Magorian’s Ruby
by Quill Lumos
 
 

When Harry woke up he had no idea where he was.  He was outside, that much was obvious.  He was lying in long grass surrounded by trees and looking up at a wide blue sky.  He sat up.  No, he tried to sit up but immediately fell back, his head pounding to the point his skull felt like it was cracking open.

“Fuck,” he said. He buried his hands in his hair, as if by holding onto his head he could somehow stop it from exploding with pain.  He squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths, then tried again, slowly and gingerly raising himself to a sitting position. His head was still pounding, but it was bearable and he concentrated until he could more or less ignore it.  It wasn’t as if Harry was a stranger to pain.

Wherever he might be, it was quiet, totally silent.  There didn’t even seem to be birds, in fact, there were no noises in the forest at all.  That is, if he was actually in a forest.  Another wave of pain washed over him and he closed his eyes again.  When he opened them a second time he noticed a pile of what seemed to be black rags lying on the ground slightly to the left of him. The rags moaned and a greasy head raised itself above them revealing a large nose and pale sallow skin… skin which was, unfortunately, covered in blood.

“Bloody hell! Snape?” Harry gasped. “I thought you were dead.”

“Obviously not, Potter,” the man drawled somewhat thickly.

“But where did you come from?  Last time I saw you was in the Shrieking Shack.  How did you get here and where the hell are we, anyway?”

Snape sighed, sounding exasperated as he pushed himself into a sitting position.  It was only then he seemed to realise he was bleeding and produced a somewhat grimy handkerchief from his pocket and started dabbing at the blood on his face.  “I have no idea where we are.  I was brewing a potion just moments ago. Circe knows how I ended up…” here the potions master paused and glanced around, “wherever the fuck we are, and with you.”

“So you weren’t in the Shrieking Shack, then?”

“Potter, I’m fine,” Snape sneered, plainly annoyed at Harry’s perceived obtuseness.  “Last time you saw me I was gravely injured and close to death.  Luckily, and despite your sterling effort to do bugger-all to help me, I somehow managed to survive.  In fact, I have managed to keep surviving for four years now and I am most certainly not planning on dying anytime soon.”

“But you’re bleeding.”

Snape rolled his eyes and sighed again.  “I seem to have broken my nose.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright then,” Harry commented, wincing again as another sharp pain hit him. “You won’t have done any damage,” he went on by means of explanation.

Snape’s glare had lost none of its fierceness in the time since Harry had seen him last.

“Erm, I mean it’s not like it’ll spoil your good looks or anything,” Harry continued, digging himself in ever deeper.

Snape’s stare didn’t waver.  Even though he lacked his usual height over Harry, sitting on the ground as he was and looking somewhat crumpled, Harry couldn’t quite repress the shiver that ran down his spine, pinned as he was by Snape’s gimlet gaze.

“I’ll stop digging now, shall I?”

“Potter, I have absolutely no idea what you are wittering on about.  You make no more sense than you ever did. Now get over here and help me up.”

Harry scrambled up and, as yet another wave of sickening pain hit him, promptly sat back down again.  “Um, I don’t feel so well.”

Snape looked concerned. Snape looked concerned? Harry’s thoughts became muddled but he was almost sure the snarky wizard was standing and coming over to him. He couldn’t be sure though because everything around him was getting so dark, and then his world was spinning into blackness and Harry knew no more.

When he woke again it was dark and yet he felt warm and comfortable.  His head was resting on something firm and supportive and he was covered by something long and heavy and surprisingly soft.  Whatever it was it smelt of cloves and juniper and clary-sage.  It took Harry a moment or two to focus.  There was someone sitting close by.  He’d lit a fire and he was sitting beside it warming himself.  Harry could see long dark hair obscuring the man’s face, a dark waistcoat buttoned high and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled back, exposing strong muscular forearms – forearms that Harry refused to think were exceptionally sexy.   

“Snape?”  

The figure by the fire turned to look at him. Harry couldn’t see his face, it being obscured by shadow, but something… something about the position of his head, the set of his shoulders exuded concern.  Harry dismissed the notion immediately as absurd.  There was no way Snape would ever be concerned for him.

“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled in scathing tones. “Sleeping beauty finally awakes.”

There, Harry told himself, there, that’s how he really feels.  But then came the realisation that he knew the aromas surrounding him; they were both familiar and strangely comforting.  He was draped in a cloak, Snape’s cloak.

“Sorry,” Harry murmured, his mouth tasting dry and bitter.

“Why?  What have you done?”  

“I passed out. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. You couldn’t help it.”  Snape’s voice was rough with scorn.  “You must have hit your head exceedingly hard to make a big enough dent in that thick skull of yours to account for your feeling as badly as you do.  Here, let me help you sit up. I need you to drink this.”

Snape lifted Harry easily, he could feel the hairs on the man’s arm tickle his neck, the flesh warm against his own, firm and strong. Harry felt strangely safe.  The ex-professor was holding some kind of thick, metal beaker to Harry’s lips.  Whatever was in the cup scalded his tongue and burned a trail down his throat, but his head cleared and the pain drained away instantly.

“What was that?”

“A simple pain potion.  Although I can find no magical ingredients in our immediate vicinity, its main ingredient is willow-bark, therefore it should help ameliorate your headache.”  

“Thanks,” responded Harry somewhat shakily.  Even after all these years he found it difficult to know what to say when someone did him an unexpected kindness.  He couldn’t quite meet Snape’s dark gaze as he asked, “Are we in the Forbidden Forest?”

Snape sighed.  “No, we’re not.  I’m not exactly sure where we are.  We’re in a primeval forest all right, but not in Scotland.  The trees are wrong; there are no Caledonian pines, too many oaks, and the trees are too big, far too big.  Not only that, but the stars are wrong.”

“What do you mean?”  Harry sat up fully and the cloak slipped down until it pooled in his lap and he felt the most peculiar sense of loss.  He comforted himself with sipping the willow-bark potion.

“They’re in the wrong positions.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that so he settled on saying nothing at all.

“The constellations are still recognizable,” Snape continued, pointing upwards at the sky. “That’s Orion and Polaris is in the same place, but... it’s as if the heavens have gone back in time, a long way back in time.  I don’t think it’s so much a question of where we are… as when.”

Harry sighed and lay back against the moss pillow behind him.  “Well doesn’t that just bloody figure!  So what are we going to do then, do you think?”

“I think that I am going to try to sleep, Potter.  I think tomorrow might be rather challenging.”   

Harry scowled.  “Shall I keep watch?”

Snape was still staring at him, not that Harry could see his face any better now than he could a few moments earlier, but Harry found it was surprisingly easy to read the other man’s body language.  He just knew what Snape’s expression would be without having to actually see it.  He expected a snide comment, but Snape merely sighed and said, “No need, I’ve set wards.  Just-just try and get some more sleep.”

It was cold, wherever this place was, cold and damp, even with the fire burning merrily so close beside them.  Snape was still huddled as close to the flames as he could get.

“Um, are you planning on sleeping tonight yourself?”

Snape looked at him again.  “I’m going to try.”

“You should come here then.  The cloak’s really warm, and…well, don’t stay there all on your own.  It’s... erm… it’s really cold out there tonight, Snape.”

For several long moments Snape seemed as if he’d already frozen in place. Harry began to regret folding back the cloak as a sort of encouraging gesture - it really was cold.  “Snape, can you get a fucking move on?  I’m freezing my arse off here.”

Snape stood and walked over to where Harry was lying.  For a long moment he towered over Harry and then, without another word, he lay down beside him and turned his back, pulling the cloak up to cover his shoulders.

Never in his wildest dreams would Harry have believed he would spend the night sleeping beside Snape, both wrapped snugly under his cloak with stars twinkling overhead.  The man’s back stayed rigid all night long, ramrod-straight and unforgiving, a barrier against him. Harry couldn’t help grinning to himself.  Ron would totally freak out if he ever heard about this, but Harry felt rather pleased with himself, as if he’d won a small, significant victory.

**********

When Harry woke again he was totally confused.  He was wrapped in someone’s arms, held close, cuddled.  The sky was a bright, clear blue and the nearby bushes were painted with a pearlescent white. He could see the steam generated by his breath.  His cheek was pillowed against someone, someone whose own cheek was resting on his head.  Harry was being cuddled by Severus Snape.

The man’s face appeared much softer in repose and with so much of the harshness gone, he looked many years younger.  Harry thought he looked strangely attractive.

“I so didn’t think that,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

Whatever dream-weavings the lords of sleep had used to keep Snape quiescent and deeply asleep must have been shattered by Harry’s actions because they dissipated at his words and Snape began to stir. Harry didn’t move; in fact, he barely breathed, come to that. This was a side of the man Harry had never seen before.  Even when Snape had been lying on that filthy floor, dying, he hadn’t looked quite so unguarded, quite so vulnerable as he did right at this moment.

 

Severus Snape did not wake like other people did.  Most people came awake slowly, were uncertain about where they were.  Not Snape.  He snapped awake like the shot of a gun and before Harry could do anything at all the man was halfway across the clearing apparently gathering material to rekindle the fire from the previous night.  He hadn’t managed to move, though, before Harry had felt the man’s hard arousal against his leg.  And wasn’t that interesting?

“I don’t think we should hang around, Potter.  We need to find a settlement, find out where we are.  Then we can see about getting back to our own time.”

“Okay,” Harry said, running a hand through his wild curls. “But I don’t suppose you have anything to eat in that cloak of yours, do you?”

Harry couldn’t help thinking that cereal bars tasted fine, even when they were covered in pocket fluff.  Of course, he’d never been picky about his food and he’d been hungry enough.  They’d been walking for at least a couple of hours since leaving their little clearing amidst the trees.  He was following Snape and Snape was following a stream, apparently with the idea that sooner or later this would lead them somewhere.  Harry didn’t mind.  He was actually quite enjoying himself.  Harry hadn’t had a lot of free time since then end of the war.  He’d been training to become an auror and then working as one. He was very good at his job, but it didn’t leave a lot of time for anything else, anyone else.  So this was… it was nice.  The sun had come up a little now and it was warmer.  It was also rather beautiful, where the hoarfrost had painted the leaves and the spider-webs.  

“Do stop thinking so loud, Potter,” Snape hissed. “You’re distracting me.”

Harry grinned and carried on walking.

“So what happened after the shack, then?”  he said,  conversationally.

“I survived, obviously.”

“Yeah, well, I can see that.  But what happened then?”  

“I got away, I was cleared by the Ministry of Magic, thanks to testimony left by Albus, I went back home to my cottage at Spinner’s End, I got a life.”

“But, how come I didn’t know you were alive?”

“Because I didn’t want you to.”

“Oh.”  Harry said, woodenly, feeling unaccountably hurt.

Snape glanced back at him, over one shoulder. “It wasn’t just you.” he said. “Very few people knew, I simply wanted a normal life, that’s all.”

“Oh.”  Harry said, feeling somewhat mollified, as long as it wasn’t just him, Snape was avoiding. “Well it didn’t work for very long did it.”

Snape didn’t answer him, he just trudged on following a deer path, through the trees.

 

They had been walking for another two hours when they came across the old man.   He was stooped with age and sported a straggly grey beard and a saggy dust-coloured hat.  He was sitting on a fallen tree, humming to himself and writing in some sort of ledger.  Snape, being in the lead, spotted him first and slowed.  He put his finger to his lips and manoeuvred Harry so that the two of them were hidden behind some scrubby hazel bushes.  Harry thought they provided pretty poor protection, but were better than nothing.  Snape drew his wand and ducked down; Harry echoed his movements.

“I wondered how much longer it would take you to find me.”  The man’s voice was gravelly and dry, like branches that had fallen and been forgotten. “You might as well come out. I could hear you coming for at least an hour.”  He hadn’t looked up from his writing, but his voice carried to exactly where they were.  “I wouldn’t bother with any spells, either. I’ve set a dampening ward.”

Snape didn’t move, but his back stiffened, seemed more set somehow, more determined.  So Harry stood up and moved forward.  He could have been completely wrong – the man might be just about to take them apart – but he didn’t think so and he was rarely wrong.   

“Potter!” Snape hissed and grabbed for Harry’s ankle, but Harry dodged away, earning a muffled curse.

The man ignored him for several seconds and finished writing in the book and then looked up at Harry. Seemingly pale-blue eyes bore into Harry’s and, despite the glimmer of twinkle, Harry was left with a slightly disturbed sensation as he returned the gaze. The color seemed to come and go and could not be quite pinned down.

“Is the last prince going to join us or is he going to stay skulking in the bushes?” the man asked.

“I think he’s waiting to see what you do to me first.”

The old man nodded and went back to writing in his book.   

Harry had given up waiting and was sitting on the ground in front of the old man, with his head tipped back onto a tree stump.  He was staring at the sky and watching the clouds run by. It was peaceful.  All he could hear were the skritching of the old man’s quill and some wood pigeons, deep in the woods, calling to each other.  Finally, he felt Snape standing beside him and looked up.

“So what do you want?” Snape said.  He was gazing at the elderly stranger with that steady, dark gaze.   

The elderly face broke into a satisfied and toothless grin.  “You,” came the amused answer.

**********  

The hut was very close to the clearing in which they had found the old man. Giving the appearance of having sprung organically from the soil, branches twisted against each other and bracken and twigs filled the gaps in the woven wood.  Wattle and dawb made the structure more solid and the roof was kept dry and windproof with judicious applications of thick, green moss.  They sat inside on rooted out tree-trunks and prepared to drink the weak tea the man was making for them.

“It’s dried camomile,” he said as he handed them thick pottery mugs filled to the brim with steaming, fragrant liquid. “It’ll warm you up.  Not that you’d need warming up if you hadn’t taken so long to come out from behind the bushes.”

“I didn’t trust you,” Snape told him, sniffing carefully at the cup before inserting a long, thin finger into the warm liquid and then running it over his top lip.  He was checking for poison.  Harry had learned about it in training but had never yet needed to use it in the field.  It must have satisfied Snape, though, because he tentatively took a sip.  “I still don’t, come to that.  You haven’t told us how you know who we are.”      

“Cause I don’t.  I don’t know either of you, but I know what you are.” The man placed a wooden plate with some thick, dark bread and hard yellow cheese on the largest tree trunk.   

Snape just stared at him and Harry couldn’t help but admire the man’s technique. He was a brilliant interrogator, having no need to threaten or cajole.  He just stared his opponent into submission.  To Harry’s mind it was nothing short of hot.

“You are the last prince,” the old man continued, “and he is your soul mate.”

“My what?”

“Your soul mate.  The boy is your soul mate and he touched Magorian’s ruby – that’s what brought you both here.  You are the last of the princes and he is your soul mate.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, you blithering fool.  What the heck is Magorian’s ruby and why the bleeding hell do you think that Potter is my soul mate?”

“I don’t think anything, lad.  It is what it is.  If he weren’t your soul mate, neither of you would be here.”   

Snape stood up.  “Come on, Potter, we’re leaving.”

Harry couldn’t help reaching up towards his ex-potions professor. Snape was even hotter like this, when his ire wasn’t directed at Harry.  He was especially pleased that the other man had grabbed his hand; Harry rather liked Snape holding his hand.  Harry was used to being the one in charge, the one that had to save everyone.  From his first day in the Auror programme, even his tutors seemed to expect him to be the one to take charge. Harry couldn’t help thinking that it was rather nice to be taken care of for a change.  Besides it was familiar, Snape had always been there, always looked after him, even if he had been an impossibly snarky bastard. Harry, however, had never before noticed the Slytherin’s sexy arse or those wonderfully powerful forearms.

“Yes, boss,” Harry said cheerily, leaping to his feet and brushing his head against the twisted branches on the ceiling.   

Snape turned and glared at him. “Do you always have to be so nauseatingly cheerful? Do you not even care that he thinks we’re involved?  He believes us be soul mates.”

Harry’s grin faded, though he couldn’t help noticing, Snape hadn’t let go of his hand. “Well, I don’t know about soul, but I can’t say I’d mind the mates bit.”

Snape was heading out of the hut, but at this he turned and stared at Harry.  He looked dumbfounded.

“Come and sit down, lad,” the old man said calmly. “Come and have some bread and cheese.  You must be famished.”

Snape let Harry lead him back to the tree trunks and gently push him into a seated position on the larger of the remaining stumps.  He looked like he’d been hit by a bludger. In the end it took several minutes for Snape to recover his sangfroid.  Harry scowled and couldn’t help but feel somewhat insulted. For a moment there, he’d thought the man was going to choke on his camomile tea.  It wouldn’t be that shocking if Snape were involved with him, would it?  He wasn’t that bad, was he?  Harry pouted a little and then became powerfully aware that Snape was staring hard at his bottom lip, as if he’d like to bite it or something.  Harry couldn’t help it.  He squirmed a little where he was sitting and then watched as Snape flushed a deep, dark red.   

The old man handed him a pottery mug and grinned at him, showing a rather fine set of white teeth.  “Seems like Magorian’s ruby knows what it’s doing after all, eh?”

“What exactly is Magorian’s ruby?” Harry asked curiously, transferring his gaze from Snape to the old man with some difficulty, even as he the thought flitted through his mind – hadn’t the old man been toothless when they’d first met in the clearing?   

“Magorian’s ruby was huge.  It was found many ages ago in a deep cave on Anglesey, the isle of the Druids.  They say it was the heart of a hero, a man whose name was lost long ago.  He had fought to protect a princess from the wrath of a dragon and died in the trying.  But the princess loved him and she kept his heart and her tears turned it into a precious gem.”   

The day had grown ever darker and was growing cold now, as well, as the old man spun his tale. Harry and Snape were sipping their tea and Harry was surreptitiously munching away at the bread, which, though rather dark in colour, was actually rather tasty.  The man’s cheeks were hollow and his curiously dark eyes, which had definitely been a lighter-blue earlier in the clearing, glittered strangely in the semi darkness of the twisted little hut. Harry moved a little closer to Snape.  It was definitely getting colder and Snape was warm and solid beside him.   

“The ruby was so big that it was broken in twain, but it always remained two halves of a whole, connected through space and time.  One half was lost to the ages; but legend says it is just waiting for the last of the princes in order to reappear; the other… why, the other half was polished and carved and set in the hilt of the king’s sword.”

“I still don’t understand,” Snape said. “Why me?”

“Because you are the only one that can help.”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Snape cried. “Can you stop talking in riddles?”  He looked just as shocked as Harry when the old man began to laugh and laugh.

“They call me Emrys,” the old man continued sometime later. “Emrys of Caer-Frydinn.  In future days I’ll be known for the place of my birth, men will call me Myrddin.  Many years in the future, Geoffry of Monmouth will rename me Merlinus.  It is too delicious that you still know my name.  I was once told it would be thus.”  

“You’re Merlin?” Harry gasped, sitting up straight for a moment.  He’d been leaning against Snape but Snape had stiffened when he realised who the man was claiming to be.

“Oh, please,” sneered Snape, “and this is the Isle of Avalon and I’m King Arthur!”

A raised eyebrow and a slight shrug accompanied a wry smile as Merlin murmured, “Not quite.”  Transferring his gaze to Harry, he continued in a stronger voice, “Aye, men will know me as such.  But my time has yet to come and he for whom I gained my fame, he has yet to rule.  And in order for him to be what he must be, I need you, lad.” He was now gazing directly at Snape.

“You are the last prince, the last of Uther’s line.  Arthur’s father had two sons, twins born of Igraine. Arthur will go on to be the greatest King that England has known, or ever will know, but his brother was born blind and crippled.  His name will be lost to history but I know him as Eudav.  He is being raised by one of Uther’s advisors, a man named Caradawg.  Eudav means son of Caradawg and Caradawg means father of Eudav.  His life will be a quiet one, though he’ll be a bright lad, though twisted by the accident of his birth.  He is rich with magic and so will his line be, fine and strong.  Shining down the centuries, sometimes strong and good, sometimes twisted and grey, but never truly evil, always loyal, it will continue unbroken until it gets to you.”  He was staring at Snape as he said this, his eyes seeming to burn into the other man’s soul.   

Snape was shaking a little, trembling.  Harry reached out and took his hand, surprised when he didn’t recoil.  “You’re saying that I… I, Severus Snape, am descended from Uther Pendragon?”  Snape’s voice was tight, his teeth clenched. Harry wondered if he was going into shock.

“Aye, lad, I am.”

“But I-I don’t understand.  Why am I here?”

 “Ah, well that would be thanks to your soul mate, to this lad here.”

“Um, I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” Harry extended his hand for Merlin to shake.  The old man beamed.  

“Seems like you’d be good for him.  You appear to be a cheerful sort of lad. He’s a mite gloomy, ain’t he?”

“Just a tad.  Erm, tell me, what makes you think that we are... er... together.”

Merlin smiled at him, another twinkle in his eye – a sure sign of very powerful magic.  “That wasn’t me.  It was the ruby, and it knows its business alright.  It was you touching the ruby that brought you here.”

“Ah!” Harry said and putting his hand in his pocket he withdrew a large, dull red stone, somewhat reminiscent of the Philosopher’s Stone in his first year. “Is this what you mean?”

The old man reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against the stone, a dark red gleam in his eyes, echoing the facets of the gem that Harry held. Harry shivered.

“Yes-s-s,” he whispered. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Harry shrugged.  It didn’t look particularly beautiful to him, but it figured that it would be the thing that had brought him here.

“I found it in the Department of Mysteries.  I got wounded a few weeks back,” Harry told him, “and I was meant to be on desk duties.  But I’m not very good at sitting still.”  Snape made a humpfing sound, Harry ignored him.  “So, my department head suggested that I help my friend Hermione, who’s cataloguing artifacts that haven’t been looked at for years. I was reaching up for this box when everything came tumbling out.  And there was this stone, you see, and... well, I caught it. The next thing I knew, I was here.”

“And I’m here… why?” sneered Snape, trying a third time for an answer he could comprehend.

“You are needed here and you are the young lad’s mate – he touched the stone, thus enabling it to bring you both here.”

Snape humpfed again, but Merlin looked triumphant.

“If it’s a ruby, though, why isn’t shiny?” mused Harry.

Merlin’s eyes were hungry as he gazed at the gem, but he pulled his gaze away and looked at Harry instead.

“It does not glitter brightly, this is true.  But it is, nevertheless, one of the most powerful jewels that has ever existed and it will need to be so, because this will get you both home.”

“Then let it do so… now!” Snape sounded like he was about to lose his patience, which was never a good thing in Harry’s experience. Harry moved away a little. “Oh, and don’t give me that crap about me being the last prince, because I don’t believe you.”  

Transferring his gaze to Snape, Merlin smiled again.  “You are so like Uther,” he said in a mild tone.  Snape growled.

“In a few days Uther will die; he has been ill for the longest while.  Eudav is far distant in Orkney, safe with his father Caradawg.  On the other hand, Arthur draws ever closer. It is his destiny to pull the King’s sword from the stone of Elgarth.  But the stone lies empty and without you,” intense dark eyes bored relentlessly into stormy dark ones, “its destiny will be unfulfilled.  Uther is too foul, too twisted, to place Excalibur where it should reside.  You shall have to do it.”

Snape was on his feet again.  “Are you trying to mock me, old man?” he said.

Merlin merely looked at him, his serenity unruffled. “You are a good man, I can see it in you.”

Snape huffed again.  “Don’t be ridiculous!  I am riddled with shadows, entwined with a darkness that you can never understand.”

This time Merlin stood, the dark eyes changing, glowing as red as Fiendfyre, and a strange magical wind seemed to grow from nowhere.  His voice echoed with all the ages of men.  “There is darkness in you, Severus Snape, but there is goodness too.  Your redemption was not purchased lightly, you were willing to die for others, you were willing to die for him.” He pointed at Harry and Harry felt as if he’d been pinned in place like a specimen butterfly.

“Stop it!” Snape hissed. “We don’t need to be here… we shouldn’t be here… we’re not of this time… we’re not of this place.  We need to go, now, before the fabric of time is ripped apart, before we cause something that should never be caused or destroy something that should not be destroyed.”

“Ah, Severus,” thundered Merlin and all at once he was no longer a bent old man.  He stood strong and powerful and terrifying. “You were always meant to be here – this is your destiny, and he,” once again the wizard pointed at Harry, “he will bring you home again.”

The whole hut seemed to shake then, as if it were caught in an angry maelstrom of some ancient magic.  Then Snape collapsed as if he’d been cut away at the knees and Harry caught him as the light went out of his eyes and unconsciousness claimed him.

“Look after him, boy,” Merlin commanded. “He needs his rest and he needs to embrace his redemption.”  

Suddenly, Harry was alone in a hut in an unknown forest with his arms full of Severus Snape.

**********  

When Severus woke his head was pounding but he felt warm and comfortable.  He was lying on what felt like a bed of moss, covered with a cloak, his cloak.  Pale filtered light was insinuating itself into the hut, because that’s definitely where he found himself situated.  That damned hut – and therefore, the figure crouching in the doorway just had to be, Potter.

“Potter?” he croaked, wincing at the rusty sound of his voice.  

The boy turned round and even from across the room, even in the semi-gloom, Severus could see he was grinning widely.  Severus scowled, could the brat be any more irrepressible?

“Hey!” Potter greeted him. “How are you feeling?  Do you want some water?  Camomile tea?  Porridge?”  

“Oh for Mer-Circe’s sake, are you channeling Molly Weasley?  I’m fine!” Severus snapped, wincing as he tried to sit up.   

Potter just ignored him.  “How about some of that willow-bark stuff you gave me, cause that worked like a charm.”  

Severus scowled. “No, it worked like a potion.”  

Potter laughed and Severus’ scowl deepened.  “Well, you can’t be feeling that badly if you are joking with me.  It’s strange, but I never found you this funny at school.”   

“You weren’t meant to.  You were meant to be cowed into behaving yourself.”  

Potter laughed again. “Yeah, that worked well, didn’t it?”  

Severus didn’t huff with laughter and he most certainly didn’t almost smile.  “Where’s that water you promised?”  

Potter had made porridge, too, and Severus had to admit the boy could cook well.  Those relatives of his were good for something after all.  

“I found the oats soaking in water outside and there was a milk churn with some goat’s milk in it.  I added some honey cause there was some stashed in a pail at the back of the hut.”  

“Do you have to be so disgustingly cheerful?”  

“Yeah, it just comes naturally to me these days.”  

“Potter, don’t you get it?  We seem to have been hauled out of our own time by some megalomaniac wizard who thinks he’s Merlin, for Circe’s sake, and we might never get home.”  

“Oh, he’s definitely Merlin,” declared Potter quite earnestly. “Didn’t you feel that magic yesterday?  That was the most powerful magic I’ve ever felt; only Dumbledore’s even come close to matching it… you know, before he got really ill.”  

Severus shivered.  The boy could tell the power of magic?  Why did that surprise him?  Potter was without a doubt one of the most powerful wizards he had ever known and yet he spoke of his own magic so casually, it was easy to forget.

“Whatever!  Whether he’s Merlin or not, we are still centuries… no, we are more than a millennia… away from where we should be,” was the ex-Potions Master’s exasperated response.  And I am finding my close proximity to you is having an effect on me I don’t quite know how to handle, were the words Severus didn’t say.  

“So?” Potter said simply, ladling some thick cream porridge into a wooden bowl. “He doesn’t seem to be trying to kill me, which is always a plus, and to be honest I could do with a holiday.”   

Severus sat up fully then, wincing at the pain in his head.  “A holiday! Potter, are you mad?  This isn’t a holiday.  It’s some sort of fucked up debacle that we’ve been drawn into against our will.”  

Harry sighed.  He sat down on the moss, which was liberally strewn all over the floor of the hut, and handed Severus a wooden bowl. “He isn’t going to hurt us.  Trust me! I know what a twisted madman is like, especially when he is hunting you.  You should know it, too. Merlin’s powerful, yeah, but this isn’t about us.  He’s sort of borrowing us to fulfill this destiny thing. Besides, wouldn’t it be rather awesome to see Excalibur?”  

“Potter, there’s no way of knowing what he’ll do once he’s done with us?  He’s a powerful wizard and there’s nothing to stop him from killing us if he’s of a mind. Our wands don’t work… we are totally helpless.”  

Potter gave him a steady look, one that said, ‘Snape you are a total prat’.  It was very similar to the ones he had fixed Severus with when he’d been a very small, very annoying little boy.   

“I thought that ‘foolish wand waving’ wasn’t necessary for effective magic.  You whipped up that pain potion yesterday without a second thought, didn’t you?  Besides, my wand is fine, has been ever since we arrived.”  

“I-i-it is? Why didn’t he put a dampener on your magic?”  

Potter shrugged.  “He did.  It just didn’t work.”  

Snape glowered at him and Harry wondered what he’d done to deserve it this time.  Nothing, probably. It seemed he didn’t really have to do anything to deserve Snape’s wrath, did he?  He just managed to earn it naturally, all on his own.   

“Look,” Harry said, waggling the spoon he’d just been about to give Snape in the man’s direction.  He was feeling more than a little disgruntled by now. “Can you stop being so fucking pissy?  I got up, at the crack of bloody dawn, brewed tea with the dried camomile that Merlin seems to keep vast quantities of, made porridge, and tidied the hut like a good little house-elf.  I’ve got no bloody idea where Merlin has fucked off to and I’m a little concerned that Ron and Hermione might be getting worried about me.  I’m trying to be cheerful and positive, just like I always do.  Hell, I’ve even been beginning to enjoy your company, God help me. You’re peaceful, you know?  A good solid presence that comforts me somehow, cause you’ve been around, like, forever.  You’ve always been there.”

He hated the way his voice cracked on the last word, but the words were streaming out of him of their own volition and there was nothing he could do to stop them.  

“But I’d forgotten how miserable and annoying you can get, you old git!  I’ve been too busy ogling your arse and imagining what that hair would feel like if I ran my fingers through it to notice. Yesterday, I ignored it.  I gave you the benefit of the doubt.  But I’m no-longer eleven and I don’t have to stand for any more of your fucking insults, got it?”  By the end of this rather empassioned speech, Harry’s words were coming out fast and furious and his eyes were flashing dangerously.  

Snape stared up at him, his eyes wider than Harry had ever seen them.  His cheeks had two points of colour high on his cheekbones and he was breathing hard.  “Point, Mr. Potter,” he said, sounding as cool and collected as he ever did. “I apologise for my irascibility.  Now perhaps you could hand me my spoon.”  

“Wha… what?” stuttered Harry, stopped dead by Snape’s capitulation, his anger vanishing in an instant.   

Snape inclined his head in the direction of the hand Harry had been waving around like a first year with a new wand.  

“Perhaps I might trouble you for the spoon?”  

“Right…” Harry said, waggling the spoon unconsciously for just a little longer. “Erm, right.”  
**********   

Severus sat eating porridge out of the well-worn wooden bowl on his lap. The porridge was delicious, thick and creamy and subtly sweet, and the eating of it helped him focus his mind and steady his nerves somewhat.  For Severus couldn’t seem to help himself, he was trembling, trembling with need.  

Luckily, Potter had headed off somewhere.  He’d said that he was going to get more water, but Severus suspected that he’d managed to piss the young man off so much that he’d gone for some space and some fresh air.  Because, may the gods help him, he wanted to fuck Harry Potter!  He wanted to lay him down on the thick bed of moss that covered the little hut they shared and fuck him into submission.

He’d managed to ignore his arousal when the boy, no, the man had snuggled against him the first night they had arrived.  But he was finding it very hard to continue to ignore him, especially when he said that: ‘he wanted to run his fingers through Severus’ hair, and he fancied his arse’?  How the fuck was he supposed to resist that?  Resisting Harry Potter had become a habit with him, ever since the boy had reached manhood.  But he was so vibrant, so alive.  Despite what he’d been through – the shit childhood, being pursued by a madman, being turned into a weapon – despite all of that, there was an innocence about him that Severus found deeply attractive and incredibly sensual.  

The worst of it was that the young man was intimating, no he was downright saying, up front and totally openly that he wouldn’t mind if Severus, if he and Severus... but no, he couldn’t mean it.  He really couldn’t.  He was just toying with Severus, teasing him, just like his father would have done.  Just like his father.  

He must have banged his head, hard, on the journey to wherever the fuck they were.  That’s why he felt so disorientated… yes, that must be the explanation.  Because Severus refused to believe they were in Merlin’s time, however wrong the stars were, and he refused to believe he was the mythical last of the line of Uther Pendragon and he totally and utterly refused to believe that Harry Potter wanted anything to do with him.  

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” A voice said.

Severus started violently. Merlin had come into the hut at some point whilst Severus was musing, spreading the shards of light around him and wearing them like a halo, it was he who had spoken.  

“What the fuck would you know about it?” Severus snapped. Merlin was taking far too many liberties if you asked him.  

Merlin tilted his head to one side and studied Severus as if he were a puzzle he was trying to solve.   “I think you are a far better man than you give yourself credit for.  A conscience is a good thing, if not indulged in to excess. It’s all right to regret the wrong you have done, but you can’t let it destroy you or you end up hurting yourself and others – and that would not be desirable at all.”  

Severus humpfed, “You still don’t understand.  I-I-I have no right to...”  He couldn’t complete the sentence.   

“There is no one else,” Merlin told him simply. “That boy of yours needs you.  He needs anchoring, direction; he needs to feel safe and protected.  There’s no one strong enough to anchor him, no one but you.  He has seen so much, been through so much.  He needs someone who knows Darkness as well as he does.”  

“He seems cheerful enough to me.”   

“Does he? Ah, well, we all have our masks, don’t we?” replied Merlin wisely.  

Severus couldn’t deny that, as much as he wanted to.  Maybe the boy did wear a mask after all.  

“He wasn’t supposed to live,” explained Severus dully. “Neither of us were. The world doesn’t know what to do with its heroes when they’ve done their job…” his next words sounded horribly bitter, even to himself, “fulfilled their destiny.”  

Merlin’s smile was grim. “No, it doesn’t.”  

Severus wondered if he’d said too much, considering what was supposed to have... or what was going to happen to Merlin… that is, if their arrival hadn’t completely fucked up the timeline.   

It was at this point Severus realised that he’d accepted it, all of it.  He believed the man sitting beside him in the rude little hut was the greatest wizard that ever lived, which must also mean that he believed he was indeed descended from Uther Pendragon.  He sighed, because there would have been a time when he would have rejoiced in such an ancestor; but he truly didn’t care anymore, there was no one left whom he would seek to impress with such knowledge.  

Potter wouldn’t be impressed, he didn’t give a damn who Severus was descended from. Potter, Harry, was interested in him in other ways and he hated to think how much, how deeply that thrilled him.   

“Hey, Merlin.” Harry tumbled into the dismal little hut, banishing gloom and bringing in winter sunshine and nervous energy.  His cheeks glowed and his eyes sparkled and he had a crinkled brown leaf tangled in his messy dark hair. Severus wanted to reach out and remove it and see how soft his hair was whilst he was at it. “Are we going to see Excalibur then?”  Harry’s voice, as well as his face, was full of excitement.  
**********  

The stone in question was not that long a journey from the hut, despite the undoubtedly immense size of the forest.  From the number of ruins found at the site, of Greco-Roman origins, it was fairly obvious a settlement had at one time occupied the location.  Trees and undergrowth had encroached considerably and ivy wound itself around the columns and pushed through cracked mosaic floors.  In the very centre of the ruins and embedded deep into the ground, lay a stone, large and unearthly white.  Upon it were carved the words “Whoso shall lift this sword from the stone, the same is rightly born King of England". But there was no sword in the stone, instead it lay beside it, glinting brightly in the winter sunshine.   

And Severus truly believed.  

The sword...the sword was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.  The blade was hewn in silver but the hilt was solid gold encrusted with rubies. And right there, in the centre of the hilt, was the polished and multifaceted twin of the ruby that Harry had shown them earlier.  Magorian’s Ruby.   

He fell to his knees before the precious, carved object and reached towards it.  It was so glorious that he hesitated to touch it, to sully it with himself.  

“Go on, lad.” Merlin’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Pick it up.  Do it.”  

Severus’ hand trembled violently.  He couldn’t seem to bring himself to move.  Then he felt a hand covering his own, it was warm and surprisingly slender.  “It’s okay, Snape.  You can do it.”  

Supported and comforted, Severus reached forward and took the sword into his hands.  For an instant, time seemed to stand still and yet, in that one moment, Severus saw more clearly than he had ever seen before.    

There were so many images, hundreds, thousands of them… too many to see, too many to process. Only a scant few made it to become embedded on his retina and, thusly, into his mind and memory.  He saw Merlin with a young boy, supporting him.  He saw that same boy pulling a sword from a stone – this sword from this stone.  He watched the boy become a man and defend his people.  He saw generation after generation of Arthur’s line, of his line, go on and on through the centuries. He saw himself, lonely and bitter and he saw Harry, really saw him, fragile and fierce, brave and scared, surrounded by people and at the same time, like himself, desperately lonely.  

“Severus, Severus!” He heard Harry’s voice, as if from a distance, so very far away.    

“Focus,” he told himself. “Focus.”  The world was spinning around him, faster and faster, and he could hear his heart pounding, threatening to break through his rib-cage. Suddenly he was shouting, yelling with both anguish and wonder as the knowledge… as the scope and understanding of the images he was viewing coalesced and became a part of him… and with Harry’s hand on his, he plunged the sword into the stone. It did not go easily – as if some force, perhaps some ancient magic, was trying to prevent the marriage of stone and metal.  But Severus now knew – more than knew, believed – it was meant to be and he didn’t waver.  Finally, after what seemed like the longest time, the sword slipped into the rock and rested where prophecy had decreed it should be.  

Severus fell to his knees, totally spent.  He struggled hard to breathe, shoulders heaving with the effort of it all.  It had been so hard, getting the sword into the stone.  Harry had seen his struggles, felt them, held him through them, and finally helped him thrust the weapon into the place where it was fated to be seated.  Now Snape was exhausted and Harry was, too.  

“We’ve done it,” Snape rasped and it was evident from the strained timbre of his words how much it cost him. “We’ve done as you asked, what now?”  

“Now you rest,” Merlin told them simply, “and later you go home.”  
*************

Merlin led them to a small building to the left of the pavement on which the stone sat.  It had vanished completely, taking the sword with it.  Harry had no idea where it might have gone to and he was too tired to ask.  This was a very weird place, wherever it was or whatever it was, and Harry was not sure he wanted to know any more about it than he already did, which was essentially nothing. He just followed Merlin and supported Snape.  The taller man leant heavily on him, eyes glazed, seeming not to even notice where he was or who he was leaning on.  His torso twisted a little as he grabbed onto Harry and stumbled in exhaustion.   

The room had nothing in it but a bed.  It looked so tempting after a day and a night of sleeping on the ground and sitting on tree trunks.  The bed was large and soft and covered in a blood-red coverlet.  Harry gently lowered Snape down and watched those dark eyes close as Snape’s head touched a soft, downy pillow, then he lowered himself to lie alongside the other man.  His body melded against Snape’s and he breathed in the aroma of cloves and juniper and clary-sage… the unique scent he’d come to realise was Severus Snape.  His body grew heavy and his eyelids began to droop.  

To Harry it all seemed unreal and yet he still didn’t feel worried or frightened; he knew instinctively that somehow they were safe.  They just needed to rest, that was all, and then everything would be all right.  

“Sleep,” Merlin murmured with an almost imperceptible movement of his hand, his voice growing distant, vanishing from Harry’s consciousness. “Sleep,” the old wizard repeated softly.

And so they did.   
**********  

When he awoke, Severus was covered by Harry Potter.  The man was literally draped over him, all legs and arms and gloriously messy hair.  His glasses were missing from his face and his cheek was squashed against Severus’ chest.  Without his glasses he seemed so young, so vulnerable, as if they were his shield against the world.  His eyes were moving rapidly behind the papery skin of his eyelids as if dancing to a waltz that only the boy could hear.  First a waltz and then a polka and then a waltz again, an ever changing tempo as the images that Harry was seeing intensified and then slowed again.  His breathing didn’t change, it remained even and a thin trickle of saliva meandered its way from Harry’s mouth.  Surprisingly, it was this evidence of the boy’s vulnerability which made Severus feel more tender towards him than anything – more than the flushed cheeks or impossibly long eyelashes, or the full moist lips, which pouted just a little, as if giving a dream lover a kiss.  

Severus didn’t remember ever being cuddled like this before in his entire life. He couldn’t help being honest with himself, especially after his recent experience with Excalibur; he couldn’t ignore anymore how much he loved this physical intimacy. How much he loved Harry.  His hand, all of its own accord, started to move towards the dark locks, his fingers burying themselves in Harry’s hair.  He just had to touch it, to see if it was as soft as he’d always thought it would be. Harry wrinkled his nose and Severus’ chest tightened.  He felt so much affection towards the boy and, more than that, he allowed himself to feel it.  His encounter with Excalibur had changed him forever.  

As Severus watched, the boy’s eyelashes fluttered and those eyes, those glorious eyes, opened and focused on him. Harry smiled. His smile was wide and goofy, his hair all which way and thon, a little drool was still gleaming wetly on his chin, and his cheek was imprinted with several of Severus’ buttons.  He looked rumpled and messy and Severus had never seen anything more glorious in his life.

“Hi,” Harry said, his mouth curving even wider. Unable to resist, Severus kissed him.

Harry’s lips were as sweet as he’d always thought they would be, sweet and yielding.  For a brief moment the boy’s eyes widened in shock, then he enthusiastically deepened the kiss.  His lips were soft and warm, pliant, and giving.  Severus felt Harry’s tongue against his own and heard the young man moan against his lips. He nipped Harry’s lip, gently, causing him to moan again.  He grasped Harry’s head, held him firmly and rolled the two of them so that Harry was beneath him, and then proceeded to deepen the kiss in earnest.  Severus moved his hand so his finger’s grazed along a velvet cheek, tracing the imprints his buttons had made on the boy’s skin. With lips and teeth, he nipped and sucked along Harry’s jaw and down his neck, tongue rasping against the emerging stubble, which roughened and darkened the skin.   

“Oh, God!” Harry moaned and then writhed and bucked up against the hard body above him.  Severus’ cock was rock hard and so, it seemed, was Harry’s.  

Harry wore a t-shirt beneath his robe, a t-shirt and a pair of shabby jeans.  The robe fell from his shoulder exposing luscious young flesh. Severus licked eagerly, leaving a damp trail along the boy’s collarbone while savoring the saltiness that was Harry.  

“S-s-s-snape,” the boy hissed, the sibilant sound of his name sending shivers down his spine and straight to his aching cock.  Severus placed his fingers over a kiss-swollen mouth.   

“Severus,” he whispered. “Call me Severus, Harry, my Harry.”  Harry whimpered.  “What am I going to do with you, Harry?” Severus continued, pouring the words, like treacle, along Harry’s jaw, savouring the use of the boy’s name, now that he’d allowed himself to use it.   

“Y-y-you can do what you want, whatever you want.”  Severus chuckled and Harry trembled beneath him.  Severus found a nipple and tweaked it.  Harry moaned again.  “Please, please.”   

“Please what, Harry?”   

“Touch me?” the boy begged, voice soft and tremulous.  

“It’ll be a pleasure.”  

Harry whimpered again.  “Oh, god!  Your voice, your fucking voice!” Then he stopped talking he has sucked Severus’ fingers into his mouth.  

Now it was Severus’ turn to moan.   

He ground his pelvis into Harry’s, his hard length against the boy’s.  Harry whimpered and sucked harder at Severus’ fingers.  Then they were rutting against each other, desperate for relief, desperate to feel one another, to fuck one another.  Harry’s whimpers had a rhythm to them echoing the movements of their hips, their cocks.  Severus pushed up Harry’s t-shirt, and took the boy’s nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard, tonguing at it, causing Harry to whine, to increase the tempo of his whimpers.  He was incoherent, melting beneath Severus’ use of tongue and hands.  It was everything Severus Snape had ever dreamed of and more.  Harry was so responsive, so pliant, so desperate for his touch.  Severus gently removed his fingers, instead allowing his thumb to brush along that plump, luscious lower lip.  Then he was kissing Harry again, deeper this time, more forceful and Harry let him, submitted, so pliant, so responsive.   

His orgasm built slowly, as they rubbed against each other, took it’s time.  His body heated, the blood pumped in his ears, more strongly, more forcefully pounding harder and harder until he was sure that he could hear the beat of his own heart.  

Harry came undone as his orgasm claimed him.  He lay limply beneath Severus, as if he had melted, as if he had been subsumed.

Severus’ orgasm continued to build, climbing towards a crescendo, until in a passionate burst, he came.  Hard.  Explosively.  As if everything that had gone before was merely a practice, a preparation for this moment.  

Harry was trembling, his low murmur of a single phrase had almost become a sob. “Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.”  

“Shush, Harry,” Severus whispered, kissing Harry one more time on those pink, swollen lips.  “Sleep now, sleep.”  

“K’, thank you, thank you, Severus. That was lovely, so lovely.”  

Severus heart ached.  He had just had the best sex that he could remember, with the Hero-of-the-wizarding-world, no less, and Harry was thanking him?”  

“Shush,” he said again. “Silly boy.  Silly, lovely boy.”

He wrapped his arms around the young man and pulled him close, unable to resist dropping a kiss on Harry’s head.  Harry sighed, deep and shuddery, before melting into Severus’ embrace, a look on his face that was suffused with smug contentment.  

“Ummmm.” Harry’s voice was muffled against Severus’ chest. “Mmmm, cloves, juniper, clary-sage.  Best smell in the world.”   
**********

 
When Harry awoke again the room was flooded by cold winter-light.  He needed to get up; he needed to go to the loo apart from anything else.  But he didn’t want to move, he was warm and comfortable and sticky and he felt unbelievably smug and satiated.  He’d done it.  He’d finally done it and had ‘sort-of-sex’ with a man, with Severus Snape. It felt weird, calling his ex-professor ‘Severus’, if only in his head, but he wasn’t going to call someone he’d just been so intimate with, that he’d just had great sex with, by his surname.  He’d earned the right to call him by his first name.  He could feel the smug grin on his face, but even if he could have suppressed it he wouldn’t have wanted to, instead he wanted to revel in it.  He wriggled a little, trying to ease the pressure on his bladder.  

“Be still, Pot-Harry.” Severus’ voice poured into his ear, thick and oh so rich, like molten chocolate.  Harry felt his grin widen. Severus obviously felt the same way about using Harry’s name; it would be nice not to hear his father’s name sneered at him with total distain.    

That voice!  It was the first thing about Severus that had appealed to Harry but he couldn’t quite remember when he’d first become aware of its velvety sexy quality.  His attraction to the man had grown gradually at first, and then exponentially for some time.  And then when he died… when Harry thought he’d died… he’d haunted Harry’s dreams and peopled his nightmares for four long years, and now, since arriving in the past, the man’s presence had overwhelmed him: his voice, his eyes, his scent, and now his hands and tongue as well.  Harry wriggled again and Severus’ arms tightened around him.  He wanted to stay, to melt into that warm embrace but the pressure on his bladder had become too urgent to ignore.  

“I have to go to the loo, S-severus.” Despite his determination he almost slipped back into habit.    

“Ah, I see.  Well, you never did have any self control.”  Severus sounded warmly amused.  

Harry just wriggled out of the other man’s arms and went out to relieve himself. By the time he came back in he was shivering. “It’s freezing out there.”  

Severus didn’t exactly smile, but his face softened.  “There’s bread and some cheese to eat and plenty of blankets, if you are cold.”  

“Or we could snuggle.”  

Severus raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he was going to say, Harry would never know, because just at that moment Merlin came in.  “Sorry, lad, you don’t have time.”  
**********  

“We have to do what?” Harry asked.

“You need to focus your magic, especially yours, Harry. The ruby will help channel your combined power and send you home.”  

“Yeah, I got that. But, what you’re saying is that we’ve got to... erm... have sex in order to get back?”  

“Sex magic is a very old and established practice, Harry,” Severus explained. “It is only used for very powerful spells, when a great deal of magical energy is needed and that power needs to be focused on a particular moment.”  

“And people actually do that?  We’d need to do it?”  

“Would it be so objectionable, you and I?” Severus couldn’t help feeling slightly wounded.  

“I wouldn’t mind at all if you and I shagged,” Harry told him with a smirk. “I just didn’t know it was possible. I mean, we were never taught anything about it at school.”  
Severus snorted. “Of course you weren’t!  Why on earth would anyone teach sex magic to a group of hormonally charged teenagers?”  

“It would have been a very popular lesson. I would definitely have signed up for that.”  Harry was grinning again. “Especially if you were teaching it,” he finished with a leer in Severus’ direction.  

Severus shivered.  The boy desired him and he was thrilled. But he couldn’t quite understand how that had happened and it was still so new he couldn’t quite feel comfortable with the boy’s flippancy, his teasing.  Nobody teased Severus, not since Lily, and Severus didn’t want to think about her or think about how his oldest friend, his only true childhood friend, would have reacted to whatever-it-was that he and Harry had going on.  

Then Harry began to laugh. “So, we’ve got to, like, bonk to the future?”  

“Potter,” Severus said, feeling confused and somewhat disgruntled, “you are talking nonsense again.” He turned to Merlin, telling him confidingly, “It’s so ingrained in the boy that he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.”  

“Oh, come on, Severus, you must remember. It’s a film, about this guy called Marty McFly.  He ends up with a nutty professor too, but you’ve got nicer hair than his professor had.”   

Severus sneered at him, though he felt somewhat mollified.  Harry was teasing him; he'd been right.   

“Look, stop mocking my childhood,” Harry continued. “It’s one of the few films I ever saw as a kid; I watched it from my cupboard.”   

Severus’ heart ached for the boy, just a little.  He’d not learned how bad Harry’s childhood had been until long after he’d come to Hogwarts.  Their roles had been well established by then.  Letting Harry suffer that childhood had been one of the things Severus couldn’t quite forgive Albus for, not then, not now, not ever.  The man had known what a wasteland the boy’s childhood had been and had sanctioned it.  It made Severus want to take on the responsibility of protecting him from now on, to take on the mantel Merlin had suggested he should wear.   

“I still don’t know what you are talking about, Harry,” Severus tried in a teasing tone, which actually sounded a little stiff and formal, but he kept going, determined to attempt this teasing thing.  “Of course, I’m in charge.  You’d probably send us spiraling back to ancient Rome or something ridiculous like that.  Sex magic needs focus and strength of will.”  Severus suspected that his attempt at humour was not a particularly good one, but Harry’s slightly uncertain smile reassured him.  

“But we might end up anywhere,” Harry continued. “We could end up in Shakespeare’s time or something, or I might get to meet Sherlock Holmes or Queen Victoria.”  

"I very much doubt that such a thing would happen," said Severus in mock severity, "that we would actually meet anyone we have ever heard of.  It is more likely that we would end up stranded somewhere completely unknown to us. Besides, Sherlock Holmes is a fictional character, though I must admit, meeting him, if such a thing were possible, would undoubtedly be fascinating."

“I think you are worrying unnecessarily.  There is every possibility of getting back to your own time,” Merlin interjected. “But you have to do what I tell you and it needs to be done now.”  

“How can you be so sure?” Severus asked.  This man might be one of the greatest wizards who'd ever lived, but he didn't know everything, any more than Albus had, and to think such a thing was nothing but hubris.  

Merlin met his gaze, steadily.  “There is no certainty.  But you have an excellent chance.  Harry’s magic is very, very powerful – in time maybe even as powerful as my own.  You are a very good Legilimens, which will definitely make things easier and, of course, there is Magorian’s ruby.”  

Severus thought to ask how Merlin knew about his Legilimency, because he had not noticed the man trying to read his thoughts and his Occlumency skills were as good if not better than his Legilimency.  He'd always been able to tell before, that feint crawling sensation in his skull, the gentle, or not so gentle, pressure behind his eyes.  Merlin must be even more accomplished than Dumbledore, than even the Dark Lord had been.

“Okay. So say we believe you and do this sex thing.”  Harry had come to stand beside him, had slipped his hand in Severus’ own. “What’s the urgency, why does it have to be now?”  

“Because today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year.  I will take you to a place where the ancient magic of this age will help you, will enhance your magic, where you will have the very best chance of getting home.”  
**********    

“It’s an altar, it’s an honest to god, fucking altar!  Snape’s got to fuck me on a fucking altar? That is so bloody corny!”   

Harry couldn’t help himself.  It reminded him of some of those black and white films that his Aunt Petunia had watched on wet Saturday afternoons.  He’d been subjected to them, too, through the grill on his cupboard door.  There’d always been some virgin, tied up and threatened with ‘ravishment’ and the hero had always ridden in and saved her. He’d never expected anything like this though, not here in wherever the heck they were.

“How did you know anyway?”  

Merlin looked confused and a little affronted, presumably by Harry’s scorn.  And Harry could see why he would be, the man had gone to a lot of trouble for them, obviously he had.  The stone table in the centre of the clearing was covered in moss, it was bathed in a warm golden light as the red winter sun sank lower in the sky, it looked inviting, it looked beautiful.  

“How did I know what, Harry?” Merlin asked him, his eyes boring into Harry’s.  They changed colour, those eyes.  When Harry first met him his eyes had been a pale slate-blue, in the hut they had seemed as black as night with blood red gleamings, now here, in the clearing, they were amber, reminding Harry of Remus.  Somehow that was comforting, which was just as well, considering how shy he had suddenly become.      

“That... that, I’m a... a, that I’ve never slept with anyone before?”  

“You haven’t?” Severus whispered.  

As Merlin breathed the words, “A virgin?”  

“Well, there’s no need to go on about it.”  Harry felt deeply uncomfortable. It wasn’t his fault, after all, because it wasn’t from lack of trying.  First there’d been Ginny, who’d got fed up with waiting for him to, as she’d phrased it, ‘make up his mind’.  Then there’d been that embarrassing crush on Charlie Weasley, which he was not going to think about and, if he were honest with himself and Harry tried always to be honest with himself, if no-one else, he’d had a massive crush on Cedric Diggory, who’d died far too early and whom Harry had never forgotten.

 
"But, my boy!"  Merlin sounded delighted. "That is simply wonderful news.  Your chance of success is greater than ever.  How clever of you to keep yourself pure."
 
Harry didn't even bother answering, instead he turned to look at the altar.  "But why here?"

 
“This place has a lot of innate magic and it is exactly the right place for this sort of ritual.  It’s been used by numerous peoples for a variety of purposes for ages past.  The ancients themselves practiced here and ‘right now’ is the best time to get you home.”   He pointed at the rapidly setting sun. “Very soon the sun will shine through the hole bored into the largest menhir. When you are lying on the plinth, we will place the ruby on your solar plexus, Harry, and then you must achieve completion as the last rays of the sun bathe the jewel in light.”   

Severus had gone somewhat pale.  He was looking at Merlin as if the man were completely crazed.  

“Are you mad?”  

“Not at all,” Merlin replied, meeting Snape’s gaze in a way that Harry would have been loath to do.  “This is the only way and you’re rapidly running out of time.”  

Snape sighed, and turned away.  He hung his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a gesture of despair.   

“What?” Harry asked.  He was beginning to feel a little anxious, having rarely seen Snape looked flustered.  The secretive ex-spy had always seemed to know where he stood and what to do. Harry couldn’t quite suppress the tremor in his voice when he asked, “Severus, don’t you think it will work?”

Severus was shocked at Harry’s revelation.  It had not occurred to him that a young man in his early twenties could be so inexperienced. Harry’s teasing and flirting, not to mention their recently shared experience, had suggested to Severus that the young man was no virgin – well, it seemed he’d been wrong.  The boy’s question confirmed that as nothing else could have done.  He had no idea what Merlin was asking of them, of him.  Severus would have to direct the magic. He would have to be the one to focus the spell, do whatever incantation was necessary, and at the same time control their orgasms and ensure they reached climax as the sun hit the ruby. Severus wasn’t sure he could do it.  

Then he looked at Harry.  He was beautiful, staring at Severus with those amazing eyes, eyes that betrayed his uncertainty, his vulnerability.  Taking care of the young man, protecting him, ensuring his survival had been Severus’ unenviable task since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts; and whilst he knew that he had not exactly been a comforting protector – he’d provided very cold comfort indeed – he had saved him time and again.  Now, Severus wanted to protect him, wanted to take care of him, look after him.  He had fought this desire, this attraction, for as long as he could.  He’d stayed away from the boy on purpose for the last four years.  However, the last couple of days, bizarre as they were, had been a revelation.    

“We will manage,” he finally said.  He turned to Merlin.  “How long do we have?”    

“The sun will set in less than an hour.”  

“Then please leave us alone.”  

“But...”  

“Please, Merlin, just give me a few minutes, just a few.”  

The old man held his gaze for the beat of a heart and then he nodded and turned away.  

“What?  Why are you sending Merlin away?” Harry looked confused.  

Severus moved closer to the boy.  He had to touch him, comfort him, comfort himself.  “Harry, I can’t quite believe this is happening.”  Harry’s look of confusion did not lessen.  

“You are everything I have ever wished for and doing this with you would be my dream come true.  But not like this, not using sex magic.  I would want to lie you down on silk sheets, undress you slowly, kiss you all over, hold you.  I would have made your first-time special.”  

Harry had moved closer to him, laid his hand on Severus’ chest, spreading his fingers wide.  His chin was tilted up, eyes wide with something indefinable, but at least a part of what was in that gaze was arousal.  

“It will be special.”  

“It will be rushed; it’ll be more... frantic than I would like it to be.”  

“Rushed sounds good to me.”  Harry was grinning.  He was also very close to Severus now, so close that the potions master could feel huffs of breath along his jaw, feel Harry’s hip jutting into his, and something else…  something unmistakable, something hard.    

“I don’t want to hurt you, Harry, but it is going to hurt.  You haven’t done this before and there is always some pain and discomfort inherent in anyone’s first time.”   

“I’m not totally naive!”  Harry sounded indignant.  

Severus raised his eyebrows.  

“Well, I’m not!  I’ve done things.  I’ve read things. I’ve looked at pictures.”  

Severus snorted softly.  Harry’s eyes flashed darkly. “I’veusedabuttplug!”  

“I beg your pardon?”  

Harry blushed, a deep, dark red that painted his ears pink and disappeared beneath his robe, making Severus want to take the robe off to see just how far the blush actually went.   

“I went to this shop, in Muggle London, and I bought this plug.  I-er-I wore it when I er-you know.”  His blush deepened impossibly. “You know, when I, when I…”   

“When you masturbated?”  

“Um... yeah,” Harry breathed those last words.  

Severus wanted to hold the boy close and kiss him.  He was so endearingly innocent and yet there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes, the way his breathing quickened, become more shallow.  

Severus kissed him.  

If he were to do this, if he were going to make love to the boy, he was going to prepare him properly, take it slowly, make it special.  

Harry moaned and reached up to bury his hand in Severus’ hair.  Having the boy touch him like that, having him arching against his body, so needy, so wanton, swept away the last of Severus’ reservations.  The boy might be new to this, but he was not hiding his desire, his desire for Severus, something which he still couldn’t believe to be true.   

Harry was standing on his tip-toes, trying to deepen the kiss as Severus pulled away.  He placed a finger on the boy’s mouth.  “In a moment,” he said. “First we must prepare you, get everything ready.  If this is going to work and be good for you then we have a lot to do.”  

Harry pouted and Severus resisted taking that full lower lip and nibbling it until the boy screamed. He simply didn’t have time for that right now, but he would do it later… if there was a later.  

He took Harry’s hand and led him over to the stone table, which stood in the centre of the clearing.  This wasn’t the place where Excalibur’s stone had stood and Severus wondered just how many ruins there were in this forest.  The menhir that Merlin had indicated stood some distance from the top of the stone structure on which he and Harry would lie.  The sun was sinking rapidly and its rays were already caressing the edge of the eye that had been carved into it.  The altar, because Severus was sure it was an altar, had been covered in moss and meadow-sweet.  It looked strangely inviting and it smelled wonderful, and Severus felt a strange thrill.  He had participated in many rituals, some of them Dark, some with hope for a better future, but he had never taken part in anything like this.  Harry was his charge. He was the innocent and Severus would be the teacher.  He understood what Merlin had not said: Harry was powerful, immensely powerful, but he lacked the discipline or the knowledge to make the ritual work.  He was needed for this to have any chance of working; he had to join with Harry’s mind, read his thoughts, find the destination of his heart and get them home.  

“Where do you want to end up?” he asked the boy.  Harry’s eyes had grown huge, he looked around in wonder, uncomprehendingly.  Severus wondered if the meadow sweet was having an effect or if some of the other herbs that Merlin had used were soporific.  “Harry?”  

“What do you mean?” asked the young man, still looking confused.  

“When you Apparate you picture in your mind exactly where you plan to end up.  This will be like Apparition, except that we will be travelling much further than usual.  That is why we need all this assistance, the ruby, the sex magic, the rays of the sun.”  

“Okay,” Harry said simply.   

“I will need to use Legilimency.  You will need to be on your back, when we... when we make love, which is not the way I would have chosen for your first time – but at this point that is neither here nor there.  Do not worry about the rest, I will take control.  All that you will need to do is know where you want to go and then let yourself feel and set free your magic.  The light of the setting sun will further augment our magic and if we have luck on our side, then we will hopefully be returned to our own time.”   

Harry swallowed, hard.  He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and worried at it with strong white teeth, exactly what Severus was longing to do.  He was thinking, making a decision and Severus did not plan to hurry him.

"Will it be difficult for you?  What if I don't do very well?"

"Harry, you will be splendid."

The boy's gaze became astonished and then he quickly looked away, somewhat flustered by Severus' words. He seemed far more flustered by praise than he had been at the thought they would have to be so intimate, that he seemed to relish.  Severus realised this was probably the first time he had ever complimented the boy, about anything.  If the pink tinge that once again suffused the boy's cheeks was to be his reward, then Severus was certain he would do it more frequently, after all, a blushing Harry Potter was a delectable sight.  

“There is one more thing you need to know, Harry,” he continued more softly.  

The boy raised his eyes once again to meet Severus’ and this time they were awash with trepidation.  

“I have never undertaken a ritual like this before, but I have read about them, studied them.  If we do this, Harry… if we do, it is entirely possible, perhaps even probable, that we will become bonded to one another… irrevocably bonded.”

Harry gasped.  He couldn’t help himself.  The last few days had been very strange.  No stranger than his life was wont to be perhaps, but still, it hadn’t been this peculiar for quite some time… and yet, he felt strangely calm and totally un-frightened.  He trusted Snape, he trusted Severus.  He hadn’t always but, for a long time, he had trusted him with his life, just not with his happiness.  But now everything seemed so different; Severus seemed different.  The very fact he allowed Harry to call him by his first name was evidence enough.    

Harry felt safe with Severus and he had, quite weirdly, really enjoyed the last few days.  It was nice not to have to worry about, well, anything very much.  He vaguely thought Ron and Hermione would miss him, and maybe Andromeda; they would certainly be worried by his sudden disappearance.  Of course, Mrs. Weasley would worry about him, the Weasleys having sort of adopted him, and continued to think of him as a pseudo-son even though he and Ginny had gone their separate ways.  But other than that, there was nobody really.    

He also felt aroused by Severus.  Standing here, with the man so close, with his hands on Harry’s body was... well, he couldn’t quite articulate what he felt other than aroused.  He wanted the man to lay him back on that great stone table and fuck him till he couldn’t walk straight.  There was so much strength in the man, not to mention the unrelenting control he had over his emotions.  Harry wanted to melt that control, make him come undone.  He wanted to follow the hint of fiery passion behind those dark eyes and if that was going to happen in a strange clearing on a bed of sweet smelling herbs, Harry was definitely all for it.    

But to be bonded?  That was something else.  Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about it.  He was attracted to Severus, no question, but being bonded?  That was like marriage, wasn’t it?  

He moved away from the other man, slowly and reluctantly, but he moved away none-the-less.

“Erm...”  

He expected Snape to say something cold and scathing, to sneer at him, but Severus didn’t.  He merely looked at Harry, those black eyes of his warmer and more caring that he’d ever seen them.  

“If you don’t want to do this, Harry, then we’ll find some other way.”  

“It’s not that I don’t want to… erm... make love.”  Harry was sure he sounded like a total moron, but he couldn’t help it.  Talking about sex was so new to him, talking about it to Snape, even if Snape was the one he was actually going to do it with… well, that just seemed plain weird.  “It’s this bonding thing that’s... I wasn’t expecting that.”  

“It might not happen.  It is merely likely that a bond will occur.”  

“And if you’re willing to say as much, then it probably will.”  

Severus smirked, “It does seem likely, given our experiences to date, but we do not have long to decide.  There is a possibility that we might get home another way, and if we do not, then we can try again this time next year.”  

“Look, Snape, you can’t pretend that you want to be bonded to me, cos I won’t believe it.  You’ve hated me since I was a kid.  You’d probably end up killing me within a week.”  

“I don’t hate you, Harry.”  Snape’s countenance had grown somber.  His voice was low and beautifully modulated as always, but he sounded sincere.  

“But...”  

“I disliked you as a child.  Heartily.”  His smile was wry.  “There was no pretence about that, but I was also forced to play a role, let you be treated the way that Albus insisted that you be treated.  I hated that.  I hated what I had to do; I hated seeing a child treated the way you were treated and that made me bitter… and angry.  I took it out on you and your friends, something I regret, deeply.   By the time Nagini attacked me I saw you very differently.  I found that I cared about you far more than I ever thought I would.”   

Harry’s chest felt tight.  It hurt that Severus cared about him.  Although he’d known that people did care about him – Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys – it was still such a new thing for Harry. There had been so many years, so very many years when nobody had cared, no one had shown any interest at all in his well-being or happiness.  He still found it strange when people actively wanted to join their lives with his.  He supposed he always would.  A part of Harry, a big part of Harry, was still sure the Dursleys had been right and that he was unlovable, useless, a freak.   

“Y-y-you did?”  

“You turned out to be far more admirable than I thought you were.  You have a number of worthy qualities and I found myself coming to respect you.  I watched you from a distance, followed your adventures, your bravery, your loyalty, your self-reliance.  I have not admired many people in my life, haven’t l-loved many people; you made me feel like that, Harry.”  

“L-l-loved?”  Harry stuttered over the word, just as Sn... just as Severus had. Nobody had said that to him, not as long as he could remember, not actually said the word.  “You love me?”  

Severus couldn’t look at him.  He just nodded, his shoulders hunched, his head hanging down.  He seemed bowed down by what he’d just said.  It couldn’t have been easy for him to say that, to say it to him, and that was worth everything to Harry.  

“Oh.”  

For several seconds neither of them spoke.  Harry was in turmoil.  He simply didn’t know what else to say, but as he hesitated, the sun sank even lower.  They didn’t have any time left, not if they were going to this, if they were going to try to get home. They had to do it now.  

“All right then.”  

Now Severus looked at him, eyes wide with astonishment.  “All right?  That’s it, no more arguments, no more qualms?”  

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of qualms.  I have no idea how this is going to end up, but nobody has ever said anything like that to me before.  I really do think that you care about me and that’s, well, that’s something that means a lot to me.  I think I’ve come to care for you too; plus, I still find you rather hot, so let’s give it a go.”  

Severus looked even more astonished, “Let’s give it a go?”  

Harry grinned.  “I’ve managed to stun you?  All you can do is repeat my own words back to me?  I never thought I would see Severus Snape lost for words.”  

Snape scowled.  “Do you have any idea how annoying you are?”  

“But you love me anyway?  Ahh, now that scowl is much more familiar, by the way.  Much more you.  So, are we going to do this thing?”  

Severus chuckled darkly and pulled him close again.  “You, Harry Potter, will probably be the death of me.”  

“God, I hope not!  I’m hoping for something a lot more interesting than that,” responded Harry, waggling his eyebrows at Snape.  He felt a little strange, flirting like this, flirting with Severus.  But it was getting easier and he really, really wanted the man.  

“We’re running out of time, aren’t we?   

“Yes, you are.”  Merlin had returned.  “If you don’t do this now, then you will not be returning home.  

“Okay,” Harry said purposefully. “Okay.  Let’s do it.”  
**********  

Harry’s hand felt warm and firm in his, it was smaller, but then Harry was smaller by several inches.  The young man’s shorter stature fitted Severus so well, making him feel protective as if he wanted to keep Harry safe from all the dangers of the world.  Not that Harry needed his protection, not really – taking on Harry Potter was like reaping a storm.  The man was wild energy, untameable, unstoppable, unquenchable, and all at once he had to have him, make love to him, be inside him.  

“What’s the incantation?” Severus asked, not looking at Merlin.  He only had eyes for Harry… Harry who was practically bouncing with excitement, whose eyes were shining with lust, who wanted him.  Who wanted him.  

“Try Reverto domus.”  Merlin said.  

“Return home?  That’s it?  That’s all we need to say?” Harry asked.  

Severus was astonished once again.  “Since when do you understand, Latin?”  

“Since I started training to be an Auror.  It helps with spellcraft.”  

“Humpf, but you didn’t learn that it is the wizard’s will that invokes the magic? The words are just a way of focusing the will.”  

“Ah, right.  I must have missed that lesson.”  

 

“Potter, stop prevaricating and get your arse over to that altar, and do it now.”  

“Oh, Severus, I love it when you’re masterful,” Harry smirked.  

Severus glared at him.  

Harry stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “Severus, hurry up and fuck me.”

**********  

By the time they finally got Harry on the altar the sun was almost setting.  They took off his trousers and his boxer shorts exposing the boy’s flat stomach. Harry had taken the stone out of his pocket and they rolled back his t-shirt to place the ruby on his solar plexus.  It was un-cut and un-polished, but still multifaceted and it glowed with light.  

“Do it now,” Merlin said.  

“No,” snapped Severus as he sat back on his heels and glared at the man. “I need time to prepare him.”  He took his wand out of a pocket in his robe and cast a disillusionment charm.  As far as Severus was concerned, Merlin was taking far too much interest in Harry’s seduction.  

“You can’t do that, Severus.  Casting magic will interfere with the ritual.”  

“Well, then, turn around!”  

“But, I need to see if the incantation works.”

“But Harry does not need to be watched.  He’s been stared at and talked about all his life.  This is private.  If we are still here when the sun has set, then you’ll know we failed, so turn around. ”  

“You are a good man, Severus Snape.”  Merlin’s voice was soft and steady.  “Fare well.”  

The sun had almost gone and its dying rays were painting their skin and the clearing with red fire.  Severus ignored it, concentrating instead on Harry, on what they were doing together.    

“Open your legs for me, Harry,” he whispered.

Harry was quietly gazing at Severus, his eyes hooded yet glittering brightly.  He opened his legs and lay quiescent, waiting for Severus to make the next move.  The man dipped his fingers in the bowl Merlin had given him earlier, a bowl filled with sweet-smelling oil.  He liberally covered his fingers and began to draw a trail down one of Harry’s delectable thighs.  Harry’s breath hitched and he shuddered.  

“Please,” he said. “Please, Severus, we are running out of time.”  

“Hush,” Severus whispered. “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time.  I’ll take care of you, Harry.  It will be fine.”  

Harry whimpered.  They didn’t.  Time was running out, but he wasn’t going to rush this or hurt Harry anymore than strictly necessary.  

Carefully he inserted his finger into Harry’s anus, his breath shuddering as the young man’s hole tightened around him, pulling him in.  Harry moaned.

“Do you like that?” questioned Severus.   

“Guh!” Harry managed.   

Severus smirked.  “You do like that.”   

He inserted another finger.  It wasn’t easy, Harry was so tight.  Severus massaged more oil into the velvet channel and gently, so gently pushed his fingers in and out, softening the boy’s channel, loosening him, readying him for Severus’ cock.  When he got a third finger inside, he angled them so he could brush against the spongy lump inside the boy, causing him to writhe and push back against Severus.  

“Oh, god, fuck, what did you do?”  The boy was rock hard now, his long, pink cock pushed up towards Severus’.  The tip was weeping precome, copiously.  “F-fuck. Fuck, oh fuck-k-k!”   

Severus chuckled and dipped his other hand into the bowl of oil and then wrapped his fingers around Harry’s cock, stroking it, caressing it.  Harry bucked towards him as if shot through with electricity.  Harry shivered, though whether with desire or because of the cold breeze that was picking up, Severus didn’t know.   

The wind rustled the leaves all around them, shaking the branches gently as if hurrying them on.  The sun had dipped even further and was now shining almost fully through the eye carved through the menhir.  Merlin had kept his promise, he was standing on the edge of the clearing, his back firmly angled in their direction.

“There’s no more time, Harry,” Severus said, tenderly placing a kiss on the boy’s silky thigh. “I wish there was.  I wish I could do more to prepare you, but we have to do this now.”   

He had no doubt the boy would come quickly, but it would hurt, there was nothing he could do about that in the time left them. He was confident, however, that he could keep him aroused, bring him to completion.  He just wished there was more time.  

“Do it!” Harry’s voice was tight, his teeth clenched his buttocks clenching also, pulling Severus further inside him.  

“It’s going to hurt,” Severus murmured. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  

“Get the fuck on with it!”  Harry was panting. “I can’t hold back any more.”  

Severus took a deep breath and then knelt so his cock was situated at Harry’s entrance.  He had done what he could to prepare Harry, now he liberally coated his own cock in the remainder of the oil, still stroking Harry, keeping him hard, keeping him ready.  

Harry sobbed, it sounded like a plea.  Severus lined the tip of his cock against Harry’s pucker and pushed inside.  For a second, he didn’t think he was going to get inside.  Harry was too tight, too tense.  Then the boy’s guardian ring relaxed and Severus was inside.  Harry screamed.  He grasped Severus’ shoulder, fingers digging into Severus’ flesh through the fabric of his robe.  Briefly the man waited, feeling hot, tight walls spasm around him, trying to expel him, push out the intruder.   

“Breathe, Harry, breathe.  Deep and slow.”  Harry moaned again, but this time it sounded like he was in pain.  “Hush.  It’ll be okay.  I’ve got you, love.  I’ve got you.”  He was murmuring nonsense, trying to soothe the boy, trying to make it good for his lover.  

“Guh-god! S’okay, s’okay.”  Harry was babbling, begging.  Severus ran his hand over Harry’s cock again.  It hadn’t softened.  Although he’d hurt Harry, it hadn’t seemed to lessen his desire.  

The sun was now seated fully in the eye of the menhir and the ruby was glowing as if it were a vermillion star.  Severus had thought the clearing to be alight with dancing flames of fire before; he’d been wrong.  It was so much brighter now, in fact, it was beautiful.  Harry arched his neck, tilted his head back and the ruby’s light bathed his skin with colour.  Severus longed to taste that flesh, lick a trail along his skin, along his jaw.  He wanted to claim that gorgeous mouth, suck the full lower lip into his mouth and claim it.  Kiss him long and hard, until he begged for mercy.  But he couldn’t, they had to climax.  There was no time left.   

He pulled out of Harry, just a little way and then pushed back in, once, then again, and again, and again, faster and faster.  As he fucked the boy, he palmed his cock, ran his hand up and down it, feeling it pulsing beneath his fingers.  Harry bucked against him, his hands were still grasping Severus’ shoulders, holding onto him as if holding on to life itself.  

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod!”  

Severus could feel the pressure building, the blood was thundering in his ears, pulsing into his cock.  He was going to come and from the whimpering and inarticulate begging Harry was making, he was on the very edge of ejaculation.  Severus opened himself up to the light, to the magic that was swelling all round them.  He lifted Harry’s arse so he could thrust even deeper inside him, he almost came there and then, but first he needed to do the incantation, he needed to know where to go.   

“Harry, look at me.”  The boy was lost to arousal, he was moaning, whimpering, overwhelmed by sensation.  “Harry, Harry look at me. Look at me!”   

Harry was panting, struggling against being swept away, but he tried.  He slowed his breathing, struggling to overcome his desire.  His eyes met Severus’ so wide, so very wide, glittering, shocky, wild.”  

“Wha?” he breathed.    

“Where are we going, Harry?  Where are we going to go?”  He knew the boy’s mind so well he didn’t even have to cast Legilimens.  He slipped inside so easily, as if he were coming home.  The boy was much stronger than when he’d been a student, than when Severus had been ordered to assault his mind. He wanted to stay longer but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, not without Harry’s invitation.  

Harry was thinking of a room, a lovely room with high-arched windows and a huge bed with pure-white linen.  The furniture was old and gleamed dully in the firelight.  Here, this room, was where they were going to end up.

Severus pumped into Harry, harder and harder.  He stroked the boy’s cock and as he did he focused on the room he’d seen in Harry’s mind.  The boy’s channel spasmed around him and Harry began to thrash beneath him, keening a low sound that resonated in the barrel of his chest.  Severus waited for the single beat of a heart and then screamed, “Reverto domus!” Suddenly he was coming and so was Harry and the world was exploding with light and fire and heat.   
**********   

“But the stone’s all black,” Harry said, holding it out for Severus to examine. “Look.”  

They were laying together on Harry’s bed, entwined in each other, limbs tangled, satiated and replete.    

Severus peered blearily at the object that Harry was showing him and then lay back, pulling Harry into his arms.  “I suppose it was the enormous infusion of magic it took to bring us home.”  He placed a kiss on Harry’s head, tender and loving.  Harry grinned and wriggled round so he could tilt his chin up and beg Severus for another kiss.    
“Do you think we’re bonded then?” he asked when Severus had answered his request, or rather given in to his demand.  Harry thought he was going to get used to this, having Severus give in so easily.  Who knew the man would be so malleable?

“Hmm,” Severus hummed against his neck, placing a kiss there too.  Harry wriggled.    

“Tickles.”  

“Hush, I’m trying to answer your question, but you distracted me.”  

“I did?”  

“You did.  You taste delicious.”   

“I do?”   

“Hmmm, yes,” Severus mumbled against his collarbone.  

“Erm... what do I taste of?” Harry wondered.  

Just as Severus said, “I think we are.”  

“What?”  

“Bonded.”

“We are?”  Harry twisted round so he could see Severus properly, relishing the feeling of his skin sliding against Severus’. “How can you tell?”  

“Because you keep asking me these bloody stupid questions and I don’t want to strangle you.  I just want to do this.”  He pulled Harry on top of him and cupped the cheeks of his arse.  Harry wriggled so his cock rubbed against Severus’.  Severus slapped him, making Harry squeal.  

“Oh, that hurt, you bastard.”   

“Didn’t stop you talking though, did it?”  

“So we can’t be bonded then, because if we were, you’d want to hear what I’m saying, you’d find me interesting.”  

Severus smirked and kissed his forehead.  “It’s not that I don’t find you fascinating, Mr. Potter.  It’s just that I want to find out exactly what you taste of and the best way to do that is to kiss you.”   

“Umph!” Harry managed as Severus turned Harry over and claimed his mouth fiercely, passionately, demandingly.   

Harry forgot all about the stone. His fingers opened wide, allowing him to drop the stone unheeded and forgotten.  It rolled unnoticed into a corner of the room whilst Harry allowed Severus to explore him once again.    

On the bed, in a house that had once been infused with the blackest magic, but that had long been cleansed, two dark-haired men explored each other with mouths and fingers.  They held each other close and made love yet again, seemingly not yet satiated.  They tasted each other, delighted in each other, and truly came to know each other at last, bonded as they were, through the ages.

The jolt from the fall to the floor caused the stone to bounce, just once, and then come to rest in a corner, the dark shell that encased it cracked open.  The stone, now exposed to the candlelight, glittered like bright scarlet flames.  Later, when Kreacher came in to clean the room, it rolled away, repelled by the innate magic of the elf, and become hidden behind a split in the skirting-board… lost, forgotten, until it would one day be needed again.  

finis
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