Fic: Just for Now
Title: Just for Now
Pairing: Snarry
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst
Word count: 1,671
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the subsequent rights attatched to the books/films are the property of J.K.Rowling, Scholastic, and WB etc; I only created the plot in this story.
Beta: Beta-ed by captainlogic so any mistakes remaining are mine.
Summary: Snape tries to convince himself that he and Harry are 'just for now'.
It feels surprisingly natural when we collapse onto my bed mindlessly rutting against each other for relief. He stays blessedly quiet other than the odd breathy moan when I touch him in a way that makes him arch beneath me, and I find that I can tolerate these. The sex is as much about aggression as mutual relief, and when he bites the junction between my neck and my shoulder, I reach up to pull on his hair pulling him back so I can make eye contact. "This is just for now, Mr Potter," I snarl. He smirks and I find myself so annoyed with that look that I grind violently down on him. "Of course," he murmurs, almost in amusement before he latches him self once again to my throat.
We had been practicing legilimency at the Headmaster's request. It had been years since we had our final disastrous lesson when he was in school and it seems that Dumbledore had thought that as we were both older, we might not try to kill each other. His legs spread and I settle between them more comfortably and cannot deny that this is much more pleasurable than trying to kill the brat beneath me. Although I do not think that Albus had this in mind when he requested that the lessons begin again.
I find that an altogether satisfying thought.
Soon I am unable to think about anything else coherently. We both need this release for now. Just for now.
***
I sink back against the door, my eyes closing on a sigh. I am so very tired.
"You're back."
His voice startles me, but it is only my eyes that snap open that betrays my suddenly pounding heart. He stands, looking so very young in the doorway to my bedroom, his hair more tangled than usual. I calm myself. He looks the same. Not that he should look any different; I have only been away for a week.
He takes a hesitant step forwards, and then another, until he reaches me. I simply watch his approach, waiting to see what he'll do next. We have been like this for a year since that first time during our lesson, and I am unable to link this Harry to the one that I usually visit. He stops a few scant inches away and reaches a hand out. I feel the ghost of his fingers brush over my cheek, tracing the bruise I know is purpling and swelling. His jaw tightens and something in his eyes reminds me as to why I am on the side of the light in the war; we have a chance at winning.
"I had wondered…"
"That He had finally discovered my treachery?" I asked harshly. I berate myself silently; I had not wanted to voice the concern that had gripped during my extended stay at Lucius Malfoy's Manor with the Dark Lord. I had escaped with merely a few bruises. Others had not been so lucky.
His green eyes are angry and concerned, and I stare unflinchingly back. He leans towards me and for a moment I am confused. We kiss rarely, but when we do it is a fight for dominance. This is…gentle. I try to press forwards away from the wall to turn the kiss into something recognisable, but he is insistent, and firmly, but gently holds me in place. I allow the kiss, too tired to really put up much of a fight.
Familiar hands move to the front of the Death Eater robe and untie the fastenings slowly. It seems an age before the material slips off of my shoulders to lay slack against the wall that I am still pressed into. His fingers curl around my shoulders, and it must be my exhaustion that I don't remember anything else except his tongue sliding against mine until I am pushed backwards onto my bed. Only exhaustion.
Hands trace the bruises adorning my skin with a gentleness that I suddenly do not wish to end. Every time I try to take control and go back to our routine, he silences me with a well timed kiss or grope.
When he finally slides himself onto me, his thighs spread wide over my hips, I am unable to do anything other than to thrust up, watching him with hooded eyes as he arches his back, his fingertips kneading the skin of my sides as he holds on. He looks down at me, a strange look on his face as he begins to move. I want to tear him off and send him away in punishment for that look. I grit my teeth and push up into his warm body. When he comes he calls my name, his vibrating body pulling my own silent orgasm from me.
He lays curled up where he fell for long moments, his fingertips tracking invisible patterns on the skin of my arm. I stare at the ceiling as I try to stop strange thoughts rushing in my head. Thoughts I do not need to be distracted by, not when I must go to the Dark Lord and survive.
The words are forced out of my throat harshly, loud in the quiet of the room.
"It's just for now."
The fingers still on my flesh.
I don't say a word as he pulls his jeans back on and slips from my room. I turn to glance at the table beside the bed and see one of his books, dog-eared and sitting there. Before I sleep I wonder how long he has been waiting for me.
***
His lips are hot against me as I push him into the wall, his taut body moving frantically against mine.
I watch him with open eyes as I devour his mouth. I can't seem to close my eyes for long without the memories coming back, and at least he is here to distract me, very much alive.
I hear the sound of guests outside, getting drunk in Harry Potter's honour. He is the hero of this little party at the Ministry. He had, after all, finally killed the madman that had called himself our Lord.
We are no longer at War. The thought is liberating.
I moan and thrust a hand into his trousers. We have not been together since before the Final Battle, and whilst only a few days, it feels much longer since I have been able to find my release with this man. I need to feel his skin and almost moan again when I find his hardness and wrap my hand around it. He breaks away to lie panting against the wall as I set a hard rhythm.
Soon he is biting his lip and spilling over my hand. I watch it all from start to finish.
His teeth leave a delicious red mark on his lip as he calms. I withdraw my hand. He opens his eyes and smiles slightly before he sinks to his knees in front of me. At the first touch of his mouth to my cock, I nearly cry out, and my eyes flutter closed. I can see him fall backwards, a spray of blood hitting the robes of the Dark Lord and I cry out. I see someone try to curse me from my left and I turn just long enough to stop the enemy, but when I turn back I can't see him or Voldemort at all.
I open my eyes hurriedly and stare at the dark head his green eyes expressive as he watches me. I reach down and stroke fingers through the soft locks, pushing it out of his eyes.
I grit my teeth and pull away pressing my head and arm into the wall, studying the old brick before me. "It's just for now, only for now," I recite to myself softly, the old words easier than reliving the memories.
I feel his throat swallowing my orgasm, until I feel empty.
***
He shuffles once, twice before his startling green eyes meet mine again. They plead with me for a moment, either to forgive him or for something else, something my pride won't let me see. "I thought we were just for now?" he says quietly, the statement turned to a question with the faint quivered uplift of his voice.
My throat tightens, and I realise this is my out. All I have to do is say something, protest against the words he has thrown back at me. I know he would stay if I did. The image flashes in front of my eyes before I can stop it. Harry smiled as he pushed a lock of Weasley- red hair behind the small woman's ear, and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips.
"Quite, Mr Potter." My voice is cold, my heart is colder. Whatever I may have seen in his eyes flickers and dies.
"Well then," he mutters, subdued, shoulders slumped slightly. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, creating identical bulges. "I suppose I'll be off then. Just so we're clear." He doesn't meet my gaze this time which is just as well; his eyes are far too expressive.
"Indeed."
"Bye then," he shuffles to the door and I watch him leave. A few minutes later I hear the rush of the floo. It seems incredibly final.
An age later I pry myself from the chair, unclamping my tense fingers from the arms and make my way to where Harry has left a sprinkling of green dust around the fire place. I stare for a second before I ruthlessly clean the marks and change the words for access to my floo. No more unknown visitors.
Despite myself, I wonder if I have just made a mistake.
A month later, I receive an invite to the wedding of Harry James Potter to Ginerva Weasley. Harry always had to have the last word, I think, as I watch the invite turn to dust on the flames of my fireplace.
Pairing: Snarry
Rating: R
Warnings: Angst
Word count: 1,671
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the subsequent rights attatched to the books/films are the property of J.K.Rowling, Scholastic, and WB etc; I only created the plot in this story.
Beta: Beta-ed by captainlogic so any mistakes remaining are mine.
Summary: Snape tries to convince himself that he and Harry are 'just for now'.
It feels surprisingly natural when we collapse onto my bed mindlessly rutting against each other for relief. He stays blessedly quiet other than the odd breathy moan when I touch him in a way that makes him arch beneath me, and I find that I can tolerate these. The sex is as much about aggression as mutual relief, and when he bites the junction between my neck and my shoulder, I reach up to pull on his hair pulling him back so I can make eye contact. "This is just for now, Mr Potter," I snarl. He smirks and I find myself so annoyed with that look that I grind violently down on him. "Of course," he murmurs, almost in amusement before he latches him self once again to my throat.
We had been practicing legilimency at the Headmaster's request. It had been years since we had our final disastrous lesson when he was in school and it seems that Dumbledore had thought that as we were both older, we might not try to kill each other. His legs spread and I settle between them more comfortably and cannot deny that this is much more pleasurable than trying to kill the brat beneath me. Although I do not think that Albus had this in mind when he requested that the lessons begin again.
I find that an altogether satisfying thought.
Soon I am unable to think about anything else coherently. We both need this release for now. Just for now.
***
I sink back against the door, my eyes closing on a sigh. I am so very tired.
"You're back."
His voice startles me, but it is only my eyes that snap open that betrays my suddenly pounding heart. He stands, looking so very young in the doorway to my bedroom, his hair more tangled than usual. I calm myself. He looks the same. Not that he should look any different; I have only been away for a week.
He takes a hesitant step forwards, and then another, until he reaches me. I simply watch his approach, waiting to see what he'll do next. We have been like this for a year since that first time during our lesson, and I am unable to link this Harry to the one that I usually visit. He stops a few scant inches away and reaches a hand out. I feel the ghost of his fingers brush over my cheek, tracing the bruise I know is purpling and swelling. His jaw tightens and something in his eyes reminds me as to why I am on the side of the light in the war; we have a chance at winning.
"I had wondered…"
"That He had finally discovered my treachery?" I asked harshly. I berate myself silently; I had not wanted to voice the concern that had gripped during my extended stay at Lucius Malfoy's Manor with the Dark Lord. I had escaped with merely a few bruises. Others had not been so lucky.
His green eyes are angry and concerned, and I stare unflinchingly back. He leans towards me and for a moment I am confused. We kiss rarely, but when we do it is a fight for dominance. This is…gentle. I try to press forwards away from the wall to turn the kiss into something recognisable, but he is insistent, and firmly, but gently holds me in place. I allow the kiss, too tired to really put up much of a fight.
Familiar hands move to the front of the Death Eater robe and untie the fastenings slowly. It seems an age before the material slips off of my shoulders to lay slack against the wall that I am still pressed into. His fingers curl around my shoulders, and it must be my exhaustion that I don't remember anything else except his tongue sliding against mine until I am pushed backwards onto my bed. Only exhaustion.
Hands trace the bruises adorning my skin with a gentleness that I suddenly do not wish to end. Every time I try to take control and go back to our routine, he silences me with a well timed kiss or grope.
When he finally slides himself onto me, his thighs spread wide over my hips, I am unable to do anything other than to thrust up, watching him with hooded eyes as he arches his back, his fingertips kneading the skin of my sides as he holds on. He looks down at me, a strange look on his face as he begins to move. I want to tear him off and send him away in punishment for that look. I grit my teeth and push up into his warm body. When he comes he calls my name, his vibrating body pulling my own silent orgasm from me.
He lays curled up where he fell for long moments, his fingertips tracking invisible patterns on the skin of my arm. I stare at the ceiling as I try to stop strange thoughts rushing in my head. Thoughts I do not need to be distracted by, not when I must go to the Dark Lord and survive.
The words are forced out of my throat harshly, loud in the quiet of the room.
"It's just for now."
The fingers still on my flesh.
I don't say a word as he pulls his jeans back on and slips from my room. I turn to glance at the table beside the bed and see one of his books, dog-eared and sitting there. Before I sleep I wonder how long he has been waiting for me.
***
His lips are hot against me as I push him into the wall, his taut body moving frantically against mine.
I watch him with open eyes as I devour his mouth. I can't seem to close my eyes for long without the memories coming back, and at least he is here to distract me, very much alive.
I hear the sound of guests outside, getting drunk in Harry Potter's honour. He is the hero of this little party at the Ministry. He had, after all, finally killed the madman that had called himself our Lord.
We are no longer at War. The thought is liberating.
I moan and thrust a hand into his trousers. We have not been together since before the Final Battle, and whilst only a few days, it feels much longer since I have been able to find my release with this man. I need to feel his skin and almost moan again when I find his hardness and wrap my hand around it. He breaks away to lie panting against the wall as I set a hard rhythm.
Soon he is biting his lip and spilling over my hand. I watch it all from start to finish.
His teeth leave a delicious red mark on his lip as he calms. I withdraw my hand. He opens his eyes and smiles slightly before he sinks to his knees in front of me. At the first touch of his mouth to my cock, I nearly cry out, and my eyes flutter closed. I can see him fall backwards, a spray of blood hitting the robes of the Dark Lord and I cry out. I see someone try to curse me from my left and I turn just long enough to stop the enemy, but when I turn back I can't see him or Voldemort at all.
I open my eyes hurriedly and stare at the dark head his green eyes expressive as he watches me. I reach down and stroke fingers through the soft locks, pushing it out of his eyes.
I grit my teeth and pull away pressing my head and arm into the wall, studying the old brick before me. "It's just for now, only for now," I recite to myself softly, the old words easier than reliving the memories.
I feel his throat swallowing my orgasm, until I feel empty.
***
He shuffles once, twice before his startling green eyes meet mine again. They plead with me for a moment, either to forgive him or for something else, something my pride won't let me see. "I thought we were just for now?" he says quietly, the statement turned to a question with the faint quivered uplift of his voice.
My throat tightens, and I realise this is my out. All I have to do is say something, protest against the words he has thrown back at me. I know he would stay if I did. The image flashes in front of my eyes before I can stop it. Harry smiled as he pushed a lock of Weasley- red hair behind the small woman's ear, and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips.
"Quite, Mr Potter." My voice is cold, my heart is colder. Whatever I may have seen in his eyes flickers and dies.
"Well then," he mutters, subdued, shoulders slumped slightly. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, creating identical bulges. "I suppose I'll be off then. Just so we're clear." He doesn't meet my gaze this time which is just as well; his eyes are far too expressive.
"Indeed."
"Bye then," he shuffles to the door and I watch him leave. A few minutes later I hear the rush of the floo. It seems incredibly final.
An age later I pry myself from the chair, unclamping my tense fingers from the arms and make my way to where Harry has left a sprinkling of green dust around the fire place. I stare for a second before I ruthlessly clean the marks and change the words for access to my floo. No more unknown visitors.
Despite myself, I wonder if I have just made a mistake.
A month later, I receive an invite to the wedding of Harry James Potter to Ginerva Weasley. Harry always had to have the last word, I think, as I watch the invite turn to dust on the flames of my fireplace.