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Rescue	By : starstruck86 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Ron Views: 9323 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Rescue
- 1
Title: Rescue

Pairing: Ron/Severus (mentioned Ron/Lavender)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings/Content: Dub-con, frotting, language, cross-gen, underage sex if you're from a country with an 18 limit (Ron is 17 and this is set after his poisoning in HBP). A bit PWP.

Word Count: ~4,927

Summary: It should have just been an innocent bath, and then he had a visitor...

Ron had been feeling off for days, but had kept his mouth shut to avoid being nagged by everyone to go to the hospital wing. He didn't want to see the walls of it ever again after being poisoned. The school matron was worse than even his mother, and that was saying something.
So it was his aching bones and tired mind which saw him relaxed into a corner of the Prefect's Bathroom luxurious bath-cum-swimming-pool. Thick bubbles covered the surface if the water and clung to his skin, throwing up a fresh perfume into the air. The room was full of steam and his fringe was sticking to his brow, but that was just how Ron liked it, and, he decided, what he really needed to feel better.
He kicked out his legs in front of him and flexed his toes, lifting his feet up until his big toes poked out through the bubbles. He wiggled them for something to do and then let them drift back to the bottom of the bath. He was bored, but the water was too hot and soothing to even consider leaving so soon; all that awaited him in the Common Room was yet more homework,and he didn't feel like he had the brains to do any of it.
Well, you know you haven't, because you're as thick as two short planks... a nasty voice quipped somewhere in his mind, and Ron felt his mood darken at the whisper. He sank down until his chin touched the bubbles and glowered at the opposite wall.
Ron had always known that he wasn't the cleverest, or the best, at anything. It had always been a sore point with him, and no matter what he tried to do to improve his intelligence, or at best his homework marks and test results, nothing seemed to work. It had never niggled at him as much as it was currently, however, and no matter how hard he tried to direct his mind to other subjects -including the impending battle for their lives, it seemed- nothing worked.
Luckily, everyone else was too absorbed in their own problems to take any notice of his, which made him feel better, because the last thing he wanted was anybody fussing over him or, even worse, confirming his worst fears.
Being seventeen sucks bollocks.
He closed his eyes and blocked out the sight of the room, inhaling the steamy air. He let his feet slip over the tiles lining the bath and ducked beneath the surface of the water, reaching to hold his nose as he kept himself below. The heat surrounded him, the pressure caressing his face with softness which would have made him sigh if he could have opened his mouth. He cracked open his eyes and watched the play of light for a moment, before his lungs started to protest and he kicked upwards for fresh air.
Gasping, Ron blinked the water out of his eyes and reached up to push his hair back away from his forehead.
“Weasley.”
The sound of his name cracking through the air made Ron jump, slip on the bottom of the bath and accidentally take in a mouthful of water, which made him cough like hell. Throat stinging, Ron looked up with accusing eyes into the face of Severus Snape.
Except for the fact that it wasn't the normal face of Snape that Ron was used to -it was bruised, and bleeding, and one eye was puffed up almost to the point of being closed.
“What?” Ron muttered, glancing around to check that his body was covered by bubbles. “I mean, what do you want, sir?”

“The bath,” Snape answered, as if as much should be obvious.

“Well, I'm sort of in it.” Ron made a face.

“I can see that. Get out.”

“I was here first,” Ron cried indignantly. “Go and use your own bath.”
Tongue running away with him, his mouth snapped shut as Snape's expression turned acidly vicious. Ron felt colour beyond the heat of the bath flaming in his cheeks and he wondered what he should do. If he got out of the bath, Snape would see him naked. If he stayed in the bath, Snape might kill him. Neither option was appealing.
Ron only noticed then the slump of Snape's shoulders and the tattered state of his robes.
“Sir, are you all right?” he ventured nervously.

“No, Weasley. I am not all right. Please, just do as I say, and remove your skinny carcass from that bath before I drag you from it!”
His fraught, tired voice rang harshly in the tiled bathroom and Ron shivered, both with anxiety and hurt at the cruel slight on his lanky frame. He wasn't attractive, Ron knew that much, but 'skinny carcass' was just mean in his opinion.
Frozen into position, Ron had every intention of wading his way to the side of the bath and hoisting himself out of it, naked or not, merely to get away from Snape's temper. He even got as far as lifting one foot from the bottom of the bath, but then Snape did something which nearly knocked him onto his backside.
The man turned around, muttering something beneath his breath, and began to pull at the buttons of his robes. He shed the fabric quickly, casting it onto the floor and aiming a vicious kick at the ruined clothes. They slid across the floor and hit the bottom of the wall. Ron heard the locking spell cast at the bathroom door, one different to that which he had used -the one which had clearly been rather poor if Snape had been able to get in.
He could break anything though, and no matter who was in here he would have chucked them out.
Ron's attention was grabbed again by Snape bending to remove his boots, and to his horror, he was completely naked. Even scarier, his back was alive with barely healed welts which looked far too fresh for the man to be contemplating water.
“Sir, what's happened to your-”

“Shut up,” his professor snapped. “Get in that corner and keep your damned mouth shut if you won't leave me in peace completely.”
Ron watched, stunned, as the man stiffly sat down on the edge of the bath and slipped into the water. He sank to chin-depth and then made his way to the opposite end to Ron, where he settled into a corner, sat down on the convenient stone bench which ran around the perimeter, and closed his eyes. Ron moved to the side quickly, hoping to take advantage of Snape's closed eyes to get out of the bath, dry himself, and run the hell away. He got as far as putting his fingers on the delicate mosaic bordering, however, before Snape spoke to him.
“Where do you think you're going, Weasley?”

“You asked me to go, so I am.”

“No point in going anywhere now, your ineptness has forced us to share a bath anyway, you might as well stay and finish.”

“I don't think that I... um...”

“Does it make you uncomfortable, being naked in the same bath as another man?”

“Yeah. It would most blokes, I think.”

“Not the ones I know.”
Ron was alarmed by what he thought was the dark and dirty undertone to Snape's voice. He looked at the wizard to find that he still had his eyes shut.
He's a Slytherin. Probably sleeps with his eyes open.
“Your brother Charlie, for one.”

“What?”

“Your brother Charlie. He enjoys baths with other men. The amount of times I found him in here, each time with a different boy. Tell me, does he still enjoy such loose morals?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Then clearly you are as thick as you look, Weasley. Walking around with shit in your eyes, too fucking blind to notice what's going on around you and who might be watching you.”
Ron didn't know what to respond to first -Snape's insults, the fact that he had sworn, or who Snape thought was watching him.
“Who's watching me?” he asked finally, unable to stop the steel edge from creeping into his tone.

“Me.”

“You?”

“I watch everybody, don't feel special in any way, Weasley. I can assure you, you are not.”

“Right,” Ron said flatly, putting his hands on the edge of the bath and pushing up out of it.
The roar of the water leaving his body made such a racket that he winced. Water spilled over the tiles and ran in every which direction. Cursing beneath his breath, Ron looked around for the nearest towel and, to his dismay, found that they were on a bench nearest to Snape. With a quick glance, he found the wizard staring at him, his one good eye boring straight into his naked, wet body.
“Like what you see?” Ron sneered, his cockiness spurred on by the insults Snape had laid into him.

“More than you would care to know.”
Floored again, Ron looked desperately about, hoping he might have missed a towel which was closer. With no such luck coming forth, he raised his chin and walked carefully around the edge of the bath to the stack of fluffy white sheets. He picked one up and unravelled it, putting it quickly about his waist. With his cock covered up, he felt much better.
“Don't cover up on my account. As I said, I was enjoying the view.”

“Stop fucking with me,” Ron muttered, forgetting himself.

“What?” Snape asked sharply.

“I said, stop messing with me,” Ron said, raising his voice. “Very funny, haha, to take the piss out of the skinny carcass.” He swallowed as he walked back to his clothes. “Go and fuck yourself,” he muttered beneath his breath.
“I'd much rather fuck you, Weasley.”

“What the fuck?!” Ron exclaimed, his voice bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.
Snape just laughed and looked away, shaking his head. Ron noticed how his wiry arms were spread out along the side of the bath, and his armpits were darkened by black curls. On his left forearm lay the shadow of his Dark Mark. A shiver went up Ron's spine.
His head suddenly seemed far too full again, the tiny bit of peace the bath had given him was long gone. He was too confused; Lavender had gone psycho on him, Hermione was just being plain odd and now, apparently, Snape?
No fucking way. I need to go to bed.
“Come here.”
Snape's voice was like molten honey, Ron thought, as he blinked at the man still in the water.
“Weasley, come to me.”
Another shiver rocked his body.
“W-Why?”

“Because I want you to come here, do I need to ask you again? Because I won't.”
It was almost as if his hands were being controlled by an outside source as they unwrapped the towel from around his waist, Ron thought. He let the cotton puddle at his feet and took a step towards the bath. He folded back into the water, wondering why on earth he was doing exactly what Snape was asking of him -he never did that even in his lessons. In fact, disobeying Snape was one of his favourite ways to cause trouble, as petty as it was.
He waded through the water, fixing his gaze on the man's face, and finding that the puffiness had gone and his eye had returned to normal.
“Did you heal yourself?” Ron asked dumbly, licking at his bottom lip.

“The waters of this bath have healing properties, did you not know that, Weasley?”

“No.”

“You didn't notice that every ache in your bones has left them whilst you've been in the water?”
Ron blinked and thought about it; Snape was right. His back no longer ached and his legs, long and weak from growing pains and the break when he was fourteen, could hold his weight without protesting. He blushed in his ignorance.
“A little known fact. Not many students know even a scraping of the secrets that this castle has to offer. Except your friend Ms Granger, who knows everything. Except her own heart, it seems.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some things, Weasley, are best realised rather than told. Come closer.”
Ron did as he was told, until there were mere centimetres between his body and Snape's own. He waited for more instructions, only sparing the briefest of thoughts of the oddity of the situation. He froze as one of Snape's hands came up off the side of the bath and reached out for him, landing on Ron's hip beneath the water. The fingers gripped into the bone and pulled Ron forward.
“What're you doing?” Ron whispered, noting with alarm that his voice had deserted him; he already felt like screaming for help.
Snape didn't answer him but continued pulling him closer until, with a jump, Ron felt his cock brush against something suspiciously similar on his professor's body. The other hand settled on Ron's other hip and he was held tightly; his breathing grew shallow and he was unable to even it out or take in any real amount of air. As a result, his mind began to swim.
“Perhaps you are more like your brother Charlie than I thought... sensible... pliant... eager.”
Ron gasped as his lips were claimed in a rough kiss and his head tilted to the side with no effort or encouragement from Snape, though fingers did thread into his hair after a few moments. Snape's grip was surprisingly tender, though strong, and Ron found himself arching up into the touch, and jutting out his hip so that it would make contact with the palm of his professor's other hand.
“Yes, you seem just as much of a slut as Charlie... though you taste infinitely better...”
Ron exhaled sharply again as his head was dragged backwards, exposing his neck. He had never realised just how vulnerable being in that position made him feel, even though he had experienced it before, with his brothers in play fights, and in Umbridge's office the year before. He began to shake as Snape held him there, open and without fight, leaving him dangling.
When the first touch of lips ghosted over that naked skin, his knees properly began to knock. He thought he heard Snape chuckle into his throat.
“God, you taste delicious.” Snape nipped the juncture between throat and collarbone, and Ron couldn't stop the grunt which fell out of his mouth. “So... sweet,” Snape whispered into his ear.
A tongue flicked his earlobe and Ron shuddered again, wondering why he was so nervy and so responsive.
Because this is the closest you've ever come to sexual contact in your life... and it's with a man... and Snape at that.
Suddenly repulsed with himself, Ron wrenched himself backwards out of the man's grip and stumbled over his own feet. He landed with a splash into the water, his head dipping beneath the surface; his throat and nose began to burn as water shot in and up, and he immediately tried to cough, making it even worse.
A firm gripped seized him and dragged him back above the water, where Ron continued to cough and splutter, trying to get the water out of his system.
“Stop it!” Snape barked, shaking him slightly. “Calm down and breathe, Weasley. Breathe!”
Shocked by the admonition, Ron did stop, only to be pulled flush against Snape's chest. Their bodies met once more and he found himself mortified to feel the length of the man's hardness against his belly. Another kiss came, tender and touching, oddly seeming to soothe the soreness put into his airways by the water. Fingers stroked his back.
“What are you doing?” Ron whispered helplessly, shaking once again and knowing that it would be noticed.

“I have never known you to ask so many questions, Weasley. If you showed as much curiosity in your lessons, perhaps you would find yourself receiving better marks.”

“Stop it,” Ron choked. “Stop being horrible to me. I can be horrible enough to myself.”
Dark eyes assessed him and Ron blushed under their scrutiny.
“Yes. I can well believe that you can be. But you shouldn't.”

“One minute you're calling me names and the next minute you're tell me not to be hard on myself? You're not making much sense, Snape.”

“I often make little sense after having been tortured for the odd hour by the Dark Lord, Weasley. I doubt many men would. I wonder how you would hold up under such treatment?”

“I don't know.”

“Neither do I, but I hope for your sake that you never experience it... lest you end up cracking. You are fragile.”

“No I'm not,” Ron hissed.

“Which is it, Weasley, are you thick and useless, or are you strong and capable?”
Caught out, Ron tried to pull away, but Snape's arms kept him in place. Ron accidentally trod on his foot and blushed again. Snape said nothing, but one hand drifted downwards, and then Ron felt.
Long, thin fingers wrapped around his cock and began to stroke it; it felt like silk in the water. Ron's jaw dropped and he left it there, knowing he must look a fool, open-mouthed and red-faced. Snape didn't seem to mind, though, as he continued to work manual magic with his fingers. Embarrassed, Ron found himself fully hard quicker than even he could have managed it in a wank in his bed. Snape sped up the rhythm, wanking him harder and faster until Ron found himself gasping in time to the touches. The Slytherin's free hand curled around the nape of his neck and held him, never letting up with the other.
Everything seemed to be shutting down, Ron noticed. His vision was blurry, his head was pounding along with the blood he could hear in his ears, and his belly, thighs and sac pulled so tight that he thought he might vomit.
“This is... this is... S-Snape, I t-think we should...”

“Stop?”
Ron nodded vigorously, hissing as Snape stopped pumping him and merely gripped his prick in a vice like grip,
“You don't want me to stop, Weasley... your body is telling you that you want this... just relax and enjoy it...”
Kisses were peppered over his exposed jawline and Ron gulped.
“Such a beautiful throat.” Snape kissed that too and resumed milking Ron's shaft.

“Do you want me...” Ron cut off to take a deep breath. “Do you want me to t-touch you?”

“Only if you want to. But I don't think you do, so don't press yourself for my benefit.”
Ron had no idea what he was doing as he inexpertly picked up the man's mirroring hardness. It was larger than his own, but fit neatly into his large hand; Ron gripped it and gave it a squeeze. Snape moaned and he did it again, evoking the same response. Loosely, Ron began to move his wrist up and down, keeping a ring shape between his thumb and index finger. He looked over the skin of Snape's torso that he could see, finding it sallow skinned and scarred in several places. Dark hair was damp brushing against his shoulders. As they met in another kiss, Ron inhaled his scent and found it surprisingly pleasant.
Not that he'd ever considered kissing Snape before, but due to the man's personal appearance he had expected him to smell badly, almost rotten. There was nothing to suggest inner decomposition, however, in the scent of herbs which clung to Snape's skin as a natural musk.
Ron bent his head and nipped at his throat. Snape moaned again, speeding up on Ron's cock with almost desperation, it seemed. Ron tried to match his speed, but found his wrist ached and decided in a split second that he was woefully inept at touching another man.
“Yesssss.” The word was a hiss in his ear and Ron jerked with surprise as Snape rammed against him, knocking both of their hands away, leaving their bodies to touch fully.
Hands cupped his buttocks and slid down to the underside of this thighs; they lifted him easily and Ron wrapped his legs around Snape's thin waist. His erection rubbed against a flat belly, and Snape's cock rubbed against his balls and perineum. It was the best thing that Ron had ever felt, despite who was partnering him, and despite that he was currently enjoying sexual activity with a member of the same sex.
All thoughts of breasts and cunts were far from his mind -all he cared about was Snape's cock and that they both achieve some kind of release from their rutting.
Knowledgeable hands began to guide him, forcing body parts to rub and create delicious sensations which made Ron breathless, and for his orgasm to build in the pit of his belly with no thought of restraint.
“Do you feel it yet?”

“What?” Ron grunted.

“The need to come all over my belly.”
Ron moaned with delight and gripped harder with his arms around Snape's back. He bent his head and kissed him, wincing as their teeth clashed.
“Fuck!” He couldn't help but yelp slightly as a fingertip brushed over his arsehole and settled over the entrance. Snape met his eye and then, holding Ron's gaze, he pushed the tip in. “Oh fucky fuck!” Ron cried.
He bit his lip and stuffed his face into Snape's shoulder, glad to hide his face and for the moment of his breaching to be private.
“Good, isn't it? You like it... my finger within you... touching you in such private places. Tell me, Ronald, tell me that you like it...”

“I love it!” Ron gasped, thrown by the way the man had used his first and full name. “Oh, gods, I love it... fuck me with it... please!”

“As you wish.”
Snape followed his command and slowly crept his finger in, twisting slightly when he met natural resistance from Ron's body. Ron bit hard into Snape's collarbone and groaned.
“Shh.” Snape's whisper was silk into his ear. “Shh, beautiful boy.”

“Nnhgh,” Ron whimpered, rocking his hips so that his cock caused friction against the slick belly it pressed into.
To occupy his mouth and to prevent any more stupid noises coming out of it, Ron used his hand to gather Snape's hair to one side and set about kissing every inch of his neck and throat that could be reached. Snape froze and allowed him to do so, seemingly enjoying every touch.
“Imagine that it is not my finger within you, but my cock... Imagine I have you up against the side of the bath and I am fucking you, wringing every ounce of your energy from your body... kissing you until you can no longer be kissed for screaming in desire... can you see it? Do you want it?”

“I want it!” Ron breathed into his ear. “Gods, I want it. I want you.”
The words were totally insane, but he said them anyway. And what was worse was that Ron was pretty sure that he meant them, too.
“Good boy,” Snape breathed, and suddenly hooked his finger within Ron's body.
He screamed something incoherent as energy seemed to shoot through his body.
“What the fuck?” he gasped, unable to stop a few sobs escaping his mouth.

“A special little spot, very useful.” Snape made the move again and Ron found himself clinging on, a shaking mess, rutting madly against his professor's belly, desperate to come at any cost.
Snape began to plunge the finger in and out of his arse, teasing him by tracing it around the ring before diving back in again. Ron had no idea how long the cycle continued for before his body finally gave up, drawing itself together and trembling before releasing with a loud cry, and his cock began to spasm with his climax.
Snape stopped moving, allowing him to hump out his finish without a word. And then the finger slipped out of his body and Ron was gripped so tightly he thought bones might brake, and Snape's face pressed into the side of his own. Only when he felt a warm rush of liquid between his legs did Ron twig what was happening -that Snape, too, was coming, but silently and reservedly, with all the grace of which he usually did things.
Determined not to let the moment pass with out notice, Ron slid his hand down the man's back and gently began to stroke one of his buttocks, and kissed into his neck again. It felt like the least he could do, to offer some sort of support or comfort during that moment, when his own had been so blissful.
Finally, Snape seemed to sag where he stood. Ron unlocked his legs and let them fall slowly to the floor of the bath, where they took his weight with a wobble. He leant his forehead against Snape's, knowing that he was breathing all over the man's face, which was incredibly rude. Snape, however, said nothing.
Ron shortly found himself shivering again as the heat started to leave his body. He also felt dirty standing in bathwater which had been dirtied by two lots of semen.
Ew.
He fought off a wave of nausea.
“Don't worry. The water in here constantly refreshes.” When Snape spoke, it was in a low, gravelly voice. “But we should leave. It will raise suspicion if the door remains locked for too long. The staff will be banging down the door on suicide watch.”

“Have... do people do that, in here?” Ron asked, looking around at the walls.

“They have done, in the past. Desperate creatures, who could not be saved.”
Ron swallowed as a wave of sadness seemed to swallow him up.
“Perhaps you yourself needed the rescue this evening?”

“What? I wasn't in here to do myself in!” Ron cried.

“Maybe not in the literal sense. Maybe you will look back on this and feel something different to what you felt when you entered the bathroom. Maybe I will. Maybe both of us will wake up in the morning with a hideous sense of regret.”
Ron thought the latter was much more likely, but he couldn't deny the sated feeling creeping through his veins, and how happy it made him feel.
“So... I suppose I should... I should go,” Ron said finally, looking around at the water and fading bubbles. “I should go.”

“We should both leave,” Snape said, with a nod of his head.
They both climbed out of the bath in silence. Ron picked up the towel he had dropped before and dried himself with it, noting the odd twinge in his backside as he moved. He moved to his clothes and put them on, one by one, not looking over his shoulder to give Snape privacy, despite what they had only just shared with one another. When he had laced up his last boot, he stood up and looked over his shoulder. Snape was still dressing.
“I'll... Bye,” Ron said pitifully, mentally berating himself for not being better with words. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Goodbye, Weasley.”
Ron left, fiddling with the strap of his rucksack.

Severus had meant to Obliviate him. He had meant to throw the redhead against the wall, or seduce him back into his arms once last time, and wipe away the memories of their indiscretions. But Ron had slipped away whilst he had still been dressing himself, and Severus had never even had the chance to find his wand.
He sat at dinner, pushing his peas around his plate, looking out over the Great Hall, at a sea of pupils who largely hated him. Ronald Weasley had been at the top of that list of hatred, he had assumed, but he wondered if they could have shared what they had done had that been the truth.
Perhaps he is just an extremely good little actor. He will need to be, to stand by Potter's side.
At that moment, to his horror, Ronald Weasley ambled into the Great Hall, his bag swinging haphazardly from his shoulder, his shirt tails hanging out and his tie loose, robes mostly unbuttoned. His hair was a mess, but his eyes were piercing blue –and as beautiful as Severus remembered them.
Ron stopped and looked at him. Severus let his eyes widen in a warning, but there was no need. The corner of Weasley's mouth hitched up with a hint of a smile, and then he carried on walking, right to the Gryffindor table, where he sat down and started piling food onto his plate.
Severus breathed out. He had been half-planning to carry out the obliviation at the first chance he could.
For some reason, however, he wanted the boy to have the memories. He didn't know why, but he couldn't bear to take them away.
-fin-
- 1
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