Be My Escape | By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3545 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, nor am I making any money off of it. It's called FANfiction because I DON'T own it, right? Right. Good that we're clear. |
IV.
Severus hated to be called a coward, but he couldn't
help but throw the word at himself after the strategic retreat he'd
made the moment Charlie had looked away.
He could give the Weasleys credit for one thing and one
thing only – they were all brilliant flyers and he'd never met
a Weasley who couldn't play Quidditch. That's why Charlie didn't
instantly jump to mind when McGonagall said that she had hired 'Mr.
Weasley' as Madam Hooch's replacement. Former Quidditch Captain,
brilliant seeker, athletic with broad shoulders and muscular
thighs...Charlie should have come immediately to mind. He was the
obvious choice; he by far outshone any other possible candidate short
of a professional Quidditch player. On top of that, he was handsome
and agreeable. He cracked jokes and laughed easily. The students
were bound to love him. He was perfect for the job – well, if
you could overlook the fact that he hated it. It didn't take a
genius to see that, just a person who was adept at reading others.
Charlie Weasley had loved Hogwarts as a student, but as a teacher it
was only a cage. He could roam, but not far enough, fly, but not high
enough. It was the boundaries, not the scenery, that dominated his
view of the world around him. He wondered if Charlie was starting to
sympathize with the dragons on his old reserve more than his former
colleagues.
'Or maybe you are just projecting your own feelings
onto a young man you were hoping you would never see again,' Snape
thought wryly. He had
loved Hogwarts once. It had been the center of his universe. Dying,
unfortunately, has a way of altering one's perspective. He found
himself thinking about the world, about how little he'd seen of it,
wondering what was really stopping him now.
And he was thinking about the past, about the Weasleys
before the twins had soured his opinion of the lot. He was mostly
thinking of the one whose memory he'd been forced to alter, and who
he'd just left alone to have a nervous breakdown in the North Tower.
He was trying to talk himself out of feeling guilty about it.
Cold logic failing to assuage said guilt, he turned to
the only old friend he had left: the pensieve.
He carefully drew the silver thread of memory from his
temple and dropped it into the basin. He wondered if it was really
necessary to view it from the outside looking in – he could so
easily recall every detail, from the herbology catalog he'd been
perusing to the streaks of mud on the elbows of Charlie's uniform.
He lowered his face into the silver pool. Sometimes,
viewing the past from outside oneself was the only way to come to
terms with the present. He hoped a bit of insight into his old
follies would prevent him from making new ones.
*
The rain outside was vicious, but down here in his
dungeon office, Severus couldn't hear it. Still, the foul weather
made the dungeon clammy, so he'd set a fire going in an effort to
chase the chill out of his bones.
Snape peered down over his former self's shoulder. Yes,
the catalog had been for a company called 'Herbal Escapes', which had
long since gone out of business thanks to several suits over false
advertising. His younger self quirked his lips wryly at an entirely
misleading (though not blatantly fallacious) description of the
properties of mugwort. If one were gullible, which Severus never had
been, they might believe it a miracle cure for acne, hair loss, and
garden gnomes, as well as an anal stimulant for use during
intercourse. Snape snickered a bit at the last. It was his
experience that most things were stimulating when inserted into the
anus – that did not, however, mean he would suggest most of
them. Still, he would give the magazine credit for its innovative
sales pitch on such a mundane item. He imagined it would lead to a
rather humiliating lawsuit, but that was neither here nor there. He
flipped the page. The price of powdered root of aphosdel was a
pleasant surprise, but the dried belladona petals were extortionate.
That was when he heard a knock at the door. Charlie
weaseled into the office before Snape had told him to enter. He was
still in his Quidditch gear.
“Don't you have a game to attend, Mr. Weasley?”
There was a game scheduled in spite of the foul weather, but it did
not involve Slytherin so his own attendance was not mandatory. Snape
enjoyed the sport, but not enough to risk being tossed about by a
summer squall when his team wasn't even playing.
“Already over, sir,” Charlie replied. “Or
canceled, I s'pose. Hufflepuff's keeper swallowed the snitch. Took
a bludger to the head, too. Everyone was right shocked, and so one
of our chasers took the other bludger to the arm without even
noticing it was after him. It's turned into a bit of a monsoon, too.
And since the snitch was sort of caught by someone who wasn't even a
seeker, the whole game's pretty much scrapped. Headmaster says the
game's to be rescheduled. I never saw a group of Hufflepuff's look
that angry before, really.”
Snape closed his catalog. “What is it you wanted
then, Weasley?”
“Oh. Right. Well, see, Madam Pomfrey's a bit
busy, what with a snitch down Robertson's gullet and Danny's busted
arm. I thought you might have something to put on a bit of a scrape,
sir, like, a blood-clotting potion or disinfectant or something.
Whatever's called for, really. I hate to bother you, but being the
potions sort n'all...” Charlie shifted awkwardly under his
professor's intense scrutiny.
Severus sighed. “Come here and show me the
wound.”
He hadn't expected the dashing teenager to pull off his
shirt with a soft hiss and drop it to the ground. He certainly
hadn't expected to feel aroused by Charlie's broad chest or the
slight dusting of hair across it. It was only belatedly that he
noticed the deep gash on Charlie's shoulder and the blood dripping
well down his arm toward the elbow. It was not quite the minor
scratch Charlie had implied. He drew out his wand to suck up some of
the blood for a better look at the injury. “How did you get
this?”
“Ah, well, Robertson's broom clipped me when he
was going down,” Charlie answered sheepishly. It wasn't until
later that Snape would learn the fool boy had rushed forward to catch
the Hufflepuff keeper before he could crack his head open on the goal
post when he'd started choking on the faulty snitch. The broom flew
up at his face. He'd only barely dodged (though not quite enough)
and managed to stay upright long enough to get himself and young Mr.
Robertson safely to the ground.
From the vantage point of the pensieve, Snape could
ignore his younger self and the treatment of the wound in favor of
Charlie's reactions and body language. He would finally know, once
and for all, just how guilty he ought to feel over what happened
next.
They were close. Charlie's chest was barely a foot from
his professor's forehead. The teen was looking down, not at the
injury that Snape was using magic to mend, but the crown of the man's
head. His breathing seemed uncommonly deep. He winced at the dull
sting of his flesh being knit back together and put his hand on
Snape's shoulder.
At the time, Severus had presumed he was a bit less
tolerant to pain than expected and was using his shoulder to steady
his weight as the injury was mended. Now, watching the scene from
the vantage point of being removed from it, Snape questioned that. He
could see the stocky boy taking the repair of his injury with only
the slightest discomfort on his features. Had it only been an excuse
to initiate contact? Surely not! But the angle of Charlie's gaze was
unmistakeable. The way his chest rose and fell didn't suggest pain
as much as nerves.
When Severus sat back, he looked up at the young man,
about to tell him that his injury would be quite fine but not to
strain it overmuch in the next day or two. He didn't say that at all
though. Instead, he found their faces unexpectedly close together.
His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
Snape felt like a voyeur, just watching them look at one
another. It was easy to dissociate and become a third party to one's
own life when one was viewing it from outside one's body. He held his
breath. Severus had never been certain who initiated the kiss and
was shocked to find that it was Charlie who leaned down just a split
second before he had pulled the boy that last necessary distance
forward. Their lips crushed together. Severus had always thought it
a temporary lapse in sanity that made him kiss a teenage boy. Now he
could see it was intensely mutual. He watched his fingers curl into
Charlie's hair as the stocky boy placed a knee to either side of
Snape's slender hips and cupped his cheeks as the kiss deepened.
From his vantage point over his own shoulder, Snape could clearly see
that he was not the only one visibly excited by the adamant snogging.
He could see the way Charlie's hand slid down his neck, over his
shoulder, and further down his chest. Both Snapes shuddered –
the younger from how good it felt, and the older from the memory of
how good it felt. Charlie moaned into the kiss when Snape got daring
and grabbed his buttocks.
After that, things escalated quickly. A meaty hand
found its way into Snape's pants. Layers of clothes were cast away to
whichever corner of the office they landed. A spell was thrown to
lock the door and various items were tossed to the floor only an
instant before Severus bent the young Gryffindor over the desk.
Charlie had no protests to offer; he was moaning like a wanton whore
as the appropriate spells worked their way into his body via the
anus.
It was when Severus
entered the boy's tight rump that a heavily aroused Snape was treated
to another epiphany. When his younger self entered Charlie, that's
when things slowed down again. The manic pace abruptly ceased as he
took a moment to breathe, tracing the muscles in his student's broad
back. Charlie purred and arched into each touch. He purred like a
cat and smiled to himself when Snape grazed his teeth and tongue in
lazy kisses across the back of the boy's shoulders. He was
completely relaxed and utterly trusting as his teacher thrust into
his bottom. And his expression, half buried into the aged wood,
wasn't that of a randy young man being sated in a way that probably
closely mirrored at least one sexual fantasy. It was more than that.
It was the expression of a young man who was getting exactly
what he wanted.
Snape startled out of the pensieve at the realization.
He didn't watch the end of the memory – the mind-blowing
orgasm, or the way he quickly realized his folly in having
intercourse with a student and, fearing for his future employment,
hastily altered the boy's memory of the afternoon in a way that was
uncomplimentary to him. He thought by showing himself in a harsher
light, it would quash any further seductions. He had been right.
After that day, Charlie did not venture voluntarily to his office
again, and when he was forced into it to deliver something, or for
detentions as occasionally arose, he rather obviously would prefer to
be anywhere else. Severus, on the contrary, took comfort in his
billowing robes, which easily concealed any evidence of whatever
improper thoughts arose during their encounters, which he kept as
brief as possible.
Years later, the blatant physicality of his reaction to
the second eldest of the Weasley boys had dampened, but it had not
disappeared. As a boy, Charlie had been adorable and enticing, but
as a fully grown man, Snape found him indescribably handsome, if
still entirely too young for someone his age.
He regretted looking back at that particular memory. It
would have been better to believe himself entirely to blame. Knowing
it had been mutual, that Charlie had intended to use his wounded
shoulder to seduce him all along, only played at his hormones, which
were already ravaged by the recent foray into his memory.
Agitated, he snapped the doors about the pensieve shut
and locked them tightly before retreating into his personal quarters
to attend to the completely unacceptable lust he was feeling for one
of his colleagues.
While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
All works displayed here, whether pictorial or literary, are the property of their owners and not Adult-FanFiction.org. Opinions stated in profiles of users may not reflect the opinions or views of Adult-FanFiction.org or any of its owners, agents, or related entities.
Website Domain ©2002-2017 by Apollo. PHP scripting, CSS style sheets, Database layout & Original artwork ©2005-2017 C. Kennington. Restructured Database & Forum skins ©2007-2017 J. Salva. Images, coding, and any other potentially liftable content may not be used without express written permission from their respective creator(s). Thank you for visiting!
Powered by Fiction Portal 2.0
Modifications © Manta2g, DemonGoddess
Site Owner - Apollo