My Snarry-a-Thon Fic
I did a pinch hit for the Snarry-a-Thon, and I'm really glad I did. I ended up having a lot of fun writing this. And, as always, the fest was so well run and right full of wonderful fic and art.
Title: Corresponding with Snape
Author: asnowyowl
Other pairings/threesome: Hint of Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC17
Word count: 4380
Warning(s): Hogwarts era, though Harry is 18 (eighth year fic)
Prompt: #7 - (I changed it up a bit) Harry's 6th year 8th year - Ron notices that Snape has changed (happier, better appearance, etc) and deduces Snape must have a lover. Ron's determined to uncover who it is. Harry's determined to make sure he doesn't!
Summary: Who would have guessed that writing silly notes to someone could change the way you feel?
A/N: The notes are coded for colored 'ink', so I hope the colors show up on everyone's browsers. Thanks to bk7brokemybrain for the always outstanding beta.
Corresponding with Snape
When his homework paper was returned with more red slashes on it than the black lettering done in his own hand, Harry lost his temper. Nobody else's paper looked like that after Snape 'graded' it, and Harry was sure his couldn’t be the worst in the lot. After all, the subject was Polyjuice Potion and he was probably one of only two students in the class who had actually ever used the stuff (and the only one who'd used it right).
So right under where Snape had penned, This is ridiculous, Potter. Polyjuice Potion does not taste like snot., Harry wrote, It does when it has Goyle parts in it., and he handed it back to Snape.
And that's where it started.
On the next day of class, instead of continuing on that old homework parchment that contained too many of Snape's vile comments to add anything after Snape's, And exactly what part of Gregory Goyle did you ingest? I would think not a single bit of him is worthy of a taste. You really should have explained yourself. If I'd known it was Goyle, I would have understood the snot comment., Harry pulled a new sheet of parchment from his bag.
He left the message, Did you just make a joke? I can hardly believe it., along with his homework on Snape's desk.
That was no joke. What part of Goyle did you ingest and why did you feel the need to adopt his appearance?
Well, Snape couldn't get him in trouble with such old information, surely. After all, Harry was an eighth year student, fresh from defeating Voldemort, on a fast track to Aurorship. Not even Snape could bollix that.
Ever the spy, I suppose, needing to know everything. Well, if it's that important to you, it was a hair, from his head, and I only turned into Goyle to find out if Malfoy was Slytherin's heir. Second year.
The next day came, Malfoy? Even you couldn't be that dense, Potter. If the heir of Slytherin is a Malfoy, then I resign my post as head of Slytherin house. Immediately. By the way, please be more careful with your comments, I almost gagged at the thought of the hair being from anywhere other than Goyle's head. Well, at least now I know who raided my stores that year.
Harry snorted when he read Snape's newest. Hermione shot him a concerned look from her end of the worktable, but he just folded the parchment and went on brewing. Of course Snape wouldn't have forgotten stolen potions ingredients, so that wasn't surprising, but who knew the man had a sense of humor? Harry had the sudden urge to get to know Severus Snape better. And really, passing secret notes could make even potions fun. As he brewed, Harry thought about how to answer Snape. Perhaps a compliment or two would ensure the notes kept coming, or maybe it would only succeed in getting his balls hexed off. Either way, it'd be interesting.
You could always defect to Gryffindor. You'd fit right in. Only the bravest for our house, you know. We'll take you.
Harry had a hard time keeping a smirk off his face as he traipsed in to potions the next day. He couldn’t wait to see Snape's reply. As he unpacked his cauldron, the parchment appeared at the bottom. Snape sure knew some tricky spells.
You really have gone mad, haven't you? Gryffindor? As if. Fit in? Never in my life have I 'fit in,' so it certainly won't happen with Gryffindors. Anyway, you may believe your housemates would have me, but I doubt you'd find any who would be truly welcoming. I know my own strengths and weaknesses, and so shall remain proudly Slytherin.
Harry was a bit flustered by Snape's reply, but in a way, he understood it. Harry himself had never really fit in, either - not with the Dursleys, of course, not at Hogwarts (at least not completely - being touted as a savior tended to set one apart), not even with the Weasleys. They may say he's like a son, but Molly Weasley wouldn't be pushing one of her sons into marrying her only daughter.
In the end, Harry decided to ignore the deeper issues in his response to Snape. Syltherin, yeah, I figured. I'm surprised you don't use green ink. Have you ever tried Polyjuice, Professor?
Just as Harry was nodding off to sleep that night, he found Snape's reply tucked under his pillow.
I have tested many potions in my time, but never Polyjuice. Who would I turn into? I'm rather happy in my skin, even if others may find me unpalatable. Why would I change? For what reason? Think, Potter.
If Snape hadn't used Harry's last name, Harry might think the man had forgotten who he was writing to. Snape was being positively open. Between Snape's own candor and the lateness of the hour, Harry recklessly wrote, I've thought about using Polyjuice Potion again. It'd be nice to spend some time as a regular person, without the scar, without everyone knowing who I am. I'd be free for a change.
Harry shook his head at his own stupidity. Who would open up to Severus Snape like this? He folded the note, intent on erasing the message and writing something new before the next potions class, but with a soft whoosh, the parchment disappeared from his fingers. "Bloody hell!"
"Wha'za matter, Harry?" Ron's sleepy voice reached him through the bed curtains.
"Nothin'. Go back to sleep."
Who would you turn into and where would this freedom take you?
Through most of the class, Harry mulled over how to answer Snape. It was tricky, really. He knew exactly what he'd do if given the chance to be someone else - anyone else - for a short time, but how could he tell Snape that? But he wanted to. He inexplicably wanted Snape to know all about him. Finally, with his potion simmering and the clock ticking toward the end of the class, Harry screwed up his courage and wrote, I'd turn myself into someone irresistible and visit a Muggle club. I wouldn’t know anyone, they wouldn't know me. He re-inked his quill and hovered it over the note for a moment. In for a knut, in for a galleon, he supposed, and penned, That way, I wouldn't be the Virgin-Who-Lived anymore.
With shaky fingers, he handed in the parchment along with his homework. He wasn't sure if it was his note or some botched potion that caused Snape to choke moments later. Harry rushed out of the classroom door rather than turn around to find out. Even Gryffindor courage had its limits.
"Snape looks sour," Hermione whispered. She was sitting next to Ron, across from Harry, in the Great Hall. Harry'd come in for supper, but hadn't dared look Snape's way. It was one thing to be exchanging stupid notes with your teacher, quite another to admit you're a virgin.
Harry waited on Ron's reaction, expecting to hear something like, No more sour than usual, or How can you tell a difference? But instead he heard, "Blimey! What's gotten his knickers in a twist? I'm glad I didn't take potions this year."
Harry had to look.
He wished he hadn't. He'd heard of people having 'stormy' or 'thunderous' expressions, but had never seen it quite so plainly.
The next potions class was horrible. Snape sneered and stamped and pounded on tables.
And there was no note.
Harry hated to admit he was disappointed, but he was. Sorely. He had expected Snape to take the piss when he found out about the whole virginity thing, and had, in some twisted way, been looking forward to it. He'd even had a dream the night before that… well… yeah… okay, the dream had taken a different turn than an awake Harry would have expected, but it had been rather invigorating. Hot, sexy, and invigorating. Words Harry never thought he'd use for Snape.
Three days and about a dozen broken hopes later, the parchment finally appeared under Harry's pile of homework on the common room table. He snatched it up, pocketed it, made an excuse (loo!), and raced out of the common room. That he hadn't been heading in the direction of any lav didn't seem to faze anyone. Perhaps they all thought he was getting a bit eccentric as Lavender had accused him of last week (she had the audacity to say she foresaw him becoming as strange as the late Albus Dumbledore - as if!).
Encased in his curtained bed, Harry unfolded the note partway, so he could only read some of what Snape had written. If you're so bloody impatient to lose your virginity….
Harry's stomach squirmed, his cock twitched, his face heated. Those were the first words Snape had used in his dream, or at least close enough. He swallowed hard and unfolded the rest of the paper. …. I'm sure there are several females in this castle, in your own house even, who would unburden you. Now stop wasting my time, Potter!
Well, that was confusing. And disappointing. How did the man write in such a way that you could hear the exasperated huff in his voice?
Harry was thinking of some trite, petty answer for the return note (because, oh, yeah, he certainly would continue wasting the man's time), when he remembered how horrible Snape had been acting since the last note. Snape couldn't possibly know Harry was gay. Hell, no one knew. So what if… what if Harry saying he wanted to lose his virginity had come as a blow to Snape because Snape wanted….
Oh, that couldn't be, could it?
There was one way to find out.
There may be females who want me, but I don't want them. And even if I did, how would I know who to trust? Thus, the Polyjuice. Can that be bought in an apothecary, Professor, or owl-ordered? It's just that Charlie Weasley mentioned this awesome gay bar in London that I might want to visit. Soon.
There! If Snape was in the least interested (and, boy, did Harry hope he was), that should get a reaction. The parchment disappeared as Harry was folding it.
It reappeared moments later. Snape's scrawl was messier than usual, as if he was in a rush to get his message across. Potter! Don’t be an imbecile. Polyjuice is a controlled substance so cannot be casually purchased. More importantly, your first time should be with someone you know, someone who could teach you and take care of your needs, not some hurried pull with a stranger in a club. Look around you, boy. I'm sure there must be some man who could be your first. And not Charlie Weasley.
Score!
Harry sat on his bed, grinning, for the better part of a half hour. Finally, he figured he should put the Professor out of his misery, but just a little.
Perhaps you're right, sir. I'll start looking around. Do you happen to know of any gay men in the castle? (And Weasleys don't count anyway, they're all like my brothers).
The rest of the night was silent.
"What the hell?" Ron choked out as he and Harry walked into the Great Hall the next morning.
Harry, who hadn't dared look up at the Head Table, squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, not sure if he was hoping Ron's outburst had something to do with Snape or not. "What?" he finally asked, still not looking toward the teachers.
"Snape."
Shit. "What about him?"
They were at the table by then. Harry peered up only so he could locate an empty chair, but even that small glance told him that his housemates were excited over something. "What's going on?" He whispered to Neville who was in the chair next to the one he'd chosen.
"Snape looks…."
"Snape looks what?" Really, this was getting ridiculous. If someone didn't tell him what the fuss was about soon, he'd have to look for himself, and he might not be able to do that without blushing.
Neville's eyes darted in the direction of the Head Table and then back at Harry. "His hair. It's not greasy. It's long and straight and shiny."
"Yeah. Look, Harry." Ron nudged Harry's arm. "You won't believe it."
Harry screwed up all his courage and turned, ever so slowly, toward the exact spot where he knew Severus Snape would be sitting - where he always sat. Of course, Snape was looking at him, eyes slightly narrowed, mouth a thin line, but his hair… oh, his hair didn't look like it'd ever been greasy. It hung gracefully past his shoulders, caught and reflected light…. Harry flexed his fingers, imagining how that hair would feel slipping through them.
Snape nodded and turned away.
Harry didn't seem capable of doing the same. Who knew a series of stupid notes could change his mind so completely? Really, to be thinking of running his fingers through Snape's hair, or to have the man's body pressed against his, their cocks….
"He's shagging someone," Ron said.
That was certainly impetus enough for Harry to tear his gaze from Snape. He'd never thought of himself as the possessive type, but he almost growled out the word, "Who?"
"Ewww." Lavender looked as if she might sick up. "Who'd ever shag him?"
"Actually I think he's quite attractive in a dark and dangerous way." Hermione nodded as if her opinion was the last and best.
Harry silently agreed with her, but hated that she felt that way about Snape.
"What?" Ron's eyes nearly bulged from his head. "You said you like red-heads," he hissed.
Hermione smiled. "I didn’t say I only like red-heads."
From down the table, Ginny asked, "You like red-heads, don't you, Harry?"
Harry couldn’t take any more. He walked out of the Great Hall not having tasted a single bite of food.
~<>-<>~
The next note didn't arrive until that night. Harry didn't have potions that day, so he knew he wouldn't hear from Snape during class, but he had hoped Snape would find some way of sending word sooner.
I'm afraid there are not many at this school who share our tastes, Mr. Potter. You may have to expand your idea of what or whom you find acceptable (but not Weasleys).
No expansion needed. Harry already knew who and what was more than acceptable to him. He decided to wait until morning to answer. Perhaps by then he'd think of a reply that was flirty without sounding as if he was throwing himself at the man. He dreamt of Snape again that night - naked Snape, thin sinewy body, long hard cock….
~<>-<>~
Anything he would have written that morning would have resembled, I want to jump your bones. Now! So Harry held off writing, hoping his libido would subside so his brain could function before potions class.
"Holy hell!" Ron really was getting a little irksome with these early morning exclamations.
Harry sighed as he stepped into the Great Hall. "What now? Snape again?"
Hermione, who had been walking beside them, said, "Yes, Harry, Snape again. He's wearing dark green robes that look amazing on him."
A giggling Lavender joined their group. She repeated her, "Eww," of the morning before. Though even Harry could tell it didn't have any real heart behind it.
Harry dared a look. Merlin! If he thought his libido might take a break, he was sadly mistaken. Not only were Snape's robes a gorgeous dark green, but they also looked to be made of something silkier than… well… than silk, if that was possible. And they clung. Clung!
Harry swallowed hard. He loved seeing Snape like this, but hated everyone else getting the same eyeful. He fished the note from his pocket and scribbled an answer. It disappeared almost immediately.
You look amazing.
Good of you to notice.
Potions class was hell. If Severus Snape was going to parade around in silky, form-fitting, gorgeous green robes, with his long, peach-scented hair slinking down his back, how was anyone supposed to concentrate? From the Hufflepuffs to the Slytherins (and both houses in between), everyone seemed more interested in Snape's looks than their potions. Finally, exasperated, his eyes tired from shooting nasty looks at his classmates (after all, Severus Snape was his, wasn't he? Oh, Merlin!), Harry leaned toward Hermione. "Does everyone suddenly have the hots for Snape?"
Hermione smiled. "It seems he's getting some interest. From you as well, I see. I thought that was the Professor's handwriting on that note you had this morning."
"What? Shit! Hermione, did anyone else notice?"
"I doubt it. They were all too busy watching Snape."
Harry looked wildly around the class. Everyone's eyes were still glued to Snape. Even Draco Malfoy, the ugly, twitchy, pointy prat, was staring moon-eyed at their teacher. Only Hermione's hand on Harry's arm stopped his wand from lifting. The curse on his lips died away.
"How serious is it between the two of you?" Hermione whispered. She always did figure things out rather quickly.
"We've only written notes."
"But he's trying to look better for you, right?"
Harry knew he was blushing. "I think so. Yeah. He is."
Hermione nodded. "If you really want him, Harry, perhaps you had better get past the notes-writing stage before someone else snags him."
Malfoy sauntered toward the front of the room. He gave Snape's hand a lingering touch as he handed in his potion.
"Oh, hell no," Harry muttered under his breath. He took out his quill and penned, Of course I noticed. I've been thinking about what you suggested, sir, and I've found the man who I want to be my first. "And my second, and…" Harry was still muttering, ignoring Hermione's grin.
Could we meet in person sometime? Soon?
Even Snape couldn't pretend not to understand that.
The note disappeared, just as anxiety came knocking on the door.
~<>-<>~
"I tell you, he's shagging someone. Someone here at Hogwarts."
Harry tried to concentrate on Ron's voice, but his stomach was too knotted, his ears ringing too loudly. Christ, when would Snape reply?
"It's none of your business who Professor Snape is seeing," Hermione said.
Under the table, Harry kicked her leg.
"If he's even seeing anyone," she continued.
Harry nodded dumbly, but he doubted Ron noticed. When Ron got caught up in some conspiracy theory or other, there was no calling him off. Sometimes Harry wondered if Ron kind of, sort of, in a twisted way (even after losing Fred), missed the thrill of hiding, and skulking, and fighting.
"Well, I'd like to know what's going on," Lavender said.
"Why don't you use your crystal ball, then?" Hermione asked, rather nastily.
Lavender harrumphed.
"Well, I don't want to know anything about Snape and sex," Neville said.
"I guess you're out, then, eh?" Ron asked.
"Out of what?" Hermione asked, giving voice to what Harry was wondering.
Harry picked up his juice goblet and spied the parchment wrapped around the stem. He unrolled it, careful to shield its contents from everyone else, and read, Tonight. Eight o'clock. Dungeons. I'll find you.
"The plan. Seamus, Dean, and I have a plan…."
Harry didn't stay to hear the rest. He caught Snape's eye, grinned, nodded, and pushed away from the table. Eight o'clock couldn't come early enough.
He spent the evening in a haze, finally excusing himself early, saying he needed some air, and then wandering the castle listlessly until it was almost time to meet Snape… Severus… his (hopefully) soon-to-be lover.
Harry descended deeper and deeper into the dungeons, trusting Snape's word that he would indeed find him. He was walking, but his mind was racing. He imagined Severus taking him back to his room, laying him out on a big bed, reverently touching his body, teaching him the way of lovers, vowing to keep him for ever after. He even went so far as to dream of Christmases spent together, vows said in front of friends, honeymoons, and anniversaries.
Gods, he was in deep.
When he reached a damp-walled dead-end. Harry sighed and retraced his steps. Had he gotten all this wrong? Perhaps Snape wasn't interested in him after all. Would he find a hallway full of laughing, sneering Slytherins around the next bend? Up the next grotty set of steps? Would Snape turn him into a laughingstock? After all, Snape was nothing if not opportunistic. How could he have ever thought the man might want him?
He'd talked himself into such a snit, that when Snape's hand curled around his bicep, stopping his forward progress, Harry almost snarled. It was only the possessive fire in Snape's - Severus's - eyes that stopped an angry growl from escaping Harry's throat.
"Tell me," Snape said.
"What?"
"Tell me who you've chosen. I need to hear it from you."
Oh. Trust Snape's sense of honor to not allow him to jump to the obvious conclusion. "Will you teach me, sir?"
It must have been the right thing to say, because Harry's back hit the stone wall as Severus crowded him against it, covering Harry's body with his own, pressing them together.
Harry clawed at Severus's shirt collar, trying to bring the man's head down, needing to feel lips and tongue, groaning when his wish was granted, his need fulfilled.
They remained like that a few moments, pressed together, stone biting through Harry's clothes, lips and tongues devouring, before Snape pulled back a little.
Harry whined.
Severus shushed him. He brandished his wand, leaving Harry nude from the waist down. Even his shoes had disappeared.
Harry was about to protest when Severus undid his own robes, pulling his thick, dark cock from the depths of his clothing. Before he could complain about Severus's abundance of clothing, or reach down and stroke that cock, or even gasp at the suddenness of it all, Harry was lifted. He was settled just above Severus's cock, his back still pressed to the wall, his legs looping around the man's waist, feet hooking behind.
Severus whispered a spell Harry had never heard before and then caught Harry's lips in another kiss before Harry could question the casting. Any inquiries he had were answered soon enough, anyway, when Severus's cock slid along his crease, which was now coated with something warm and slippery.
For a moment, Harry wondered if Severus would try to enter him right here in the corridor, against a wall. The thought simultaneously scared and exhilarated him. Severus knew he was a virgin, right? The man would be careful with him, would make him feel pleasure along with the attendant pain, wouldn't he?
But buggery didn't seem to be on Severus's agenda. Instead, while Harry's breath was repeatedly stolen by Severus's hungry mouth, Severus's apparently equally voracious cock was busy thrusting between Harry's arse cheeks, rubbing past his entrance, not trying to gain admittance.
And then Harry understood. Severus was going to take his pleasure just like this. Harry tightened his bum muscles, clenching as well as he could around Severus's cock.
As if in reward, Severus's hand came around to Harry's front, wormed its way between them, and grasped Harry's cock.
His sensitized anus was yearning for more contact, his back, even through his shirt, was scraping the wall, burning streaks into his skin, his lips were tender and bruised, his tongue tasted spice and a hint of alcohol, his cock felt a rhythmic pull. It all added up to more sensations than Harry could handle. He gasped as his balls tightened, panted as his cock swelled, and screamed as he came.
He groaned, low and happy, when his arse became slicker and warmer with the addition of Severus's seed.
~<>-<>~
Harry Potter didn't make it back to the Gryffindor Tower that night. He vaguely wondered if anyone missed him.
At breakfast the next morning, Harry found he had quite an appetite. An evening alone with an amorous Severus Snape was quite as physical as a Tri-Wizard event, he thought. His abrasions were healed, but sore muscles were left untended, a physical reminder of a night of passion.
He barely noticed his friends as he looked toward the Head Table and saw a sated-looking Severus Snape.
Severus nodded, unabashedly watching Harry's every move.
"Well, how'd your plan work out, then?" Neville asked.
Harry almost stupidly answered that it couldn't have gone better, before he realized Neville couldn't possibly be talking to him. He glanced over to see who Neville was speaking with.
Seamus's eyes darted away. His face reddened.
Lavender moved down a seat or two and giggled nervously.
"It went um…" Dean stuttered over his words, looked only at his plate. "It was a success, I suppose."
"I tried to stop them, Harry, really, I did," Hermione whispered.
A slip of parchment slid into Harry's hand. At first he thought it was something from Severus, but then realized that Ron's hand was just leaving his and Ron was staring at him, pleadingly.
Harry sucked in a breath and unfolded the note.
We hid in the dungeons last night. We saw you. You and Snape. What the hell, Harry?
Harry figured he should be affronted that they'd been spied on, or afraid they'd done something wrong, or even embarrassed for being seen in such a situation, but he found he couldn't be any of those things. In a way, he was glad people knew. If he had his way, he'd shout, Severus Snape is my lover and none of the rest of you can have him, from the Astronomy Tower. On a sunny day. When classes were out. Using Sonorus
Instead, Harry dug his quill and parchment from his bag and wrote, We were seen last night.
He didn't even try hiding the words from prying eyes. He folded the note like a paper airplane and sent it lazily looping toward the Head Table, and the man sitting there, smirking down at him.
He intended to keep Severus Snape (or be kept by him), and maybe it was better all around if everyone knew.
end
Title: Corresponding with Snape
Author: asnowyowl
Other pairings/threesome: Hint of Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC17
Word count: 4380
Warning(s): Hogwarts era, though Harry is 18 (eighth year fic)
Prompt: #7 - (I changed it up a bit) Harry's 6th year 8th year - Ron notices that Snape has changed (happier, better appearance, etc) and deduces Snape must have a lover. Ron's determined to uncover who it is. Harry's determined to make sure he doesn't!
Summary: Who would have guessed that writing silly notes to someone could change the way you feel?
A/N: The notes are coded for colored 'ink', so I hope the colors show up on everyone's browsers. Thanks to bk7brokemybrain for the always outstanding beta.
Corresponding with Snape
When his homework paper was returned with more red slashes on it than the black lettering done in his own hand, Harry lost his temper. Nobody else's paper looked like that after Snape 'graded' it, and Harry was sure his couldn’t be the worst in the lot. After all, the subject was Polyjuice Potion and he was probably one of only two students in the class who had actually ever used the stuff (and the only one who'd used it right).
So right under where Snape had penned, This is ridiculous, Potter. Polyjuice Potion does not taste like snot., Harry wrote, It does when it has Goyle parts in it., and he handed it back to Snape.
And that's where it started.
On the next day of class, instead of continuing on that old homework parchment that contained too many of Snape's vile comments to add anything after Snape's, And exactly what part of Gregory Goyle did you ingest? I would think not a single bit of him is worthy of a taste. You really should have explained yourself. If I'd known it was Goyle, I would have understood the snot comment., Harry pulled a new sheet of parchment from his bag.
He left the message, Did you just make a joke? I can hardly believe it., along with his homework on Snape's desk.
That was no joke. What part of Goyle did you ingest and why did you feel the need to adopt his appearance?
Well, Snape couldn't get him in trouble with such old information, surely. After all, Harry was an eighth year student, fresh from defeating Voldemort, on a fast track to Aurorship. Not even Snape could bollix that.
Ever the spy, I suppose, needing to know everything. Well, if it's that important to you, it was a hair, from his head, and I only turned into Goyle to find out if Malfoy was Slytherin's heir. Second year.
The next day came, Malfoy? Even you couldn't be that dense, Potter. If the heir of Slytherin is a Malfoy, then I resign my post as head of Slytherin house. Immediately. By the way, please be more careful with your comments, I almost gagged at the thought of the hair being from anywhere other than Goyle's head. Well, at least now I know who raided my stores that year.
Harry snorted when he read Snape's newest. Hermione shot him a concerned look from her end of the worktable, but he just folded the parchment and went on brewing. Of course Snape wouldn't have forgotten stolen potions ingredients, so that wasn't surprising, but who knew the man had a sense of humor? Harry had the sudden urge to get to know Severus Snape better. And really, passing secret notes could make even potions fun. As he brewed, Harry thought about how to answer Snape. Perhaps a compliment or two would ensure the notes kept coming, or maybe it would only succeed in getting his balls hexed off. Either way, it'd be interesting.
You could always defect to Gryffindor. You'd fit right in. Only the bravest for our house, you know. We'll take you.
Harry had a hard time keeping a smirk off his face as he traipsed in to potions the next day. He couldn’t wait to see Snape's reply. As he unpacked his cauldron, the parchment appeared at the bottom. Snape sure knew some tricky spells.
You really have gone mad, haven't you? Gryffindor? As if. Fit in? Never in my life have I 'fit in,' so it certainly won't happen with Gryffindors. Anyway, you may believe your housemates would have me, but I doubt you'd find any who would be truly welcoming. I know my own strengths and weaknesses, and so shall remain proudly Slytherin.
Harry was a bit flustered by Snape's reply, but in a way, he understood it. Harry himself had never really fit in, either - not with the Dursleys, of course, not at Hogwarts (at least not completely - being touted as a savior tended to set one apart), not even with the Weasleys. They may say he's like a son, but Molly Weasley wouldn't be pushing one of her sons into marrying her only daughter.
In the end, Harry decided to ignore the deeper issues in his response to Snape. Syltherin, yeah, I figured. I'm surprised you don't use green ink. Have you ever tried Polyjuice, Professor?
Just as Harry was nodding off to sleep that night, he found Snape's reply tucked under his pillow.
I have tested many potions in my time, but never Polyjuice. Who would I turn into? I'm rather happy in my skin, even if others may find me unpalatable. Why would I change? For what reason? Think, Potter.
If Snape hadn't used Harry's last name, Harry might think the man had forgotten who he was writing to. Snape was being positively open. Between Snape's own candor and the lateness of the hour, Harry recklessly wrote, I've thought about using Polyjuice Potion again. It'd be nice to spend some time as a regular person, without the scar, without everyone knowing who I am. I'd be free for a change.
Harry shook his head at his own stupidity. Who would open up to Severus Snape like this? He folded the note, intent on erasing the message and writing something new before the next potions class, but with a soft whoosh, the parchment disappeared from his fingers. "Bloody hell!"
"Wha'za matter, Harry?" Ron's sleepy voice reached him through the bed curtains.
"Nothin'. Go back to sleep."
Who would you turn into and where would this freedom take you?
Through most of the class, Harry mulled over how to answer Snape. It was tricky, really. He knew exactly what he'd do if given the chance to be someone else - anyone else - for a short time, but how could he tell Snape that? But he wanted to. He inexplicably wanted Snape to know all about him. Finally, with his potion simmering and the clock ticking toward the end of the class, Harry screwed up his courage and wrote, I'd turn myself into someone irresistible and visit a Muggle club. I wouldn’t know anyone, they wouldn't know me. He re-inked his quill and hovered it over the note for a moment. In for a knut, in for a galleon, he supposed, and penned, That way, I wouldn't be the Virgin-Who-Lived anymore.
With shaky fingers, he handed in the parchment along with his homework. He wasn't sure if it was his note or some botched potion that caused Snape to choke moments later. Harry rushed out of the classroom door rather than turn around to find out. Even Gryffindor courage had its limits.
"Snape looks sour," Hermione whispered. She was sitting next to Ron, across from Harry, in the Great Hall. Harry'd come in for supper, but hadn't dared look Snape's way. It was one thing to be exchanging stupid notes with your teacher, quite another to admit you're a virgin.
Harry waited on Ron's reaction, expecting to hear something like, No more sour than usual, or How can you tell a difference? But instead he heard, "Blimey! What's gotten his knickers in a twist? I'm glad I didn't take potions this year."
Harry had to look.
He wished he hadn't. He'd heard of people having 'stormy' or 'thunderous' expressions, but had never seen it quite so plainly.
The next potions class was horrible. Snape sneered and stamped and pounded on tables.
And there was no note.
Harry hated to admit he was disappointed, but he was. Sorely. He had expected Snape to take the piss when he found out about the whole virginity thing, and had, in some twisted way, been looking forward to it. He'd even had a dream the night before that… well… yeah… okay, the dream had taken a different turn than an awake Harry would have expected, but it had been rather invigorating. Hot, sexy, and invigorating. Words Harry never thought he'd use for Snape.
Three days and about a dozen broken hopes later, the parchment finally appeared under Harry's pile of homework on the common room table. He snatched it up, pocketed it, made an excuse (loo!), and raced out of the common room. That he hadn't been heading in the direction of any lav didn't seem to faze anyone. Perhaps they all thought he was getting a bit eccentric as Lavender had accused him of last week (she had the audacity to say she foresaw him becoming as strange as the late Albus Dumbledore - as if!).
Encased in his curtained bed, Harry unfolded the note partway, so he could only read some of what Snape had written. If you're so bloody impatient to lose your virginity….
Harry's stomach squirmed, his cock twitched, his face heated. Those were the first words Snape had used in his dream, or at least close enough. He swallowed hard and unfolded the rest of the paper. …. I'm sure there are several females in this castle, in your own house even, who would unburden you. Now stop wasting my time, Potter!
Well, that was confusing. And disappointing. How did the man write in such a way that you could hear the exasperated huff in his voice?
Harry was thinking of some trite, petty answer for the return note (because, oh, yeah, he certainly would continue wasting the man's time), when he remembered how horrible Snape had been acting since the last note. Snape couldn't possibly know Harry was gay. Hell, no one knew. So what if… what if Harry saying he wanted to lose his virginity had come as a blow to Snape because Snape wanted….
Oh, that couldn't be, could it?
There was one way to find out.
There may be females who want me, but I don't want them. And even if I did, how would I know who to trust? Thus, the Polyjuice. Can that be bought in an apothecary, Professor, or owl-ordered? It's just that Charlie Weasley mentioned this awesome gay bar in London that I might want to visit. Soon.
There! If Snape was in the least interested (and, boy, did Harry hope he was), that should get a reaction. The parchment disappeared as Harry was folding it.
It reappeared moments later. Snape's scrawl was messier than usual, as if he was in a rush to get his message across. Potter! Don’t be an imbecile. Polyjuice is a controlled substance so cannot be casually purchased. More importantly, your first time should be with someone you know, someone who could teach you and take care of your needs, not some hurried pull with a stranger in a club. Look around you, boy. I'm sure there must be some man who could be your first. And not Charlie Weasley.
Score!
Harry sat on his bed, grinning, for the better part of a half hour. Finally, he figured he should put the Professor out of his misery, but just a little.
Perhaps you're right, sir. I'll start looking around. Do you happen to know of any gay men in the castle? (And Weasleys don't count anyway, they're all like my brothers).
The rest of the night was silent.
"What the hell?" Ron choked out as he and Harry walked into the Great Hall the next morning.
Harry, who hadn't dared look up at the Head Table, squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, not sure if he was hoping Ron's outburst had something to do with Snape or not. "What?" he finally asked, still not looking toward the teachers.
"Snape."
Shit. "What about him?"
They were at the table by then. Harry peered up only so he could locate an empty chair, but even that small glance told him that his housemates were excited over something. "What's going on?" He whispered to Neville who was in the chair next to the one he'd chosen.
"Snape looks…."
"Snape looks what?" Really, this was getting ridiculous. If someone didn't tell him what the fuss was about soon, he'd have to look for himself, and he might not be able to do that without blushing.
Neville's eyes darted in the direction of the Head Table and then back at Harry. "His hair. It's not greasy. It's long and straight and shiny."
"Yeah. Look, Harry." Ron nudged Harry's arm. "You won't believe it."
Harry screwed up all his courage and turned, ever so slowly, toward the exact spot where he knew Severus Snape would be sitting - where he always sat. Of course, Snape was looking at him, eyes slightly narrowed, mouth a thin line, but his hair… oh, his hair didn't look like it'd ever been greasy. It hung gracefully past his shoulders, caught and reflected light…. Harry flexed his fingers, imagining how that hair would feel slipping through them.
Snape nodded and turned away.
Harry didn't seem capable of doing the same. Who knew a series of stupid notes could change his mind so completely? Really, to be thinking of running his fingers through Snape's hair, or to have the man's body pressed against his, their cocks….
"He's shagging someone," Ron said.
That was certainly impetus enough for Harry to tear his gaze from Snape. He'd never thought of himself as the possessive type, but he almost growled out the word, "Who?"
"Ewww." Lavender looked as if she might sick up. "Who'd ever shag him?"
"Actually I think he's quite attractive in a dark and dangerous way." Hermione nodded as if her opinion was the last and best.
Harry silently agreed with her, but hated that she felt that way about Snape.
"What?" Ron's eyes nearly bulged from his head. "You said you like red-heads," he hissed.
Hermione smiled. "I didn’t say I only like red-heads."
From down the table, Ginny asked, "You like red-heads, don't you, Harry?"
Harry couldn’t take any more. He walked out of the Great Hall not having tasted a single bite of food.
~<>-<>~
The next note didn't arrive until that night. Harry didn't have potions that day, so he knew he wouldn't hear from Snape during class, but he had hoped Snape would find some way of sending word sooner.
I'm afraid there are not many at this school who share our tastes, Mr. Potter. You may have to expand your idea of what or whom you find acceptable (but not Weasleys).
No expansion needed. Harry already knew who and what was more than acceptable to him. He decided to wait until morning to answer. Perhaps by then he'd think of a reply that was flirty without sounding as if he was throwing himself at the man. He dreamt of Snape again that night - naked Snape, thin sinewy body, long hard cock….
~<>-<>~
Anything he would have written that morning would have resembled, I want to jump your bones. Now! So Harry held off writing, hoping his libido would subside so his brain could function before potions class.
"Holy hell!" Ron really was getting a little irksome with these early morning exclamations.
Harry sighed as he stepped into the Great Hall. "What now? Snape again?"
Hermione, who had been walking beside them, said, "Yes, Harry, Snape again. He's wearing dark green robes that look amazing on him."
A giggling Lavender joined their group. She repeated her, "Eww," of the morning before. Though even Harry could tell it didn't have any real heart behind it.
Harry dared a look. Merlin! If he thought his libido might take a break, he was sadly mistaken. Not only were Snape's robes a gorgeous dark green, but they also looked to be made of something silkier than… well… than silk, if that was possible. And they clung. Clung!
Harry swallowed hard. He loved seeing Snape like this, but hated everyone else getting the same eyeful. He fished the note from his pocket and scribbled an answer. It disappeared almost immediately.
You look amazing.
Good of you to notice.
Potions class was hell. If Severus Snape was going to parade around in silky, form-fitting, gorgeous green robes, with his long, peach-scented hair slinking down his back, how was anyone supposed to concentrate? From the Hufflepuffs to the Slytherins (and both houses in between), everyone seemed more interested in Snape's looks than their potions. Finally, exasperated, his eyes tired from shooting nasty looks at his classmates (after all, Severus Snape was his, wasn't he? Oh, Merlin!), Harry leaned toward Hermione. "Does everyone suddenly have the hots for Snape?"
Hermione smiled. "It seems he's getting some interest. From you as well, I see. I thought that was the Professor's handwriting on that note you had this morning."
"What? Shit! Hermione, did anyone else notice?"
"I doubt it. They were all too busy watching Snape."
Harry looked wildly around the class. Everyone's eyes were still glued to Snape. Even Draco Malfoy, the ugly, twitchy, pointy prat, was staring moon-eyed at their teacher. Only Hermione's hand on Harry's arm stopped his wand from lifting. The curse on his lips died away.
"How serious is it between the two of you?" Hermione whispered. She always did figure things out rather quickly.
"We've only written notes."
"But he's trying to look better for you, right?"
Harry knew he was blushing. "I think so. Yeah. He is."
Hermione nodded. "If you really want him, Harry, perhaps you had better get past the notes-writing stage before someone else snags him."
Malfoy sauntered toward the front of the room. He gave Snape's hand a lingering touch as he handed in his potion.
"Oh, hell no," Harry muttered under his breath. He took out his quill and penned, Of course I noticed. I've been thinking about what you suggested, sir, and I've found the man who I want to be my first. "And my second, and…" Harry was still muttering, ignoring Hermione's grin.
Could we meet in person sometime? Soon?
Even Snape couldn't pretend not to understand that.
The note disappeared, just as anxiety came knocking on the door.
~<>-<>~
"I tell you, he's shagging someone. Someone here at Hogwarts."
Harry tried to concentrate on Ron's voice, but his stomach was too knotted, his ears ringing too loudly. Christ, when would Snape reply?
"It's none of your business who Professor Snape is seeing," Hermione said.
Under the table, Harry kicked her leg.
"If he's even seeing anyone," she continued.
Harry nodded dumbly, but he doubted Ron noticed. When Ron got caught up in some conspiracy theory or other, there was no calling him off. Sometimes Harry wondered if Ron kind of, sort of, in a twisted way (even after losing Fred), missed the thrill of hiding, and skulking, and fighting.
"Well, I'd like to know what's going on," Lavender said.
"Why don't you use your crystal ball, then?" Hermione asked, rather nastily.
Lavender harrumphed.
"Well, I don't want to know anything about Snape and sex," Neville said.
"I guess you're out, then, eh?" Ron asked.
"Out of what?" Hermione asked, giving voice to what Harry was wondering.
Harry picked up his juice goblet and spied the parchment wrapped around the stem. He unrolled it, careful to shield its contents from everyone else, and read, Tonight. Eight o'clock. Dungeons. I'll find you.
"The plan. Seamus, Dean, and I have a plan…."
Harry didn't stay to hear the rest. He caught Snape's eye, grinned, nodded, and pushed away from the table. Eight o'clock couldn't come early enough.
He spent the evening in a haze, finally excusing himself early, saying he needed some air, and then wandering the castle listlessly until it was almost time to meet Snape… Severus… his (hopefully) soon-to-be lover.
Harry descended deeper and deeper into the dungeons, trusting Snape's word that he would indeed find him. He was walking, but his mind was racing. He imagined Severus taking him back to his room, laying him out on a big bed, reverently touching his body, teaching him the way of lovers, vowing to keep him for ever after. He even went so far as to dream of Christmases spent together, vows said in front of friends, honeymoons, and anniversaries.
Gods, he was in deep.
When he reached a damp-walled dead-end. Harry sighed and retraced his steps. Had he gotten all this wrong? Perhaps Snape wasn't interested in him after all. Would he find a hallway full of laughing, sneering Slytherins around the next bend? Up the next grotty set of steps? Would Snape turn him into a laughingstock? After all, Snape was nothing if not opportunistic. How could he have ever thought the man might want him?
He'd talked himself into such a snit, that when Snape's hand curled around his bicep, stopping his forward progress, Harry almost snarled. It was only the possessive fire in Snape's - Severus's - eyes that stopped an angry growl from escaping Harry's throat.
"Tell me," Snape said.
"What?"
"Tell me who you've chosen. I need to hear it from you."
Oh. Trust Snape's sense of honor to not allow him to jump to the obvious conclusion. "Will you teach me, sir?"
It must have been the right thing to say, because Harry's back hit the stone wall as Severus crowded him against it, covering Harry's body with his own, pressing them together.
Harry clawed at Severus's shirt collar, trying to bring the man's head down, needing to feel lips and tongue, groaning when his wish was granted, his need fulfilled.
They remained like that a few moments, pressed together, stone biting through Harry's clothes, lips and tongues devouring, before Snape pulled back a little.
Harry whined.
Severus shushed him. He brandished his wand, leaving Harry nude from the waist down. Even his shoes had disappeared.
Harry was about to protest when Severus undid his own robes, pulling his thick, dark cock from the depths of his clothing. Before he could complain about Severus's abundance of clothing, or reach down and stroke that cock, or even gasp at the suddenness of it all, Harry was lifted. He was settled just above Severus's cock, his back still pressed to the wall, his legs looping around the man's waist, feet hooking behind.
Severus whispered a spell Harry had never heard before and then caught Harry's lips in another kiss before Harry could question the casting. Any inquiries he had were answered soon enough, anyway, when Severus's cock slid along his crease, which was now coated with something warm and slippery.
For a moment, Harry wondered if Severus would try to enter him right here in the corridor, against a wall. The thought simultaneously scared and exhilarated him. Severus knew he was a virgin, right? The man would be careful with him, would make him feel pleasure along with the attendant pain, wouldn't he?
But buggery didn't seem to be on Severus's agenda. Instead, while Harry's breath was repeatedly stolen by Severus's hungry mouth, Severus's apparently equally voracious cock was busy thrusting between Harry's arse cheeks, rubbing past his entrance, not trying to gain admittance.
And then Harry understood. Severus was going to take his pleasure just like this. Harry tightened his bum muscles, clenching as well as he could around Severus's cock.
As if in reward, Severus's hand came around to Harry's front, wormed its way between them, and grasped Harry's cock.
His sensitized anus was yearning for more contact, his back, even through his shirt, was scraping the wall, burning streaks into his skin, his lips were tender and bruised, his tongue tasted spice and a hint of alcohol, his cock felt a rhythmic pull. It all added up to more sensations than Harry could handle. He gasped as his balls tightened, panted as his cock swelled, and screamed as he came.
He groaned, low and happy, when his arse became slicker and warmer with the addition of Severus's seed.
~<>-<>~
Harry Potter didn't make it back to the Gryffindor Tower that night. He vaguely wondered if anyone missed him.
At breakfast the next morning, Harry found he had quite an appetite. An evening alone with an amorous Severus Snape was quite as physical as a Tri-Wizard event, he thought. His abrasions were healed, but sore muscles were left untended, a physical reminder of a night of passion.
He barely noticed his friends as he looked toward the Head Table and saw a sated-looking Severus Snape.
Severus nodded, unabashedly watching Harry's every move.
"Well, how'd your plan work out, then?" Neville asked.
Harry almost stupidly answered that it couldn't have gone better, before he realized Neville couldn't possibly be talking to him. He glanced over to see who Neville was speaking with.
Seamus's eyes darted away. His face reddened.
Lavender moved down a seat or two and giggled nervously.
"It went um…" Dean stuttered over his words, looked only at his plate. "It was a success, I suppose."
"I tried to stop them, Harry, really, I did," Hermione whispered.
A slip of parchment slid into Harry's hand. At first he thought it was something from Severus, but then realized that Ron's hand was just leaving his and Ron was staring at him, pleadingly.
Harry sucked in a breath and unfolded the note.
We hid in the dungeons last night. We saw you. You and Snape. What the hell, Harry?
Harry figured he should be affronted that they'd been spied on, or afraid they'd done something wrong, or even embarrassed for being seen in such a situation, but he found he couldn't be any of those things. In a way, he was glad people knew. If he had his way, he'd shout, Severus Snape is my lover and none of the rest of you can have him, from the Astronomy Tower. On a sunny day. When classes were out. Using Sonorus
Instead, Harry dug his quill and parchment from his bag and wrote, We were seen last night.
He didn't even try hiding the words from prying eyes. He folded the note like a paper airplane and sent it lazily looping toward the Head Table, and the man sitting there, smirking down at him.
He intended to keep Severus Snape (or be kept by him), and maybe it was better all around if everyone knew.
end