finally answered Harry, - It means that they will never feel the aggression I can during the full moon. They'll never want to bite anyone. But they will still change once a month. -
Feeling sleepy himself, and missing his partner, Harry murmured, I can live with that if it means Severus and I can have children.
---
CH6 Preview: Ron, glancing up from his anger, saw the two and decided to go over and split them up. He was fed up of them whispering in corners. Angrily, he stomped over. At the doorway, he heard an unfamiliar voice.
“True, true. But do you think You-Know-Who is really looking for him? Maybe Potter has run off, and left all of us to suffer.”
A smirk crossed Ron's face before he could stop himself. It was about time someone else saw through Saint Potter's little act. All this talk of looking for horcruxes was a lie; really the younger wizard was scared and was in hiding, leaving Ron's family to suffer.
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