Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Plan B	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 10292 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and universe belong to JK Rowling. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter 9
Alone in his room, Severus Snape sat quite still and considered the surprising revelation. Before he allowed himself to think through all the ramifications, he let his mind wander back to the moment in the Shrieking Shack when, thinking he was dying, he had shared his memories with one Harry Potter.
Lying on the floor boards of the shack where he had nearly ended his life so many years before, he had felt everything. Every imperfection of wood that had meant he had tiny splinters jabbing him through his robes; the knot that had been just under his left hip, annoying him; even the jagged nail his hair had become slightly entangled with. All of it was imprinted on his mind forever. But nothing was as clear as the reality of feeling Harry kneel beside him, making the wood dip, feeling the sharp knees press against his ribs, being warmed by the sheer heat that almost throbbed around the young man, and finally, Harry's gentle hands touching Severus' cold, sagging skin.
Even now, months later, Severus could recall every aspect of that moment. The desperate warmth and fear in Harry's eyes, the way the dark wood of the shack had reflected in the shining orbs, altering the green to hazel. And Snape had felt anger that he was doomed to go to his death not seeing those green eyes as they should have been. Not least because the irises were large, with just the slightest trace of green around them.
But Harry had touched him.
A slight scrape as a ragged nail grazed his goose-flesh skin, but it was nothing compared to the burning heat that had risen in Severus, the need for this young man. He had fought it, Merlin he had fought it. All through that year, when Potter had been missing from the school, he had tried to convince himself that his constant concern for the youth was natural, when he knew how unnatural he was being. A man, twenty years older than the object of his obsession, a teacher considering things no teacher should think about any student, the Dark Lord's trusted follower and the one doomed to die fighting the Dark Lord ... it had been hopeless. And then, to be lying there, Harry somehow still alive, still warm and beautiful and touching Severus … the tears that had trickled from his eyes hadn't been ones of pain, but ones of gratitude.
More than tears had left his eyes. Memories. So many of them. And Harry had caught them, had promised, with eyes and gestures, that he would treasure them, and finally, his strength failing, Severus had whispered, “Look at me,” and Harry had obeyed, green eyes warm, swimming with tears, and he had replied, “Don't die.”
And Severus hadn't.
It wasn't until he had awoken in St Mungo's that he discovered he hadn't died. Aurors stood outside his room – from their postures they were merely waiting for him to be given the all clear before he was hoiked off to Azkaban for life. A healer had bustled in, a slight smile on his lips when he saw the eyes following his movement.
“So, you're awake at last,” he had said, putting down the small wooden trug he had been holding. The vials tinkled a little as they settled.
Severus had tried to speak and found he had no voice. His throat was a stinging mass of agony, and he had lifted his hand to hold it. But bandages had prevented him grasping his skin.
“That's right,” the healer had said, nodding, “your throat was badly damaged, but it's bandaged, and we've had you on blood-replenishing potions for the last eighteen hours.” The man's voice had become awestruck as he carried on, “Harry Potter brought you in. He asked that you receive the best care possible.” Eyes wide, the healer said, “You're friends with Harry Potter?”
Snape's mouth had curled. Friends? Hardly. He and Harry had loathed one another for far too many years. Severus had been unable to see beyond Harry's physical resemblance to his father, not seeing how superficial that likeness really was. The boy had been far more like Lily in nature. And Severus had loved Lily's nature. It had allowed him, at last, to see past the black hair and spectacles, and come to know the youth. He'd finally realised, too, that Harry was more than just Lily. Harry had a purity and intensity to him that was all his. Even when rule-breaking, even when actively plotting against Snape, Harry had been pure and innocent. And Severus had, somewhere along the line, fallen in love with the boy.
He had sneered to himself even as he had thought the words. Potter was going to have his pick of witches to marry. Certainly the Chosen One wasn't going to risk censure by selecting for himself a male former teacher.
Luckily the healer hadn't expected an answer. After all, Severus had none to give that would cover the situation. But, he also physically hadn't been able to speak.
Sitting beside Snape's bed, the other man had introduced himself as Healer O'Ryan. There had been no trace of any kind of accent in his voice but he had had the shining blue eyes and freckles often associated with the Irish magical community.
O'Ryan had smoothed the blankets and spoken softly. “We're not sure how you were still alive. You lost more blood than we've ever seen before. Had Harry Potter not brought you to us when he did, I don't think you could have lasted much longer.” The healer hadn't stated the obvious: that Severus owed his life to the Chosen One. They all did. More than that, and more importantly, Severus owed his heart to Harry. It was Harry who had made Snape open to the possibility of hope and love again. After a lifetime without it, it was now, when he should have died that Harry Potter had awoken it in him.
Not once had Harry visited him. He hadn't expected it. Hoped for it, longed for it, dreamed of it, but it had never happened. O'Ryan had told him that Harry was spending almost all his time at the Ministry, fighting to get certain people dealt with more leniently than others thought was fair. The Golden Boy of the Golden Trio had had a fight on his hands, and had lost a lot of the good will that he had earned from defeating Voldemort.
Who knew public opinion could be so fickle?
Snape had known. He could have told Harry that all the youth was doing was storing up trouble for himself. And then, the newspaper had come one day, not long before Severus had left the hospital, saying Harry was to be arrested and handed to the Ministry should he be seen. No reason had been given; none was needed. Although not seen often in recent times, the particular phrasing of the story told those who recognised it all they needed to know. Snape had known exactly why Harry was now hated: the Chosen One had told the wrong person he was gay.
And Severus' heart had leapt. Harry, his Harry, wouldn't one day choose a witch. He wanted a wizard. And maybe, just maybe, Harry might one day see past the bitterness and physical ugliness of his former teacher to see the man who would fight for Harry as no one else would.
He had fought down his hope. Just because Harry had admitted to being gay didn't mean the man had any interest in Snape. Probably the Chosen One had already found someone and had wanted to come out about his relationship. Severus had learned, growing up with a witch for a mother, that same sex relations were not looked upon favourably in the wizarding world. It was why Severus had let people think he had loved Lily. He had, but not in the way they had all thought. But Harry might never have been told about same sex laws. Harry might have simply appeared in public with another man.
Snape's stomach clenched at the idea. Whether he was more upset at the thought of Harry being with someone else, or the reception such an action would have been met with, he couldn't have said. His heart ached with fear for Harry. What had happened that had made Harry Potter, the Chosen One for Merlin's sake, suddenly so very hated? Of all the people who should have been able to get away with being gay, the 'Boy Who Lived' should have been the one to do it. For once Severus couldn't drum up his usual annoyance that Harry always got away with things he should never have been allowed to. He wanted Harry to have got away with it.
Whatever had happened, Harry had vanished. Those who had been acquitted had been saved by the man who was now unwelcome in the world he had saved.
Severus had been one man saved by Harry, in more ways than one. The Aurors that had guarded him had left after a month; no doubt the result of the youth's intervention on Snape's behalf. Severus had cringed at what the younger man had probably had to reveal to alter the Wizengamot's view of him.
In the six months since he had left the hospital, Severus had searched for Harry. He had contacted people he had known at the Ministry and come up with nothing. He had asked questions of Potter's old school friends and acquaintances and learned that Harry had been seen before he vanished, but not after. The Weasleys had been able to tell him nothing. Well, most of them. He had seen something in Ginny Weasley's eyes that he had followed up in private and so had learned about Harry's desperate approach during her engagement party. Snape had felt rage boiling within him. Surely the man's friends had been able to see past the sexuality and remember their affection for the Chosen One? Apparently not.
He had posed as a potential buyer for Grimmauld Place if it ever came onto the market officially, and had felt only sadness seeing the empty rooms and neglected house. Seeing the house so forlorn had driven home to him how desperate Harry's plight had been.
On July 30^th he had bought a card and written in it, then ripped it up and binned it, berating himself for his foolishness. There was no way he could explain everything in a birthday card, and certainly no way he was going to admit his feelings in a way that could be intercepted.
Approaching the goblins for details about the other wizard's vault would have been futile, he had known, so there his searches had had to stop.
In desperation, in need for solace, he had gone to a whore who had claimed to be able to look like the Chosen One. It was quite the popular choice amongst the underworld, and Severus planned to take full advantage of it. He wanted to find the one, true Harry. But whilst looking, before he found the man and had all his hopes and dreams destroyed, he would fuck lookalikes and pretend.
The whore, other than a superficial resemblance, hadn't looked like Harry, even with a fake scar painted on his head. Still, the man's body had been accommodating and had provided a few brief moments of pleasure for Snape.
Afterwards, Severus had felt dirty and weak. He had given in to his body's cravings. He would never deserve the true Harry, even if he could find him.
Feeling dirty hadn't stopped him going to a different whore three weeks later. This time he had used a secondary wand he owned – his mother's as it happened. There was no way he was going to give up his actual wand, nor risk someone recognising him via it.
His cock had rammed in and out of the hole eagerly, and he had come, but it hadn't been Harry. He had been convinced that one day he would come across the real thing, and he would know. Truly, he didn't expect the real Potter to be a whore. He thought it far more likely that the man had disappeared into the Muggle world, but he allowed himself the dream of finding Potter in a dingy room and knowing, just knowing, it was the original.
Over the weeks he had spent far too much fucking Harry Potter lookalikes, and not one had truly looked like the Boy Who Lived. His saddest memory had been of going to a whore and stating his wants and being let in. A youngster had stood there. If he had been seventeen it could only have been by a few days, and the hazel eyes had been wide and frightened. Had the whore looked less like Harry, Severus would have left money and gone, but the youth had black messy hair and the same light build as the Chosen One.
His cock had taken over thought control and he had fucked the teenager. The hole he had plunged in and out of had been almost painfully tight, and he had had the weirdest sensation that he was the boy's first. Feeling that, he had made it his mission to ensure the whore had an enjoyable first experience of sex. The lad had writhed under him, whimpering at first, but later panting and moaning with enjoyment. Severus had spurted hard into the body when he had felt the tight channel clutch him still more tightly, and had relaxed, proud that at least he had given this poor boy one positive experience of sex.
In his own mind, Snape could admit that he had gone back to that whore, but it hadn't been the same a fortnight later. The whore had stared at him with dead eyes and spread his legs. Yes, the youth had come, but he had seemed to take no joy in it, merely accepted what was done to him with no perceptible awareness of who had fucked him.
Severus wondered what had happened to that teenager. What had happened to him in those two weeks to destroy him so thoroughly. And now Snape wondered about that youngster's future. What would become of him?
Snape made a quiet vow. He would save Harry, and between them they would find a way to protect all those out there spreading their legs for money. Maybe it was too late to truly save that boy, but perhaps Severus could save others like him.
But he was getting ahead of himself. In his mind he was deliberately staying chronological. And it had been seven weeks later that he had dropped his wand into a slot and been told that the whore within couldn't see him. At the time something had made him tingle with excitement. He had brushed it off as arousal; now he wasn't so sure. Had he, even then, recognised Harry Potter?
There had been no other whore in between. When he had gone back he had stared at the man facing him, looked past the defeat in the eyes and known the truth.
Having Harry react so intensely to him had been wonderful.
Sex with Harry was unlike any of the sex he'd had with any of the other whores he'd used. But then, Harry wasn't a whore to him. Harry was his.
There had been a moment, after he had climaxed within Harry, when he had had to force himself to close his lips and be still. He had longed to burst out that he knew the truth, that he knew who this was, and he wanted the real thing. Instead he had muttered something inane and he and Harry had fucked again and again.
A personal favourite – after that incredible first time – had been just before he had left. He had lain back and beckoned to the younger man to straddle him. Harry had, a grin on his face as he had curled a hand around the thick shaft and guided his body down onto it. Severus had been captivated by the sight of his cock vanishing into that hot slick channel. Much of the slickness was due to the fluid he had coated Harry's hole with, but still, it had felt wonderful.
And then Harry had begun moving. Not lifting up and down, but merely rocking back and forth lightly, eyes wide with shocked pleasure as even this small action made his body tingle. Severus had felt his dick gripped tightly, so hot, then cooler when Harry at last shifted up, down, and back to hot.
Each temperature change made his head swim. Above him the Chosen One was riding him enthusiastically, head thrown back and nonsense spilling from his mouth. He felt the grip of the legs against his thighs, the weight of Harry's body as it landed on his balls, just pressing down deliciously for a second before lifting up again. And each time he shoved in, his tip smacked into the small nub within. Each time it was hit his tip spurted a little and he jerked his own hips up, wanting more of that glorious feeling.
It had got quicker and quicker. Wild and out of control. It had been perfect. Especially spilling one final time into Harry's bowels, knowing the other man was as full of Snape's semen as it was possible to be.
Collapsing afterwards, Harry had tilted his face close before turning away, eyes filled with regret.
Severus had longed to kiss Harry. To kiss him softly and gently; to kiss him slowly and passionately; to kiss him deeply and possessively. He wanted to own Harry and belong to him. The silence after they had climaxed had been complete, but in it Severus felt his heart breaking a little at the thought of walking away and leaving Harry in this dingy room without a protector.
When he had dropped the coins into the bowl, he had wanted to empty his vault's contents there. Anything to free Harry from this life he had had chosen for him.
But he had simply walked away and tried to get his reeling thoughts in order. Harry Potter had become a whore. Snape had no idea how long the man he loved had been selling his body, but Snape knew it couldn't continue. Harry risked his health every time he slept with a stranger. There were potions to help treat STMDs, but nothing that could safely be taken long term to prevent them.
And now Severus had to confront what he had learned – Harry was slowly poisoning himself with Valetudo; the Ministry officials were torturing the sex workers and that looked like unofficially sanctioned policy; Harry had been forced into this because of a law Kingsley had passed …
But worse, far far worse, had been seeing the defeat in Harry's eyes. He had given up fighting; he was accepting his lot in life and even obeying rules.
Severus' lips still tingled from when he had kissed Harry. Harry had wanted him, he knew that; even without the youth's words it had been clear in his actions and responses. But Harry was so afraid of the Ministry discovering him that he had been prepared to deny himself the one thing he had been determined to find – a chance of happiness with a man.
Fear like that changed a person. It twisted them and broke them in surprising ways. And Severus didn't want Harry broken. Too much had happened in Potter's short life already that should have destroyed him, but he had never given in. Never, until he had been faced with losing his birth right, or losing his chance at love.
“This will stop,” Snape growled. He didn't know, yet, all he needed to to help Harry. He needed to learn all the things he'd never thought about – the treatment of sex workers. Hating himself just a little for his selfish usage of other workers just as vulnerable as Harry, Severus tried to excuse his actions. He had never intended harm, and he had sought to please the whores he had been with. True, it had been his pleasure he had focused on. It hadn't been until the teenager that he had really tried to ensure a whore enjoyed what happened. And it hadn't been until Harry that he had cared more about another's pleasure than his own.
But now he did. And if, by helping Harry, he could help some of those others, he would feel less guilt.
He hoped.
---
Book_addict_89: You've waited very patiently. Hope you enjoyed this look into Severus' thoughts.
Thunderbird: You know me too well, so you've started to second-guess things now! And thnak you for what you said about 'my' Snape being reassuring. I do find him so, and I'm glad you feel the same. And yes, the Ministry are not done.
LadyRaven: Yes, Google the woods. They do all matter (if I've made up the wand, they do. Canon wands, like Ron's, don't have a deliberate meaning within my story).
And none of you said anything about Harry being poisoned?!
In other news, I had an idea for another story and wrote it down. But actually began writing something else entirely. It's a new approach. I'm writing it from the two main characters pov. So you can read Harry's side, or Draco's and get a totally different view of what's going on. Or read them together and cheat!
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Plan B