What It Means To Be
by spinner
12
"You didn't say much at dinner at Hogwarts," Harry commented to Severus, who had his nose buried in a pile of unmarked essays before him on his desk. It was the largest piece of furniture in Severus's private study. They were seated on opposite sides of the expanse of fine dark wood, and while Snape picked away at his marking with a red quill and a hiss and a smirk, Harry's eyes and fingers danced around between the pages of two different books and the scroll unfurled before him.
"Hmph," Snape barked, not looking up. He took a long drink of wine from the goblet beside the essays.
"Is it wise to grade while you're tipsy?"
"There are times when it is utterly necessary," Severus assured him grimly.
"You're mad about the pictures. You finally saw them, and you're angry at me."
"Pictures?"
"In your bedroom."
"Yes, I have seen them, and no, I am not angry. I'm not angry! I'm not angry. Like your gift to Mr. Malfoy last night, I'm sure you hung those photographs of my mother and me to cheer me up, to bolster me, and your intent was not to tear my heart out and gleefully dance around it while it went up in flames and finally withered into ashes on the ground at your feet."
"I'm glad you're not mad," Harry said simply, although the fury wafting off of Severus was giving him a sunburn at this proximity.
They were quiet for several minutes, which Harry spent decoding the rune-riddled cryptogram that Dumbledore had presented him with upon leaving the wonderful Christmas dinner at Hogwarts. Harry had already been gifted with something unbelievable during dinner. Lupin had appeared, five minutes late, and he had dragged Gunnar Halvorsen with him. Havoc had sat between Volkova and Lupin, blushing and smiling in turn, avoiding Harry's gaze entirely. The last time Harry had seen Havoc, Halvorsen had had both ankles in the air and was moaning like tormented fiend while Remy thrust inside him over and over again, growling and snapping words that had scared the heck out of Potter. Harry wasn't at all surprised that Havoc was a wee bit shy around him. There were a few awkward moments during dinner when Dumbledore had asked Remus where he had been hiding himself and what he had been doing with his holiday time. Harry had blushed nearly as red as Havoc had. All Remus had done was grin. Harry was pretty sure Dumbledore knew what Lupin was doing with this free time, and thought it unkind to tease him so. It did good for Harry to see Lupin so content, and Volkova obviously felt the same with the happiness radiating off her brother.
Severus slashed out a passage in the essay currently suffering his fury. He wetted his quill as he fairly muttered to himself. Harry added another word to his sprawling message, watching Snape out of the corner of his eyes.
"Was he ever a good father?" Harry whispered.
Snape paused mid stab and frowned, ready to bite into Harry for blundering around on his soft spots with pointy shoes. But a little voice in his head told him not to lash out, not yet. After all, Harry hadn't grown up with a conventional family. He had no concept of how it should be, only his fantasies about what he hoped it ought to have been. With those fantasies, Potter carried a terrible sadness because he knew he would never have that kind of home life, ever. He had spent his childhood locked in a dark cupboard, Snape reminded himself, being pinched and punched and smacked and starved by people who had loathed him. He had spent his most-impressionable years in the company of people who went out of their way to make him feel unloved, unneeded, a burden and an obstacle to their happiness. It wasn't as if Severus had had an altogether pleasant childhood, but he at least didn't spend years locked in a spider-infested crawlspace, being hated for the very air he breathed.
"Why is it people expect that once you're an adult, all the things that happened in your childhood should suddenly become irrelevant?" Severus wondered.
"I don't know," Harry answered honestly.
"Don't get me wrong. I don't walk around pining for pity because of my upbringing. I don't expect to be granted special dispensation for my misdeeds on the basis of what I went through," Severus managed to say, putting down his reddened quill in fear it would drip like the tears burning behind his cold visage.
"I never said you did," Harry intoned quietly.
"It's the past. You get past it. You put it away. You lock it away, and you try not to worry about, try not to dwell on it. I mean, you cannot change it, so you give it up, if that makes sense. You can get over it, but it doesn't go away. You can forgive, but it doesn't go away. No matter how much you'd like to make it go away, it never does."
"You've forgiven Mesarik then?"
"I wouldn't go that far," Snape snorted.
"You've let go of some of your anger though. I can feel it in your aura," Harry said, waving a set of fingers in the air about himself. "Today not withstanding, your aura has been softer."
"There's a big difference between forgiving someone for their transgressions against you, and letting them pretend that their apology erased all their misdeeds. Mesarik and I are never going to be friends. It simply isn't going to happen."
"You visited him last night."
"How the hell do you know about that?!"
Harry smiled serenely, but didn't answer. If his eyes started twinkling, Severus was going to poke him with the red-dipped quill. He was going to poke him quite savagely.
"I did visit Mesarik, at my grandfather's request," he said once he quelled his temper.
"So you'll visit Mesarik in prison to bring him Christmas presents and a jug of homemade eggnog, but you'll spend the rest of your life hating him?"
"If you knew someone who told you on a regular basis that you were a benighted creature that no one would ever love, that you were the dismal reminder of everything wrong with the world, do you think you'd go out of your way to seek their company?"
"No. What nutter would?"
"So would you ask me to make an exception for someone who happens to share part of my bloodline?"
"No," Harry answered. "You don't see me running back to Privet to visit Dudders and Uncle Vernon, do you?"
"I think not," Snape laughed coldly, stabbing with renewed fervor back into the miscreant essay that had so vexed him. Harry watched him, wrote down another word, and gave a tiny curl up on side of his face.
"Can I say one thing more?" Harry asked.
"At your own risk," Severus snarled.
"I know what you mean now."
"What are you talking about?"
"I know what you meant when you said that Grandfather Orpheus is marrying Mrs. Dalrymple because she reminds him of someone he loved that he lost. She- - -"
"Not another word," Severus breathed fire in warning.
"You can't deny that Mrs. Dalrymple bears more than a passing resemblance to your mother, especially in those pictures I found in Doctor Timma's things. Is that the summer you went to Greece? She's so young, and you! You're teensy! I can't believe my eyes! Maybe your mum sent those pictures back to Doctor Timma, and that's why she had them? She kept them from when she was a little girl."
"Potter."
"All I'm saying is maybe Fate does have a way of bringing things full circle, and you have a chance to have both a mother and a father and a teeny bit of happiness in your family life, that's all. Some of us never get that first chance, let alone a second chance at it. You should enjoy having them both in your life. That's all."
Harry held his ground, kept himself steady with surprising calm even as Snape leapt to a standing position and loomed across the wooden desk towards him. They were nose to nose when Harry lifted his chin.
"One more word, and I'll hex you to blithering stupidity," Severus hissed between clenched teeth.
Harry smiled, leaned in, and dotted a kiss on the tip of Severus's nose.
"Be a love and help me with this, would you? I'll be days and days doing it without help, and you know it," Potter pleaded.
Snape deflated and retracted back to his own seat. He barked out snotty laugh.
"You may do it yourself, even if it takes you days and days."
"Severus, I need help."
"Yes, you do. No! You don't need help! You need to be whipped. You need to be tied to a post and whipped until you promise to stop going around kicking everyone in their soft, white underbellies!"
"I've seen your underbelly, sir, and it's neither soft nor white," Harry teased, looking up over the ends of his glass frames.
"Unbearable Gryffindor!"
"Why don't I read you what I've learned so far?" Harry suggested.
"No, I must correct myself. It's more of a Slytherin attribute to learn someone's weakest point and dive straight for the kill. It certainly isn't something your Weasley friends would have approved of, let me tell you that much."
" 'Son. Proud. Tall. Big. Baby. Big heart. Paper, words, special, gift, three suns, no, days, three days, no punishment'," Harry read slowly.
"How were they when you visited their memorial today?"
"About as talkative as when I was there before. Not a peep. But, the woods were lovely, dark, and deep," Harry said sadly. He didn't feel it necessary to add that he had given a great deal of thought to lying down in the snow that had covered the Weasley memorial and staying there as long as necessary to numb away his pain. Having Modesto along had kept Harry from hiding down in his dark thoughts all morning. His guard had been especially cheerful because he had awakened to find Harry's present beside his chair. Even now, Harry imagined that Guido was sitting around admiring the ancient rapier set that Potter had found at another estate sale. It had taken weeks to get time to polish the blades and repair the box they were held in, especially considering Harry had to swear Owen and Teddy to complete secrecy. But Modesto had lit up with delight, and the thought of granting that amount of joy had warmed Harry for much of the day.
"I didn't know you had read Frost," Snape commented.
"Hermione gave me a volume of his poetry for Christmas, as a matter of fact."
"I hope you had better manners than to dredge up any departed spirits for her as a gift?" Severus snapped crisply.
"Look, Severus, you don't have to say a word. I know Draco's livid about what I did last night, but I swear to you, I swear, that all I wanted was to make him feel better. You don't know how many nights I spend listening to him cry in his sleep because he was dreaming about fighting with his father, or reliving when his father died."
"When you killed his father," Severus reminded sternly.
"Yes, when I killed his father," Harry agreed, his voice dropping to a whisper. Severus raised his eyes and stared at Harry.
"It was hard for you to see Mr. Malfoy face to face that way. You haven't seen Lucius face to face since…."
"Oh, thank you, a painful reminder! I had nearly wiped Lucius out of my head for five seconds," Harry commented snidely.
"You handled yourself very well for a novice spirit-conduit. But you will never, never, never do it again, will you? Promise me!"
"I can't promise that," Harry grimaced.
"And why not?" Severus demanded, brows arching.
"I have made a prior commitment to a lonely widow that I would channel her husband for her day after Christmas, and I won't go back on my word. She's so very lonely."
"Why would you promise to do such a thing as that?"
"Because she asked, and I promised, and that's that. She's making me tea, and I'm channeling her husband. End of story."
"Is it?" Severus hissed.
"I want to help her find some peace. I did what I did last night to give Draco peace of mind too. I didn't mean for the situation to get out of control. Why do you laugh so?"
"Only Harry Potter would believe there might be a controlled situation under which you can open a portal to Hell to channel malevolent spirits," Snape smirked. "Your arrogance is almost as palpable as your ignorance."
"You say the sweetest things," Harry replied, refusing to be taunted into an outburst. "Why don't we change the subject?"
"I neglected to ask what you gave to Miss Granger for Christmas?"
"A wedding ring."
"A wedding ring?!"
Severus jerked and fumbled with his quill, and a tiny lake of red ink bled through the essays on his desk as his well tipped over. Harry looked up from his scroll and offered his own ink well to share as Snape sopped up the mess with a stray handkerchief and growled to himself.
"It's not like that. I gave her one for when she needs it. I told her don't unwrap the box until I tell her it's okay. I saw it in the Egyptorium brochure, and I knew she'd love it. It's got tiny hearts and owls and books on it. It screamed Hermione when I saw it. She and Burnie can inscribe their names on the inside of it. Burnie's not going to be able to afford a ring for her before the time they will need it, and I wanted to help out my best mate."
"Oh, gods," Snape moaned.
"She doesn't know he's going to ask her, because he doesn't know he's going to have to ask her, and that's because he doesn't have to ask her yet, not yet. But by and by, she'll find out, and he'll find out, and we'll all find out, and you'd better be preparing yourself for a wedding next Christmas Day. You will be attending, yes you will, because I am not going to get decked out in brand-new dress robes to be the mate of honor at my best friend's wedding and get photographed by half the known universe without you there at my side. Do I make myself clear?"
"Oh, gods," Snape moaned again, but for an entirely different reason.
"Good," Harry smiled. "If you're done panicking, can I read this to you again?"
"Fine," Severus breathed.
" 'Son. Proud. Tall. Details. Little baby. Big heart. Keys. No keys. Paper, words, special gift, three suns. No, it's days, three days! No punishment. Portraits. There's something missing here, and it's more than definite articles."
"Let me see that," Snape snarled. Harry meekly handed over the parchment he had been decoding. Severus ran his eyes over the translation before sinking himself into the actual parchment. "Definite articles," he mocked Harry for a second before a particular rune caught his eye. Harry watched the color rise in Snape's face, and knew he had been right to tempt him to read it.
"What does it say?" Harry asked. Snape rolled the scroll up and promptly gave it back to Potter. Severus folded his hands together, leaned his elbows on the table, and leaned his chin on his folded hands. And then he smiled a smile that warmed Harry down to his toes and sucked a chill into his flesh at the same time.
"It says I can fuck you senseless for three days, and that you'll do everything I tell you to do, or else."
"Does it really? I find that hard to believe," Harry laughed, unrolling the scroll and staring intensely at the runes. "Which symbol in particular makes you say that?"
"It begins with drivel about how proud Dumbledore is of you, how you're like a son to him, he's known you since you were a little baby, blah blah blah, because you have been such a good boy this year, and you didn't trade keys with Draco, this scroll is written permission for three days of lascivious behavior without fear of legal reprisals, provided you don't get yourself photographed in the commission of said behavior. Pity. I do believe I'd like a picture of you in the middle of lascivious behavior, with your legs apart, your mouth open, your arms bound behind your back. I do so love to make you blush like that," Severus's words got softer as he got closer to Harry. Snape was practically prone across the surface of the desk. Harry, still sitting comfortably in his chair, glanced over the edges of his glass frames and scowled his disbelief.
"There's no way this scroll says you can roger me blind for three days."
"It says you can indulge in lascivious behavior. Is there anyone else you'd rather waste your time with? Tell me now, so I may hunt them down and lay waste to them."
"Well, no, there isn't anyone else, but I fail to see where me being able to involve in lascivious behavior can in any way be interpreted as you being granted permission to fuck me senseless."
"Extrapolation is sometimes necessary in the translation of ancient runes."
"Extrapolation, my arse. Pretty fucking loose interpretation, if you ask me."
"Two of my favorite….three of my favorite words!" Severus purred.
"You ask me?"
"Pretty. Fuck. Loose," Severus counted off. "I knew there must have been a reason Dumbledore would let you come back to Ravensrood with me without a guard and not put up a protest," Severus added with a carnivorous smile. "Potter, put down that quill. Take off your clothes. Bend over this desk. I want to introduce you to my gift from my dear apprentice."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, yes. Don't worry. I will let you beg. All in good time," Severus purred.
Snape had managed to get all the way across the desk, and was now seated on top of Harry's books, one leg on either side of Potter's chair. Snape pushed the heavy, wooden seat back slightly, in order that he might look down into Harry's eyes. Harry's eyes, however, were fastened to Snape's groin, mere inches in front of him. The young man unconsciously darted the tip of his tongue against his top lip before raising his chin and staring deeply at him.
"What a very forward man you are, Mr. Snape," Harry said as Severus took away the scroll and added it unceremoniously to the other essays and parchments which were strewn about the floor. He hopped off the books and shoved them away as well. Broken quills and overturned inkwells lay in the path he had taken across the desk top. Light hitting his nearly-empty wine glass cast a glimmering burgundy patch on the desk itself. The steady drip of ink falling to the floor in large droplets seemed to pattern the rising thump of Harry's heartbeat.
"Master," Severus whispered, taking off Harry's glasses and vanishing them away.
"Very forward indeed," Harry added. Lips brushed the tip of his nose, then dotted his mouth.
"Master," Severus said again, this time in Harry's ear. The door closed and locked as if of its own accord. Harry glanced at the clock, knowing the last time he looked, it had been after three. It wouldn't do to for one of the house elves to find them en flagrante, but there would be no stopping Severus at this point, not that Harry wanted to stop him. It was rather charming watching him make such an anxious ass of himself. He would cherish this moment for years to come.
Snape was taking out his wand, vanishing Harry's clothes one article at a time.
"Up, up," Severus murmured, and Harry began to stand.
"There isn't a Christmas tree in here," Potter protested softly. Teeth and tongue wandered his neck and chest, teased one nipple as he timidly put his arms up around Severus's neck and rested his cheek against the rough collar of his outer jacket.
"As if I care," Severus growled.
"Not a single settee either!" Harry huffed, and Severus scoffed mockingly.
"Tomorrow I'll fuck you over the settee in your room. For the meantime, we will have to make do."
In mere seconds, Harry was flat on his chest across the desk, wood cutting into his hips, his legs spread apart. His clothes were gone except for his mismatched socks, and the thought of this made him smile. He barely heard the spells Severus was chanting in quick tongue but he knew them by heart and didn't need to listen. Relanguero. Unguero. He moaned out loudly as Severus slid into him, and he arched to meet the skin on skin contact as Snape began to thrust. Oh, he needed this. How he had needed this. Severus bent to kiss the nape of Harry's neck, and Harry wanted to caress his lover's face, perhaps his hair, but his raised hand was snatched away, held down to the hard wood's surface. Severus pumped harder, biting along the backs of Harry's shoulders, whispering a word here and there.
"Up, up, higher," he ordered. Harry stood on his toes, though the backs of his legs were aching. Snape let go of his hands long enough to grasp his hips and push him up higher against the front of the desk. Harry could barely reach the floor at this angle. Perhaps that was what Snape wanted. Severus slid his hands down the fronts of Harry's thighs, and drew his nails sharply up. Harry shuddered and moaned louder. He reached backwards, wanting Severus to take his hand. Instead, Snape seized both his wrists and held them in the small of his back, thrusting into him and using the strength of both their bodies to keep Harry pinned in place.
The ink dripping to the floor matched the cadence of Snape's pumping thrusts. The wine glass teetered dangerously as the desk jumped. Harry muffled his cries against the parchment under his cheek, feeling sweat bead on his forehead and his lip, and trickle down the side of his face. He was making sounds even he didn't recognize as his own. Lust flowed around him like the auras of magic he could feel with his senses open. He could feel Severus in all senses of the word, and he could sympathize with his lover's need to hurt and to soothe, to possess and to release, to dominate and to submit in one gesture. Severus was the embodiment of every contradiction that Harry hated and loved and needed and rebelled against. Perhaps that's what made them such an equal match for one another.
"That's it. That's it," Severus was chanting. "You. Like that. Don't. You? Don't you?"
Harry couldn't help but chuckle a tiny bit. It wasn't more than a gasp with an edge of mirth. It inflamed Severus all the more, and he whispered another spell which Harry didn't recognized, but it caused him to see stars in his field of vision. He found he had to breath deeply to draw even the smallest breath.
"Just. A little. Just. A Little. Is that. Good? Do you like it?"
Harry groaned and clenched his legs tight against Severus. Snape let go of Harry's hands and grabbed his hips, arching him to the very edge of the desk and pounding relentlessly into him now. The red ink well crashed off the opposite end of the surface and flung its few remaining droplets far and wide. The wine glass tipped over and Harry felt it splashing his cheek. Severus seized Harry's cock under their bent bodies and tugged mercilessly, all nails and pain.
"Come for me. Come. Come. Come."
Harry cried out, and with much regret, he splattered the poor desk. It was ancient and beautiful and deserved more dignified treatment than this. Severus followed soon on, filling Harry with hot fluid and staying buried deep in him, keeping him down on the desk a moment or two as their breathing calmed and their hearts pounded in unison. Severus nuzzled Harry's neck and the freckled backs of his shoulders, taking his hands and holding them far out on either side.
"Stay," Severus ordered, but his words were couched in a soft plea.
Snape slid out of Harry, kissing his way down Potter's trembling spine, over the small of his back. He laved his tongue in the dimples of Harry's hip bones.
"What a gorgeous creature you are," Severus whispered, kissing his back and then biting his hip. "Three days! Three days! I won't even let you leave the bed."
Harry made as if to move, and Severus was lying over his form, pinning him once more to the desk.
"Stay," he pleaded again.
Harry gave an impatient sigh but stayed where he was, hot and sticky and sweating into the parchments under him. He hoped he wasn't going to have letters all over himself again. Snape was opening drawers somewhere in the room, though not in the desk. He returned on quick feet, and Harry watched from an angle as he lay a small wooden case on the desktop next to Harry's left hip.
Severus undid the closures and opened the top—the black velvet interior seemed to swallow light down into itself.
"What's that?" Harry whispered. Severus answered by reaching for his neck and buckling smooth material around his throat. The velvet was incredibly snug, and Harry could feel cold the metal fastening at the very back warming to his skin.
"It will leave no marks," Snape promised. Harry tried to reach a hand to touch the soft collar, but Severus was taking his wrists, putting more smooth material there. He pulled Harry upwards and into a sitting position, pulling his hands in front of him. Harry scooted to the edge of the desk and admired the velvet manacles that were being buckled to his limbs. The manacles buckled together as well, keeping his hands together.
"The very latest in fashion, I assume," Harry mused, nuzzling them with the tip of his nose and the sides of his cheeks.
"Three days," Severus repeated, eyes glittering. Harry nodded, and Severus smiled. "Close your eyes."
Harry was quick to obey, because the request had been accompanied by a kiss on the nose. Severus guided them both into the heavy wooden chair. He sat in the seat and pulled Harry into his grip, legs spread on either side. Harry thumped around and put his hands behind Severus's head, coiling his fingers in his hair. Snape held out one hand and something collided with his grip. He used his other hand to flatten Harry to his stomach.
"Relanguero. Unguero," Severus murmured. A thick object with a skin-like surface, rather longer than Harry could have imagined would have fit in that small wooden case, passed his stretched entrance and climbed inside him. He felt himself arching forward into Severus, pushing his recovering cock into Snape's furry belly as he moaned. Severus was holding the object up inside Harry as Potter shuddered in his grip.
"What the hell is that?" Harry gasped, keeping his eyes closed.
"Don't worry. It will feel your limits and adjust," Snape soothed. Severus was whispering spells under his breath, and Harry could see that Snape was watching his lover's face all the while. Harry pined softly under his breath, steadying his knees on the chair.
"Bend forward. That's good."
Harry pined softly again, and Severus caressed his spine with one hand. He pulled Harry prone to his own body and touched their lips together, rubbing tongues sensually as he caused Harry to curve and arch. They parted so that Severus could whisper a command. Harry gave a genuine squeal and began to buck uncontrollably. There was a source of friction and movement inside him, welling up and through him, provoking a sensation somewhere between pleasure and alarm. Snape chuckled and kissed his open mouth. Harry groaned and writhed, but Severus held tight to him, amusement in his teasing tone.
"Why, Mr. Potter, your underbelly isn't soft and white either, is it?"
Harry sank his teeth into Snape's shoulder and held tight, bucking hard and grunting. Severus clutched him fiercely and hissed another command. Harry dug his teeth in harder and splattered semen along Snape's belly.
"Oh, dear, that will never do. It was over much too quickly. We're going to have to work on your staying power, aren't we? To be so young again!" Severus teased.
Harry panted, his teeth still clenched in Snape's shoulder.
"You can let go now."
Harry held on, sweat dripping off his face.
"Let go."
Harry's hold became perceptively, minutely tighter.
"If you draw blood, so help me…." Snape warned. Potter began to growl and shake his head side to side. "I can make it bigger," Severus purred in his closest ear. Harry let go, panting and squirming.
"What is that?"
"It won't come out until you behave."
"Oh. Oh."
"Alas, it's nearly four, and we must make ourselves presentable for dinner. But that comes with a whole list of commands, for when I am recovering but you are ready again. There are warming spells. Engorgement spells. Chilling spells. Quaking spells. There's even a spell that lets it squirt whatever potion or liquid you might want to pour in it."
"Severus," Harry pleaded.
"Later tonight, I will tie you to my bedposts and demonstrate every last one of them to you. I have a tingling potion in mind to try that will set you all aflutter. Would you like that, my pet?"
"Please," Harry panted.
"You will come to my bed and let me do as I will to you."
"Please, yes, oh, yes."
"I may come to enjoy Christmas after all," Severus murmured, teasing another kiss from Harry's very inviting mouth.
***The End ***