"No."

"What do you mean ‘no’?"

"No!" Harry repeated emphatically. Severus stared at him in puzzled frustration. The dangerous tone in Potter’s voice echoed out from him like a warning light from an isolated lighthouse in a rocky harbor, green waves crashing, white caps dancing. Severus decided to back off.

"Harry, are you honestly comfortable with what we’re doing?" he asked from a safe distance.

"You are not putting your fingers up my bum," Harry blurted.

"You are the last person I should need to tell about the dangers of unlubricated sexual activity. You must let me properly prepare you if intercourse is what you truly want tonight."

"No," Harry repeated, scurrying further away. He turned around and sat down on the shaggy, shocking-green carpet, holding a large pillow over his lap in order to hide his naked erection. Snape smoothed both hands back through his own wild, damp hair as he sat near the opposite edge of the recent gift which had been thrust upon him. He and Harry stared at each other before Potter turned his head away. The young man was pulsing with energy and frustration while gazing into the empty fireplace. Snape was verbalizing a few choice words inside his mind. Not a man of infinite patience to begin with, Severus was nearly at his wits’ end. It was hard not to feel he was enduring the unpronounceable wrath for Lucius Malfoy that still burned deep in Harry and probably always would.

Harry had come home to Hogwarts late in the night, and he had been burning with unanswered, untamable sexual tension. Severus wasn’t sure who or what had so excited the boy, but he suspected it might have something to do with the fact Potter was doing reconnaissance in the continuing search for Bellatrix Lestrange– reconnaissance of a sort that found him nearly every night lounging at her favorite table in the Three Sheets Brothel in Knockturn Alley. Generally, the goings-on in the brothel didn’t bother Potter one way or the other. He was intrigued, but not overcome, able to keep his mind on his task. Tonight had obviously been different.

"Why don’t you want....?" Snape ventured, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"Because I feel silly, that’s why," Potter snapped.

"Perhaps it would help if you weren’t watching what I’m doing through my mind. Turn off your second sight for the time being. No one is ever comfortable seeing himself through another person’s eyes."

"There’s a spell you could do that stuff with," Harry insisted.

"What?"

"Nico said there’s a spell."

Nico. Severus frowned to himself at the mention of Henri Le Clair’s lover’s name. More the once, more than twice this summer, Waggstaff had been too close, too chummy with Harry, and Snape didn’t like the former Quidditch star one little bit. Harry could brush off those forward actions if he so wanted, but Severus felt Waggstaff was working up to seducing Harry if given the opportunity.

"Of course there’s a spell, but I thought perhaps you might enjoy...."

"No! Nico told Henri to use a spell."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Henri didn’t want to use the spell because he wanted to see Nico squirm. Well, I don’t want you to watch me squirm. Just use the spell. I’m sure you know what ones work best."

Snape’s already-hard eyes narrowed, and he seethed with jealousy.

"When exactly did you have the opportunity to be so close to Messieurs Nico and Henri when they were contemplating the use of lubrication spells?"

"I wasn’t there with them! I was in the other room. I sensed what they were doing," Harry fussed, blushing. "I don’t want you to watch me squirming."

Severus saw the expression on Harry’s averted face and knew what must have been going through his mind. It must be something Lucius had said or done to the young man. He could almost hear Lucius’s smooth voice taunting Harry.

"Accio wand," Snape murmured, temporarily ignoring one length of wood while raising his hand to catch another. "Come closer. I’ll show you, if you’re still in favor of......which clearly you are," he added, brow raised in annoyance when Harry all but scrambled back to him.

"Yes please! I don’t fancy another wank in the shower. I’ve spent so much time in the shower this summer. ‘Mione said I’m going to drown if I’m not careful," Harry whined eagerly. He leaned in and nuzzled along Severus’s collarbone. "I’m sorry I’m so fussy," he breathed in a tentative, embarrassed hush. "I just want...I want....you always make me feel....I want..."

"I understand. You’ll be happy to know there are several spells," Severus murmured. "Turn off your clairvoyance, and trust me, please."

He silenced all words for a moment in order to press his mouth against Harry’s. Potter opened his mouth and tangled his tongue around Snape’s. It’s hard not to let one’s mind wander while kissing, no matter who you are wrapped around, exchanging who knew how many germs and diseases by one of the most contaminated and vulnerable places on the human body. Snape himself didn’t particularly understand anyone’s fascination with the act. But kisses never lost their charm for the young man in his grip.

Severus understood that too was Malfoy’s doing. Lucius had never been one for the frivolity of kisses when sex was all he wanted. Snape doubted Malfoy had burned any of his hour and a half pressing his lips to Harry’s lips. There simply hadn’t been enough time for him to waste one second of it. The late, lead Death Eater had blazed a ragged trail through the forest of Harry’s psyche not by discreetly indicating the paths which he had taken, but with a frenetic hatred, the slash-and-burn methods of a man determined to leave a permanent indication of his passage.

Harry at least enjoyed kisses– long, slow entanglements that took his breath away. Maybe the young man was one who might enjoy erotic asphyxiation within limits? There was no way Severus was going to be able to broach that topic for years, if he were lucky. It seemed that Henri Le Clair had had a long talk with Harry and convinced the boy that sex should be all about pleasure, not pain. Alas, Snape might someday bravely mention it, but not without first convincing Harry that not all pain was actually unwanted, in spite of what Le Clair might have said.

In spite of his many neuroses, Harry’s eagerness for sexual affection was unequaled. Like father like son, Severus thought bitterly. Perhaps this was the best testament to what a raging sex maniac James had been at this same age. At seventeen, Severus had felt undeniably monkish when compared with James Potter. Though his lonely teen years were far behind him, it wasn’t every day someone was beating a path to Snape’s bed. He couldn’t remember the last person who had been eager to have sex with him.

Fact of it was, Severus couldn’t remember anyone who had ever been eager to be with him. Maybe he wasn’t looking in the right places. And maybe he had to take a little of the fault of being lonely onto his own shoulders. He didn’t go out of his way to be solicitous or pleasing. He was not a social butterfly– more of a social vulture, picking off bits and pieces of dying conversations as he lurked at the outreaches of polite society. Lucius was constantly embarrassed about his one-time liaison with Severus. That embarrassment had turned to uncomfortable envy when Severus had married Illumina, the one woman Lucius had wanted as his wife if not a lover. Severus was a smart enough man to realize that maybe, just maybe, Illumina had chosen him as her husband in order to vex Lucius. She might not be good with face-to-face confrontations, but she could get her point across when she wanted to do so.

Their marriage had never been what one would call normal or boring. They spent more time apart than together. Severus was busy balancing his allegiance to Albus Dumbledore and his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Illumina had secret lives of her own to manage– membership in the super-secretive Deusredeti as well as a job with the Ministry of Mysteries. Those four worlds had collided when she had been bitten by a vampire while on assignment. After she survived the attack and then acclimated to her new self, Illumina had wasted no time disappearing into the seamless world of the night. She had put enough distance between herself and Severus to make it pretty clear she was leaving her human life behind her, him included.

Eventually (okay- more than a fucking decade later) Illumina had divorced Severus to be able to enter into a business arrangement-marriage with Henri Le Clair. The grief and guilt she felt in doing this was only compounded by the fact she was pregnant by Le Clair after the one sexual encounter required during their traditional bonding ceremony. When Severus thought about all the years that he had wasted, wanting children, wanting to make his marriage work even when it was obviously gone beyond repair, for Illumina to be able to divorce him, remarry and spawn a child in ONE try galled like urine on chaff marks.

It might have appeared to outsiders as though the disturbed Professor Snape was taking physical advantage of the vulnerable and guileless Boy Who Lived, corrupting even further a poor soul that Lucius Malfoy had twisted nearly to the point of no return. However, the truth of it was that Severus was as emotionally-needy as Harry was, if not more so. Severus was a very lonely human being, and he was more than willing to allow himself the small indulgence of fanning the flames of Harry Potter’s charmingly-boyish crush, even at the risk of the wrath of the Headmaster and the disapproval of Minerva McGonagall. It had been so very long since someone actually managed to make Severus feel as if he were worth the effort it would take to consummate intimacy. There were so many walls and locked doors to pass through that usually no one bothered.

To have the Hero of the Wizarding World following him as if tethered by a leash was enough to stoke even the most humbled ego. Tonight was a stunning example of the hold he enjoyed on Harry. Burning sexual need like a bright beacon, where had Harry gone? He had not gone to his many adoring fans who would have been more than willing. He had not gone to his ‘friends’ like Le Clair or Waggstaff, both of whom had made it clear they’d bed Harry at the least request from the boy. No. Harry had come straight to Severus, practically on his knees.

Severus perfectly understood the objections that had been raised about his liaison with Harry. He in fact shared many of the same opinions. Harry was still too young in so many ways and not ready for an adult relationship of this magnitude. It didn’t matter that over the summer he had gained at least three inches in height and put on a stone in weight. What mattered most was that in the eyes of the wizarding world, he was an impressionable boy. The defeat of Voldemort had compounded the issue in that Harry had become highly-sought-after by any number of pure blooded, highly-placed families who wanted him as either a husband, a son-in-law, or a sire if nothing else. Severus had found himself in possession of the Holy Grail of Unmarried, Eligible Males, much to his own surprise and annoyance.

Over tea and cookies only yesterday, Dumbledore had made it clear to Severus that his foolish summer dalliance with Harry would be permitted only until such time as a suitable wife for Harry could be negotiated from the many offers that were pouring in from all corners of the wizarding world. At that point, Dumbledore would expect Severus to step quietly aside and give Harry up, so to speak. That’s what the Headmaster expected, anyway, as if Harry were no more than a prized horse with the fastest legs at the racetrack.

At one time, Severus might have done as Dumbledore had asked. He was obliged to the Headmaster in so many ways. Stepping aside might have been the best thing for Harry in the long run, no matter how it might hurt him in the meantime. Snape understood what he was expected to do in this situation was better for Harry. But there was no way Severus could leave Harry now. No. Not after he had tasted and touched Harry and made him his own.

Thinking on it, Potter was a bit of a race horse– he had grown legs that ran for miles. Severus appreciated every inch of thigh Harry had gained as he eased Potter back down on the carpet. Severus wished he had handy that one particular pillow which Harry had dragged away with him. It was, unfortunately, out of reach for the moment.

Maybe it had been the Headmaster’s foolish demand that had ramped up Snape’s determination that by whatever means he had to employ, he was going to get Harry into his arms, if not into his bed. No, there would probably never be beds involved, alas. Thanks again to Lucius. Damn him. Snape had waited awake for hours for Harry, hoping he would come home to Hogwarts tonight. How lucky for him the state in which Potter had appeared!

Severus was adamant that the Headmaster wasn’t going to get his way this time. By the time Albus and Minerva and Remus pooled their respective lists and found Harry a suitable bride, Severus was going to have so spoiled the boy for affection that he would never even look at another person on the planet. No matter the humilities he might have to put himself through, no matter that he might ruin a two-decade career, no matter that he might lose every last friend and burn every last bridge, Severus was resolved that Harry would be his, forever.

"I want you to try to relax and trust me," Snape ordered in a husky rumble, pulling back from the kiss at last. He put Harry’s shoulders to the carpet and kissed his way down the young man’s chest.

"I trust you," Harry whispered. Severus was not at all convinced. Trust was an issue between them, and always would be, he supposed. Not that he minded. A small amount of mystery could keep the fire in a relationship.

Harry kept track of Severus with all ten fingers as Snape traced his tongue along the trail of dark hairs that ran down from Potter’s navel and joined with those that curled upward from between his thighs, around his eager cock. Potter was tense not just with arousal, but also in keen concentration, and Severus recognized he must be attempting to silently open his clairvoyance. Snape popped his head back up, annoyed.

"Turn off your second sight," Severus coaxed, letting one hand trail downward further. He cupped his palm under Harry’s balls and gave them a tender squeeze. The concentration evaporated from Harry’s face. Potter slowly opened his knees, curling his fingers into the carpet. He clamored loudly when he felt the brush of Severus’s tongue over the head of his erection.

"Don’t tease," Harry groaned in agony.

"I wanted to make sure I had your attention," Snape murmured, a wicked smile on his face. "If you’re very lucky, I will let you use these spells on me. Why are you snickering?"

"I don’t know if....I mean....I..... do you trust me enough to let me....I’m a rank amateur," Harry smiled, eyes still closed. His voice was deeper each day, becoming a sexy-soft-shy purr. He had left his glasses on top of his clothes, which were somewhere in the outer chamber of Snape’s quarters. Severus fretted for a moment in concern that they may have left the door unlocked. An unlocked door last week had resulted in a high-pitched wail of horror from Remus Lupin, and a dressing-down from on high from Dumbledore. The Headmaster hadn’t stopped frowning. But at least Remy was learning to knock before entering Harry’s room.

"Mr. Potter, there are facets of your person we’re going to have to work on with the remainder of your holiday."

"What might those be?" Harry asked with a uncommonly dry tone. Any appreciable caché he might have banked with Severus from the use of those arch words was evaporated when he echoed a small ‘aiEE’ and quivered as he felt the very tip of Snape’s wand caress his entrance.

"You have to learn to articulate your thoughts regardless of the feelings involved. All this stammering makes you sound like an unsure schoolboy, which you are not, are you?" Severus said.

"No," Harry smiled weakly.  'Only with you,' he thought to himself.

"No. You have conquered evil. You are the Boy Who Lived. You are the Man Who Slew Lord Voldemort. No more of this stammering. You know a few words. Learn to employ them."

"I will try, Professor."

"Further more, you simply have to stop that damned squeaking every time I do something that surprises you."

Harry laughed deep in his chest. "Stop surprising me," he suggested.

"Relanguero," Severus rumbled. Harry’s eyes fell open as round as his mouth, and he drew in a deep breath as the spell climbed inside him and seemed to melt away his ability to move, specifically to tighten, the particular muscles that the spell could reach.

"Not permanent?" Harry gulped, eyes searching Severus’s face.

"No," Snape drew out the word, irritated.

"Good to know," Harry whispered.

"Were you paying attention to the spell?"

"You have my undivided attention, Professor," Potter promised huskily, biting his mouth closed because he wanted to laugh.

"That would be a first."

"I’m going to hex you," Harry warned, seductive green eyes narrowing as his smile widened playfully.

"Would you care to venture a guess as to the Latin derivation of the Relanguero spell, or its modern linguistic descendants?"

"Not right at this minute," Harry whispered in a small voice, wanting so badly to laugh again but holding back anyway.

"Shall I continue?"

"Mm hunh," Harry mumbled, nodding.

"Unguero."

When Severus whispered the word, Harry sat up in alarm, pushing both hands down between his legs as he closed his knees tight.

"What was that?!" Potter gasped. Severus was at the point of stunning Harry into complete unconsciousness out of fury, but he took a deep, calming breath, and lifted his wand.

"Show me your hand," he commanded.

"Which one?"

"Either," he breathed flames. Harry offered his left, meek as a lamb. "Unguero," Severus repeated, watching as scented oil poured over Harry’s palm and dripped down his arm, plunged off his elbow, and landed on the carpet that Harry had bought for Severus very recently while poking his nose into shops in and around Hogsmeade. Potter had said the carpet screamed to be taken home to him. Snape had said he was at least half right. Severus’s taste in carpets usually ran towards elegant and unobtrusive, and easy-to-clean. Harry’s taste in carpets apparently ran towards shocking-green and shaggy. Because it was from Harry, Severus had accepted it graciously, hoping to cause a quote-unquote accidental fire in his bedroom as soon as was reasonably possible. ‘This thing had better be washable,’ Severus groused inside.

"Oh, okay," Harry said, giving a small, meek laugh. Snape took Potter’s oiled hand, and wrapped the young man’s fingers and his own fingers around his cock, hoping the long delay between intention and actually activity hadn’t wounded his ability to perform. Luckily not. Harry’s eyes wandered over Snape’s body, and fear burned in his eyes, not the desire Severus had been hoping for. Potter tightened his grip, and Snape decided he would have to explain again that his genitals were not a squeeze toy, and there was going to have to be a reasonable limit set on the amount of pressure Potter would be allowed to apply. But Snape was responding to the pain as much as the pleasure, and in no time at all was stiff and ready again. He wasted no time making his intentions clear.

"Assume a position, now," Snape barked the order impatiently. To his surprise, Harry smothered a smile and sat up on his knees with a small wobble. Potter let go of Snape’s cock and pushed Severus back against the carpet.

"Lie down," he whispered when Severus went to sit up.

"What are you doing to me?" Snape growled.

"Stop being so bossy," Harry said as he straddled Severus’s body and tried to maneuver himself over Snape’s throbbing cock, which by this point was nearly as annoyed as the rest of him was. Severus grabbed Harry by the hips and held him steady, arching his own body and moving the head of his cock into position.

"I hope you have some inkling of what you’re about to do to yourself," Snape taunted him.

"I’ve watched....um....somebody....um...."

"At the Three Sheets?"

"Mm hmm."

Harry sank down over him, and stars danced in the young man’s dizzy eyes. For the space of several seconds, neither Harry nor Severus moved or breathed.

"Yeow." Potter managed finally to utter a tiny word.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked, hot and dry as the Sahara. Potter nodded, eyes closed, mouth pulled tight with pain. Severus released one of Harry’s hips and eased one hand around Harry’s erection, thumbing and stroking him, hoping to distract him from the pain with some small pleasure.

"Stop," Harry groaned. "I’m afraid I’m doing this wrong."

"Why?" Severus asked, unable to stop smiling even when Harry opened his eyes and glared down at him in warning. He slapped Snape’s hands away from his erection, snatched up the older man’s hands, and held them out to his sides.

"I hit something. It really hurt," Harry whined. "Nobody said anything about.... ow.... ow....."

"What did you hit?" Severus asked, easily shaking off Potter’s grip and taking hold of the slender hips before him.

"I dunno."

"Your ignorance of your own anatomy is astounding," Snape growled. He pulled Harry upwards and easing him back down again more slowly. "That?" he whispered, hushing Harry’s erratic gasps and dodging his grasping hands.

"Stop-oh-stop-stop-oh."

"You’re supposed to be hitting that," Severus murmured, stroking his cock inside Harry and rubbing the spot which made Potter’s eyes grow particularly wild. "Not hit, precisely," Snape moaned and moved Harry up and down again. Potter’s short nails dug into Snape’s chest.

"Stop!" Harry insisted, green eyes flaring yellow with danger.

"It will feel much better if you let me gently rub against your prostate rather than poke and gouge at it, which I could demonstrate if you’d kindly let me put you in one of our previous... mmmm....previous positions."

"Can’t," Harry gasped.

"Why not?"

"Can’t move. I’m stuck."

"For the love of grace and all the holies," Severus muttered, lifting Harry off of himself. He stopped short of shaking Potter by the shoulders, but only just. Harry nestled his head into Severus’s chest, burning red with worry and shame.

"Maybe we should stop. I don’t know if I can do this."

"Every time you say that, you’re letting Lucius win," Severus whispered, kissing along Harry’s neck. Manipulative? Maybe. Necessary? Undoubtedly. He was a master of knowing which chords to pluck to produce the desired tone. Fury coursed through Potter’s eyes.

"Lucius Malfoy didn’t win," Harry hissed.

"He will own you until you prove what he did matters not."

"He does not own me!" Harry insisted.

"Who does then?" Severus asked.

"Perhaps you do, if anyone does, when I allow," Harry whispered, smiling a small, pert smirk.

"What have you done with your pillow?" Severus whispered, nibbling Harry’s earlobe. There was no way to protest to irony in that statement. It was best to merely keep quiet, Severus decided.

"Accio pillow," Harry said, sticking out a hand. A mound of fluff collided with them both. At first Harry smiled proudly, and then he sensed Snape’s dark annoyance bristle around him. Harry bowed his head in exasperation.

"You must start concealing your expertise with wandless magic if you ever hope to use the talent to your advantage. We don’t want everyone to know how successful Le Clair has been with you," Severus warned again, putting the pillow on the floor and coaxing Harry to rest his hips on top of it. Potter put his face against the carpet and buried his shame in his open hands.

"Hurry up and let’s get this done with," Harry growled. "I feel like an idiot."

"Is that your Vox Cupido?" Severus murmured, dry amusement coloring his whisper. He nestled himself between Harry’s wide-spread feet and legs. "You’ll let me know if you find this uncomfortable."

"When should being face down with my ass in the air ever be comfortable??" Harry snapped.

"You are a veritable Hell Hound when you’re frustrated, aren’t you?" Severus teased before he aligned their bodies with great care and slid inside Harry once more. He seated himself with patience he did not feel, and waited, knowing. There was an immediate change in the angry aura around Harry.

"Mmm," Harry murmured, pushing backwards against Severus. Snape gave an experimental push forward, and Harry quivered with pleasure. "Oh-oh."

"Hurts?" Snape whispered.

"No. That’s...that’s nice." Harry sipped in air and started to move first with and then against Severus’s careful thrusts. "Mm. That’s....oh.....oh!"

"I’m so glad you approve," Snape mused, stroking Harry’s ribs and hips, bending to kiss his back.

"Do that again. What was that?" Harry questioned in between panting breaths. For all the world, Snape wished desperately to see the expression on the young man’s face.

"This?"

"That. That. Oh, yes," Harry groaned, wriggling like a happy pup, his voice dropping down perilously low.

"Hush. No talking," Severus teased, kissing the back of Harry’s left shoulder and nuzzling the nape of his neck. Harry lifted his shoulders up and stood on all fours as they continued moving together.

"I’ll sing ‘God Save the Queen’ if I feel like it," Harry breathed and hissed.

"I doubt you will," Severus teased, drawing a series of sweet sounds out of Harry.

"Do that again. That. That," Harry moaned. "Oh. Oh. Oh!"

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