The prodigal son was returning to his native country, and Severus Snape refused to be a part of the gaudy circus that surrounded the event. On the night that Harry Potter was meant to arrive at Hogwarts, Severus isolated himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower – looking up at the heavens to bemoan his fate and certainly not looking down at the Hogwarts grounds to catch a glimpse of the celebrity from afar. It was peaceful at the top of the Tower, when even his dungeons had been overrun by the noise of simpering schoolchildren and flustered professors who ensured that every portrait was dust-free and every suit of armour shone. The entire castle was turned upside down for the appearance of a professor who had the unmitigated arrogance to arrive after term began.

Tilting his head back to look up at the stars, Severus considered the event that had put the castle into an uproar. Hagrid had – on Flitwick's advice – bought a new suit, Albus had set aside his lemon drops and stocked up on French candies to please the visitor, and even strict Minerva had bought new robes and had her hair styled. The students had lost all interest in lessons, with their focus shifted to autographs and photographs – the upper years going so far as to research Attraction Charms and Seduction Philtres in their mania to get close to Harry Potter. Severus didn't understand the fuss.

It could not be denied that Harry Potter deserved his celebrity, not after his precocious defeat of Voldemort followed by an even more decisive rout on French soil seven years later. Although he'd forsaken his native soil at an early age when his Muggle guardians moved to Paris and had later attended Beauxbatons instead of coming home to Hogwarts, the British wizarding media had not lost an iota of their fascination with the Boy Who Lived. Word of his exploits had reached even the reclusive Severus.

A faint sneer twisted Severus's lips as he remembered the adulation that had been heaped upon the absent Potter, the overblown newspaper articles, the frivolous magazines he'd confiscated in his class. Severus would have loathed the young man if it wasn't obvious that Potter hated the attention, making it clear that his residence in the wizarding world after the final defeat of Voldemort was contingent on a total lack of media, with no interviews, no press conferences and no news articles. He'd had enough of them in his short life, one witness reported him saying before he took down the anti-Apparation wards and left the French Ministry of Magic banquet given in his honor.

The boy had style, Severus conceded, but that was hardly a reason to fuss over him to this extent. He was, in the end, James Potter's son – despite the fact that he had defeated Voldemort, despite all of his rumoured adventures on the other side of the Channel, unbelievable stories about basilisks, Portkeys leading to dangerous duels with Voldemort, Dementors, escaped murderous convicts and an unexplainable early mastery of alchemy – rumours were rumours and James Potter's son was James Potter's son. Severus would as soon sign up for the Harry Potter fanclub and beg for autographs as believe half of the tales. It was inconceivable that an eighteen-year-old boy could have survived all of those adventures, much less that he could have fit them all into his short life.

The stars hung poised in their stately dance, continuing unaware of Severus's musings and the anticipated arrival of a celebrity at Hogwarts. Severus could hear, faint as the tickling of wind in the grass, the voices of the Professors below him. Potter had not yet arrived, then. The celebrity doubtless wanted to make a dramatic appearance.

It was possible, Severus reflected, as he wrapped his arms around himself, that Harry Potter did not bear the extraordinary resemblance to his sire that was so visible in the photographs. After all, newspaper photos were often of poor quality, and fate had been cruel enough to Severus in his life without sending a James Potter look-alike to Hogwarts. James, with sunlight and wind kissing his hair while he flew as though he had no need of a broom – James with laughter in his voice as he walked the halls with his infamous friends – James lying in the grass next to the lake, idly flicking the heads off of dandelions – James with his cruel sneer and his casual hexes – Severus needed no reminder of James in his life, of the fact that James had married Lily Evans, of the fact that James had died.

The wind swooped around the tower with eerie, mournful sounds, in such a stark contrast to the gaiety and waiting lights and hubbub below, that Severus drew his cloak around himself to ward off the chill. A tiny figure, purple-robed and white-haired moved out onto the lawn. Severus didn't need to squint to recognize Dumbledore, who must have given up hope of persuading Severus to join in the festivities. Severus had felt the poking and prodding at his dungeon wards, a gentle tapping with Albus's deft touch, but he was not so easily swayed. He refused to join the gaggle of idiots fawning over the returning hero.

Potter was due to arrive at any moment, judging by Albus's appearance. Severus sneered, squinting down at the festivities. Lackwits and sycophants, that's all they were.

A gust of wind buffeted Severus, pushing him against the edge of the rampart, and a clattering noise came from the tower behind him. Severus spun around as quickly as the strong winds allowed, one hand reaching for his wand, and he found himself face-to-face with a stranger.

"Explain yourself, intruder," he said. The man dismounted from his broom and even in the shadows, Severus could see the shining wood and glittering logo of a Firebolt. This was no common, petty thief trying to sneak in through Hogwarts' protective wards. This was a powerful wizard, his aura thrumming with an overwhelming, seductive power. He'd come through the wards on the strength of his own magic.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't expect to meet anyone here." The voice was soft and marked by a faint accent and awkwardness as though the speaker was unaccustomed to English.

"Thought you'd sneak into Hogwarts through a deserted tower, did you? Who are you and what are you doing here? Explain yourself. I haven't got all evening to waste on the likes of you."

"I 'ave said that I am sorry to disturb you, sir, but I am not a sneak or an intruder. I was in fact invited here."

"A likely story. Would you repeat it before the Headmaster?"

"Of course. It is the Headmaster who is the one to invite me here."

Severus tightened his grip on his wand. "Move into the light where I can see you, and if I even think that you're reaching for your wand, I won't hesitate to hex you."

The man obeyed Severus, moving from the patch of shadows where he had landed to the circle of dim, flickering light cast by the torch. Severus stepped toward him and bit back an exclamation when he realized that the trespasser was none other than Hogwarts' newly arrived celebrity and future Defence against the Dark Arts Professor, Harry Potter. A burn of embarrassment gathered in Severus's belly, and he glared at the man to compensate for it.

Potter had his father's chin and unruly hair, but none of the photographs had done justice to his shimmering, brilliant eyes – Lily's green eyes – or his strong cheekbones, or his apparent nervous tendency to wet his lips with his tongue. Severus tore his attention away from that petal-pink tongue and the glimpse of Potter's even white teeth. "Professor Potter," Severus said. "Indeed, you were expected, although the reason for the mode of your arrival escapes me. The crowd of adoring fans and well-wishers awaits you below."

Potter's gaze followed Severus's gesture, and Potter bent over the rampart to look down at the people gathered by the main doors, all of them glittering in their finery. "I've 'ad enough adulation for one lifetime, sir. Fleur suggested that this tower would be deserted if I flew in."

"Be that as it may be, Mr. Potter, you are keeping the Headmaster waiting. I will show you the way down." Severus turned with a gratifying snap of his robes in the wind and made his way down the stairs without looking once to see whether Potter was following him. Let the Saviour trail behind Severus like a recalcitrant puppy – it was no more than he deserved after interrupting Severus's quiet and solitary reverie and forcing him to descend to the ridiculous festivities.


Potter proved to be insufferable, heritor of his father's empty-headedness as well as his other faults. Conceited, stubborn and charming, he covered his mistakes with a gamin grin and was coddled and adored by the Headmaster and the other professors. Even the old fraud Trelawney loved him, fluttering her eyelashes and foretelling a great and undying love in his future.

Potter accepted all of the attention with a smile and a blush of pretended modesty. It was a revolting act and Severus's long-confirmed opinion of his colleagues' intelligence, or lack thereof, was well confirmed by their apparent ignorance and inability to see Potter's faults. They simpered and giggled like lovesick schoolgirls at the mere mention of Potter's name. It was intolerable.

Severus clenched his fists, digging crescent moon indentations into his palm with his fingernails. Potter was approaching the staff table with an insipid grin, headed for the empty seat next to Severus. After this morning's humiliation, Severus was in no mood to endure Potter's gloating and began to rise from his chair.

"Professor Snape," Potter said, "It is necessary for you to be leaving so soon? I was hoping so much to talk wit' you."

"Indeed, Severus, you can't leave so early," Albus said. "Why, the house elves haven't even brought dessert yet."

Severus glared at Albus before settling back into his seat and turning away from Potter to speak with Minerva. She humoured him and gave him a few moments' reprieve before resuming her interrupted conversation with Pomona. Severus glared at the back of her head but it produced no effect.

Disgruntled, he turned his attention to his clean plate and began to scrape his knife across it to produce a shrill and unpleasant noise. With an appalling lack of manners, Potter took it as an invitation to converse with Severus.

"This is in fact very strange food that you eat," Potter said, reaching for the shepherd's pie. "'Ow is this called?"

Severus responded with a glare, not dignifying the inane question with a response.

"I 'ave been told so many things about you, Professor, that I was very 'appy to finally meet you yesterday. But then you 'ad left and I was not knowing where to find you again."

Severus levelled another glare at Potter and continued to scrape his knife across his plate. He would not be taken in by Potter's facile charm and empty flattery as the other professors had been.

"Our Professor of Potions, Madame Devereaux was always speaking of you in classes, of course, but it was when Fleur returned from the Tournament that I knew I 'ad to meet you. She 'as told to me that your classes were excellent and she 'ad the opportunity to brew so many potions that we are not allowed at Beauxbatons."

Potter stopped prattling for long enough to take a sip of his pumpkin juice and made a face. With a short, purposeful stab of his wand, he turned it into sparkling water. "Tell me, is it true that your students are allowed to be brewing the Polyjuice Potion?"

"Certainly not," Severus answered in spite of himself, and then bit his lip. He would not be swayed by the charms and flattery of a boy who looked like James.

"The Amortentia? The Draught of the Living Death?"

"Mr. Potter, if you should find your potions education lacking in any respect, please feel free to join some of my less advanced students for remedial lessons." Severus rose and pushed his chair toward the table with more force than necessary, sending it clattering to the floor. Deaf to Albus's reminders of dessert, he strode from the room without a backwards look at Potter.

After the stressful, humiliating, long day, Severus poured himself a brandy and settled in the overstuffed armchair by the fire. He deserved one of his rare indulgences after tolerating that brat, especially after this morning. He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Damn Potter.

The charming young man had waltzed into the staff meeting, ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, and had the entire staff eating out of his hands. Taking organized and legible notes, accepting advice from the more experienced professors with a pretty show of gratitude, his lesson plans prepared, his answers rehearsed and voiced in that sexy French accent, Potter had been insufferable. Severus's fingers had itched with the desire to put him in his place.

The coup de grace had come when Severus mentioned the possibility of resuming the duelling club. Denied the Defence against the Dark Arts position yet again, he'd been sure that Albus would humour him with this small trifle and had prepared a detailed proposal.

Potter, of course, had been impelled – either by virtue of Gryffindor genetics or the unique flaws of his own personality – to interfere. "Of course, a duelling club, it is a marvellous idea. All of us so enjoyed the duelling club at Beauxbatons, it was an excellent chance for us to learn. I did not know that you do not 'ave one here, but in fact it would be so good if you were to begin one."

It was all said in one breath, Potter looking like a pathetically eager puppy, and in that one breath and the twinkle of Albus's eyes, all of Severus's hopes were crushed. "Splendid," Albus had said, "perhaps Professor Snape will be so good to assist our newest Defence against the Dark Arts Professor with our new club, since it was his suggestion."

Albus had taken another sip of his tea before he turned to Potter with a bright smile. "I know that you were top of the duelling club at Beauxbatons, Harry, but I think it would be best if Severus were to assist you. As an older professor, he can teach you a lot about how to manage the students when they become a little rowdy." Potter had agreed with a smile, a faint blush and a furtive glance at Severus. The humiliation, witnessed by all of the staff, had been too much to bear, and all of Severus's self-restraint had been needed to keep his expression even.

Severus drained his brandy and stalked into his office. He'd been sentenced to a year of torment, working with the insufferable Potter who was brilliant and beautiful and arrogant and untouchable, just like his father. Severus took the sheaf of parchment with all of his plans for the duelling club and tossed it into the fire. He'd be damned if he would do Potter's work for him.


The whistling in the staff room was driving Severus mad. Infernal, high-pitched noises at regular intervals – even with the war over, it sent his nerves into twitchy spasms. Severus glared at Potter, or rather he cast a glare that should have been deadly but was blithely ignored. Potter even had the insouciance to hum, wriggling his hips in a little dance as he ground his coffee beans into a fine powder.

The whistling continued unabated and Severus, who had endured it for long enough, cast a strong Silencio on the kettle. Potter dropped a handful of coffee beans and turned around, a confused expression on his face. Severus rose and stalked over to him, letting his black robes billow in the manner that intimidated the students. "Mr. Potter, you may have had the misfortune to be raised in a heathen country where the beauty and virtue of a good cup of tea goes underappreciated, and you may, strange and uncouth as it seems, actually enjoy that disgusting sludge that masquerades as a beverage. Neither of these circumstances are sufficient reason for you to torment the rest of us with that thrice-damned racket."

Severus turned, his fists clenched in his robes to contain his urge to pour the kettle of hot water over Potter and to give his robes that little extra swirl as he flounced from the room. After he slammed the staff room door, he lingered in the hallway for a second … two … three seconds … until he heard the babble of voices in the room. With a smirk, Severus stalked to the dungeon.

It took less than twenty-four hours after the incident in the staffroom for Potter to approach Severus in his office. His opinion of the man's probable sorting into Gryffindor confirmed, Severus allowed Potter to enter but didn't offer him a seat, letting him stand and twist his hands like an errant student.

His victory was short-lived. Potter gave him one long, assessing look and then seated himself without invitation. With a flurry of quick gestures, Potter cleared Severus's desk, stacking all of the scrolls in a neat pile off to the side, and with a snap of his fingers, he summoned a tea tray from the kitchens.

Severus gave the man a considering look from under his eyelashes as he accepted the teacup that Potter handed to him. Use of wandless magic was unusual, especially in a young man just out of school, but perhaps not unusual for the man who had defeated Voldemort. Nevertheless, it was unnerving to see it used for everyday activities as though it was as natural to him as breathing.

Potter shifted in the uncomfortable chair that Severus kept for students and blew across his tea, raising wisps of steam to wreathe his face. "I do not understand 'ow you can drink this," he said with a wry smile. Severus looked down at his own cup of tea rather than gawk at the electric transformation that lit Potter's eyes and animated his features when he smiled.

Potter filled the ensuing silence with the clink of china as he filled a plate with biscuits and set it in front of Severus, who refused to touch it. Potter didn't take any of the biscuits for himself, Severus noted with suspicion. "It is all so strange here," Potter said at last. "This tea that you drink, and the foods that you eat … and everyone here is acting very strangely. The headmaster, he is always trying to give to me these peculiar sweets and 'Agrid, he is always giving these strange hard foods to me."

With a half-wistful, half-bewildered smile, Potter said, "I am not knowing the customs here, Professor Snape, and I insulted you yesterday. It was not deliberate and I am asking you to forgive me."

Potter's head was bent over his teacup and those striking green eyes were hidden, making him look entirely like his father. Severus set his untouched tea down with a sharp clink and banished the tea service. "Despite your protests, you are a British wizard, Mr. Potter. You were born in Britain and you will be a British wizard until you die. I suggest that you give up your ridiculous, foppish affectations and that inane lisping accent as soon as possible."

Potter hesitated for a moment, something confused and lost shining in his eyes, before Severus snapped at him to get out and he fled.

It was that look, Potter's confused expression, which haunted Severus for the remainder of the day, sometimes superimposed over James Potter's similar features. Something painful twisted in Severus's gut at the reminder that he had treated the son as the father had treated him, but he did his best to shove those thoughts violently out of his mind and in the end, resorted to a dose of Dreamless Sleep before bed.

It wasn't enough. Severus woke in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets, Harry Potter's expression the first thought of his conscious mind. Potter's eyes, luminous and bright, Potter's red lips, the sway of his hips as he walked, the strong line of his cheekbone … with a long-suffering sigh, Severus raised his Occlumency shields to block out all thoughts of Potter. His mind clear, Severus became aware of the languorous, comfortable feeling of satiety. He looked down at his sweaty, semen-stained sheets and realized that the Dreamless Sleep had been remarkably ineffectual. It was perfect irony: the elder Potter had rendered his teenage years miserable and now the younger Potter turned him into a miserable teenager.

After the inauspicious start to his morning, Severus's day grew exponentially worse, with all of the problems directly attributable to Potter. The house elves, whinging pathetic creatures subservient to Albus's every damn whim, served French pastries at breakfast to alleviate precious Potter's homesickness. There wasn't any good, solid British food to be had for threats or prayers, and all of Severus's attempts at the former earned him only a gentle smile from Albus and the admonition to "make the boy feel more at home." Severus snarled at him and stormed off to the first potions class, where all of the idiot, incompetent children had their attention focused on their beloved hero Potter rather than on their work, resulting in several exploding cauldrons. Children, like kittens, should be drowned at birth, Severus decided as he hurried to the staff room in between classes. A spot of good British tea was just the thing he needed.

He opened the door and stopped, shocked. Potter was not a Gryffindor but a Slytherin, the twisted, evil, sneaky brat. Severus clenched his fists as he took in the transformation of the staff room to a French bistro with nary a hint of tea. The bloody man had probably conspired with Albus to deny Severus his breakfast and now his tea. While a Gryffindor like James Potter would have raged and sulked and retaliated, a Slytherin took revenge, subtle and precise, just as Potter was taking revenge for his words yesterday.

"Severus, how good of you to join us," Albus said from one of the tiny café tables. "Harry was just teaching us how to make French coffee." The idiot Potter was in fact playing the part of helpful, innocuous waiter, a tray of tiny cups levitating in the air behind him. Potter looked up at Severus and there was no hint of a smirk or awareness of revenge in his expression, only a wistful look that reminded Severus of James. His full lips were luscious, almost pouting, and eminently devourable. If James had turned that expression on Severus, he would have denied him nothing.

"Very well," Severus said, just as Potter said, "I do not think that Professor Snape …"

"You do not think that I would what, Potter?" Severus asked after he trailed off into stunned silence.

"I did not think that you 'ad any liking for coffee, Professor."

"Nor do I, but I shall join you nonetheless," Severus said, dropping into the chair opposite Albus and waiting for Potter to show a hint of his true plan.

"It's quite good, Severus, you really should reconsider," Albus said. His eyes twinkled at twice their normal intensity and Severus suspected that he was higher than a kite on the combination of caffeine and sugar.

Potter knelt next to Severus's chair, his floating tray following him. "Perhaps I can persuade you," he said. He took a cup from the tray and held it under Severus's nose. "Do you smell that? The richness, the intensity? It bursts wit' a million flavours on your tongue, bitter and sweet, dark and light." Potter leaned forward to smell the coffee himself, leaning so close to Severus that their noses nearly touched. Their lips were separated by only the porcelain demitasse cup.

"You can smell the rain that nurtured the trees and the sunlight that dried the coffee beans. Do you mean to tell me that a talented Potions Master like yourself cannot smell all of this, cannot enjoy it? Taste it," Potter said, tilting the cup to Severus's lips. Mesmerized, Severus obeyed, and the bitter taste flooded his tongue.

He closed his eyes to escape Potter's penetrating gaze and rolled the liquid around in his mouth, savouring the taste. He swallowed. "It is tolerable, I suppose."

Potter stared at him for a long moment before he rose to offer Albus another coffee.  


Potter's face was inches from Severus's, that electric grin lit up his eyes, and Severus felt the warm swoosh of Potter's breath against his lips. They stared at each other for a long moment, sharing the same air, close enough to hear each other's heartbeats. Potter leaned forward, and with his lips warm on Severus's ear, began murmuring in that throaty, sexy French accent. His teeth nipped at Severus's earlobe and Potter placed his hands on Severus's shoulders, traced the line of his collarbones, moved down the row of buttons on his robe, unfastening each one. A rush of cold air hit Severus's chest and then the chill was taken away by Harry's warm hands that stroked and caressed and tormented every inch of his skin. When Harry scraped a smooth fingernail across his nipples, Severus arched his back and thrust his hips forward into Harry. He rubbed his aching cock, already leaking precome through his thin linen trousers, against Harry's hard thigh.

"Mmm, Severus, need you," Harry said, his voice a low vibration against Severus's throat as he kissed and licked his way in swooping trails from jaw to sternum. Severus moaned as the kisses on his nipples, his ribs, his bellybutton, drove him to thrust against Harry.  "Beep, beep, beep," Harry said, and Severus jolted awake. He grabbed his wand and hexed the offending alarm spell before he turned on his back, forcing himself to stop humping the pillows. He wrapped his fingers in a rough circle around his cock and began to stroke it, still half lost in his dream. "Oh, Harry."

He reached down with his other hand to fondle at his balls and tease at the sensitive perineum before circling his anus. Just the lightest pressure there was enough to send him into an intense orgasm, Harry's name falling from his lips again as he fell back onto his pillows, sated and sleepy.

Severus was jarred out of his post-orgasmic haze by the chiming of his clock. Focusing bleary eyes on it, he realized that he was late for his meeting. Damn Potter.

"Professor Snape," Potter said. He wore green robes that enhanced the sparkle of his eyes and sat with his quill poised over parchment as though he hadn't been waiting for twenty minutes.

Severus saw no reason to deviate from the tried-and-true method of dealing with Potter and responded with a glare. After showering and dressing in a hurry, he'd taken five minutes to restore his mental shields. He was not thinking about the warm flick of Potter's tongue along his neck or the sharpness of Potter's teeth on his earlobes or the heavenly sensation of Potter's mouth laving his nipples … Severus repressed a groan at the failure of his shields and sat down. He needed a good cup of hot tea.

After all of the difficulty and vexation that he associated with Potter, Severus was shocked into speech when his wish was granted by Potter's offhand gesture. "How did you know?"

"I asked the 'ouse elves for something that would please you. I am sorry that you did not like the coffee."

Severus drank half the tea, which was prepared with lemon exactly to his taste, before answering. He tried to chase the sense memory of Potter's tongue tracing his jaw out of his mind. "I did like it."

"Ah yes? Perhaps you do like some things French? Do you like croissants or … 'ow do you say it … cheese? Wine? Crepes?"

Severus sneered. "Perhaps you do like some things English?" he said, mimicking Potter's breathy French accent. "Perhaps you might one day bring yourself to like the English language and will stop to mangle it?"

The confused, lost expression returned to Potter's face. "I don't understand."

Severus set his teacup down and folded his hands in his lap. He would not strangle Potter, he would not put his hands on Potter's neck and draw him into a crushing kiss. "You lived in England for four years and presumably, you also studied English when you were in school in France. You lived with a British family and presumably spoke English at home. Have you no mastery whatsoever of grammar or pronunciation?"

There was a delightful line that formed in the centre of Potter's forehead when he wrinkled his nose. Severus repressed the urge to reach out and trace it. "I made very good notes in my English classes."

Forcing his lips into a sneer, Severus said, "Be that as it may, you cannot use your notes in classes here. I'll have a word with the Headmaster about arranging English lessons for you."

"Ah, you will teach me?"

"Indeed I will not." Severus banished the remainder of the tea tray to the kitchens. "Enough small talk. What are your plans for the duelling club?"

"A demonstration by the professors and then it is to duel in pairs, one at a time, and afterwards the critiques. Shall we practice our duel?"

Those bright, optimistic Gryffindor words – said by the true son of James Potter, albeit with a French lisp – and a lapse of Severus's judgment were what had led to Severus sprawling on the hard floor, pinned there by Potter's warm, wriggling body. Potter's hand held Severus's hand firmly to the floor, preventing him from using his wand.

This was the wizard who had defeated Voldemort twice, and Severus knew that he'd had no chance, but it was humiliating to be defeated in such a flippant, off-handed manner. Potter hadn't bothered to draw his wand, only waving his hand in complicated patterns, generating shields and blocks out of thin air. Every curse and hex that Severus sent had been dissipated, fizzing out into harmless sparks, as Potter advanced on him. In the end, Severus had been forced to give ground and he'd tripped on the uneven floor, reaching out to steady himself and pulling Potter down to the ground with him.

Severus wanted nothing more than to dismantle the wards of Hogwarts and Apparate far away, away from the humiliation of losing to this half-trained puppy of a wizard in less than five minutes. "Very Slytherin of you to cheat, Professor Potter. I hope that you don't intend to use such tactics in front of the students."

Potter shifted a little, poking Severus in the stomach. Damn Potter. "There are many things that I will not do in front of the students."

Severus froze when the realization hit him – it was Potter's erect cock that was prodding him in the stomach. Damn, damn, damn Potter. Severus began to squirm, trying to escape from his clutches.

"Mmm, yes, like this exactly," Potter said as he rubbed against Severus in rhythm with his squirming. Blood began to rush to Severus's groin at the sight of Potter licking his lips, and he summoned the strength to flip their positions, rolling over on top of Potter.

"What is the meaning of this appalling display of impudence and disrespect?"

Potter thrust up against Severus, brushing his hard cock against Severus's growing erection. "What is the meaning of the looks you are giving me, Professor Snape?"

"Are you so caught up in your celebrity, are you so arrogant as to assume that I was looking at you in any special way?"

"Oh, but you do," Potter murmured against Severus's neck. "You stare at me when you think I'm not looking. You chew on that delicious lower lip of yours and you imagine me without clothes. There's a gleam in your eye, a sure sign of your wicked thoughts, Professor. You want me." Potter began to lick his ear, nibbling along the outer curve to suck on his earlobe. It was every bit as exquisite as the fantasy he'd experienced in his dream, and Severus shivered.

"I want you, too," Potter said, the vibrations running straight from Severus's ear to his groin.

In an instant, Severus stood and backed away from Potter. "You're labouring under a set of delusions almost half as pathetic as you are, you insipid, ill-mannered, empty-headed brat. I'd bed a cockroach before I would even look at you, you slimy, artful little monster."


Severus cursed half of the way down the stairs from the Headmaster's office until he stopped and stood stock-still, realizing that Albus had, for the first time, granted each of his requests. Potter was to lead the duelling club with Filius's help, his language lessons would be entrusted to the care of someone other than Severus. Potter's seat in the Great Hall would be moved. There would be tea in the staff room. Severus turned and called a belated farewell up the stairs to Albus in token of his gratitude.

Now that Severus's schedule was Potter-free, he found that thoughts of Potter filled his days and night. He'd woken more than once with his semen staining the dark Slytherin green sheets and Harry's name on his lips. Harry's electric smile, his adorable confused expression, his soft lips, the sound of his sexy accent – Potter haunted his days and his dreams. Severus was late to meals and left early in order to get a glimpse of Potter at the other end of the table. He stalked past the closed door of Potter's classroom during his nightly prowls for errant students. He stared across the staff room at Potter and cherished the bewitching bitter aroma of the coffee that Potter drank. In short, Severus behaved like a lovesick fool.

It was a ridiculous thought. Severus did not love, and he was not a fool – he had potions and draughts aplenty to cure both afflictions and he had taken them as a precaution. No foolishness, no love would mar his serenity, his balanced life. It was an unnecessary precaution. He would never feel anything but contempt or irritation for the wretched, foolish brat – Potter was too much like his father, arrogant and charming, cruel and attractive. Severus felt nothing for Potter but dislike, hated him for the ridiculous charade of interest that had been his idea of an amusing prank. He was hiding in the shadowy corner for the first meeting of the duelling club for reasons that had nothing to do with Potter. He was worried that one of the students, enthralled by the presence of their adored celebrity, would be too preoccupied to dodge any stray hexes from the exhibition duel.

Filius, every bit the duelling champion, was precise and perfect, each hex flying to its target with controlled strength. Potter blocked them with impressive shields that absorbed rather than deflected, and he retaliated with hexes that were technically well-executed but lacked the verve and creativity that he'd shown in the earlier duel with Severus. Flashy and bright, his hexes were controlled as well as Filius's were, and dissipated almost before bouncing off the shields.

Severus sighed. The students were in no danger of being hit by errant hexes and he had no other excuse to be there. Standing with slow and barely perceptible motions – not that the students would notice anything other than their dashing hero Potter – he prepared to renew his Disillusionment Charm.

For an instant, Potter glanced away from Filius toward the corner where Severus was hidden and then he manipulated his opponent into shifting positions with a pretty piece of footwork and quick-fire jinxes. Potter was remarkable in his grace and poise, as adept on the duelling platform as his father had been on a broom – and then Severus was frozen, caught in his corner by a strong Petrificus totalis that Potter ricocheted off of Filius's shield straight at him.

Severus fumed throughout the remainder of the duelling club. Potter had no right to keep him here against his will and then prance around the Great Hall with that alluring sway to his hips and that soft smile as he complimented the students for their efforts. No man had the right to be as charming as Potter was and no man had the right to hex Severus. Severus would have kicked himself if he wasn't petrified. Damn Potter for catching him lingering here, and damn Potter for turning him into a sappy, sentimental fool.

"I am sorry that I 'exed you, Professor Snape, but I 'ave wanted to speak wit' you for several days now and you 'ave been avoiding me. One of the Slytherin students in my class 'as used this tactic very successfully in gaining the attention of his love interest." Potter reached out and stroked one finger along the Cupid's bow of Severus's upper lip.

"Ah, yes. I 'ad thought this to be perfection and it is. I can only imagine the taste and it makes me want you even more. So, Professor, I will release the spell and you will 'ave two choices. One, you can be very angry and fight wit' me for 'exing you, and then I shall push you to the floor and cover you wit' my body and tell you 'ow beautiful you are. Two, you can stand here and I will tell you 'ow beautiful you are."

Severus was released from the spell and he affected a sneer and said, "You may as well give me more ammunition for my attempt to have you committed to Saint Mungo's."

"There is so much that I cannot name," Potter said. "Your eyes, they are so beautiful, and these …" he stroked Severus's eyebrows, "these are so thick and strong."

"Do learn how to speak English, Professor Potter. Those are eyebrows."

Potter blinked and then moved his finger from Severus's lip to his jawbone. "This line of your face is the most beautiful. It speaks of your strength and your passion in bed."

With a sly wink, Potter continued. "This – 'ow do you call it? – this shin is also very strong and beautiful. I should like to kiss it."

"Chin, Professor Potter, not shin."

"Yes, shin. This spot, where your shin meets your mouth, I think it is beautiful."

"Potter," Severus said, and stopped. The delightful pout of Potter's lips, the shine in his eyes, his apparent sincerity, all convinced Severus to overlook his stupidity for now. "Clearly your English lessons are not going well, and I am forced to spend my valuable time correcting your faults. Come."

Potter glanced around Severus's quarters but then returned his attention to Severus with a gratifyingly swift swivel of his neck when Severus began to remove his heavy teaching robes. In his black linen trousers and starched white shirt, Severus came to stand in front of Potter.

"You will learn to properly pronounce English words and you will expand your appallingly limited vocabulary, is that understood?" Without waiting for a sign of agreement, Severus began by tracing a finger along the line of Harry's jaw. "Jaw, Professor Potter, repeat after me."

"Call me 'Arry." Potter reached out to touch Severus's jaw and mirrored his actions, repeating "jaw."

Their lips were millimeters apart, close enough for an easy kiss, but Severus moved and kissed Harry's chin. "Chin, not shin. To produce the ch sound, touch your tongue to the roof of your mouth."

"Sh … chin."

"Very good." Severus rewarded him with a quick brush of lips against lips, a butterfly kiss. "And this?"

"Kiss?" Potter leaned forward for another one.

"The body part, not the action."

"Ah … lips."

"Lips pronounced with a short i. And this?" Severus deepened their kiss, swiping his tongue against Harry's lips and once granted entrance, he tangled their tongues together in a long, heated kiss. Harry's mouth tasted like coffee and caramel, bitter and sweet, contradictory and enticing. Severus pulled him closer.

"Tongue," Harry said after a dazed silence when Severus broke the kiss.

Tilting Harry's head back, Severus kissed him from the point of his chin and down his neck to his collarbone, lingering there and sucking on the delicious sweaty skin long enough to leave a mark.

Harry reached over to Severus and repeated his actions, leaving a sparkling electric current running through Severus's nerves. Harry's lips were warm, soft and perfect. Each kiss added to the heat pooling in Severus's groin.

"Neck," he said at last, finding his thoughts again, and Harry echoed him. With a wave of his hand, Harry divested them both of their shirts and Severus shivered in the sudden cold.

This was the Harry that he had fantasized about, with a broad muscled chest, paleness covered with a smattering of dark hair around his dusky nipples. "Chest," he said, and "stomach," as he stroked the indicated areas with broad and circular strokes. His palms burned at the intense contact with Harry's warmth.

"And 'ow is this called?" Harry, conducting his own thorough explorations, ran his fingers over Severus's nipples and then pinched them lightly, looking up to gauge Severus's response.

"Oh … please, more … nipples," Severus said, closing his eyes to enjoy the sensation. Harry repeated the word and then obeyed him, licking and sucking at his nipples, teasing and fulfilling. Harry kissed his way lower and tongue-fucked Severus's navel with wet, hot jabs. Severus thrust his hips forward, needing more.

"Trousers," he said, needing the last cloth barrier between them removed.

"Trousers," Harry repeated and nibbled at Severus's stomach, circling rings around his navel.

"Oh, don't stop … oh … no, you idiot boy, that's a navel, those are trousers." Severus put his hand on Harry's trousers to illustrate and then moved it to cup his erection. He stroked up and down the length of Harry's cock, relishing the sweet picture that Harry made, with his kiss-swollen lips and dilated eyes, humping Severus's hand.

Harry moved closer and caught Severus's mouth in a kiss, palming his cock through his trousers. Severus cried out at the gentle pressure, teasing and variable, needing more. "Please," he said against Harry's mouth, scraping his tongue against Harry's perfect teeth and then sucking on his lips.

Language lesson forgotten, Severus took hold of Harry's arse and pulled Harry flush against him, aligning their cocks and rubbing them together. The electric sensation intensified when Harry pulled one hand free and waved it, banishing their remaining clothing. The slide of Harry's cock against his, the smooth velvety hardness, the drops of pre-come mingling together, the sweet-bitter taste of Harry's tongue, the feeling of Harry's deft fingers stroking his arse and belly and nipples and thighs – it was all overwhelming. Severus thrust against Harry again and again, coming in a sticky rush.

Harry cried out and pulled Severus closer, thrusting against Severus's thigh. Severus reached down and grasped Harry's cock, delighting in the smooth, hard length of it, in the soft needy sounds that Harry made, despite his own languid bliss. Severus rubbed his thumb in a circle around the head of Harry's cock and was rewarded with the sudden spurt of Harry's come over his hand. Breathing heavily, Harry rested his forehead against Severus's shoulder, his warm puffs of breath on Severus's cooling, sweaty skin making him shiver.

"I think that there must be a great many English words left for you to teach me," Harry said at last.

"Indeed," Severus said. "Do you know what 'bed' means?"


There was tea with lemon and Severus's plate was piled with bacon and eggs and toast and tinned tomatoes – a perfect, proper English breakfast, and it was the only way to start the day without a headache and a dozen crying students. The satisfying ache that came from last night's exercise also lifted his mood, and Severus didn't even glare at anyone until the Potter brat sat next to him at the table.

"What do you think you are doing?" he said, his voice low and directed at Harry alone. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off his headache.

"I am eating breakfast. What are you doing?" Harry didn't take the hint, responding aloud. His voice carried through the Great Hall and the students and teachers alike turned to look at them.

"I am sitting in my seat, where I should be. You are not. Your place is at the other end of the table, Professor Potter."

Harry set his half-finished croissant down on his plate without looking at Severus and rose from the table. With a flick of his fingers, his meal vanished and he strode out of the room. Everyone watched him leave except for Severus, who curled his fingers around the arm of the chair that Harry had tried to claim, searching for any residual warmth from Harry's hand that was held in temporary storage by the wood. Everything had been simple last night, unmarred by public scrutiny and undefined expectations.

Harry's skin was luminous by candlelight, perfect and pale against Severus's dark green sheets. Severus ran his fingers through Harry's tousled hair and down his neck to his collarbone. Splaying his fingers flat against the smooth, warm chest, he covered Harry's heartbeat with his palm. The thudding rhythm felt too loud in the silent room.

"You are worrying too much," Harry said, curling his fingers in a circle around Severus's forearm and stroking up and down. His other hand began to creep up Severus's thigh.

"I suppose that you will selflessly volunteer to distract me from my worries?"

Severus traced wavy and complex patterns on Harry's chest. Harry gave him a wide, pleased grin and said, "I am a big distraction, yes."

"Is that so?" Severus reached down to stroke his fingers along the length of Harry's stiffening cock, tracing spirals from the head down to the base of the shaft and then reaching lower to caress Harry's balls. "How would you like to distract me?"

Harry spread his legs and reached down between them, tracing a circle around his opening. He tilted his hips, offering Severus a clear view as he inserted his forefinger.

Severus bit his lip, the sharp pain an anchor against the heady tide of arousal at the sight of Harry preparing himself. He took a vial of lubricant from his bedside drawer and offered it to Harry, who dipped two fingers in it and then slid them smoothly into himself.

Severus was hypnotized by Harry's slow movements, the plunge of his fingers in and out of his entrance, the slick gleam of the lubricant on his fingers, the cherry-red colour of his lips after he bit them, and the flush of arousal that spread from his cheeks down to his neck. "Do you want me?" Harry asked.

Leaning forward, Severus licked the head of Harry's cock, the salty bitter taste of Harry's pre-come exploding on his tongue. Addicted, Severus swirled his tongue, lapping up more of the fluid. "Of course I want you," he said, the vibrations of his words trapped between his lips and Harry's cock.

Harry moaned and, adding lube to a third finger, he began finger-fucking himself at a faster pace. With long swipes of his tongue, Severus tasted every inch of Harry's cock, his fingers busy slicking his own erection with the lube. He was desperate to touch every part of Harry, to possess every cell and breath and taste every drop of his semen, and when he went down on Harry, taking his entire length into his mouth and feeling the delicious hard pressure in his throat, he also claimed Harry's whimpers and the desperate, dirty French words that spilled from his lips. Severus grasped Harry's hand and forced him to finger-fuck himself at the same pace that Severus moved up and down on his cock. It took only a few moments before the rich, bitter taste of Harry's come exploded into Severus's mouth and he moaned at the flavour, swallowing it all and licking his lips.

Languid and inviting, Harry spread his legs open wider, pulling his knees up to his chest and displaying his stretched entrance. Severus bit back a needy whimper and fisted his cock. "You're sure?" he asked, and Harry responded without words, guiding Severus into him. Harry was hot, tight, perfect, and Severus slid into him with one slow motion. It was ecstasy beyond all of his dreams and he cried out at the sensation of Harry's muscles clenching around him. Severus bit Harry's shoulder, thrusting into him, needing him. Harry pulled him up into a kiss and ran his hands along Severus's shoulder blades, down his spine, up onto his neck, and then tangled his hands in Severus's hair and pulled him closer.

Severus changed the angle of his thrusts until he heard Harry cry out and then he kept that angle, hitting Harry's prostate again and again. He worked his hand between their sweaty bodies and grasped Harry's stiffening prick, teasing it to full hardness and then stroking it in time with his thrusts. "Ah, more," Harry said, clenching his muscles around Severus again, and Severus pounded into him, losing all restraint and claiming Harry as his with another fierce kiss. Harry's orgasm, the slickness of his semen on Severus's fingers, the beautiful and blissful look on his face, it pushed Severus over the edge and he came with a shout.

The relaxed afterglow, the feeling of Harry's arm thrown over him as he drifted off to sleep, waking in the middle of the night to watch Harry sleep with deep breaths and fluttering eyelashes dark against his pale skin, all of the contentment that Severus had felt last night was wiped away when he woke to a cold bed and the impression that Harry's body had left on the mattress. With his tea gone cold while he mused over Harry's abrupt departure and his behaviour at breakfast, Severus abandoned his untouched meal and stalked down to the dungeons. Potions with third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws was first this morning, and he'd wager unicorn horns to beetle eyes that he could make at least ten of them cry.

Classes held the distraction of students – points to be deducted, detentions to award, painfully long essays to assign – but there was no distraction in the staff room when Severus came in for tea. Severus focused on his teacup rather than staring at the door and waiting for Potter to make an appearance.

Harry had seemed kind last night, had been a generous lover, had been entirely unlike his arrogant father – and now, his inconsiderate behaviour reminded Severus of no-one other than James Potter. This teasing one-night stand, ended with no explanations and childish public displays, was exactly the kind of thing that James Potter would have done – had done, if the rumours from the Gryffindor dormitories were correct. Severus had been close to concluding that Harry managed to inherit his mother's sweet personality and his father's good looks, but after this disaster – Severus blew the steam away from his teacup. Potter was just like his father.

When Albus offered him a plate of delicate French pastries, Severus slammed his teacup down on the table and strode out of the room without a word.


After a day of exploding cauldrons and awarding detentions, a day with Harry absent at lunch and tea and dinner, Severus was convinced that the Muggle concept of Hell would be preferable to Hogwarts – at least the blind, squirming larvae also known as students were doused in fire there, tormented rather than tormenting. Albus's last-minute staff meeting with plans for a Yule Ball only confirmed his conviction, and Severus hurried off to his peaceful, quiet, lonely dungeon quarters before any of the other Heads of House could corner him for chit-chat or nonsense.

He stopped dead when he opened his door and realized that the niggling headache that had tormented him during the meeting had been the result of unauthorized tampering with his wards and not a physical illness. "What are you doing here?" he asked Potter, who was sprawled on Severus's bed and marking essays. "If you've dripped any ink on my sheets, I'll take the cost of replacing them out of your hide."

"They are clean still," Potter said as he capped his inkwell. A murmured spell sent the quill, ink, and rolls of parchment flying over to the table.

"You are wanting to go to dinner wit' me on Saturday?"

"Of course not – Saturday is the Yule Ball, and I have to chaperone it. What are you doing in my quarters? How did you get in?"

"What will we do, now that I am here? That is the true question." Potter shrugged his shirt off, exposing his gorgeous pale chest.

"You weren't at dinner." The words were abrupt and sounded choked. Severus's throat closed up at the sight of Harry unzipping his trousers and wiggling out of them.

"No, I was not."

"You weren't at lunch either."

Harry, now naked, stroked his half-erect cock with slow, teasing motions.

"What is this, Potter? What sort of arrogant, twisted ego do you have, to think that you can disappear from my bed without a word, avoid me all day, break through my wards and then fuck me?"

Harry stared at him, his pupils dilated and his hand frozen on his cock. "You do not want me, then?"

Severus kept his silence and reverted to his old habit of glaring at Potter. The headache built to a crescendo and then, when Potter dressed himself with a wave of his hand, it gave a last abrupt spike before easing entirely.

"Why are you angry wit' me?" Potter stared at his fists, clenched in Severus's green sheets.

"Why did you leave last night?"

Potter looked up at him, something dark and unvocalized hovering in his expression, in the depths of his luminous eyes. With slow and jerky motions, he lifted his hand from the bed and extended it toward Severus. He waited like that, poised and shaking, for long moments.

Severus made no move toward him and at last Potter let his hand fall back to his side and dropped his gaze. Potter rose from Severus's bed and brushed past him on the way to the door, their shoulders touching for a brief heartbeat. Severus caught his shoulder as he was reaching for the door handle and spun him around.

Potter's shoulder was warm under Severus's fingers, heat seeping through his shirt. Severus backed him into the door, placing a hand on the wood to both sides of his body and looming over him. "Tell me," Severus said in his most intimidating tone of voice. He slipped his leg between Potter's thighs and pressed against him. Leaning closer, he spoke into Potter's ear, giving rough uncompromising nips to the tender flesh there. "Is this a game to you?"

"No," Potter said. He lay still against Severus, quiescent and passive, without struggling or thrusting against him.

"Why leave without a word, then? Why the inappropriate behaviour at breakfast?"

"I did not think you would want me to stay." Potter's French accent thickened, his words becoming almost incomprehensible.

Severus held his gaze for a moment longer, confirming his sincerity, and then he leaned in for a deep, skin-searing kiss. Potter's hands went to his shoulders, pulled him closer, and the two of them stumbled, never breaking apart, to Severus's bed.

Pulling away from Harry's sinful, delicious mouth, Severus pushed him onto the bed. "You will stay the night and you will refrain from making scenes in public if we continue this liaison."

Harry nodded and pulled Severus on top of him, raking his fingers through Severus's hair and sucking on the sensitive spot below Severus's neck.

Severus fumbled in his pocket for his wand and banished their clothes, needing to close the distance between them. The sudden full-body contact with Harry, their chests and stomachs and legs rubbing together, sent a jolt of electric arousal to Severus's cock. He thrust against Harry, gasping at the feeling of Harry's hard cock pressed against his.
 
Harry rolled over on Severus so that he was on top and worked his way down Severus's body, delicious shivery arousal sparking between every point of contact between their bodies. Severus was aching and hard, and when Harry bypassed his cock to nibble on his inner thighs, he groaned in disappointment. Harry placed teasing kisses around the base of his erection and then moved lower, with gentle sucking on his balls before spreading his legs and tilting his hips. Severus shuddered when he felt the gentle buzz of a cleaning spell against his skin, inflaming his nerves.

Harry's breath was hot against his perineum and Harry's hands gripped his hipbones hard enough to bruise. Harry's lips were dry and gentle, Harry's tongue circled and probed his opening, thrust in and out and Severus was overcome, begging for more, needing more of that wicked, talented tongue. Harry obliged him, spreading his legs wider and making loud, wet noises as his tongue thrust in and out, licking and sucking and it was unbearably good. He began to writhe and a moan vibrated across Severus's sensitive skin. 

Harry added a finger, slipping it in next to his tongue, and moved finger and tongue together in rhythm. It was sweet torture, overwhelming ecstasy, and Severus rocked his hips, trying to encourage Harry to penetrate more deeply. Groping around on the bed, he found Harry's free hand and guided it to his leaking cock, wrapping their fingers around it together. Severus was on the verge of coming, hovering on the precipice, when Harry withdrew, and the sudden feeling of cold air flowing against his saliva-slicked anus was almost enough to push him over the edge.

Harry grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand away from his cock, and then captured his other wrist. A muttered spell bound them to the bedposts and Harry leaned in for a kiss, the rough stubble on his chin scraping against Severus's face. "This is okay?"

Harry's cock pressed into his stomach and a roll of Harry's hips brought it tantalizingly close to Severus's groin. Gasping with need, Severus nodded and then forfeited the remainder of his dignity, begging shamelessly for fulfilment. "Please, Harry, please, I need you so much, please, please do it."

Harry waved his hand and then Severus's legs were bound as well. He strained against the ropes, desperate for relief, but they held firm. "Please, more, I need more, please, Harry, oh …"

With another spell, Harry prepared himself and then slid down onto Severus's cock. Severus fought in vain to gain the leverage necessary to thrust upwards into that welcoming, warm slickness. It was maddening to see Harry in all of his naked glory arrayed before him, his thick cock bouncing as he moved up and down, a bead of sweat running down his chest, his dishevelled hair swaying with every movement, and be unable to touch him.

"Please, want to touch you," Severus said, and then he was beyond words as Harry clenched around him, the sweet tightness of muscles rippling around his cock, and Severus exploded in orgasm. Harry leaned forward for a hot, demanding kiss, wordlessly loosening Severus's bonds, his erection digging into Severus's stomach. His hands free to move, Severus ran them down the length of Harry's back and squeezed his arse, pulling him closer.

Harry slipped between Severus's legs, the head of his cock pressing against Severus's perineum in a silent question. Severus moaned and nodded, spreading his legs wider and bringing his knees to his chest. Harry prepared him with a spell and then inserted two fingers into his opening, scissoring them and opening him wider. Severus bit Harry's shoulder when the fingers found his prostate, the electric sensation cutting into his post-orgasmic haze and sending a jolt to his cock. Stretching him with a third finger, Harry kissed and licked his way down Severus's breastbone to his ribcage, across his quivering stomach, to suck on the head of his cock and encourage the reawakening interest.

"La petite morte," Harry said, looking up at Severus. He swirled his tongue around the head of Severus's cock and then he smiled. "Perhaps I shall teach you the French, yes? And you will teach me the English that I 'ave forgot?"

Severus pulled Harry up for a kiss, and learned the planes and landscape of his back. The knobby spine, the slump beneath his shoulder-blades – sweet skin, smooth underneath his fingers, he learned it all by heart. Harry wriggled against him, moaning into the kiss. He broke from the kiss and slid down Severus's body, kissing each inch of skin as he went.

Severus was hard again, almost shaking with need, his thigh muscles trembling and his muscles clenching around Harry's probing fingers, when Harry's mouth released his cock. Moving back up Severus's body, this time pausing to tease each nipple with teeth and tongue, Harry pressed into Severus at the same instant that their lips joined in another kiss. Severus tasted himself in Harry's mouth and he wiggled beneath him, shifting to allow Harry to slide further inside him. Then Harry slipped into a rhythm, thrusting in and out, his nails digging into Severus's shoulders. "Tell me," he said, biting Severus's neck and soothing the pain with a warm swipe of his tongue, "tell me 'ow much you want me."

Severus babbled his need, incoherent and gasping, as he clenched his muscles around Harry, as he felt the warmth of Harry's stomach pressing against his cock. Harry hit his prostate just as he bit down on Severus's collarbone, and the combination of the two sensations made Severus howl as he erupted in orgasm for the second time, spraying semen over both their bellies. "Yes, ah, yes," Harry said, biting his lip, and his expression as he came inside Severus was beautiful.

Harry was far too smug and self-satisfied in his fancy dress robes – French, made with the finest imported silk and latest frills and fancies, if Severus was any judge. He made his way through the shadows around the edge of the room, standing in an unobtrusive spot behind Harry and whispered in his ear to wipe the smirk off his face.

"Think of it, Potter. The entire evening, spent watching hormonal teenagers with the blessing of the Headmaster on their antics. Do you want to spend the entire week brewing contraceptive potions? It's the only way you'll spend any time with me."

Harry turned to face Severus, backing him into the shadows and steering him out into the rose gardens that were kept alive for the winter with a greenhouse spell. "I think it's not the only way that I will be spending any time wit' you, Severus. There is always the evening – you do not need to brew any potions while you sleep."

"Most contraceptives are effective only if they're brewed in the middle of the night – as you would know if you'd had an effective Potions teacher," Severus said. He escaped from Harry's reaching arms and smirked. "Not in public, Potter, I've told you that before."

"There is no one who is here," Harry said. He took a step closer to Severus, backing him into the roses and the thorns, and smiled up at him, his eyes hidden by his fluttering eyelashes.

"Don't be such a girl," Severus snapped. "You look completely ridiculous."

Harry only winked at him, lifting his hand to his mouth and swirling his tongue around his fingers. He slipped them under the collar of his robe – the hand stroking his chest was hidden by the fabric, but Severus watched it all the same. Potter's head fell back and he rolled his hips, leaning closer to Severus.

"Ah, there you are, Professors," Albus said. His voice rang out in the rose garden, high and clear. Harry yanked his hand out of his robe, jumping guiltily as he smoothed the fabric down and turned to face Albus.

"Yes, 'eadmaster? Is there something that you were wishing to say to us?"

"Why, yes," Albus said, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed them. "I was wanting to ask you and Severus to patrol the halls for a while. We have enough chaperones here to watch the dance, and Minerva and I were worried that some of the students might be slipping away to some of the more private places. While it's commendable that so many of them have found the love of their life already, we don't want anything untoward to happen, do we?"

He looked over the rim of his spectacles at the two of them and smiled. "Would you mind making a circuit of the castle? Do please pay especial attention to the Astronomy Tower, it's such a favourite trysting spot that one can't but suspect – well, well, yes. Off you go, then."

He flipped his hands at them and Harry fled at the motion, grabbing Severus's hand by the wrist and pulling him along. 

They made the fastest circuit of the castle on record, Severus's head spinning and his wrist aching by the time Harry pulled him to the spiral staircase leading up the tower. Harry slammed him into the wall, his hands on Severus's shoulders, and claimed his mouth in a sloppy kiss.

"Not now, Potter," Severus said, pushing him away. "We're on duty, if your scattered brain is able to retain that fact. There are certain responsibilities and expectations of Hogwarts professors, you understand – kissing like teenagers is not one of them."

He pulled Harry up the tower, pausing at each turn of the staircase to check for trysting students at the windows and in the shadowy corners on each landing. He tightened his grip on Harry's hand when they reached the top and then released him. "Remember," he said, holding his mouth next to Harry's ear and keeping his voice soft, "you are a model of behaviour for countless future generations. You are not a witless, hormonal teenager – you do not snog on the dizzying heights of the tallest tower in the castle. You do not need the added thrill of oxygen deprivation to secure a partner for yourself, and you do not need to start a thousand rumours before dawn."

He pulled Harry's wrist to his mouth and dropped a quick kiss on the pulse point there, releasing him just as he opened the door. They ousted half a dozen couples in the various corners and crannies of the tower top, Severus taking points liberally with Harry a silent presence at his back.

When the students were all gone, Harry sealed the door shut with a wave of boiling magic – the power in the flick of his hand made the hairs on the back of Severus's neck rise.

"I think," he said, advancing on Severus, "that as professors at this institution, it's our responsibility to make certain that nothing untoward happens on this tower for the rest of the evening."

"Potter –"

Severus was backed into the wall, a brass telescope digging into his kidney. Potter pressed his body against him, his lips hot on Severus's throat.

"What will everyone think – the door locked and warded?"

With a negligent wave of his hand, Severus dispelled the wards. He put a hand on Harry's breastbone, pushing him back. "Control yourself, Professor Potter."

Harry grinned at him, licking his lips, and Severus shook his head. "We must return to the ball."

A rustling noise came from the other side of the tower – Severus spun, his hand going to his wand. He pushed Harry to the side, hurrying to the source of the noise.

Two students had been tucked away in a corner, hidden by a set of simple wards. Severus should have seen them, should have noticed the buzz of magic against his nerves and dispelled it. He glared over his shoulder at Harry. "You, Professor Potter, are a distraction. You've been no help at all as a chaperone."

Harry only shrugged, the wind ruffling his hair. He offered a hand to Severus, palm up in a gesture of peace. "I will do anything that you will like to make up for it," he said.

"Very well." Severus stepped aside, ceding his place to Harry. "You can take care of these gentlemen."

With a flick and a Lumos, he cast the tower into full brightness and stepped back into the shadows, leaving Harry to deal with the situation.

Harry blushed and stammered. The young men that they had caught – two Ravenclaw seventh years, passable at potions but without the true knack for them – were wrapped around each other, their skin bare to the elements. They stammered, mouths falling open and closed, and Harry looked away, conjuring a pair of blankets for them.

"Well," he said at last, his gaze flicking over to the shadows where Severus lurked. "I think that you both know better than to do this again. It is not permitted 'ere at 'Ogwarts."

"Yes, Professor Potter."

"Good," Harry said and then he hesitated. "You will both go back to your dormitory – where you will spend the night alone, yes? – and you will lose twenty points each from Ravenclaw."

Severus took pity on Harry and strode out of the shadows. The wind billows his cloak around him and he sneered at the students who were clutching at their blankets. "You're too kind, Professor Potter," he said. "Fifty points each, and a week of detentions with Filch. You know better than to behave in such a licentious fashion."

When the boys had scrambled down the staircase and the sound of their footfalls had died away, Severus cupped Harry's chin in his hand. "You see why we cannot betray the trust that the Headmaster has in us?" he asked. "We are here to set an example to students such as those, not to encourage their behaviour."

"Yes," Harry said, his skin bright in the moonlight and his eyes shining as he tipped his head back, baring his throat. "But I will 'ave you one of these times, Severus Snape – we will make love beneath the stars, and you will love it."


Severus strode into the Great Hall late for breakfast on Saturday, catching a glimpse of Harry at the opposite end of the table. Harry's eyes were wide with fatigue, his robes were wrinkled, and he was ignoring the fortifying breakfast foods in favour of his ridiculous French coffee. Severus frowned and instead of making his way to his own seat as he had for the past week, he sat next to Harry. He cast a local silencing charm around them and reached for the nearest teapot. "You have plans for the holiday?"

"Are you not afraid to cause a scene, to sit next to me like this?"

A discreet flick of Severus's wand sent a few slices of toast flying onto Harry's plate and the marmalade pot waltzed after them. "Look at you," he said. "It's obvious. Anyone can tell from a glance that you were up all night, you're wearing yesterday's robes, and there are marks on your neck. It may as well be obvious that you were with me."

Harry's lips gave a pleased twitch and he placed his hand on Severus's arm. Reaching for the bacon, Severus dislodged Harry's hand. "Do maintain some level of discretion, nonetheless, Professor Potter. Are your plans for today unchanged?"

"Yes. Are you un'appy wit' me?"

Severus focused on his toast, applied an even, thin layer of butter to it with precision. "No."

"It is only a week, and I will be back for Noel." Harry was sipping his coffee, the toast on his plate untouched.

"Eat breakfast, or you'll pass out somewhere over the Channel," Severus told him.

"You will not change your mind and come wit' me? We can eat dinner in Paris, and I will take you flying in the lovely French moonlight."

"You'll take me flying in the lovely French smog, rather. No, Harry, I have work to do here."

Harry fluttered his eyelashes and bit his lower lip, but Severus ignored the flirtation. "Eat your toast."

Hogwarts felt empty, as though warm beds and cuddling, feeling another heartbeat next to his, had changed Severus's perceptions. Without the clamour of students or the distraction of classes, Severus spent the first two days of Harry's absence brewing potions for the hospital wing. He locked himself in his dungeons and filled the silence with the sound of bubbling cauldrons, and by the time he emerged on the third day and went to the staffroom for a cup of tea, the smell of Harry's coffee had faded from the room. Albus and Filius were there chatting over a cup of tea, and Albus caught his eye and beckoned him over before he could leave.

Severus seated himself and with ill-grace, accepted the cup of tea that Albus offered him. The smell of this disgusting herbal lemon-mint concoction had erased the smell of his Harry from the room. "Severus, Harry tells me that he's a bit overwhelmed with all of his lesson plans and work, and he was asking me if I could find someone else to take over his responsibilities for the duelling club. Are you sure that you don't want to be involved?"

Hiding his half-smile with his teacup, Severus realized that Harry, more Slytherin than Gryffindor in some ways, was trying to free up his Thursday evenings in order to spend more time with Severus – he'd complained about the duelling club before once to Severus, tracing lazy patterns on his chest and leaning in for another kiss. It had been sweet, as it always was, but they'd stayed up late on Thursday night and been groggy the next morning.

Damn Harry – he'd manipulated the situation so that Severus was forced to give up something that he wanted to do in order to spend time with Harry. "No, Headmaster, thank you," he said.

Albus's eyes shone with typical, annoying inner light. Severus was unimpressed – he'd witnessed the man's pretended omniscience more than once. "If that is all, Headmaster?"

"Of course, Severus, of course it is." Severus made his escape, slipping out of the staff room into the echoing corridors. Listless, he wandered the castle. The hallways were empty, the Quidditch pitch empty, the Slytherin dorms tidy and student-free. There were no more potions to brew, no essays to grade, no ribs to tickle, no feet to massage. What had he done with his holidays before Harry came to Hogwarts?

The portrait that guarded Harry's rooms was lifeless and Severus hesitated there, the password caught in his throat, before he moved on. There were no distractions there. At long last, he tired of the hovering mistletoe and the suits of armour that sang Christmas carols, and he made his way up to the top of the Astronomy Tower.

The winter air was crisp and fresh. Severus drew his cloak around himself and stared out over the ramparts. It hardly felt as though a month had passed since his last vigil at the top of this tower, the staff and students congregating below in a gaudy circus while Harry snuck up behind him in the dark. An echo of the clatter of Harry's dismount from his broomstick, the noise that had alerted Severus to his presence on that night, sounded behind him.

Severus didn't turn until he felt a warm weight pressing into his back. "You were waiting for me?" Harry asked, his arms slipping around Severus's waist, under his robes, his teasing hands stroking Severus's skin.

"Indeed not," Severus said. He turned around to face Harry, tilted his chin up with a finger and looked the man over for damage. "You weren't expected back for another four days."

Harry slipped his hands into Severus's trousers, began to stroke Severus's cock. "I missed you," he said.

"Such sentimental frippery, Harry, any third-year Hufflepuff girl could do better than that." Severus held his breath as Harry dropped to his knees and, pulling Severus's cock from his robes, swallowed it in one deft motion. The brief flutter of cold breezes followed by the warmth and wetness of Harry's mouth – thrusting into the warmth, Severus grasped the back of Harry's head with one hand and supported himself against the rampart with the other.

Harry hummed, reaching in Severus's trousers with a cold hand to stroke circles around his pucker. Harry's tongue swirled around his cock, warm and wet. The stimulation, the cold air and the semi-public location, the sight of Harry again after three days absence – it was too much, too intense, and Severus pulled away before he could come.

Harry tucked him back in before he could become chilled, stroking him through the layers of cloth, and then rose to kiss Severus. "It may be sentimental frippery," Harry said, "but the next time that I am going 'ome, I am taking you wit' me."

Harry's cock was hard against Severus's stomach and he reached down, curling his fingers around the hard length and stroking it. Harry thrust against him and pulled down his high collar to suck on his collarbone. Severus slipped his hand inside Harry's clothes, teased him by rubbing circles around his navel and stroking his stomach and thighs before returning to his erection.

Harry was wearing thin linen, appropriate for the south of France but not for the top of a tower in the midst of a Scottish winter. "Cold?" Severus asked him.

"Ah, yes," Harry said, thrusting into the circle made by Severus's fingers. "Make me warm, Severus, I need you."

Severus cast a quick warming charm on the area and a cushioning charm before he lowered Harry to the hard stone floor. He pulled Harry's trousers down to his ankles and knelt between his legs. Severus inhaled the warm, rich scent that was uniquely Harry and rubbed his lips against Harry's thighs, nuzzling his balls and then stroking his hard length. Severus let his tongue dart out to taste the clear drops of Harry's precome, swirling them in a circle around the head of his cock before he took Harry into his mouth. The press of Harry's cock against the back of his throat was exquisite, satisfying as it always was, and Severus felt himself beginning to harden again.

Teasing Harry's nipples with one hand and using the other to unzip his trousers and stroke himself to full hardness, Severus moved his mouth lower, placing gentle kisses on Harry's balls and then his arse-hole, licking circles around it before stabbing into it with his tongue. "Ah, yes, Severus, more, I missed you, ah, more," Harry cried out, holding Severus's head in place with both hands.

Obliging him, Severus flicked his tongue in and out with increasing speed, relishing Harry's delicious, musky taste and his breathy moans. He moved away at last, replacing his tongue with two fingers and stretching Harry open. "Ah, fuck me, Severus, please, I need you."

Severus stilled his babbling with a long kiss, tangling their tongues together and nibbling on Harry's bottom lip. Three days without Harry, without this, had been torture, and Severus sighed when he was fully settled inside Harry, the warm welcoming muscles squeezing around him. He thrust in and out, rough and fast, needing Harry now, needing to come inside him, and Harry writhed beneath him with the same urgency. Fingernails clawed through his shirt and down his back, Harry leaving rough bites along his jaw and neck.

Harry came first, the beautiful expression on his face, the clenching of his muscles and the scratch of fingernails down his back enough to drive Severus over the edge into orgasm after him.

Severus rolled over, pulling Harry on top of him, needing to feel his weight, needing to feel his embrace. Harry wriggled against him, breathing contented sighs into his ear. "I 'ave wanted to do this here ever since we 'ad caught those two students here," he said. Severus ruffled his fingers through Harry's dishevelled hair, massaging his scalp and holding him close with his other arm.

Sleepy and sated, they lay in each other's arms until the warming charm began to dissipate. Severus led Harry to the stairs. "If you're staying here for any length of time, we'll need to work on your accent."

"I will need a lot of lessons?" Harry asked.

Severus pulled Harry close for another kiss, tasting a hint of dark French coffee under the taste of his own come. It was perfect, it was Harry, and all sentimental frippery aside, Severus wouldn't change it for the world. "Indeed. Welcome back, prodigal son," he said.




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