Fic: A Reason To Celebrate, Part Two
Title: A Reason To Celebrate, Part Two

Authors: dementordelta and cruisedirector

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Harry/Snape

Summary: Severus thought he had disentangled himself from everyone in his past. He was wrong.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created the characters and plot holes that made this story possible.

Notes: Part two of three. Thanks to celandineb for beta.


A Reason To Celebrate, Part Two

Something was prodding along Severus's thigh into his groin. He'd fallen asleep with his wand in his pocket again, he thought blearily, shoving his hand at it. But the wand was tangled beneath the covers, and it wasn't his own wand, it was thicker and warmer and...


That wasn't a wand. Those weren't the covers. Very suddenly Severus's head cleared. Someone was in bed with him -- someone with an erection -- which meant that someone knew he was alive, which meant that he had taken someone to bed...


Potter. Now he remembered. The recollection was unfortunately accompanied by a rush of heat to his groin where Potter's stiff cock was nudging his own, which throbbed eagerly, unconcerned about such inconvenient details as the fact that it was lusting after an arrogant, self-absorbed boy. Who was Lily Evans's son. Who was the Boy Who Lived. Who was fast asleep and had no idea that his body's unconscious responses were giving Severus entirely inappropriate thoughts.


With a soft murmur, Potter shifted slightly. Was he awake? Severus cracked his eyes open, caught a glimpse of the side of the boy's face and his unruly hair, then shut his eyes firmly again. He would simply lie here until he regained control of himself or until Potter woke and flung himself away in horror.


Severus' hips jerked forward of their own accord. Potter... moaned.


How typical, he thought, to have given the vexing young man anything more than the time of day and to wind up like this, trapped in his own bed, with a frotting -- oh god, was Potter frotting against him?


Several spells turned themselves over in Severus's brain, each discarded for want of the wand lying, he was sure, just beyond his reach by the bed. This was ridiculous -- he should just wake Potter --


Only Potter's hand slid proprietarily over his chest as if he did it every day, as if he were clinging to Severus like he knew who he was and not some figure in an especially vivid erotic dream. There was nothing for it, he supposed, but to lie here and... rub back. No! Only his cock wasn't listening to him any better now than when he'd been Potter's age. It had been so long since anyone had touched him, incalculably long, enough to make Severus weak in the knees from this contact through layers of clothing, even though he was lying down.


Potter was fast asleep, wasn't he? What if he wasn't asleep at all, but this was all a scheme to humiliate his former professor? That confession about not liking girls, carefully constructed to draw out a reciprocal admission, feigning drunkenness as an excuse to share the bed, and now this...


But Potter wasn't that inventive, especially when he had to improvise. Severus remembered that ludicrous story he had been told about the Potions book, when he knew perfectly well that Potter had had his own hidden away somewhere. Potter wasn't devious enough to have concocted an elaborate plot that went back to Occlumency lessons he hadn't known enough to prepare for. The homosexual inclinations, at least, were probably genuine...


Potter was certainly rubbing deliberately, moaning softly in his sleep. Severus bit down on his own lip to avoid making a sound, arching his hips forward as much as he dared. His arm stretched accidentally, dropping onto Potter's waist, and the boy used this as an excuse to move even closer, burrowing as if he were cold. Again Severus opened one eye, shut it just as quickly, and whuffed out a breath, letting Potter press against him.


Merlin, that was good, the pressure of cocks and thighs and the warm sweet scent of Potter's hair beneath his nose. Severus turned his face toward the pillow so as not to whimper against Potter's skull. He was sorry they had gone to bed fully dressed, and just as sorry to have had that thought, because now he was picturing Potter completely naked and rubbing against him precisely the same way, but with his eyes open, deliberately trying to make him come...


With a muffled gasp Snape shifted again, trying to get his cock wedged between Potter's cock and thigh. The boy made a small noise in the back of his throat and shifted with him. How was he supposed to extricate himself from such a willing partner?


There was no harm, he supposed, in taking what, even in sleep, Potter's body was offering him. He checked to make sure Potter was still asleep, and therefore less likely to realize what was going on and push Severus away. There seemed to be a quick movement of Potter's eye, as though he'd opened it and shut it again just as quickly, but Severus couldn't be certain. He was more likely to be hexed by Lily's ghost, hovering over the scene of her son's debauchery, willing to sacrifice her eternal rest for a chance to hex Severus's balls off.


Begone, he told that mythical specter as he rocked gingerly with each thrust of Potter's firm, strong young body, turning his face to the pillow, inhaling more of Potter's scent as he tried to muffle his own moans, having more invested now in being quiet and not waking the sleeping young man. Even the linens smelled of Potter, as though they'd been sleeping together for months and this was just one more sensual escapade.


Someone whimpered, though Severus was too far gone to wonder which of them it was, hoping it was Potter, who was probably a screamer when he was awake, and wouldn't it be good, so good to have him screaming out Severus's name, voice lisping slightly as if he'd slipped over into the language of snakes. Yessss... Severus rocked helplessly, balls tightening, panting into the pillow, sorry it was too late to cast a silencing charm on himself because he was going to explode the next time Potter moved and he thought he might scream himself.


There was no escape: Potter's fingers had clenched in his shirt, pinning Severus against him as his hips thrust inevitably forward. And then Potter hissed, not Parseltongue but a long sigh between clenched teeth, as his body spasmed and his cock jerked beneath his clothes...ahhfuck, coming in his pants, and Severus was too. Grunting deep in his throat because it was the only way to be certain that he would not utter Potter's name, he shuddered and spurted against Potter's thigh.


It was better than whisky, better than Amortentia... perhaps better than stumbling away from Hogsmeade to cries that Voldemort was dead, that Harry Potter had vanquished the Dark Lord. Severus did not dare open his eyes. His heart was pounding and Potter was sure to wake now, just as sweaty and breathless, to fling himself out of bed in revulsion when he understood what they had just done.


Potter gulped, loosened the fingers clutching at Severus's shirt, let out a soft sigh and went still. His breath returned to long, steady inhalations and exhalations. Had the boy actually fallen back asleep? Severus himself hardly dared to breathe. He could never remember having slept right through a nocturnal emission, but Potter was young and apparently shameless, and who knew what he had been dreaming about...


Forcing himself to concentrate, Severus performed the nonverbal charm for cleaning up such messes before one's dormitory mates could bring about one's humiliation. A moment later, his pants were no longer wet and sticky. Did he dare try the charm on Potter? Cracking one eye open, he peered at the sleeping face, as calm and unperturbed as if it had all, in fact, been a dream. Deciding that the charm was less dangerous than the possibility that Potter would wake up from the condition of his pants, Severus concentrated, closing his eyes. He saw no reason to reopen them afterward.


The next time Severus did lift his lids, light was filtering in across the blankets from the sagging shutters and Potter was wrapped around him like a second blanket. The stubbly chin cheek was very close to his looking as untroubled as it had when he'd --


Severus shut his eyes again and groaned. Oh god, had he really rubbed himself off on Potter? And allowed the sleeping young man to do the same to him? Beneath him, Potter stirred, hand moving beneath Severus's shirt where it had ridden up somewhere in the night. Severus opened his eyes again in time to see Potter's fluttering open as well. Something unguarded glinted in them for just a moment before it was replaced by wariness.


"Good morning, er, sir," Potter said, voice roughened and low with sleep.


Squinting at him, Severus tried to figure out why Potter was calling him sir. Perhaps he was misremembering things. They had both had too much whisky -- it seemed possible that Snape was misremembering the entire evening. "Did I get drunk?" he asked.


Why that thought should have been a disappointment, Severus could not have said. He had found a perfect opportunity to extricate himself from everything connected with Potter, Dumbledore and the rest... everyone had believed that he was dead, until Potter had turned up in his bedroom. "I -- I'm not sure." Potter offered him an uncertain smile. "Do you remember me getting tipsy and sicking up?"


"You didn't sick up!" Severus glanced around in disgust, seeing no evidence of vomit in his bed as he groped for his anti-intoxicant... empty. Bloody hell. His stomach growled. Perhaps he was merely extremely hungry.


"I felt like sicking up. Then we sort of fell asleep." Potter had withdrawn and was leaning on one elbow, making no move to leave Severus's bed. If what had transpired had not been an extremely erotic dream, evidently Potter did not remember, since he had not jumped out of bed and run away.


"I remember now. You wanted ice cream."


It was an imbecilic thing to say, yet it brought a smile to Potter's face, making Severus feel quite warm and strange. "Still do. I'd settle for more bread and cheese, if you've got it."


Greedy boy. That hadn't changed. Nodding, Severus rose from the bed, trying to remember what he actually did have. "Milk. And oatmeal -- no, that's gone." He glanced at what was left of the cheese, dry from sitting out for hours, and made a face.


Potter stretched and smiled at him again. He was very thin, yet the thigh muscles he had developed playing Quidditch were still visible through his jeans and... fuck. Severus turned around, glaring at the ceiling as Potter rose to follow him to the tiny kitchen. "Any eggs? I can cook them up."


"I think so, yes," Severus said, pulling out the carton.


"Here, let me," Potter said, still barefoot, still ador-- still dismayingly rumpled. "It's the least I can do for --" Severus watched his cheeks coloring inexplicably as he turned toward the stove. "For putting me up," he finished, staring at the stove as if he'd forgotten he could do magic until Severus set down the eggs. Then he pulled out his wand, rummaging around in the drawer under the stove for a suitable pan.


Severus thought he should probably say something, but couldn't think of anything that didn't involve the words 'what are you still doing here?' or 'were you awake in the middle of the night when you came on my leg?' So he bent over and got out the butter and salt.


Potter had started the stove by the time Severus found the pepper, and the smell of melting butter made his mouth water. He leaned against the counter while Potter cracked eggs into the pan.


"How do you like them?" he asked, fingers gliding over the selection of implements in the drawer beside the stove. Severus realized he was staring at Potter's fingers, wondering something that had no business at breakfast, no, make that no business at all in his head about what Potter's fingers would look like sliding down his chest, wrapping around his --


"How do I like my what?" Severus asked blankly, forcing himself to look up.


Potter looked directly at him, smiling and looking quite pleased with himself. "Your eggs."


Heat burst across Severus's face. He leaned over to sniff at the butter to justify it. "Whatever you're having will be fine."


Fortunately, Potter had turned away without seeing the blush. He cracked more eggs, stirring the yolks into the pale whitish liquid. "Scrambled, then. My aunt always had me do them scrambled so I wouldn't mess up my uncle's breakfast."


"I'm not particular about eggs." Severus rose and fetched what was left of the cheese. It smelled acceptable, and he began to shred it to give his hands something to do. This was all terribly -- domestic -- and he felt that some casual disinterest might be beneficial. "I never did take to cooking."


"Isn't making potions a bit like cooking?" Potter looked up as he stirred the eggs, just as Severus reached around him to let the shredded cheese fall into the pan. So that was why Potter had been such a mediocre Potions student -- it reminded him of his Muggle relatives. Though he appeared content as he stirred the cheese into the eggs, nodding toward the cupboard. "Is there any tea?"


Setting down the plate that had held the cheese, Severus reached past Potter to retrieve the tea strainer. His chest pressed up against Potter's back. The younger man shivered -- there was no mistaking it.


What in the name of Merlin's pants did that mean?


"Excellent!" Potter said far too cheerfully. "It's not quite breakfast without tea." He tapped his wand on the stove, turning off the heat, and asked, "Plates?"


Potter hadn't moved. The plates were in the cupboard directly above his head. Thinking perhaps Potter would react negatively to a sudden nonverbal Levicorpus, Severus jerked his head at the cabinet just before he leaned closer, being careful not to touch. Not quite.


Not quite until Potter leaned back with some sort of soft noise coming out of his mouth just before he pulled away, almost guiltily, before Severus had quite realized what had happened. It was absurd to think he'd done it on purpose. More likely he'd become too warm close to the heat and stepped back, not realizing Severus was so close to him. There wasn't any way that Potter was interested in him, not the nearly forty-ish traitor who'd once worshiped his mother.


"Mugs," he murmured, "and plates." He set both down without looking to see what Potter was doing, turning and nearly colliding with him as they both reached for the silverware drawer. Potter, who seemed to be blushing at everything this morning, bent over the table, scraping eggs onto their plates before running water into the pan and joining Severus at the table.


"There," Potter said, with a smile that looked forced, though he ought to know from six years glowering at each other over breakfasts in the Great Hall that Severus wasn't about to smile back this early in the morning. "Not half bad," he continued, digging into his own breakfast.


Severus grunted, then supposed actual words might be called for. "Thank you," he said, trying not to sound grudging.


Potter flushed, giving him a real smile. "Thanks for last night," he said, then stammered. "For, um, putting me up, I mean."


Severus looked up sharply from his eggs, which were fairly tasty. Did Potter mean... no, of course not. "It would not have been safe to allow you to travel without being certain that you were sober."


"Why not?" asked Potter around a mouthful of eggs. He swallowed, wiped his mouth and added, "No one's out to get me anymore. I'd have been safe enough."


Even with overripe cheese, the eggs were really rather delicious. No one had cooked for Severus in longer than he could remember. "You could have been splinched!" he declared in between bites. "Or fallen off a broom."


"Good thing I stayed with you, then. Slept really well, too." Potter didn't meet his eyes.


Severus did not wish to dwell on just how well he had slept. Likely Potter intended to leave as soon as his belly was full. "If you aren't sleeping well, perhaps you have been pushing yourself too hard." Bloody hell -- Severus was trying to find words to tell the boy to slow down.


"Not any more. Not sure what I want to do next."


Taking a sip of tea, Potter made a face that might have suggested dissatisfaction with his options, but to be safe, Severus waved the sugar bowl over from the cupboard. He was embarrassed to see that it was almost empty. With a grateful smile, Potter dumped in a heaping teaspoonful, then pushed the container over to Severus. Sighing, he sipped the sweetened tea. "Just want to... not think about things, you know?"


"I know," he said, repressing the urge to ask what would be different if Potter were not thinking. He wasn't sure why he was biting back his sarcasm, except it was more difficult for his tongue to comply when his belly was full and there was tea in the offing. He pushed the sugar bowl back, waving his teaspoon around the kitchen.


Potter looked into the nearly empty bowl and added more sugar to his own cup, so focused on the action that he missed Severus's moue of disgust. "Maybe we could..." he began, stirring the tea with more concentration than was, perhaps, strictly necessary. "Maybe we could not think about things together, you know?"


Severus set down his own cup and looked at Potter sharply. "What do you mean?"


The young man's shrug was too casual. "Dunno," he said, finally setting down the spoon and looking up. "Just that neither of us needs to be anywhere anymore. Maybe we could do that together."


One eyebrow shot up as he studied Potter's face, trying to discern his true motive. It was elusive as the rest of his reasons for doing anything, for coming here, for refusing to accept his mother's letter back, for sleeping with Severus. "Are you looking for a place to hide, is that it?"


Potter was frowning. "No, are you?"


Perhaps a direct attack would yield more direct answers. "Tell me again why you came to my house," Severus challenged.


"I was looking -- you knew my mother, I never did -- I wanted, I don't know what, but something. Her letter." Sipping the tea as if it would shore him up for the conversation, Potter looked into Severus's face. "But that isn't really it. When I didn't find your body in the Shrieking Shack, I came looking for you."


"Obviously I didn't do a very good job of hiding." Severus felt cross, with himself as well as with Potter. The boy was only looking for some way to reconnect with his mother.


"You shouldn't have to." Potter smiled tremulously, sipping more tea. "Unless you wanted to, I mean." He set the cup down, looking again as if he was bracing himself for something unpleasant. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"


Severus glanced into his own cup. The tea leaves had formed an indecipherable pattern at the bottom of it. Divination was a preposterous discipline. "I suppose you had better get your questions about your mother out of the way or you'll only try to return."


For a moment Potter looked as if he longed to speak, but then he dropped his eyes. "I know you don't like to talk about stuff. Not any more than I do. I won't ask if you don't want me to."


Severus set down his own teacup. He considered that Potter would certainly leave if he refused to answer any questions. "I suppose it would depend on what you wanted to know," he said crossly.


"I know you..." The voice cracked with emotion. "You loved her. Did she --"


Trust Potter to go directly for the jugular! Severus managed not to flinch, mostly because he was angry. "You saw," he barked.


"I saw a bit. Not enough."


"You needed to see every quarrel she and I had, and hear every cruel word your father ever said to me?"


Potter shook his head vehemently. "No! No -- just... did she..." He pressed his lips together and dropped his voice. "Love you too?"


"Was it not obvious that she did not?" Severus's own voice was brittle. "Not as-- She was my best friend. Briefly. The only time I had such a friend."


Impulsively Potter reached over and put a hand on his arm. Severus felt as though he were being scalded, and bit his lip to repress a shudder. "No, it wasn't obvious. Maybe it seemed like she didn't to you, but to me it looked like she... cared for you."


"She had other friends."


Potter's fingers jerked off his arm as if he, too, had been burnt by the contact. "But only one as good as you."


Obviously Potter had some sort of exaggerated impression of what had transpired between Severus and Potter's mother. "From the moment she was sorted into Gryffindor it was apparent that that would change," he said. His arm felt cold without Potter's fingers on it.


The answer only made Potter look frustrated. "But you were friends even after that! I saw that! It was only when you insulted her that she stopped talking to you," he said, voice rising slightly.


Severus ground his own teeth together in frustration. Potter was both persistent and thick, qualities Severus found difficult to deal with even when he wasn't presumed dead. "We were friends. Briefly."


Potter abandoned his tea cup, rocking back on the wobbly chair, studying Severus. "More than that," he said slowly, "Before school. And after. And she cared about you. I know she did."


Severus suddenly guessed where all this was going, what Potter thought he knew and why it was so important to him to pursue it. He laughed out loud. "Potter, I never laid a finger on her."


Potter's mouth dropped open in astonishment and Severus was grateful they'd finished the meager breakfast. "I didn't mean it like -- I mean, she was my mum!"


Still amused, though also embarrassed, Severus shook his head. Potter might not have wanted the details but clearly he had expected confirmation for whatever perverse fantasies he might have conjured. "Your mother was not my -- what is the phrase -- homosexual exception." Potter's mouth closed with a snap. He was still staring, however, looking as if he no longer remembered how to speak. "I'm sorry, did you expect me to tell you that any man no matter how queer would have chased your mother to the ends of the earth?"


Shaking his head, Potter took a gulp of tea. He promptly coughed.


"There was a time," amended Severus, "when I would have followed your mother, perhaps even away from Hogwarts. But not for that. I was not a romantic suitor."


Potter took another drink of tea, more slowly, and wiped his eyes and mouth. "I thought you were straight!" he wheezed.


Now Severus stared at him. "Potter, didn't we have this conversation yesterday?"


"We did not." Potter shook his head emphatically. Severus felt his cheeks coloring.


"I thought. You said." He picked up his own teacup, which was regrettably empty. The remaining tea leaves at the bottom offered no additional clues.


"I meant me. I thought since you loved my mum you must be -- well -- not exactly bent." He leaned toward Severus slightly. "That's why, well, I, last night..."


Potter's words and his gestures seemed to contradict each other. "That's why... what?" snapped Severus. "That's why you felt safe sharing a bed with me?" Potter's face went scarlet and he coughed again, shaking his head. "Oh, I see. You would not have, if you had known."


"No!" Again Potter grabbed his arm. "That's not it at all. I never would have, well, I might have --" Potter closed his eyes. "Um, sort of rubbed off on you."


Fuck. Glaring at the teacup as though it were somehow responsible, Snape muttered, "I didn't believe you were awake."


Potter's head jerked up. "You knew!"


"I am not in the habit of casting Scourgify in my sleep."


A grin took over Potter's face, half sly, half sheepish. "I thought I dreamed that part," he said, releasing Severus's arm.


Severus looked down at the spot where Potter's fingers had been as if there should be a visible mark, then looked up at him, studying his face for the mockery he would have found on his father's. When he found none, he said, "I'm still puzzled. You -- did that because you thought I was straight?"


Potter shook his head vehemently enough to send his glasses askew. He righted them automatically, already protesting, "No! I didn't mean to at all. I woke up and felt --" Really, Potter blushed more easily than his sire ever had. "Well, I thought you might not mind if you thought it was a wet dream and you smelled so good and felt so warm and..." He dropped his head, the very picture of misery, and even Potter Senior at his most faux-contrite had never looked so sincere. "I'm sorry, it sounds stupid and thoughtless when I explain it like this," he said, his voice trailing off.


Severus's lips curved wryly, impulsively reaching over to tilt the boy's chin back up. "Wet dreams are the single form of sexual release of which I have not been deprived," he said, releasing Potter's chin.


The hope that bloomed in Potter's face was almost painful to watch. "You don't mind?" he said, voice catching almost breathlessly.


Severus tried to ignore the breathless little catch in his own chest. "Did you have the sense that I minded? I thought I was taking advantage of you."


Potter shook his head again, less violently this time. "You didn't. I started it; I woke up first and you felt so good, I, well --"


Severus cleared his throat to keep Potter from apologizing again, then realized he had no idea how to respond in a situation like this, never having had the son of his former enemy and romantic rival apologizing for rubbing off on him. "Well then," he said, wishing he hadn't drunk his tea so quickly. "We can dismiss it as alcohol and exhaustion if you wish."


Frowning, Potter scraped a bit of egg off the table. "Is that all it was?"


Instantly Severus was wary again. "What did you think it was?" When Potter continued to scowl at the tabletop, he had an unnerving thought. "I'm certain you have had plenty of opportunities. The Chosen One surely gets more than his share of offers."


Potter shrugged. "Been a bit busy lately." He wore an expression of nonchalance, and Severus could not decide whether to be relieved or disappointed at this confirmation that indeed Potter was no virgin. "Alcohol, exhaustion, and opportunity, then, if you say so." He shoved his teacup away.


Clearly they had dwelt on this topic long enough. "More tea?" Without waiting for a reply, Severus poured for both of them, then watched as Potter dumped the rest of the sugar into his cup and stirred it without so much as a word of thanks. Irritated at the silent treatment, since it hardly seemed fair for Potter to have decided after the fact that he had been taken advantage of, Severus demanded, "Were you expecting me to apologize?"


"Apologize? For having me humping your leg?" Potter snorted.


That was not precisely how Severus recalled the proceedings. Potter had rolled against him, and he had... Severus felt his cock perk up and blushed. "That was not my perception," he muttered. He hoped that Potter did not have some absurd sense of propriety that would require him to report the incident. Then he recalled that he had bigger problems where Potter was concerned. "Are you under an obligation to report that I am alive?"


Though he looked startled by the question, Potter snorted faintly. "None at all. As far as the world is concerned, you died a hero's death."


Severus curved his lips maliciously. "It's better than I expected."


Potter, unsurprisingly, looked confused. "Which? Being a hero? Or being dead?"


Severus snorted faintly. "I fully expected to be dead and I did not expect..." He studied Potter curiously. "What precisely did you tell them? I am still the man who told Voldemort of the prophecy. And still Albus Dumbledore's killer."


"I told the truth," Potter said, straightening rather more than the rickety chair was capable of handling. Yet both of them persevered as he went on. "That you acted on his orders in order to keep me safe so I could sacrifice myself." It was odd to hear something so bitter from Potter, as though his mouth had been taken over by someone else, someone older.


"That hardly makes me a hero," Severus said dismissively, narrowing his eyes at Potter. "Are you angry with me, or with him?"


Potter finally gave up on the chair, bounding up as though he couldn't stand to be still another moment. "Him!" he said, whirling and pacing a few steps. "He used me. He used us both."


From long years of study, Severus knew Potter's anger would blow off unless fed and he didn't feel like feeding it, not this morning. "He did not use me in any way to which I did not consent. And I would prefer to believe that he knew you would be safe."


Already the soft confusion was back. "I know neither of you could have told me but that didn't make living through it any easier." He flung himself back in the chair, ignoring the creak of protest, staring into his hands.


"I could not have told you because I knew only what he chose to share with me. And he could not have told you because the Dark Lord would have known, since you refused to apply yourself to Occlumency. Is it not enough to have survived and triumphed?"


Potter let out a small sigh. "I suppose it'll have to be. To be free to do, well, whatever I can figure out that I want to do." He glanced in the direction of the window, leaving Severus with a surge of envy -- Potter was indeed free to see as much of the world as he wished. "What about you? You're as free as I am now, aren't you?"


"Utterly free," Severus replied dryly.


"Of course you are." The look Potter gave him was just as envious, which startled him. "No Voldemort, no students to teach, no reckless Gryffindor to protect."


"No job, no family, no colleagues... no home. I presume you mentioned to at least one of your friends where you were going?" He watched as Potter bit his lip and nodded. "Then you won't be the last to come looking here." Severus had taken for granted that he would have to leave Spinner's End, but now an idea was forming. "Perhaps I could send you back with my will. May I leave the property to you? I presume you wouldn't want to use it, and no one else will trespass on what's yours..."


All the blood had drained out of Potter's face. "Stop talking like that! You aren't going to kill yourself after all that! Are you?"


Once again Potter had leaped to an absurd conclusion. "I hadn't planned to at the moment," Severus told him, repressing a snicker, "but it would be convenient to establish my death legally. The Ministry will likely impound this property otherwise."


He might as well not have spoken. Potter clenched his hand as if to hold him back from flinging himself out the window. "I won't let you! You risked your life to help me, because of her. I'd be betraying her again if I let you kill yourself."


This was very nearly amusing. "Do you plan to become my keeper?"


"If I have to." Potter's jaw set stubbornly.


Really there was no greater fun than goading Gryffindors when they'd gone all noble and tedious. "What would you do, if you were me, Potter? Take up with my old friends the Malfoys and the Goyles?" He knew he shouldn't indulge Potter's penchant for self-sacrifice. A thought struck him that was too entertaining not to deliver, though he did try to choke it back with a cough. "Return to Hogwarts and terrorize children?"


Potter obviously did not see the humor in that. His jaw was set in a woefully stubborn angle. "You can do whatever you like now. You don't need to take orders from anyone anymore," he said, as though Severus were a butterfly he was trying to set free.


Severus stopped goading him. For now. "You didn't answer the question."


For a moment Potter looked like he'd lost the thread of the conversation, drumming his fingers on the table. "I'd take some time off," he said finally. "Travel. Meet normal people. Maybe shag normal blokes." He said the last bit almost defiantly.


Severus burst out laughing. Potter snatched his fingers off the table in alarm. "That would be impossible," Severus said, trying to quell the bitter laughter, "any bloke who would shag me, as you so delicately put it, and there haven't been many, would not be a 'normal bloke.'"


Potter's expression was hard to define, but held traces of the tediously noble about it that boded ill for Severus's answer. "I don't suppose you think I'm normal then?" he asked a bit defensively.


"It isn't enough to be the Chosen One?" Severus asked.


Huffing, Potter said, "You know I never asked for that. I can't help what people thought."


"And you resent that because it may prevent you from shagging normal blokes?" Severus asked, with a shake of his head.


"I resent it because you think I'm arrogant and spoiled, when I never did anything to deserve it except be the right baby in the right place," Potter said, looking a bit petulant, like a teenager at last.


Severus tilted his head, because he could never resist a puzzle, even though he knew his curiosity had gotten him in trouble before. "Why should it matter to you what I think of you?" he asked.


Potter blinked at him. "I'm here, aren't I?"


"For your mother's letter." Severus waved a hand dismissively.


"If that was true, I'd have left before crawling into bed with you." Potter blushed, shaking his head. "Can't you give me the chance to prove I might be more like my mum and less like my dad than you think?"


Severus had far too much pride to admit that that was precisely what he feared. Even if Potter was not as spoiled and arrogant as his father had been, he would likely marry someone spoiled and arrogant and never spare a kind word for Snape. "Your mother was a human being, not a goddess. She had little inclination to let bygones be bygones. I was never good enough for her," he muttered. "If your beloved godfather and your favorite werewolf couldn't tell you charming stories about your mother, I assure you that there is very little to be wrung out of me."


"You don't get it, do you! She was what, fifteen, when you had that argument?" Potter ran a hand through his hair. "People aren't always the same way when they're fifteen as when they're supposedly adults. I know she was a human being, but she also died young -- she died to save me. We're the only two left standing, the only two left alive to try to find a little human comfort and all you can do is still hold grudges!"


This puzzle was becoming quite tiresome, as was being shouted at in his own kitchen. "Have your passel of Weasleys run away, and Granger, and the Lovegoods, and Longbottom and his gran, and the entire faculty of Hogwarts?" sneered Severus, unsure precisely what it was that he wanted Potter to say. "Slughorn knew your mother as a student, you know. I imagine McGonagall did as well." He pressed his fingers between his eyes. "Yes, I can see that I've been very selfish, hoarding your mother all to myself. Though I don't see that I'm the only one here with a grudge."


"It's not --" Potter sat down hard, shaking his head. "It's not them I wanted to talk to. It's you. Thanks to you, I have my whole life to talk to them." Severus glanced at him, still feeling very tired. "I'm not being very clear. I don't hate you anymore. Do you -- do you still hate me?"


The "anymore" had made Severus smile involuntarily. "Would it disappoint you very much to learn that I never hated you?" he asked.


"You loathed me," snorted Potter.


"I found you arrogant and reckless like your father. I resented having to give Malfoy that little extra push every single time so that when his father asked me whether he was outshining you, I could say yes. I'm well aware that you never practiced Occlumency." It didn't add up to loathing, precisely.


"Then..." Potter gulped. "You don't hate me now?"


Severus called on years of training to withstand the impulse to roll his eyes. "Do I seem to you like a man who would indulge in furtive late night groping and lengthy breakfast arguments with people I hate?"


Something dreadfully like a cheeky smile tugged at the corners of Potter's mouth. "It was good furtive late night groping, wasn't it?" he said, allowing some of the smile to show.


Severus took a sip of his now-cold tea and made a face, hoping his cheeks didn't look as red as they felt. "You may be disappointed to learn that I have little experience of furtive late night groping, particularly in recent decades. It seemed enjoyable to me," he said dismissively, but Potter's smile still tried to peek out.


"Maybe we could try it again sometime," he said, with a casualness that would not have fooled a troll. "See if we get any better at it."


Severus's cock gave a hopeful leap, though whether at the suggestion or the smile he couldn't be certain. "Sometime?"


Potter was still attempting to be suave, or what probably passed for suavity among hopeless Gryffindors. He scooted his chair over closer to Severus's. "Sometime soon."


A mild jolt of panic went through him as he realized that "sometime soon" might translate into "now". Desperate for some sort of distraction, he looked pointedly at the empty plates. "Have you had enough breakfast?" he asked, then braced himself for some sort of lurid double entendre.


Either Potter was just being polite about the "soon" part or he thought more with his stomach than his cock. He followed Severus's gaze to empty plates and nodded, as if trying to read the egg scraps like tea leaves for Severus's meaning. Severus himself was no better at being suave, never having cultivated it as a quality he might need as a spy, no matter what Muggle literature said, and had no idea how to make "sometime soon" become "how about now?"


"If you, ah. I'm going to the loo," he said abruptly, rising more decisively than he felt. Potter would either take the hint and meet him in the bed or he'd be gone and Severus wouldn't have to face him. He took some time in the loo, ignoring the image staring back at him from the faded mirror. No amount of soap was going to make his hair look less greasy, nor his teeth less yellow and crooked, nor the lines in his face disappear. He heard noises from the kitchen -- Potter piling plates and cups in the sink and running water over them. Then silence while Severus finished up what he had come in there to do. Bracing himself for disappointment, while trying to tell himself it wasn't disappointment at all, Severus opened the bathroom door.


Potter was in his bed. Not lying on top of the covers, as they had slept the night before, but under them, though apparently still dressed as Severus saw no evidence of his clothing elsewhere. Trying not to look both terribly relieved and extremely over-eager, Severus lifted the covers from the opposite corner, sat, and slid his legs beneath.


This had been much easier the night before with alcohol still in his blood. Even without touching Potter, the tension was palpable. "If you don't want this..."


Flinging himself forward, Potter wrapped his arms around Severus, holding tightly. "I do! I just don't know what..." He made a small, frustrated noise. "I'll do anything. Just touch me."


It would have been easier to be rejected before breakfast than once Potter discovered precisely how inept Severus was at all this. He might as well not wait... bending his head, he kissed Potter firmly on the mouth. With a quiet moan, Potter kissed back. He wasn't bad -- in fact he was quite good -- obviously he had been practicing, likely with the Weasley girl.


And surely he was drawing comparisons as well, for Severus was aware of being clumsy, kissing too hard. He had already given up trying to hide his erection. Potter's leg wrapped around him, nudging an equally stiff prick into Severus's hip. Desperate for more contact, Severus slid his mouth down Potter's neck, then up to his ear -- he wanted to taste everything, he couldn't stop moaning, he felt very exposed despite being fully clothed.


Shivering, Potter rocked against him, far more shamelessly than he had done the night before when they had both pretended to be asleep. Severus slid his fingers across Potter's back, then lower, moving them under his shirt. "Tell me if this isn't what you want," he muttered, knowing that this was his last opportunity to stop himself.


"Want more -- please -- want you!" Potter was practically begging. It was the most arousing thing Severus had ever heard. Groaning in relief, he pushed the shirt up and wrestled it over Potter's head. The young body was quite thin but muscular and Severus could not keep his mouth off it, licking the nipples, licking the chest, thinking that he would like to bury his nose in Potter's armpit if he were not afraid of scaring Potter right out of the bed.


He settled for sliding his hands downward, over the bulge in Potter's trousers, just feeling the satisfying shape of it before asking, "Can I --?"


Potter had gasped the moment Severus had touched the outside of his jeans. He drew in an obviously shaky breath, nodding. "God, please, anything," he said, still with that breathless catch in his voice. Severus decided to take this invitation at face value, working trousers off first, in case Potter decided suddenly that he was the shy type. Now his cock was clearly outlined against the thin fabric, a dark stain just above the tip. Slowly Severus leaned toward it, rubbing his face against the shape of it, inhaling to memorize the scent. His tongue flicked out to taste that damp spot. With a start he felt Potter thread fingers into his hair.


When Severus looked up, Potter's mouth was open soundlessly, back arched as if his whole body was straining toward him. Severus wanted to oblige this wordless need, but wasn't sure whether to yank down the pants and simply take Potter into his mouth. A tremor went through the flesh under his lips as Potter's fingers tightened, then, contrite, released the hank of hair he'd grabbed while Severus mouthed the length of cock through his pants. "Can you -- god, I'm going to explode like this," came the plaintive moan from overhead. Had Severus not been so close to exploding himself, right here against Potter's leg, he might have smirked.


Instead he slid the thin underpants down, kicking them aside. Potter's cock lost nothing for not being confined, rising dusky and damp from curls as black as Severus's own. He tried to give Potter a moment to object, though Severus had nearly lost sight of any objections, not when Potter's eyes fluttered open, hips already pushing toward Severus as he lowered his mouth. Potter's fingers were clenching the bedcovers as he bucked up between Severus's lips. "God, yes, ohhh..." He was panting before Severus quite got his mouth fully around his cock, seed already spurting over Severus's tongue.


It was just as well, because Severus was not particularly more skilled at this than he was at kissing, though no one had ever complained. He was pushing himself against Potter's leg, trying to swallow and hoping that Potter was too distracted by orgasm to notice that Severus had drooled out nearly as much as he had gulped down.


Panting, Potter flopped back against the bed. "Want you to come! Let me do something too!" Severus made a needy, pathetic noise, crawling up the prone body, thrusting against every part that he passed on the way. Potter's hand found his trouser fastenings, yanking them open with shaking fingers... fuck, rolling to the side and bending double, burying his mouth against Severus's pants as soon as they were exposed.


At that moment Severus realized that he was not going to last long enough even to let Potter do to him what he had done to a boy half his age, yet he couldn't even spare a thought for how humiliated he should feel, he only wanted to come. Immediately. "Potter, Harry, can't... going to..." The boy clawed at his pants, somehow pulling the waist back, getting his mouth around Severus's cock...


His hips snapped, bucking, spurting into that heat, fingers clenching in something soft because it was the only thing to hold as the room flared out of his vision. When the explosion faded and he could begin to breathe again, he found that he was clutching Harry's hair. Likely he had shoved Harry's head down and held him there, and when Harry managed to break free, he would be angry and disgusted...


Harry was licking him. His cock, and the hair around it, and the sweaty crease where the leg met the torso that probably smelled like Severus hadn't washed in a day, since he hadn't. It made Severus tremble. Pausing for a breath, Harry rubbed his mouth around the sides of his trousers, making certain to clean him up thoroughly before looking up. Smiling uncertainly, Harry said, "See, we're already getting better."


This struck Severus as one of the most amusing things he had ever heard. Obviously all the blood had left his brain for lower parts. He laughed aloud, looked at Harry and laughed again, unable to pull in the smile stretching his face. "I've improved from a T to a D."


Grinning back widely, Harry gave his cock a showy lick. "Then we'll have to keep practicing until we get an O."


Again Severus burst out laughing. Perhaps dementia had begun to set in. "I'll give you an O."


Harry looked half bemused, half delighted. He smiled back. "I think you just did," he said, a bit sheepishly while Severus released his hair.


Severus watched him a moment then said, "This is what you wanted?"


Harry pulled himself up close beside Severus, nodding, still looking diffident. There was a bit of come on the side of his mouth so Severus leaned over and licked it off. Harry made a breathless noise that made Severus want to lick his mouth again, but he was fairly spotless now so Severus leaned back and cupped his chin.


"Kiss me again?" Harry said, looking hopeful and a little delectable. Severus pulled him close, trying to do it properly this time. Harry's hand went around the back of his head, pulling himself closer too, and the moan between them was as much his as Harry's.


This was, despite the fact that he was sated, having had more sex in the last few hours than in the last few years, quite arousing. Not quite enough to get him hard again -- not even magic could do that -- but kissing and wanting to be kissed were quite different from his usual experiences. His heart was hammering so hard he was certain Harry could feel it when one hand slid over his chest. He paused in between kisses, feeling Harry's lips moving, seeking his when he pulled away to catch his breath. Fingers pulled at the bits of clothing still hanging from Severus's body.


"Can I --?" Harry pulled back enough to look at him, wigging quickly out of his own clothing before looking back at Severus for his answer.


"I'm not --" Severus began, feeling his cheeks redden. "I'm quite scarred."


Harry studied his face somewhat anxiously, biting his bottom lip. "I still want to see. If we're going to keep doing this, I don't want to always have to wait for nightfall."


If they were going to keep doing this... Severus decided that he would rather face rejection now than later. Hastily he unbuttoned and peeled off his shirt. Harry -- fuck, it was Harry now -- watched with his expression a careful mask, but he did not appear revolted by Severus's scars and lack of muscle tone, nor by the grey hairs among the black. He rubbed his hands, then his cheek, over Severus's chest.


A small sigh of relief escaped Severus's nose. He slid his fingers into Harry's hair, hoping the younger man did not expect him to have an erection again so soon; if Harry was accustomed to boys his own age, Severus would be a great disappointment.


Shivering under his hands, Harry stretched out, keeping as much skin pressed against Severus as seemed physically possible. One of Harry's feet draped across his ankles. He felt boneless as Harry tilted his face, kissed his chin and sighed happily. "I know we just woke up, but I'm sleepy again," he murmured.


Severus let his own head fall back against the pillow. He wasn't certain whether he was sleepy, exactly, but his body had no desire to move. "Is anyone waiting for you? Someone you need to tell where you've gone?" he asked.


Against his chest, Harry's head shook back and forth. "I told Ron and Hermione I had to get away for a while." Severus could feel the lips tug up in a smile. "If you let me stay for supper, I'll bake us that cake."


Severus hummed. "If you want to bake a cake, we will need more sugar."


"If we get sugar, we could also get ice cream." There was a hopeful pause.


"If you are going to bake us a cake, I suppose I could be persuaded to buy you ice cream."


Harry sighed happily again. "If you get ice cream, I may never leave."


This talk of ice cream had made Severus chilly. He tugged the covers up over both of them. "If you never leave, I will need to buy more cheese. And tea. And eggs," he muttered.


Harry's arm had slid across his waist. "If we keep doing this, I'll need it." His eyelids were drooping.


"If we keep doing this, I'll need it too." Harry murmured something in reply, but his weight did not shift and after a moment Severus realized that he was already asleep again. His own eyes felt heavy and it occurred to him that he could close them, though he did consider first whether to use a locking spell to keep Harry inside.


But Severus was a spy of many years' training, and he was quite certain that he would awaken if Harry tried to get away. Besides, he had promised him ice cream. That last made him nod in satisfaction as his eyes fell shut.


Part Three