Title: A Part of Me 24-27 (Professor!Snape/Student!Snape, NC-17)

[phantomtf]

See Chapter One for warnings.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next few weeks were spent in a blur of cooking, cleaning, reading, and - of course - shagging. Snape was forced to acknowledge his lover’s prowess the day he awoke to find himself writhing in ecstasy, spending his seed within the warm, eager mouth that engulfed him. Severus had looked entirely too proud of himself - to make a terrible pun, he resembled the cat that ate the cream. For his part, Severus began to feel stronger and more energetic. He joked that it was due to all the sex. Snape agreed, for more serious reasons. It was an off chance, but perhaps his semen was helping to stabilize the young man’s body. After all, Severus had originally been created from him. If the original DNA was losing cohesion, a new infusion of cells could perhaps make a difference. Regardless, it was a great excuse to continue with their activities.

One day while Snape was out buying a few supplies, Severus mustered up the courage to open the door to his own room. It was a strangely eerie sight. The surroundings weren’t that different from when he had lived here - the small bust of Paracelsus still set on a bureau, and the poster of some obscure Wizard rock ban was affixed to the wall. Several awards of distinction also dotted the room. However, while things had looked rather recent on his last recalled visit, the papers were now yellowed and curling. The prior cleansing charm had gotten rid of most of the dust and dirt, but a few cobwebs and dusty patches still remained. Severus saw to them in quick order.

He Scourgified the bed for good measure before throwing himself down. To be honest, he had mixed feelings about being in this house, and in this room in particular. He had had so many bad experiences here. To be honest, he had some good ones as well. He had been ashamed of his house and his family, so he had resisted bringing Lily over for as long as possible. When it had seemed impossible to delay any longer, he had brought her over for dinner, and it was every bit as disastrous as he had feared. Still, she had not stayed away, and he had snuck into his room a few times. They had both been innocent children, studying magic spells and potions. Those were good memories.

He also remembered the other times he had spent in his room. Many, many times, with his clothing puddled on the floor and his hot hard cock in his hands. He had masturbated at school because he couldn’t last until break (and he stayed at school through as many vacations has he could). However, those were stealthy and hurried affairs. When he was home and his parents went out, he could indulge himself in hours of self-stimulating orgasmic bliss.

To his surprise, he found himself hardening. Snape had treated him to fantastic oral sex just that morning, but the erotic memories were having an effect nonetheless. Why would he have the urge to wank when he had a steady partner, one who knew specifically what he liked? His body wasn’t concerned with philosophical questions. It was randy and wanted to release. Force of habit caused his hand to curl around the shaft, and he shivered in pleasure. He forced himself to let go in order to rummage in the nightstand. There were a handful of jars, but they were either empty or moldy. No good. A quick Summoning spell brought the half-empty vial from the master bedroom. He returned a slick hand to his firm erection, moaning softly.

He kept his strokes slow and teasing, occasionally sweeping his thumb over the weeping slit. He was so wrapped up in his explorations that he did not hear the stairs creak. A soft gasp finally broke through his concentration, and he jumped violently. He raised his eyes guiltily to the figure lingering in the doorway. Crap, he had forgotten close the door, and he *never* forgot when he had been living with his parents. A flush rose in his cheeks as he drew up his knees to chin. “Sorry! Sorry!” he stammered. “I don’t know what came over me… sex with you is fantastic and very satisfying, believe me….”

“Silence,” Snape hissed, drawing closer. “You have every right to have one off at the wrist if the urge strikes.”

Severus breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I was worried that you’d take it as an insult, as if I wasn’t enjoying sex with you.”

Snape waved his hand as if shooing away an annoying fly. “It is perfectly acceptable to masturbate even in a committed sexual relationship. You know your body better than anyone else, and there will undoubtedly be times that your lover is unavailable or that you prefer to address your need at hand, so to speak, yourself. In fact, I should be apologizing to you for interrupting.”

“So you’re not angry then?”

“Do I look angry?”

Severus looked closer. The man was clearly feeing some sort of emotion, but no, it was not anger. His eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed and his chest rising with deep breaths. The giveaway was in how the man’s slacks were tented. “Did you like watching me?” he asked, his heart fluttering. He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or nervous. Snape merely nodded. Despite his speech just a moment ago, he no longer seemed to trust himself to speak.

Severus lowered his legs from their pulled-up position, displaying his somewhat deflated erection, which was quickly firming up once more. Snape watched entranced, the color in his cheeks rising. He swallowed hard. Severus trailed his fingertips down his length, enjoying Snape’s stare. The man then fixed him with a burning gaze, and Severus felt himself flooded with warmth and desire. “I’ve never wanked in front of anyone before,” he confessed.

“Neither have I.”

Severus found that admission to be even more shocking than the man’s interest in watching him. Had he actually found something that the Slytherin Sex God hadn’t tried?

“I’ve been asked to, more than once,” the man explained. “I’ve always refused. Masturbation is a very private experience for me, so I always kept that separate from any shared sexual acts. I’ve watched others several times but have never allowed them to watch me.”

Wordlessly, Severus spread his legs as he returned his hand to his lap. He ran his tongue over his lips as he stared at the older man intently. Snape read the silent question and seemed frozen for a few moments. Finally, his hands slowly reached for his pants. He undid the fly and slid the pants and boxers to his thighs, just enough to allow his own erection to bob free. He continued to watch the young man, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. Finally, one pale long-fingered hand rose and hovered uncertainly until landing in his lap. He cupped his erection but did not move his hand.

Without breaking rhythm, Severus nudged the container of lube closer to his companion with his foot. Snape clumsily unstoppered it and slopped some fluid into his palm. He had poured too much in his haste, and some trickled down his wrist and the sides of his hands. He then brought the slick hand to his erection, moving it up and down timidly. His cheeks grew bright-red, this time from embarrassment instead of arousal. He focused his eyes on the body before him, unable to look the young man in the eye.

For his part, Severus was enjoying himself more than he had thought possible. Snape’s nervousness had ironically given him a boost of confidence. He was glad to have found something that Snape had not done before - this would be something special, shared just between themselves. He was especially glad to be the only one to see that skilled hand curving around firm eager flesh. If anyone else ever saw this, he’d likely strangle them in a fit of jealousy.

Snape’s hand found a steady rhythm as he focused his attention on his companion instead of his own awkwardness. Severus was wriggling as his free hand pinched his nipples. He tried to slow his actions but the sight before him was too intoxicating. Just like in his imagination, Snape was wanking fully-clad. “Do it,” Severus moaned. “I know you want to. I want to see it. Fuck yourself.”

Face as red as a tomato, Snape covered his free hand in lubricant. A finger cautiously traced his opening. It was awkward while still wearing his pants, but his hands were occupied and he already felt naked. Gathering courage, he plunged his finger in as deep as possible, emitting a shuddering groan.

Severus cried out and went rigid, his hand a blur as his orgasm was wrung from him. Snape was driven wild, cramming in another finger and bucking against both hands. Why had he waited so long to do this? It was magnificent!

“Sorry!” Severus panted. “I didn’t expect to finish so fast.”

“S’okay,” Snape growled. “I remember what it’s like.”

Severus realized that his lover was very much aroused but discomfited at being left behind, now the only one to be touching himself. “Come on,” he purred and was gratified to see the prize in the man’s hands twitch. “Keep going. Work those hands. Gods, this is so hot; no wonder I couldn’t hold back.” Snape jammed his fingers in deep and crooked them, then moaned loudly as his eyes rolled back. “You’re so desperate now. So close. Now rub the head of your cock. Yes, that’s it. Remember how you used to brace your back against this wall as you took yourself in your mouth? I still do that, and I bet you do too.” Snape’s features twisted in a grimace, and his hands picked up their pace.

Severus silently cast a Summoning charm, and the much-used vibrator sailed through the air. The expression of surprise, embarrassment and desire on his lover was exquisite. Snape yanked his fingers out and snatched the toy from his hands, turning it up to full speed and cramming it in deep. The sticky hand that had been buried within him now worked the toy frantically while the other squeezed his aching cock. His eyes looked at his pocket that held his wand wistfully. He needed to activate the self-pumping action, but both hands were occupied. Severus came to his rescue and tapped the device with his wand from the nightstand. Snape gave a sob of relief, seizing his erection with both hands as the toy pounded his prostate mercilessly.

“Fuck, you look good enough to eat!” Severus growled, and Snape whimpered helplessly. “No, don’t come just yet.” Snape gripped his base, moaning low in his throat. “You want to, don’t you? You can almost taste it.” Snape eyed the sticky mess the young man had made with undisguised envy. “Imagine that everyone is watching you. They all can see your hands on that filthy cock, and the vibrator that is reaming your arse like the desperate slut that you are. Picture it.” Snape’s face got even redder, and it was hard to believe that his cock had any blood to spare. He cringed at the humiliating idea, but he was even more embarrassed at the way it fired his blood. His thighs were trembling and his bollocks were drawing up. The end was near.

Severus smiled encouragingly. Snape was just on the edge. “Now come, Severus. Come for them. Come for me.”

With a growing scream, Snape bent forward, both hands milking his erection as it spent. Severus felt his own cock throb in sympathy. The orgasm went on and on as Snape rocked and shook and groaned helplessly. As it ended, he flopped over limply. Severus gently extracted the toy and shut it off.

When Snape regained some strength, he studied his surroundings and cursed profusely. He had cum on his pants, on the sheets, and on the floor. Severus cleaned up the mess with a flick of his wand. “Which one of us is the teenager?” he asked cheekily. He ducked a half-hearted swipe.

Severus thought that they might run short of kinky ideas at some point, but that night had given him a whole slew of naughty thoughts. It had taken a lot of persuasion - particularly the horizontal type - to get Snape to go along with some of them, but he just knew that it would be totally worth it. And that was why they Apparated one day to a quaint nondescript village in the middle of the nowhere. They knew no one here; and more importantly, no one knew them.

They began strolling down the street together, glancing in the shop windows and admiring the countryside. Severus walked with his hands with his pockets. Snape walked next to him silently, his mouth set in a stern line and his spine rigid. Severus’ hand moved slightly in his pocket. Snape abruptly jumped and clenched his teeth together. “Remind me of exactly how you talked me into this.”

“Sex,” Severus said helpfully. “Lots of sex.” Snape glowered at him.

“Heads up,” Severus said, nodding to two elderly ladies that were approaching. Just as they grew near, Snape’s entire body stiffened. The women gave him a suspicious look. He nodded awkwardly and Severus cheerfully said “Good day!” The two old biddies walked on, looking slightly mollified.

“That was quite low of you,” Snape growled. Severus merely smiled and moved his hand in his pocket once more.

They walked along the cobblestone street. Severus looked calm and serene, but Snape looked unusually ruffled and flushed. From time to time he would abruptly stop and peer into a nearby shop. He even lingered by one shop that was clearly out of business. His breathing was uneven and a fine sheet of sweat dotted his head.

“How are you holding up?” Severus asked charitably.

“Well enough, no thanks to you,” he replied curtly. “Though I’d like to walk a bit slower, if you don’t mind. My gait seems to be a bit off today.”

Severus shortened his stride obligingly. After a few minutes, his hand twisted one more time. A sharp intake of air came from his companion. Severus wondered that there was no tell-tale buzz or movement. “Sev… Severus,” the man breathed.

“Is it good?”

“Oh! Oh… yes… I never thought it would be.”

“Not much longer?”

“Not much, no. Please, let’s head toward that bridge.”

There was a lovely little bridge that crossed a small stream. They headed toward it together, with Snape’s legs becoming more shaky and uncoordinated by the minute. “Oh gods… almost there!”

“In more ways than one, I imagine,” Severus purred. “Tell me about it.”

Snape’s eyes darted around frantically. There were a few bunches of people, but as a small miracle, no one was looking at them. “I’m ready to explode! It,” he moaned softly, “it’s so good. I don’t want it to end. Anyone could be watching, but I don’t want it to stop!”

They had reached the bridge just in time. Snape turned as if he was watching the water flow. His hands clutched the railing desperately. His entire body was tense. His expression was carefully blank, except for his lips that were tightly pressed together. “It’s happening!” he whispered, and his hips began to tremble slightly. Severus watched intently, completely ignoring his own erection. Snape was enjoying his first public orgasm, and no one but them was the wiser. “I’m coming!” His breath came in short pants, and he was pressing his front against the wrought-iron railing, but he otherwise gave no betrayal of his ecstatic release.

As his body began to come down from its high, Severus gently turned off the vibrating sheath. The amazing device had absorbed every drop of Snape’s no-doubt copious emission. He sat weakly on a bench, and Severus joined him. “So?”

“I would never do that with anyone else… but that was an amazing rush. You are quite a corruptive influence.” Severus laughed at the man’s comment. “So, are you thirsty?”

Severus was indeed thirsty, but somehow he suspected that there was an ulterior motive to Snape’s sudden desire for drinks. His suspicions were increased when Snape abruptly disappeared after they were seated and placed an order at a local café. He gasped as he felt a hand on his fly. Turnabout was fair play, and it seemed that Snape was to take his revenge sooner rather than later. He reached into his pocket, but the remote was gone. Crafty bugger! He mentally shrugged and sat back, resigning himself to enjoying the ride. His heart was pounding with a mix of terror and excitement. Like Snape, he enjoyed masturbation and sex but hated public exposure (unless there was an orgy, which apparently sometimes happened during Death Eater revels). But if Snape was willing to wear a vibrating sheath in public, then Severus could endure whatever the man could dish out. Hot breath ghosted over his exposed flesh, and he knew he was in for a rough time.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when something warm and wet dragged down his half-hard cock. He gripped the edge of the table, struggling to keep his face blank and his breathing even. His erection was bathed with swipes of dampness, and then air was blown over his quivering wet skin. “Your drinks, sir,” the waiter announced abruptly, and Severus nearly screamed. At just that moment, his cock was taken into a willing mouth and sucked. He gasped and forced a cough as the waiter eyed him. “All right, sir?”

“Fine, thank you,” he gasped. A soft chuckle came from under the table. Severus growled and tried to close his legs, but strong hands held them open. Gentle suction was applied to his bollocks, and Severus bit his knuckle. He was glad that Snape’s earlier experience had given him a jump start, since he wanted this to be over before he made a giant spectacle of himself. He gasped and faked another coughing fit as that amazing tongue wriggled around his puckered hole and then probed the opening teasingly. The café wasn’t packed, but there were more than enough patrons to gape at him.

Realizing that he looked foolish with untouched drinks before him, he picked up his own with shaking hands and swallowed. This time he choked for real, coughing and spluttering. He mopped at his shirt fruitlessly, flushing as some of the patrons stared at him. The tormenting mouth paused briefly, and he tapped his thigh to show that he was all right.

His throbbing erection was again enveloped in sucking wet heat. He carefully set the glass down and clenched his jaw, trapping any traitorous moans that might want to escape. There was a certain illicit thrill in being fellated right in public, and it certainly fuelled his carefully-hidden lust. It was exciting to have to muzzle his reactions from the world. Teeth began to nibble at his root, and his ragged nails scrabbled at the table top. “Close,” he breathed, but since his bollocks were straining against his body, his lover likely needed no further warning.

He slowly leaned back in his seat, tipping his head back. Beneath the table, he spread his legs wide. The mouth renewed its assault in earnest, sucking hard and bobbing up and down. He forced his eyes to remain open as his legs went rigid. A finger probed at his entrance, and he made a soft keening sound. His teeth clenched and he held the table edge in a white-knuckled grip as his body seized and pulsed. His eyes roved around the room, not quite believing that he was having a creaming orgasm and no one was noticing.

A few minutes later, he felt the tingle of a Notice-Me-Not spell and a slight pressure as a weight settled into the seat next to him. The concealment charm was lifted and then the Notice-Me-Not spell. Snape dabbed delicately at his lips, and Severus shifted in his seat. “What do you think?” Snape murmured.

“Magnificent,” he murmured. “But I’d like to repeat the performance at home later, so that I don’t have to hold in my screams. But how about you? Do you have a problem of your own now?”

Snape chuckled. “Not any more. I nicked the remote for a reason.” Severus looked shocked and then laughed out loud, causing a few patrons to stare. This time he didn’t mind their attention.

The waiter approached as they drained their glasses. “Will you or your son be having anything else?”

Severus snorted, and Snape thoughtfully handed him a handkerchief. “Sounds like you may be coming down with something.”

Severus smirked. “Thanks, *Dad*. You’re always watching out for me. But I’m all set for now.” Little did the waiter know that the man’s breath was tinged with the seed of his ‘son’.

“Good to hear it, my boy. Just the check, please.”

They barely made it outside the café before they sagged against each other, laughing uncontrollably. Snape wiped the tears from his eyes, his shoulders shaking. He hadn’t enjoyed himself in such a long time. He decided to stay in the village for the rest of the day, especially after one of the shopkeepers mentioned a fresh shipment of powdered bicorn.

On the way back to the Apparation point they passed a park. Severus jabbed his companion with an elbow at his side, then gestured to a man sitting on a bench reading a paper. “Look at him,” he murmured. “That paper is held rather low and only with one hand. Who knows what the other hand could be up to?”

Snape swallowed hard. The man was likely doing something completely innocuous and boring, but his imagination had been captured nonetheless. Today’s activities had already pushed the envelope much farther than he thought possible, so there was no way that he could even contemplate engaging in public self-stimulation. But there was no denying that the very idea caused his breath to quicken and his pulse to pound. For now, this would make a fantastic fantasy. Maybe someday….

Chapter Twenty-Five

Their days were not all exciting, but that was not a problem. After the stress in their lives, some downtime was quite welcome. However, some of the nights were not quite as idyllic. On one such night, Severus felt his eyes snap open. He had always been a light sleeper, and something had intruded on his rest. There it was again. A sound was coming from nearby.

Shaking his head slightly to clear it, he squinted into the darkness. There was movement by his side, and another soft sound. A muffled cry. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and Severus saw his companion tossing his head and twitching his limbs erratically, a deep frown on his slumbering features. His expression twisted and he groaned. A nightmare, and a bad one, from the looks of it. Severus hesitated, wondering what to do. He wanted to bring an end to it, but he knew that he himself reacted violently when awakened from unpleasant dreams. Best thing to do was to help him ride it out. Severus wrapped his arms around the trembling figure, holding tight through the episode.

Snape finally awoke with a scream, his eyes flying open. He thrashed at the grasp that restrained him, and Severus promptly let go. Snape’s wild gaze settled upon him and Severus held his breath for several tense seconds. Finally, reality set in and Snape slumped back against the bed. His head turned away and buried itself into a pillow. Severus spooned up against him, holding him from behind. Although he barely made a sound, the man’s form shook with sobs. Snape would not speak of the dreams that had plagued him, and Severus would not ask. He would be here for the man through the dead of night, the way no one else had been. It would be enough.

The next day was a much more cheerful affair. Neither alluded to last night’s interrupted sleep. Instead, they set about chasing away the gloom of night by merging their bodies in passion. They indulged in sixty-nine, which they did not often practice, since each found it difficult to simultaneously give and receive without biting or losing rhythm. Today they had found an uncanny synchronicity, mouths working and backs arching until their bodies surged in mingled pleasure.

After, they lay pressed side-to-side in shared afterglow. Neither worried about the ghosts of the past or the dark specter of the future. They were utterly content with now.

It was not meant to last. Fate spit in their face as Snape abruptly sat up, clutching his forearm. Severus propped himself up on one arm, face lined in concern. “What is it? What’s happening?”

Snape grimaced, his expression of lazy contentment replaced by tension. “I’ve been Summoned,” he said in clipped tones. Severus looked horrified. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” he said hastily. “The Dark Lord has likely come up with some new harebrained scheme or someone that he wishes to make an example of. He expects me to be present in either situation. However, I fear that I may be away for the rest of the day. He does like to go on in these situations. But never fear; I should be back before sunrise.” He winced as the burn of the Summons became more intense. Faster than Severus believed possible, the man was fully dressed and buttoned up from head-to-toe.

“Should I come with you?” the young man asked.

Snape scowled at the very thought. “No, not this time. The Dark Lord is most curious about you, but he would have specifically requested your presence were it required. This time he seems interested only in my attendance.”

“Be careful,” Severus whispered fretfully.

“I always am,” Snape said confidently. He bent, and the two shared a lingering kiss, each trying to hide their fear. A moment later, the room echoed with the crack of Apparition.

Severus spent the rest of the day roaming aimlessly around the house. He threw together a ham sandwich for lunch but could only pick at it. At dinner he had to restrain himself from setting two places. He had a restless, itchy feeling. His rational mind told him that everything was fine - hadn’t Snape *told* him not to expect him back for dinner? - but his instincts were screaming that something was wrong. For once, he couldn’t even take refuge in his beloved books. His gaze kept skittering from the page, to the clock, to the front door. He had wanted to wait up, but when his eyelids began to get heavy and the words swam before his eyes, he decided to head upstairs to bed. He would be no good to anyone if he wore himself out with waiting and worrying. He had always been a light sleeper, so he knew that he would awaken as soon as the professor returned. Sleep remained elusive, but Severus finally drifted off, his face buried in the man’s pillow for comfort.

Chapter Twenty-Six

He awoke with a start the next day. Sunlight was streaming through the curtains that he’d forgotten to properly close. He gave a quick glance to the clock, which told him that he had slept much too late. It was nearly noon. He crossly shoved away the armful of covers (he would *not* admit to cuddling the bed sheets) and dashed downstairs. His heart sank when he discovered that the kitchen and living room were exactly as he had left them. He forced himself to stay calm as he toured the rest of the house. Maybe Professor Snape had not wanted to disturb him and had slept in another room. He knew that he was desperately grasping at straws, trying to reason away his growing panic. But his fears were realized, for the house remained stubbornly empty.

‘It’s nothing,’ he rationalized. ‘Professor Snape did tell me that he would sometimes spend weeks with the Death Eaters. Something could have easily come up, and he would not be able to get word to me. I’ll just have to sit tight and wait for him.’ He occupied himself for the rest of the day with a fiendishly tricky potion. Luckily, his powers of concentration seemed to be somewhat better today. He was elated and was eager to share his results with the older man… who was not there. His spirits plummeted.

The next day was even worse. His eyes were ringed with dark circles from an uneasy sleep; he burned the eggs; and his cauldron exploded twice. His nerves were on edge, and any creak or groan from the old house made him unbearably jumpy. By the fourth day, he was completely frantic. He would go outside for walks to distract himself, only to dash back in a panic, convinced that Snape had returned in his absence and may be in desperate need of medical attention. He badly needed to talk to someone, anyone, but that prospect was even more terrifying. He didn’t know who he could trust, or worse, how to contact them. The professor must have a way of using owls, surely, but there was no sign of one in the neighborhood.

After choking down a dinner of cold oatmeal (leftovers from breakfast), he flopped down in a broken-down armchair to watch the telly. Neither Snape would ever admit it, but they had an odd sort of horrified fascination with soaps and talk shows. He was engrossed in the latest substandard drama when the Floo flared to life. He shrieked in surprise and leapt to his feet, his wand brandished.

Albus blinked at him mildly through the green flames. “There you are, my boy. Is Professor Snape with you?”

“No,” he said warily. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

The old man’s expression fell. “Oh, dear. I was quite afraid of that. I also have not heard from Severus, and we have a very reliable means of communication. He notified me that he had been Summoned, but that was the last that I heard.”

The young man shook his head. “I don’t have any more information than you do. He’s been gone four days.”

“How long did he expect to be gone?”

“He told me not to expect him for dinner, but he seemed to expect to be back by the morning. I know he’s been gone on longer missions than this, but I’m really worried. I understand that secrecy is paramount, but my existence is public knowledge, and I don’t see why it would be a problem for the professor to send me a quick message.”

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. “I do not think that Professor Snape would have left you alone for so long willingly.” The other Severus opened his mouth, but Albus waved his hand dismissively. “I know that you are of age and perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but Severus and I both tend to be protective of our charges. This leads me to believe that something has gone terribly wrong.”

Severus turned pale. He had hoped that the old man would somehow reassure him, but he was confirming his worst fears. “Try not to fret,” Dumbledore said in an attempt to soothe. “Professor Snape has been through many tight scrapes and has survived with his skin intact.”

“I want to help. What should I do?”

“Just sit tight for now. Do not make any attempt to reach the professor. I will be in contact soon.”

Severus paced back and forth for what seemed an interminable length of time, wearing down the already threadbare carpet. When Dumbledore finally reopened the Floo connection, the young man was dozing in an awkward position on the sofa. “Get up, Severus,” he said urgently. “You may be in danger and must leave this house immediately. In order to help you, you must set the Floo to allow me passage. Professor Snape has barred the Floo to all but himself unless specific permission is granted. Few can even Firecall him since he is extremely choosy on who he has set allowances for. Now, point your wand at the fireplace and speak the word ‘Admit’.”

Severus scowled but did as he was told. He most certainly did not want the old man prowling about his shabby home, but this was an emergency. He dashed upstairs and threw together a few essentials. He glared at Dumbledore as he reentered the sitting room - the elderly man was sitting in the armchair with an innocent air, as if he had not stirred since his arrival, but Severus was certain that the geezer had been poking about while his back was turned.

“Come, there is no time to waste,” Albus said urgently. He sprang from his seat with a speed that belied his advanced years. “If Professor Snape is in danger, you may be as well. It is not safe for you to remain here. Unfortunately, safe houses are hard to come by these days. Nevertheless, I was able to arrange some last-minute accommodations.” And before Severus could utter another word, Dumbledore gently took his arm and they disappeared with a *crack*.

They arrived in a large, messy-looking yard. Severus gave his companion another angry glare. “I can Apparate myself, you know!”

“My mistake,” Albus said mildly. “I am used to dealing with underage students, and even those that have obtained their Apparition license continue to struggle through their first Apparitions. You are unusually skilled and adept in your magical studies, which I’m afraid has made it difficult for your older self to teach his craft, since he cannot relate to students who are not as gifted as himself. But never mind an old man’s ruminations; we are here.”

The Slytherin looked around him in amazement. The yard was an absolute mess: chickens wandered to and fro, a rusty cauldron lay abandoned, and a sign announcing “The Burrow” listed to one side (the place was aptly named, in his opinion). He could just catch a peek of an overgrown garden with a mischievous gnome or two popping up their heads. If this was supposed to be a safe house, then the Aurors had certainly come down in the world.

If the grounds were improbable, the house itself was patently impossible. It was an ugly stone affair with levels piled upon one another haphazardly, held together seemingly by magic and force of will. His heart sank. He wasn’t going to be left *here*, was he?

Dumbledore tugged his arm until he unwillingly trudged toward the dilapidated house. Instead of entering through the front door, he was lead through the jungle of a garden to the back door of the kitchen. The old man knocked on the door and exchanged a few whispered words, and then the door was unbolted. Once inside, Snape’s perception totally changed. The interior had items strewn about, but the kitchen table and floor were freshly scrubbed. Despite the balmy night, the fire burned merrily, and something delicious-smelling bubbled in the cauldron. The room was cramped but welcoming, and he felt instantly at ease. What a difference from Spinner’s End! Both houses were showing their age and overuse, but his childhood home was bleak and depressing. Snape felt that this Burrow was surely a happy place.

“There you are, dear!” a large, matronly woman exclaimed, bustling forward while wiping her hands on a broad apron. “Did you get here all right? I hope you didn’t have any trouble fetching him, Albus.”

“No trouble at all, Molly, though I felt it was prudent to act quickly. The poor lad has been alone for four days!”

“Four days! How ghastly! Tell me, young man, have you eaten?”

Severus opened his mouth to protest that he had eaten recently, but his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. “Come sit,” the matron said firmly, directing him into a nearby chair. In no time, he had a steaming bowl of stew before him. With more haste than was dignified, he dug in with gusto, his stomach suddenly realizing that it had been cheated out of a proper meal as of late. The woman looked delighted. “You just eat up while I make the introductions. I always thought that Professor Snape could use a few home-cooked meals. Albus has filled us in on the details, and we’re glad to have you stay with us. I’m Molly Weasley, and this is my husband, Arthur.” She gestured to a balding man reading a paper before the fire. He smiled encouragingly and stood, offering his hand. “Don’t get up,” he admonished as Severus began to rise. “Molly’s never happier than when feeding someone.” The young man shook hands gingerly.

Molly continued, “I believe you’ve been put into the same year as our son, Ron.” Severus schooled his features into a blank expression. It wouldn’t do to show his true feelings toward that particular Gryffindor. “I’m afraid we’re going to have a very tight squeeze, for my oldest son Bill is getting married. Most of our family is already here, and the family of the bride-to-be is expected in a few days.” Oh joy. He was going to be surrounded by a sea of redheaded Gryffie horrors. Suddenly the Death Eaters didn’t look so bad. Well, at least the house seemed cheerful. He was a master at antisocial behavior; surely he could find a quiet corner to haunt.

He studied his surroundings in more detail as he ate. “Our house may strike you as a bit odd,” Molly said stiffly. “We’ve had to expand here and there throughout the years.”

“It’s lovely,” he said softly, despite himself. Despite the Weasleys’ tight finances, they still seemed better off than his own family. Plus he could practically feel the love and care that went into his surroundings - the food, the room, the scattered belongings. There was a feeling of *home* that he had not felt anywhere before. It made him inexplicably sad. He ducked his head before Mrs. Weasley could see.

Once he had polished off his dinner, he suddenly felt exhausted. He tried to unobtrusively hide a yawn. “You’re worn out!” the redheaded lady fussed, fluttering around him. He usually found such mother-hen behavior highly annoying. Maybe he had just been fending for himself too long, since it felt good to have someone care. She chatted with him a bit as she helped him gather up his meager belongings. He could tell that she was curious about him and was comparing him to his older self, but he was too tired to really care. She seemed to be making an effort to treat him like one of her son’s friends, instead of some sort of freak or miniature professor. He had felt strange being around his peers, since they had most definitely been sizing him up. Mrs. Weasley’s motherly attitude was a welcome respite. Besides, he had always felt more comfortable around adults than children his age.

She lead him up several sets of narrow and winding staircases until they reached a darkened bedroom. “You’ll be sharing a room with Ron.” She pushed open the door and shone her light at Ron’s bed. “Ron! Are you awake? We’ve got a visitor.” He just muttered and rolled over. “You can have this bed. I’m afraid we’ll all be bumping elbows for the next few days, so I hope it isn’t a terrible inconvenience.”

Severus squared his shoulders. “If anything, I’m the one inconveniencing you. I’m grateful for your willingness to take me in on such short notice.”

She smiled at him and seemed to want to do something motherly, like ruffle his hair or kiss his cheek. “Try to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Mister Weasley and I will be sleeping in the master bedroom on the fourth floor. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Ron or one of us. Have a good night, dear.” She gave him a final encouraging smile before she shut the door.

Severus stared at the door a few moments before sitting down on the bed. It was probably odd for the woman to have a fellow Order member and her children’s professor staying under her roof as a teenager, but she had been more than decent about it. He threw a dark look at the lightly snoring lump in the next bed. He was used to dorm life so he wasn’t too perturbed at having a roommate, but Weasley was not exactly his top choice. Frankly, the whole situation had him puzzled and a little scared. Professor Snape had disappeared without a word, and Dumbledore seemed to think that both the man and his younger self were in danger. There was no other reason that the Death Eaters would be a threat to him - hadn’t the Dark Lord wanted to meet him? - unless the professor had been outed as a double agent… for the other side. That thought made his blood run cold.

He shook his head roughly, trying to dismiss the fears that threatened to crowd his mind. Even Dumbledore himself had said that he didn’t know for sure what had happened to Professor Snape. Perhaps he was still undercover and had no opportunity to send a covert message. Perhaps the old man was just being paranoid. But a small part of him knew that he was grasping at straws. From the professor’s description, Dumbledore had a way of knowing the unknowable, and if he suspected that young Snape was in danger, then it was likely so.

He changed his clothes in the dark and crawled under the covers. He had expected to have trouble sleeping in a strange bed with so many anxieties hovering over him, but the stress of the past few days had worn him out, and he soon fell fast asleep.

He awoke in the middle of the night to find the gleam of a lit wand tip thrust in his face. “What the devil are you doing here?” a voice snarled.

Snape squinted, trying to peer through the sudden glare. He could barely make out a thatch of red hair. “Your mum put me here!” he spat in response. “You’ve got a fine way of greeting your guests.” Meanwhile, his hand inched under his pillow toward his wand. A lifetime of unpleasant circumstances had lead to that nighttime habit, and he was particularly grateful for it now.

Ron growled in anger. The late hour had only added to his surliness. He seemed doubtful of Snape’s story but could come up with no other explanation as to why a Slytherin would suddenly be sharing his room. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you’re invited to the wedding?!”

The Slytherin sneered. “And what if I am? Frankly, the reason for my presence is none of your concern. I’m here, and you’ll just have to live with it.” His hand curled around his wand.

“It’s my concern if you’re in my bloody room!” he yelled. “Well, you may have conned your way into my house, but you’re sure as hell not staying in here tonight!” He grabbed Snape’s bag and threw it at him. “Sleep somewhere else!”

“Fine.” Icicles practically dripped from Snape’s chilly response. “I’d rather not share breathing space with such a moronic Gryffindor anyway. Your stupidity might be catching.” Ron looked infuriated but he at least lowered his wand, allowing Severus to gather a few items, including the bed sheets, and leave the room. He had barely crossed the threshold when the door slammed. He could hear a locking charm being cast on the other side.

He sighed in quiet frustration. Now what was he supposed to do? He was in a (very!) strange house with people he didn’t know, and the one who he did hated him. He had less than a year to live, and he was wasting his time *here*?!

A loud *bang* sounded from a lower floor, and he jumped nearly a mile. The twin devils must be here too… they were legends at Hogwarts, and though he had never met them personally, he knew to be on his guard. Professor Snape had spoken of them very bitingly - they had shown a surprising aptitude for Potions but had spent more time exploding things than doing actual work. He would not be at all surprised if any of the Weasley children would try to avenge perceived wrongs inflicted by Professor Snape.

His original impression of this house had been totally reversed. What had seemed quirky and offbeat yet welcoming was now by night confounding and threatening. He was in a house full of Gryffindors. There was no room for a snake in the lion’s den.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the morning, the house was thrown into an uproar. Severus was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Weasley set upon bending her youngest son’s ear after he confessed his role in the proceedings. An intense argument formed between Mr. Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody, who had firecalled on an Order matter. Moody was certain that the boy had snuck off to his Death Eater friends, but Arthur argued that the Aurors had done an excellent job of securing the house. Wards were set to alert if someone other than the Weasley household or other pre-approved guests tried to Apparate to or from their property. Severus had only been able to arrive the night before because he had been escorted by Dumbledore. Those wards remained undisturbed.

Ginny, who had gone to the attic in a last-ditch effort to find a missing embroidered handkerchief, finally discovered his whereabouts. She quickly summoned her parents. “Oh, that poor lad!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in distress. “Ron is in a world of trouble!”

Severus lay in the far corner of the tiny attic, curled into a ball with the sheet thrown over his thin body, his rucksack doubling as a pillow. The ghoul sat with its arms hugging its drawn-up knees, gazing at the intruder with befuddlement.

The matronly woman tried to approach, but she was swiftly repelled by a strong shield. A protective barrier made a large circle around the sleeping form. The young man started violently, then grabbed his wand and thrust it forward aggressively. He blinked and lowered his wand when he recognized his visitors. He still maintained a tight grip and looked ready to attack at any moment.

“It’s all right, dear,” Mrs. Weasley soothed. “Nobody will hurt you here. I’m so sorry for what happened last night. Ron will spend the day mucking out the chicken coops for his rudeness. My eldest son Bill - the one to be married - has agreed to share his room with you, and Charlie will stay with Ron.”

Severus looked miserable. “I know you will be offended by what I have to say, and I do not mean it to be a slight against you or your husband. You both have been quite kind to me. But to be honest, I’d feel safer amongst the Death Eaters.”

Molly bit her lip as tears welled up in her eyes. Arthur stepped forward. “I’ll go have a word with Dumbledore. He believes that you are already in danger from the Death Eaters, but I’d hate for you to feel safer with them than in this house.” Snape nodded tersely. He’d had enough tormenting from Gryffindors to last several lifetimes. He was not about to waste his summer with more of the same if he could help it. If only Professor Snape would appear, alive and well, to rescue him!

“Come down in a few minutes, Severus. I’ll have breakfast waiting for you.” She dabbed at her eyes as she turned away, and he felt an unaccustomed stab of guilt. What an arse he was - didn’t he have enough enemies already, without alienating the few friendly people as well? Why did interpersonal relationships have to be so damned hard? Why did he have to feel so all alone, when Death was practically breathing down his neck? His heart ached to be with the professor. *He* would understand.

Seeing that the bathroom was empty, he seized his chance for a quick wash. He was definitely not in the mood to wrestle any Gryffies for a turn in the lav. As he descended toward the kitchen, he heard loud, angry voices.

“… the boy is in danger.” He paused on the stairs. That was Dumbledore’s voice. Were they talking about him? He hadn’t known that anyone else would actually be coming over.

“He has no business being here! Let him go to his Death Eater friends, where he belongs.”

“Alastor, Severus has not yet taken the mark, and our Severus was certain that he could dissuade him from joining Voldemort’s ranks. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.” There was dismayed muttering over the use of You-Know-Who’s name.

“Speaking of old Snape: isn’t it convenient that he just up and disappeared right before Harry’s Coming of Age? He’s probably at You-Know-Who’s side right now, preparing for an attack!”

“I agree that we must be on our guard against attack, but I will not discount the fact that both Snapes may be in grave danger. Unless another safe house can be found, he must remain here.”

“There has been enough death,” Mr. Weasley said quietly. “If young Severus has truly renounced the Death Eaters, then he deserves our protection.”

“Molly, I know you’ve got a soft spot in your heart for children, but how can you stand to have the Snape boy in your house? You know the monster he will become!” This again from the Alastor person. “Tell you what. *I’ll* take the boy. He’ll get into no mischief while I’m around!”

“You will do no such thing!” There was a note of steel in Mrs. Weasley’s voice. “He is a young man in need of kindness and care. The poor thing looks like a strong wind could carry him away. He may not be the prettiest or kindest creature, but that is all the more reason to treat him with decency. I will hear no more on the matter.”

Severus stepped into the room. “If you’re going to discuss my care, you might as well include me in the conversation. I am of age and fully capable of making my own decisions.”

“Ah, there you are, my boy!” Dumbledore exclaimed. “We were indeed discussing your safety. Unfortunately, remaining at the Burrow seems to be the only option for the moment.”

Snape sneered. “More like no one else would have me. Except him,” he glared at the man with the strange electric-blue eye that seemed to look right through him, “and I’d rather face whatever danger is out there than spend one single night with him.”

“I’m sorry for the circumstances, dear, but we’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible,” Molly reassured him. Alastor looked like he had more to say, but Dumbledore took his arm and guided him toward the door. A few minutes later, they heard a double *crack* of Apparition.

Mrs. Weasley had set a generous breakfast out for him. His appetite had completely disappeared after the difficult night he had spent, but the sight of food had revived it with a vengeance. He surprised himself by finishing his meal and asking for seconds, which delighted the woman to no end.

He noticed that she had already started preparing lunch. There were so many mouths to feed; she would no doubt need to start dinner before lunch was even finished. He wanted to skulk away and hide in a dark corner, but everyone else was busy with chores and wedding preparations. He may be many things, but lazy was not one of them. “Do you need any help, ma’am?” he asked in his politest voice.

Her face lit up. “Bless your heart! A young man actually volunteering! Yes, dear, I could certainly use a hand. Growing boys are always threatening to eat us out of house and home. Would you give me a hand with peeling and chopping these carrots? Have a care for the blade; it’s very sharp.”

Severus took the knife and cutting board and deftly peeled the carrot with the edge of the blade, then swiftly chopped the carrots into perfect coin-sized chunks. Molly gasped at the speed of the knife, certain that one of the boy’s fingers would join the carrots on the chopping board, but though the knife edge was practically a blur, his hand never faltered. In a few scant minutes, the large pile of carrots had been reduced to pieces.

“That’s amazing!” she breathed. “I’ve never seen such skill. Could you also peel these potatoes for me? We’ll have lunch done in no time!”

Severus made swift work with everything that was thrown his way. At one point, he paused in his chopping and slicing to peer thoughtfully at the bubbling concoction. “May I?” he asked, holding a spoon. She nodded her approval, and he took a small sip. “It’s quite good,” he declared, and she beamed. “But perhaps it can be even better. Perhaps some paprika?”

Molly looked thrilled. Cooking had lost its adventurous appeal quite awhile ago, but the young man was tapping into her long-dormant creativity. She was enjoying Severus’ experimental side. “Splendid idea! Let’s give it a try.” They spent the next hour discussing the upcoming meals and how to spice them up.

At lunchtime, there was practically a stampede to the table. Severus sat at the far corner, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. He was most definitely not in a social mood. To his chagrin, however, the twins sat right across from him, identical impish expressions on their face. “Hullo, Snape!” they exclaimed in unison. Severus scowled without looking up from his plate. The sooner he finished his meal, the sooner he could be away from such aggravations. He was used to skipping meals and was tempted to do so right now, but he did not wish to hurt Mrs. Weasley’s feelings further. Besides, the meal really was quite delicious, and he saw no reason to be chased away from enjoying his own creation.

The meal received approbation from everyone at the table, and Molly proudly informed them of her collaboration with Snape. Praise for the Slytherin was much more muted, but no one could deny that the food was quite delicious.

Once the meal was over, one of the twins passed him a toffee. Snape regarded it with suspicion. “Go on, mate, it’s perfectly fine!” the other assured him. He popped a toffee into his own mouth to demonstrate. A small pile of toffees were in a small bag on the table next to him.

With a slight smirk, Snape ate the proffered treat. Both redheads swiveled to watch him intently. He gazed back with a bored expression. The duo then looked at each other with a distinct air of disappointment. “Must’ve been a dud,” one muttered. “We should do some testing,” confirmed the other, who slipped his toffee into his mouth. His tongue immediately blew up to immense proportions and lolled out of his mouth.

“Boys!” Mrs. Weasley raged. “How many times must I tell you not to bring those abominations to my table?!”

“Ah tawt zhat wuz uh gud un!” the long-tongued twin complained. Then, to their shock, his tongue formed a large split at the end and became forked.

“Wicked!” the other exclaimed. “They’ve never done that before!” He looked eagerly at Snape. “You’ve altered them, haven’t you? Tell us what you’ve done! We’ll give you a cut of the profits!” The forked-tongue twin nodded his head eagerly, all discomfort forgotten for the sake of experimentation.

Severus had the best revenge of all. He smirked mockingly and walked away, leaving the twin hellions calling after him piteously.

He had not paid much attention to the others during lunch, but as he helped Mrs. Weasley tidy up the table, he spotted a young man whose face was covered with scars. “What happened to you?” he blurted; then flushed. Lucius had been trying to teach him better manners, and lesson number one was to prevent whatever impertinent remark was rattling around in his head from flying out of his mouth.

“This is Bill,” Mrs. Weasley explained by way of introduction. “He is the one who is marrying Fleur, the blonde-haired young lady.” Despite the happy occasion, Snape’s ill-advised comment had cast a pall over her mood.

“I was attacked by Greyback, a werewolf.” Bill shrugged. “It looks bad, but I’m actually lucky. It wasn’t the full moon, so I don’t have lycanthropy.” He gave Snape a cool eye, leading Severus to think that Bill’s opinion of the professor was likely not positive.

Severus looked green as he further eyed the damage to the face that had no doubt been quite handsome at one point. “I was attacked by a werewolf once,” he said hesitatingly. He had been sworn to secrecy by Dumbledore, but it wasn’t as if he was revealing *who* was behind the attack.

Bill looked surprised. “Was that Lupin?”

Snape wanted to throw his hands in the air. Apparently Lupin’s condition was an open secret, since every bloody person he talked to seemed to know it! He spoke very briefly about the attack, since even talking about it brought unwelcome flashbacks of memory. At one point he pulled up his shirt to reveal long scars from the claws that had raked him a few years back. Mrs. Weasley gave a moan of sympathetic pain, which caused a twinge of annoyance. He hated that sort of thing. He knew it would be ten times worse if his impending death was to become public knowledge, so it was just another reason to keep his precarious existence quiet.

“Is that a dragon’s tooth?” Severus breathed, noticing Bill’s earring.

“Yep,” he grinned, turning to better display it.

“And dragonhide boots? Those must have cost a fortune!”

“Nah, my brother Charlie works with dragons. He was able to set me up nicely.”

“Just think of all the potions I could make with ingredients like that!” Bill couldn’t help but laugh as Severus slipped into a potions-inspired reverie. Severus was still a bit wary of Bill - he *was* a Gryffie, after all - but when Bill offered to tell him of his adventures as a cursebreaker, he decided to stay in Bill’s room instead of sleeping on the hard attic floor after all.

Molly took up her wand and commented on the length of Bill’s hair. He grinned but cheerfully refused to have it cut for his nuptials. Rather, he would wear it in a tail. She then turned to Severus with a thoughtful gleam in her eye. He clapped his hands over his lank, greasy locks and darted from the room as if the hounds of hell were after him. Bill’s laughter followed him up the stairs.

When the endless list of chores seemed to have a break, Severus contented himself with occupying the darkest corner he could find and reading one of his beloved books. While the Weasley parents praised him, the others turned up their collective nose. Who would voluntarily read during vacation? Ugh! It was something that Percy would do, not that anyone dared mention it.

The young adults decided to have an impromptu Quidditch match. They looked at Severus with a look he recognized - they didn’t particularly want him to join but also didn’t want to obviously exclude him. He waved his hand toward them dismissively and firmly stuck his nose in his book, and thus everyone was happy.

Severus did his best to be as surly as possible to the twins through the past few days, but they proved to be quite intractable. “We’re not afraid of you!” they laughed. “We survived six years of detention with Professor Snape!” In retaliation, he began to play pranks on them, but this only seemed to further delight them. One day he had hexed their sheets to wrap around them like snakes until they were mummified. They found the idea splendid and were already plotting to sell Slithering Sheets in their joke shop.

During another quiet moment, he had snuck off once again to ‘his’ corner to read. He jumped and almost dropped his book as a flash of long red hair streaked by. For a moment, he was almost certain that he had seen Lily. A closer look quashed that silly thought. It was just Ginny, whose red hair had a slightly more carroty tinge than Lily’s fiery locks. He felt a dull pain in his chest. He missed her so much. And yet, the pain had dimmed slightly. His concerns were now for Professor Snape. He had come to care for the older man. Now that someone was in his life that cared about him reciprocally, the pain over losing Lily was no longer quite as sharp. He most certainly did not want to die, even if it meant meeting this era’s Lily in the afterlife, since it would mean leaving the professor behind.

Continue to chapters 28-31 and Epilogue