
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7888990.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J.K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Draco_Malfoy, Ron_Weasley, Hermione_Granger,
      Other_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Challenge_Response, First_Time, Romance, Humor
  Collections:
      Ink_Stained_Fingers
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-22 Words: 9343
****** A Good Buy ******
by Minx [archived by ISF_Archivist]
Summary
     The Gryffindors hold a slave auction. Guess who buys Harry?
Notes
     This story was originally archived at Ink_Stained_Fingers, which was
     created in 2002 as a home for Harry Potter slash fiction. To preserve
     the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an
     Open Doors-approved project in January 2015. We e-mailed all authors
     about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached
     everyone. If you are (or know) this author or artist, please contact
     me using the e-mail address at the Ink_Stained_Fingers_collection
     profile.
     Author's notes: Written for the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest, First Wave.
     Response to Easy Pairing 4: Harry.
     Thanks to Cybele for her helpful comments and suggestions.
     Underage, situation: Harry is 17.
A Good Buy


  He was going to kill Seamus. And Hermione. And Ginny. And-- and Neville.
  Well, all right, perhaps not Neville. But he was definitely going to kill
  Seamus. Just as soon as he got off the damn dais. Seamus had had the
  brilliant idea in the first place. They'd been in the common room
  brainstorming ways to raise money for their seventh-year trip to Edinburgh
  when Seamus suggested a slave auction.
  "No, it's fantastic," he said. "We auction ourselves off. My brother does it
  at his school. It's fun, and we'd make lots of money."
  Fun was the magic word, so to speak. Everyone was desperate for a momentary
  distraction now that the war against Voldemort was escalating. Then Hermione
  had gotten hold of the auction idea and persuaded-- nagged-- all right,
  blackmailed-- Harry and Ron into selling themselves off. Harry knew he should
  have been more suspicious when he'd overheard Hermione saying in the library,
  "We'll put him up halfway through. That way people will be warmed up and
  ready to bid a lot."
  "Why not put him at the end?" That was Ginny.
  "I don't want everyone to save their money for him. This way the losers will
  still be able to buy someone when they don't get Harry."
  Yes, Hermione was definitely on the list of people facing imminent death.
  McGonagall had appeared a little doubtful when they proposed the auction, but
  she'd gone along with it after making sure that the buyers would know there
  were limits on what they could do with the slaves. Perhaps she had been
  swayed by the mention of "fun" as well. Now, looking out at the crowd in the
  Great Hall, Harry thought that perhaps they hadn't imposed enough limits. For
  example, they certainly should have prohibited group bids.
  The auction had started tamely enough. Ron was bought by a fresh-faced,
  surprised-looking Hufflepuff; Lavender caused a small bidding war between
  Neville and a Ravenclaw, from which Neville emerged triumphant; Neville
  himself earned a pity bid from Colin Creevey; Hermione was purchased by a
  group of fourth-year Hufflepuffs who had been struggling in Transfiguration
  and Charms and wanted a tutor. A couple more rounds, and then Harry found
  himself on the block, with Ginny singing his praises.
  "Take home the Boy Who Lived! Quidditch Seeker extraordinaire! And all-around
  hunk!"
  Harry's head whipped around. That was really unkind. Getting contact lenses
  the previous year had improved his appearance, but his mirror still kept
  telling him that he wasn't anything to write home about. Ginny, who had
  recovered long ago from her inexplicable crush on him, gave him a toothy
  grin. And the bidding started. At ten Galleons. Harry's head whipped around
  again, and then back when a Ravenclaw raised her hand without hesitating. His
  neck hurt. Eleven Galleons. Thirteen. Seventeen. Harry glanced away from the
  bidders and found himself looking at the Slytherin table. They were all
  gazing at him with a suspiciously familiar smirk. And not bidding.
  "I have 25 Galleons, 25! Do I hear 26? Folks, this is a steal, a screaming
  deal of a steal! You're not going to let Harry Potter get away for just 25
  lousy Galleons, when you could have this young star of the wizarding world as
  your personal servant for a full week!" Ginny stopped to take in a breath.
  She was surprisingly good at this.
  Malfoy's voice fell into the silence. "35 Galleons." He winked at Harry.
  "We're looking forward to the personal service, Potter."
  Oh, damn. DAMN. The Slytherins were cooperating on something for once. Why
  was it they always managed to pull together when it came to tormenting Harry?
  Harry looked at Hermione. She was bunching up her hair in her hands the way
  she did when she was worried. She leaned over and whispered to Lavender, then
  to Parvati. "36!" She yelled.
  Another Malfoy smirk. "40." And that was probably just his allowance for the
  week. "Yes, Potter, we'd like to have you at our feet for a week. Seven days
  of service." Hissing. The other Slytherins hissed in agreement.
  "41!" Hermione said desperately. He shook his head at her. That was her
  spending money for the term.
  Malfoy sat back and let Pansy Parkinson bid. "50," her silvery little voice
  said. At least Gryffindor would have plenty of money for the Edinburgh trip.
  Too bad Harry wouldn't be on it. He'd either have been killed by the
  Slytherins or sent to Azkaban for throttling the sneer off Malfoy's face.
  That was when he decided to kill Seamus. And Hermione. And Ginny, who was
  still urging the bidding up. After all, he'd be going to Azkaban anyway.
  There was a sudden hush in the room. Ginny was peering around desperately.
  Seamus, Colin and Hermione were conferring frantically. Finally they slumped
  back in their seats. They didn't look at Harry. So what, they'd be dead soon
  enough. He tried not to look at Malfoy, who was lazily petting Parkinson and
  whispering to Crabbe. Or Goyle. After seven years, Harry still couldn't tell
  them apart.
  "I believe we still have a bid up, Weasley," Malfoy said. He glanced at Harry
  and licked his lips ostentatiously.
  Ginny took in a deep breath. "I have 50. Do I hear 51? Anyone? Anyone at all?
  50 and a Sickle? 50 and-- and a Knut?"
  This was torture. Harry leaned over and muttered, "Just get it over with."
  Stricken, Ginny nodded. "I have 50. Going-- going--"
  And then Harry was saved. A new voice said, "60."
  And he was damned. "I have a bid of-- of 60 from. Um, from Professor Snape."
  The room exploded. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, already enjoying the scene
  immensely, were ecstatic with the latest development. The Slytherins were
  staring at their Head of House in shock. He gazed back coolly. Hermione had
  apparently Transfigured into a whirlwind. She spun over to McGonagall and
  shrieked at her. McGonagall made a helpless gesture. Harry heard her saying,
  "Nothing in your rules about bids from students only--" He was afraid to meet
  Snape's eye.
  "I have 60," Ginny quavered. "Do I hear 61?"
  Silence. The Slytherins were clearly reluctant to bid against their Head of
  House. They might as well save their money, Harry thought. Hell, Snape was
  probably planning to hand Harry over to them for some bizarre potions
  experiment anyway.
  "Going, going, gone." Ginny had lost her earlier enthusiasm. Dully, she said,
  "Sold to Professor Snape for 60 Galleons."
  Harry stumbled off the podium. Someone-- he thought it was Parvati-- took his
  place. He lurched over to Seamus and got his hands around the other boy's
  neck before Hermione and Ron tackled him and dragged him out of the room. As
  they went, he felt a pair of dark eyes watching him.
  They hauled him, protesting, to one of the many small rooms that handily
  sprang up when you needed one.
  "I am so fucked." He dropped his face into his hands. "I mean, being a slave
  to the Slytherin common room was going to be hell. But SNAPE? I can't even
  imagine. God, I'll probably be-- be buried alive in frog's eyes. No, drowned
  in bubotuber pus. No, he'll make me drink bubotuber pus. No, he'll--"
  "Harry! Get a grip!" Hermione shook his shoulder.
  "Right," he said blankly. "A grip. A grip on the fact that YOU SOLD ME TO
  SNAPE!"
  Hermione leapt away. Ron reached out and carefully pried Harry's wand out of
  his hand. "I'll just hold on to this for a bit." He paused. "You know, it
  might not be so bad. I mean, he can't actually kill you, since he's a
  teacher."
  Hermione kicked Ron sharply. "Really, Harry, if you think about it, 60
  Galleons is a lot of money to pay just to-- well, to torture someone. And he
  can do that for free any day he likes."
  Although Snape hadn't actually been smacking Harry with a detention every
  time he turned around this year. Or even for most of last year. "So why did
  he..." Harry could barely say it. "Why did he buy me? What the hell is he
  going to do to me?"
  Ron snickered suddenly. Hermione and Harry stared at him as if he'd lost his
  mind. You never knew, with some of the things the twins tested out on him.
  "Sorry, it's just-- well, you know how a few weeks ago we were talking about
  how Snape's always staring? At Harry? Well, I--" He laughed again. "I'm
  sorry, this is sick." Laughing. Harry snatched his wand back and checked to
  see if Ron were under the influence of a Cheering Charm. No such luck. This
  odd behavior was all natural. "Anyway, I just thought, you know, the only
  other people who stare at Harry like that want to shag him!" Wild whoops of
  laughter.
  "Now, Ron. You know that the rules state no violation of the slave's bodily
  integrity." Wonderful, Hermione was taking this seriously.
  Harry gave up. "I'm going back. I have to arrange the contract with Snape,
  right?"
  Hermione patted his shoulder cautiously. "Yes. I'll come with you."
  "No, don't. I don't want him to think I need a bodyguard." He left before Ron
  could start laughing again.
  He re-entered the Great Hall. The last auction was going on, but everyone
  stopped and stared at him when he came in. He gritted his teeth and marched
  over to Snape, who thankfully was sitting at the teachers' table and not with
  the Slytherins.
  "Well, Mr. Potter. Quite recovered from your little tantrum?" A lazy drawl.
  In the background he heard Malfoy bidding on Seamus. Served him right. "Yes,
  thank you." He stared back at Snape. "We're supposed to set up the contract
  now. Um, terms of s-service." Damn. He'd been doing so well until that last
  word. He pulled out the contract form.
  Snape eyed it. "My understanding is that I have all your free time for seven
  school days. Rest assured, I do plan to ... make use of it."
  Bubotuber pus it was, then. Harry nodded. He unfurled the parchment with his
  schedule on it and set it in front of Snape. Snape waved it aside. "You will
  join me for breakfast at seven, then work with me in my office until your
  first class. We will lunch together. I will allow you to attend the complete
  waste of time commonly called Quidditch practice following afternoon class."
  Oh, thanks very much. "After practice-- and after a shower-- you will come to
  the dungeons. We will dine together. I will release you by eleven." As he
  spoke, the blank lines on the contract filled in.
  Snape had it all planned out. "Um, when do I do my homework?"
  "Fascinating question, Potter. I believe this may well be the first time in
  your so-called academic career that you have expressed the slightest interest
  in your schoolwork."
  Harry heard Ginny saying, "Sold to Malfoy for 13 Galleons." Ha! So much for
  Seamus; Harry wouldn't have to kill him after all. The first favor Malfoy had
  ever done for him.
  "You may bring your homework with you to the dungeons after dinner. If you
  behave, I might even allow you to do it." Snape signed the contract with a
  flourish and handed his quill to Harry. Surprisingly warm fingers brushed
  Harry's as he took it. He signed neatly; the contract reproduced itself. "We
  will begin tomorrow."
  Day One. Somehow it had acquired capitals. Harry walked into the Great Hall
  with five minutes to spare. Snape was already there, looking as cool and
  composed as ever.
  "Sleep well, Potter?" How could such an innocent question seem so ominous?
  "Fine, thank you." He'd actually stayed up half the night fending off his
  roommates' increasingly bizarre ideas about what Snape was going to do with
  him. When they got to "virgin sacrifice to the giant squid!" he'd cast a
  silencing charm around his bed. "And yourself?" he added daringly.
  The other man stared at him. Well, all right. He drank his tea. The rest of
  the meal passed in silence.
  Ron pounced on him outside Charms, the first class. "Well? How was the pus?
  At least he hasn't tied you up in the Forbidden Forest yet and left you for
  the Acromantulas."
  "Oh, ha ha. No, I think that's what Malfoy has planned for Seamus," Harry
  said maliciously. Seamus managed to turn red and white almost simultaneously.
  "Actually we just went to his office and I skinned some shrivelfigs while he
  graded."
  "Oh." Ron sounded disappointed. He was disappointed again that evening when
  Harry returned to the common room shortly after eleven, reporting that Snape
  had made him scrub a few cauldrons and then allowed him to do his homework.
  Day Two. Harry trailed after Snape as they walked into the Great Hall for
  dinner. Snape switched directions abruptly. They had eaten the previous meals
  at the Slytherin table in a strained silence. The Slytherins clearly wanted
  to assert their vicarious domination of Harry, but Snape's glare had shut
  them up. Now Snape was heading to No Man's Land, a group of smaller tables
  without house affiliation. Dumbledore had set them up to "encourage
  friendships outside house boundaries." They were almost exclusively used by
  dating couples who wanted privacy. Snape had to know that, so why was he
  leading Harry over there? And why the hell was everyone else so interested?
  The Ravenclaws actually seemed to be taking notes.
  Snape pointed to an unoccupied table. "Sit, Potter." Those were the only
  words he spoke during dinner. Harry found himself watching the long, elegant
  hands on the cutlery, holding the knife and fork with the same delicacy with
  which they touched potions ingredients-- he hauled his gaze away. Their eyes
  met briefly. Snape's turn to look away.
  In the dungeons, released from the tedious task of shredding boomslang skin
  to write his essay for Arithmancy, Harry gathered up his courage.
  "Professor?"
  "Mm?" Snape said absently. He was reading a huge book that kept trying to
  close itself on his hand, on those long fingers...
  "Well? What is it, Potter?"
  Harry jerked back to reality. "Why did you buy me?"
  The dark stare.
  "I mean, 60 Galleons is a lot of money to have me sit here doing my
  homework."
  Stare.
  "It's just that there are other things I could-- you could-- uh." Harry
  stuttered to a halt. "Never mind. Sorry to interrupt your reading." Finally
  the black eyes shifted back to the book.
  Day Three. Harry hauled open Seamus's bed curtains. "Rise and shine! Off for
  another day with Malfoy!"
  "Aaggghh," said Seamus. He'd staggered in at four a.m. Something about having
  to polish all of Malfoy's jewelry, including the highly detailed dragon
  necklace that had a tendency to spit little flames at anyone who wasn't a
  potential Dark Lord. "Just because you're getting all cozy with Snape--" He
  yawned.
  "Cozy! We're not cozy!" But hadn't last night been sort of, well, not
  uncomfortable? Sitting by the fire with the other man, reading quietly? "You
  know, Seamus, I was going to offer to heal your burns, but now I think I'll
  just let Neville practice on you." He stomped off to breakfast.
  Seamus shouted after him, "Watch out, Harry! You're already turning into an
  asshole!" Prat. Classmate-selling prat.
  Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all eaten in No Man's Land. No one dared
  join them. After Seamus's comments, Harry was even more conscious of the eyes
  upon them. He didn't look up from his food, except to enjoy the sight of
  Seamus kneeling beside Malfoy's chair, holding the other boy's plate up for
  him to eat. He followed Snape to the dungeons obediently.
  "Potter." The smooth voice jolted him out of the reverie-- all right, light
  snooze-- he'd fallen into over History of Magic.
  "Yes?" Harry kept his eyes on his book.
  A moment of hesitation. Then a glass of an amber-colored liquid appeared in
  front of him. "Drink."
  Harry sniffed it cautiously.
  "Oh, for-- it's scotch." Snape sipped his own drink.
  Snape. Was giving him alcohol. His eyes widened. "But, er..." Hastily he took
  a swallow before Snape could change his mind. "Oh, wow." It slid silkily down
  his throat and warmed his stomach. "Thanks."
  "You're welcome." An actual civil exchange. Harry looked around. He was still
  in the dungeon. The world hadn't come to an end after all. "The least I can
  do for the young star of the wizarding world," Snape quoted dryly.
  Harry blushed. A thought struck him. "That's not why you bought me, is it?"
  An arched eyebrow. "Because of Miss Weasley's vivid description? Hardly."
  Harry blushed even harder. "It was a bit over the top, wasn't it?"
  "Oh, I don't know." With a touch of humor, but none of the usual biting
  sarcasm. "Parts were quite accurate, I thought."
  WHAT? "What?" Harry said stupidly. "Which parts?" Good god, Snape had given
  him a back-handed compliment. He checked his surroundings once more. No, the
  world was still there.
  A dry almost-laugh. "That's another conversation, Potter."
  Emboldened, Harry asked, "So why did you buy me?" And why was Snape giving
  him scotch? He took another swallow. Much, much better than that evil
  homebrew Hagrid kept feeding him.
  Silence.
  "It's just that, well, I'm getting a little nervous." Horrified, he listened
  to the words tumbling out of his mouth. "You know. What kind of payoff do you
  want?" That had definitely come out wrong. "No, I mean--" He could feel
  Snape's gaze like a dark weight. "Well, you want your money's worth, right?"
  Oh no. That was worse. "I'm shutting up now," he muttered to his glass.
  "And a good thing too." Harry was almost grateful for the familiar sarcasm.
  "It's time for you to leave."
  It was only ten. "But--" What was he saying? He couldn't possibly want to
  stay here. With Snape. In this cozy room. Damn Seamus, anyway.
  "Good night, Harry."
  Harry? Good night, Harry? He must be hallucinating. Or there had been
  something in the scotch.
  Snape was holding the door open. As he walked past the other man, his face
  was seized by strong fingers, warm on his jaw. His heart started pounding.
  "Open your mouth."
  Harry's lips parted obediently. He closed his eyes. Waited. A sudden crackle
  of magic, and the fingers left his face. He opened his eyes again. Snape,
  very close to him, was wearing an expression that closely resembled a smile.
  Perhaps this was just a very good replica of the world. Perhaps the afterlife
  was exactly like his world.... Harry puzzled over this philosophical
  conundrum.
  Snape's voice came to him faintly. "My reputation would not be enhanced if I
  allowed you to return to your dorm reeking of alcohol."
  Oh. A breath-freshening charm. And he'd been thinking... wanting... he didn't
  know what, really.
  "Good night, Harry." Snape was still holding the door open.
  "Good night, Professor." He stepped through the door. "Sweet dreams." The
  scotch must have really gone to his head.
  Day Four. "Hermione, can I talk to you for a bit?" He'd gotten up early to
  grab her before breakfast. She liked to study in the early morning. That
  worked well for Harry's purposes, since the library was deserted.
  "All right, but just for a bit. I'm really behind what with tutoring those
  Hufflepuffs." This meant that Hermione was only a week ahead on her work
  instead of two weeks. She put her quill down. "It's Snape, right?"
  He gaped. Had one of those books contained a mind-reading spell?
  "Oh, Harry. What else could it be?"
  He dropped his head in his hands. Perhaps having this conversation before
  caffeine hadn't been the best idea.
  "Is he-- is he bothering you?" Hermione blushed abruptly.
  "Oh, god. You-- you were serious. When Ron said that. You think he wants to--
  " Harry was really regretting his rash impulse to talk to Hermione. "Oh my
  god. Does he?" He was suddenly extremely curious.
  "Well, er. I mean, I've thought so for a while." She paused. "I don't think
  the auction was such a good idea."
  Now she told him. "No kidding." But-- "Why do you think he.... Um."
  "Why do I think he-- or why would he want to--" Hermione couldn't say it
  either.
  "Both, I suppose."
  Hermione looked around carefully. Abruptly she cast a silencing charm over
  them. "In case those Hufflepuffs come by. They're actually failing Charms,
  can you believe that?"
  "Hermione!" He had to be at breakfast in fifteen minutes.
  "Right. Well, the first thing is, he does look at you. Almost all the time."
  She paused. "I suppose that's the only thing, really. He just seems so-
  - intent."
  The weight of the black stare.... He nodded.
  "And why would he want to?" She giggled suddenly. "Harry, you're just too
  modest. It's so cute. Why wouldn't he want to?"
  He blinked. "So it's that whole I'm-going-to-kill-Voldemort thing?"
  She laughed aloud. "No, the whole you're-a-hunk thing." She sobered up.
  "Plus, you know, I think-- well. You know, I appreciate Snape a lot more now
  than I did when we were kids. And I don't see him looking at anyone else the
  way he looks at you. So it's not-- I don't think-- it's not just physical,"
  she mumbled. "I think he kind of. Likes you."
  His head was reeling. "He likes me."
  Snape liked him? Snape had rescued him from Malfoy. Snape had given him a
  drink. Snape had paid him a compliment. An indirect, Snapish compliment, and
  Harry still wasn't sure what he'd been complimented on, but it was a
  compliment. Snape had been calling him by his first name. Snape liked him.
  "I have to go."
  Did he like Snape? Snape was courageous. Snape had gone toe-to-toe with
  Voldemort repeatedly without flinching. Snape was bitingly sarcastic and had
  little patience for other people's failings, but he was harder on himself
  than on anyone else. And he was sexy. Where did that come from? Or had Harry
  been seeing these things all along but refusing to recognize them?
  And Hermione thought he was a hunk. Perhaps he should have a stern word with
  his mirror.
  He stumbled into the Great Hall and blushed ferociously when he met Snape's
  eyes. It was a good thing the room was relatively empty at that early hour.
  Day Five. It struck him after dinner that he would only have two days left
  with Snape. He put down the toad he was disemboweling at the realization that
  this thought was rather upsetting.
  "Oh, very well, Potter. You may stop." Snape motioned him into his sitting
  room.
  Harry cleaned his instruments and hands carefully and obeyed. He was not
  quite surprised when Snape handed him another drink. "Thanks." He sat on the
  sofa. "So, just a couple days now." Oh god, had he said that?
  "Yes, and then you'll be released from this dreadful torment."
  "It's not--" He halted. Was that an actual-- no, it would be going much too
  far to say that Snape's eyes were twinkling. But his expression was not as
  stony as usual. Harry was being teased. "Ha ha." He sipped his drink. "This
  is really good." He realized his comment could be taken a couple of ways.
  "Um, the scotch. But, well--" he blurted out suddenly, "being your slave
  isn't so bad." Oh, that sounded really, really wrong. He reddened.
  Snape was almost smiling. "Could I have that in writing, Potter?"
  Time to get some of his own back. "And I think you enjoy owning me, don't
  you?"
  There was a sudden glacial silence. Clearly that had been the wrong thing to
  say. "Er. I mean, it's not awful to have me around. Skinning shrivelfigs.
  Scrubbing--" he faltered at the expression, or non-expression, on the other
  man's face. "Um, scrubbing things." He lowered his eyes. "Right. Perhaps it
  is awful." He put his drink aside and retrieved his DADA reading, burying his
  face in it. Several strained minutes passed.
  "It isn't," Snape said quietly.
  Harry's head flew up. "Sorry?" He'd heard, but he wanted to hear it again.
  "It isn't awful." Snape was looking intently at him. Oh. That was the look
  Hermione meant. Harry felt his heart speed up.
  "Oh. Good." He grinned, oddly relieved.
  Snape turned his attention back to his book. He was petting it now to keep it
  from snapping at his fingers. Harry had an unexpected flash of wondering what
  those hands would feel like on his own skin. He grabbed his drink, took a
  swallow, and plunged determinedly back into his own reading. After a few
  minutes he laughed. "Listen to this." He read a section aloud. "That just
  sounds bizarre, not Dark. What's the point?"
  Snape considered the question. He closed his book gently. "Well, I think
  that--"
  Two hours later they were still at it. Snape had pulled out some of his own
  texts and was showing them to Harry. They had gone far from the original
  question and were embroiled in a debate over the use of intentionality in
  magic. Snape was pacing back and forth and gesturing with his hands. He came
  to an abrupt halt. "The time!" The clock on the mantelpiece read, "Time for
  bed."
  Harry blushed without really knowing why. He looked at his own watch. "It's
  midnight. I suppose I'd better go." He was reluctant to end the lively
  conversation.
  "Indeed. I wouldn't want to deprive you of your beauty sleep." But the tone
  was teasing again, not that cutting sarcasm.
  Harry moved to the door. "Well, good night then."
  As he walked away, he heard the low voice say very quietly, "Good night,
  Harry."
  Day Six. "So, why did you buy me?"
  "I'll tell you another time, Potter. Now slice up these leeches. Finely, if
  you can manage it." The open mood of the previous evening was clearly gone.
  Harry spent the entire evening slicing, dicing, and mincing various slimy
  things. He stormed back to the Gryffindor common room at eleven, angry and
  aware that he had no reason for his anger. It didn't help that when he came
  in, frowning, Ron laughed and said, "What's wrong with you, Harry? Love's
  little dream gone sour?"
  Harry forced himself to laugh as well, and to do his neglected homework. But
  he lay awake that night and thought for a long time. He came to several
  important conclusions before he finally fell asleep.
  Day Seven. When he walked into Snape's rooms, he noticed the contract lying
  open on the desk. "It's the last day," he said quietly.
  "Yes." Their eyes met.
  "Thank you," he found himself saying. The dark brows arched. "For, um, not
  letting Malfoy buy me. Whatever your reason was. And thanks for-- for all
  your help, really." He fidgeted. "Should I crush those beetles?"
  Snape was staring at him.
  "Professor?"
  "Oh. Yes. I'll help you." That was strange. Snape hadn't helped before. They
  worked together quietly for a while. "Do you have homework?"
  "Tomorrow's Saturday."
  "Ah. Indeed." Snape put away the caterpillars he'd been chopping up. "I think
  we have enough."
  Harry nodded. He'd prepared enough ingredients for Snape to make gallons of
  any potion he liked. It made him wonder again.... "Why did you buy me?"
  "Leave it, Potter!" Snape snapped abruptly. "If I wanted you to know, I would
  tell you!"
  Harry stepped back, startled. "I'm sorry." He turned his attention to tidying
  up the leeches. There was a strained silence. He put the last leech into a
  jar and washed his hands.
  "Potter. Come and have a drink."
  The silence was more comfortable now. They sat by the fire; Snape's face was
  hooded in shadow. After a while Snape stirred. "You should go."
 Harry steeled himself. "I don't want to."
  "What, you want to stay here and drink up all my good scotch?"
  "No, I want-- I just want to stay with you." His heart thundered.
  The shadowed face hadn't changed. "That's not a good idea."
  "Why not?" He couldn't believe he was pressing the question, but he really
  had to know.
  "It might be perceived as inappropriate." Flatly. "It would be
  inappropriate."
  "But I--"
  "Potter. It already is inappropriate. Haven't you heard your so-called
  friends talking?" The cool voice was bitter.
  "No. Why? What are they saying?" He was losing his foothold in this
  conversation.
  "Just go away, Potter. Ask them." An order.
  Harry stood. "All right, but--"
  "Go. Away."
  Harry headed out the door and straight to the common room. He was in luck:
  Neville was there.
  "Oh, hello Harry." Neville seemed nervous, but he usually was.
  "Neville, you have to tell me. What's everybody saying?"
  "About what?" Neville's eyes shifted. Harry couldn't make himself feel guilty
  about pressing the other boy.
  "You know. About Snape-- Snape and me." He'd never linked himself with the
  other man. He liked it. "Snape and me. What are they saying?"
  Neville looked down. "It depends. The Slytherins are saying that he's, um.
  You know. Made you his... Um. His toy." Harry's face turned almost as red as
  Neville's. "The Ravenclaws are saying that he's-- that you're-- that you like
  each other. The Hufflepuffs are split."
  "What about the Gryffindors?"
  Silence.
  "Neville?"
  "Harry, I'm sorry. We all think you're-- that if you haven't done it, you're
  going to. Um... Seamus is taking bets."
  "WHAT!" Seamus was so dead. Dead, dead, dead. "WHERE IS HE!"
  "I don't know!" Neville really didn't know. He couldn't lie worth a toss.
  Harry stormed through the dorm. No Seamus. No anybody. Oh right, Friday
  evening. They all had dates. Not like his evening with Snape, ruined because
  of some stupid rumors. He paced in impotent rage until he couldn't stand it
  and forced himself to get in bed. He planned.
  Four in the morning. "YEEARRGH!"
  The lights came on. A babble of voices. Harry was sitting on top of Seamus.
  "Harry! Get off me!" Ron tried to pull Harry off, but he bounced helplessly
  off the protective bubble Harry had set up around Seamus and himself.
  "You're taking BETS, you unmitigated bastard!" He tied Seamus to the bed with
  a binding spell.
  "Neville, you idiot!" Seamus shrieked. "I told you not to say anything!"
  "Calm down, Harry." Ron tried to reason with him. "It's just a-- just a--"
  "It's just my LIFE, Ron." Harry sighed. "You know, he's not some-- some kid.
  I can't just mess around. Not if I want him to take me seriously."
  They were all staring at him now.
  "You-- what?" Ron said incredulously.
  "You're not going to tell anyone." He looked at them. "And you know why
  you're not going to tell anyone? I'm going to hex you all so that if you do
  tell anyone, if you try to ask me about it, if you write this information
  down and hand it to anyone, if you talk it over with each other, if you talk
  to yourself about it-- in short. If you ever communicate this in any way. If
  you even LOOK at me and think about it. Your balls will fall off."
  They winced in unison. The extra DADA reading he'd done the other night was
  coming in handy. He cast the hex quickly. According to the book, it caused a
  "twinge" of pain in the affected area. From their expressions, it was
  slightly more than a twinge. He didn't feel bad about that. Well, perhaps
  about Neville.
  "Now," Harry said firmly, when they had recovered. "You will cease taking
  bets. Seamus, the bets are cancelled. Give everyone their money back. NO," as
  he saw Seamus open his mouth. "Remember, I know other hexes."
  Seamus nodded meekly.
  "When people ask, you are canceling the betting because there is nothing
  between Snape and me. And never will be."
  Seamus opened his mouth again.
  "Say it and your balls will fall off."
  The mouth shut. Excellent.
  "Now you will all go to bed. This never happened. Understand?"
  They nodded.
  "Good." He released the bubble and climbed off Seamus. He got back into his
  own bed.
  "Harry? I'm still tied up here."
  "Serves you right." Harry shut the curtains to his bed. The ropes were
  spelled to vanish in fifteen minutes, but it would do Seamus good to suffer
  for a bit.
  Day Eight. After dinner he went down to the dungeon and knocked at Snape's
  door. He waited. He knocked again. The door flew open abruptly. "What is-
  - oh. Potter. You're not my slave anymore, or had you forgotten?"
  "It's lovely to see you, too. May I come in? Will you offer me a drink?" He
  pushed past Snape.
  The other man shut the door and turned to him. "What are you doing here?"
  "Oh, nothing really. Just missed our little chats."
  Snape seemed a bit taken aback. He stood by the doorway looking at Harry.
  "Seriously. I-- I wanted to see you." Harry's hands were sweating. He wiped
  them down his robe.
  "This is--"
  He went on. He had to get this out. "I missed seeing you this morning. And
  eating lunch with you. And coming here in the afternoon. And having dinner.
  So here I am. And I want to-- I want to stay." He looked up from the floor.
  His legs were shaking. "I'll be through with school in five weeks. You're
  probably going to say that I should wait till then to say all this. But-- but
  I don't know what's coming. I could be dead in five weeks." He whispered, "Or
  you could." He licked his lips nervously and waited. He was still shaking.
  "Harry. Do you-- are you aware of what you're offering?" Snape took a step
  closer. "Of the consequences?"
  Harry knew Snape wasn't just talking about the school gossip. "Yes," he said
  firmly. "Your job-- we can keep it quiet until I leave school. I'll be
  staying in Hogsmeade for that position with the anti-Voldemort task force, so
  we can be together. If you want?" A little hopeful note crept into his voice.
  "Harry." Just his name, but spoken in a tone that made his legs stop shaking.
  Snape took another step towards him.
  His heart started pounding. Snape was giving him one of those intent dark
  stares. One of the elegant hands lifted, caressed his cheek, slid to his
  neck. Harry shivered under the touch. He lifted his face to meet Snape's
  mouth, descending onto his. A surprisingly gentle kiss; then the tip of
  Snape's tongue ran between his lips, parted them, explored his mouth. Somehow
  Harry's arms had wound around Snape's neck. He slid his tongue over the other
  man's. The hand on his neck cupped the back of his head, while Snape's other
  arm wrapped around Harry's waist. He dragged his teeth over Snape's lower
  lip.
  Then both of Snape's hands fell to Harry's ass and pulled him against Snape's
  body. He felt a lean thigh against his erection, a similar hardness against
  his stomach, and moaned. He was hoisted into the air abruptly; he wrapped his
  legs around Snape for balance. Snape walked a few steps to the couch and sat
  so that Harry was kneeling astride his lap.
  The warm mouth was doing amazing things to his neck and ear now, licking and
  sucking. The strong hands, still on his ass, were squeezing and caressing
  him. He began unbuttoning Snape's robes. So far Snape's reaction had been
  quite satisfactory. He received another hot kiss. Make that extremely
  satisfactory. He went to work on the shirt buttons and finally revealed some
  skin. He touched the other man's bare chest; Snape bit his neck, then
  wrenched away suddenly.
  "Harry." Snape leaned back slightly. His lips were swollen, his face slightly
  reddened. "No. We should wait. This isn't right." But his hands were still
  holding Harry's ass firmly.
  Harry wanted to scream. Damn the man's scruples. "I thought we covered that
  already." No answer. Time to bring out the big guns. All the things he'd
  thought about over the past week, lying awake at night.
  "All right, think about this. What if Voldemort attacks the school next
  week?" Not outside the realm of possibility, considering the increasingly
  frequent Death Eater raids around Hogsmeade. "What if you pull one of your
  typical death-defying stunts but you--" He steeled himself. "But you don't
  make it? I would always regret not having had what I could. Or what if I'm-
  - what if I'm killed?"
  Snape's eyes were very dark.
  "I want to be with you for as long as I can. That could be years. Decades. I
  hope it is. But it could be days." He leaned his forehead against Snape's.
  "However long it is, I want it." He kissed the warm mouth softly. It relaxed
  against his lips.
  "Carpe diem," murmured Snape. He kissed Harry fiercely. "Don't think you're
  going to win all our arguments, Potter. But--" another kiss. "I can't argue
  with your logic. Such as it is."
  "Then stop arguing with me and let's get on with it!" Harry pressed closer.
  His hands burrowed under Snape's opened robes and found his hard nipples. He
  flicked them lightly.
  Snape pulled away again. "Is this too fast?"
  "God, NO." He tweaked the nipples again. Snape gasped. "Not nearly fast
  enough, if you ask me."
  A mutter that sounded much too much like, "I'm going to regret this."
  Harry shut him up with a kiss. Snape wrapped his arms beneath Harry's legs
  again and stood up. Damn, he was strong. He carried Harry into the bedroom
  and dropped him carefully onto the bed, then shrugged off his robe and shirt
  and joined Harry. Delighted, Harry ran his hands all over the other man's
  torso, exploring his finely-muscled arms, back, chest, nipples. He pulled
  away and hauled his own robe off.
  "Well, Mr. Potter, I see you didn't exactly come dressed for seduction."
  What? Harry glanced down. Oh, no. He was wearing his "Coed Naked Quidditch"
  T-shirt. He yanked it off hastily. "We'll just ignore that, all right?" Snape
  was toeing off his shoes and socks; Harry followed suit.
  Snape pulled him into his arms. Skin on skin, at last; Harry sighed with
  pleasure. He slid against Snape's body until the other man groaned.
  "Harry..." Snape held him still. "Have you ever done this before?"
  "Of course!" He paused. "Um, could you define 'this'?"
  Another chuckle. "Have you ever been with a man? Or boy?"
  "Well..." This was going to be embarrassing. He had a brainstorm. "I'll tell
  you if you tell me why you bought me."
  Snape gave him an appreciative look. "Expert bargaining tactics, Potter. Very
  well. You first."
  Damn, he'd hoped to buy some time. "Well, yes. Kind of."
  "Kind of? The answer is usually either yes or no." Snape shifted Harry to the
  side and began stroking his hair. "So soft..." In a whisper so quiet Harry
  almost missed it. Louder: "Who was it?"
  Really, really embarrassing. "Er. One of the twins."
  "The Weasleys? Which one?"
  Harry realized that he loved having his hair played with. He pushed his head
  into Snape's hand. "Er. I'm not sure. Well, it was both of them."
  Astoundingly embarrassing.
  Snape stared at him. "I think you should tell me the whole story."
  Harry was blushing. "It's rather personal."
  "Harry." A hint of amusement. "We are about to become totally naked and
  perform activities that do not fall within the scope of the Hogwarts Student
  Handbook nor the Faculty Manual. You can tell me."
  He couldn't fault that logic. "All right. It was New Year's Eve. I spent the
  holidays with the Weasleys. The twins took Ron and me to a party. And I got-
  - I had a lot to drink. And they kept, well, they were a little friendly. Um.
  Very friendly." Patting his shoulder, letting the hand linger there. Leaning
  in to say something into his ear, lips almost brushing his skin.
  "So we went back to the Burrow, and Ron passed out in the living room." He
  was really a lousy drunk.
  "And I went to sleep in our room. And I woke up, and someone was in the bed
  with me. Um... touching me." Hands opening his pajamas, stroking his chest,
  stomach, arms; pulling the pajamas off entirely, touching his legs.
  "Kissing me. And stuff." Licking over the exposed flesh, sucking on his
  nipples.
  Snape was very still, except for his hand, petting Harry's hair. Harry
  swallowed and went on. "It took me a while to realize they were both there."
  Feeling the hands seemingly all over him; two mouths kissing his neck and
  stomach; four legs entwined around him; two cocks pressing against him.
  "So they... you know." He dared to look at the other man's face. It was set
  into hard lines.
  "Those abusive little wastes of magic." Snape's voice was cold. "If they ever
  cross my path again I will kill them." A statement of fact.
  "No, it's-- I mean, I-- I could have stopped them." Probably. "And they
  didn't-- they just--" If his face got any hotter he was going to
  spontaneously combust. "They just came on me. They didn't... shag me."
  Sandwiched between the two boys while they rubbed against him; a hand
  touching him; sticky fluid spattering his body. "And I-- I liked it," he
  blurted out. It seemed important to make that clear.
  "I still plan to kill them." Snape was touching his hair very gently now.
  "Was that your first time-- ever?"
  What was this, true confessions? "No, I was with a girl. Well, two girls.
  Different times."
  "Who?"
  "No, I don't want you to kill them. They're still here." He smiled feebly.
  "And I was sober."
  Snape wrapped his arms around Harry. "I-- you shouldn't do anything you don't
  want to. With me. Or anyone."
  He'd feared this reaction to the story. "I don't want to do anything with
  anyone else. Just you." The body in his arms relaxed slightly. "And I want to
  do everything with you." He kissed the man's cheek, his mouth. "Now."
  Snape kissed him back. "You'll stop me if you feel uncomfortable. I won't-
  - I'll still--"
  Harry let him twist there for a moment, then took pity on him. "I know."
  Another kiss, more insistent. "Can we please get on with it now?"
  A soft chuckle. "Indeed." Then the warm mouth sought out the sensitive spots
  on Harry's neck that had been nipped and sucked earlier. He arched in
  pleasure, pressing his erection against the other man. Harry stroked every
  part of Snape he could reach: hair, shoulders, arms, back, chest. The mouth
  worked down to Harry's chest, biting over his nipples. Lower, to his stomach;
  the tongue dipped into his bellybutton. Lower; hot breath over his cloth-
  encased cock. He moaned. He was about to burst out of his jeans, or come in
  them. A hand tentatively moved to his waistband, hovered there.
  "God!" Harry pulled away and unzipped his jeans rapidly. He shoved them off
  along with his boxers, and rolled back to that fantastic mouth. The warm,
  moist puff of air over his erection made him twitch with anticipation.
  Snape's tongue flicked out over the head of Harry's cock, darted all over his
  shaft. A careful push urged him to his back; then Snape was kneeling between
  Harry's legs. Long fingers caressed him expertly.
  "Oh, yes." Harry touched Snape's head, somehow refraining from shoving it
  down over him. Snape took the hint and that pointed tongue was working its
  magic again. Like a snake's tongue, Harry thought disjointedly, a warm wet
  snake... Unexpectedly he was sucked into the welcoming heat of Snape's mouth,
  and his last shreds of conscious thought went flying away. Hand and mouth
  moved over him in unison, lingering on the head of his prick.
  Harry pushed Snape's hair back so he could watch himself moving in and out of
  the heavenly mouth. He hadn't thought anything could make him harder at this
  point. He was wrong. Snape's other hand began teasing his balls and the
  sensitive skin behind them, pushing lightly. All the while the long, firm
  strokes over his prick went on, with that tongue-- god, it felt as if it were
  six inches long-- continually slithering over him.
  Harry was gasping for breath. He forced himself to unclench the hand in
  Snape's hair, and held onto the bedclothes instead. Snape sped up his
  movements a fraction. The tongue began dragging over the tip of his cock with
  every upward stroke.
  "Oh-- I'm--" Every millimeter of his skin was tingling. His balls contracted
  in Snape's warm hand, and the hot mouth started sucking on him even harder.
  "AH!" Sheer ecstasy overtook him and he came powerfully into Snape's mouth,
  pulsing repeatedly. Finally the mouth released him gently.
  Snape moved up the bed and gathered Harry's limp body into his arms. Harry
  raised his face for a kiss, tasting himself on those talented lips. Snape was
  petting his hair again. "All right?"
  "You. Need to. Ask?" He was still panting. After a bit he became aware that
  Snape hadn't yet taken off his trousers. Another deep kiss. "Mm..." He ran
  his hand over Snape's waist, his hip, clutched his firm ass and pulled the
  other man against him. "You should be naked too. Just to even things out."
  Snape touched his cheek lightly. "I can wait."
  "I can't. Take them off. Now." He really didn't want Snape to go all noble
  and self-restrained on him. In fact, he wanted the complete opposite, wanted
  all that strength and power-- and beauty, he thought suddenly-- to overtake
  him. He heard himself saying, "I want to make you lose control."
  It probably would have been more effective if he hadn't blushed. But the way
  Snape moaned quietly and pushed against him indicated that Harry had said the
  right thing. He started unbuttoning the other man's trousers. Another moan.
  His fingers were inadvertently teasing the prick straining against the
  confining cloth. He released it finally, pulled Snape's clothes completely
  off, and wrapped his hand around the freed erection. The tip was already
  leaking; Harry rubbed his thumb over it lightly.
  Snape started touching Harry's ass. Harry continued fisting the hard length
  deliberately. Snape was caressing his buttocks; Harry tried to wiggle against
  the strong hands, but they gripped him tightly. It seemed a little more
  encouragement was needed. He reached back, took hold of one of Snape's hands,
  and drew it to his cleft. Snape gasped.
  "Harry. Are you-- do you--" Another intent gaze from the dark eyes.
  Harry squeezed the man's cock gently. "Yes. I want it." If Snape changed his
  mind about this whole thing the next day, Harry wanted to have had it all, or
  as much as he could. Long fingers touched his opening delicately; Harry's
  turn to gasp. "Yes."
  "Have you-- do you know what it's going to be like?" Snape kissed him.
  Oh great. If he didn't die of some twisted combination of sexual frustration
  and satisfaction, he was going to die of embarrassment. "I did have sex
  education with Pomfrey. And I-- you know. There."
  Another kiss. "The twins--" A slight snarl in the cool voice.
  "No, I mean I-- myself." One day he would learn a charm against blushing.
  "With my fingers."
  The fingers resting on his hip dug into him suddenly. He squeaked. The
  fingers unclenched. "That's an extremely ... provocative image." Snape kissed
  him hard. "All right. We'll stop if you--"
  "I won't." Harry found himself alone in the bed. He made a little noise of
  protest.
  "I need to get something." A quirked eyebrow. "Wait here." Snape walked into
  the other room.
  "Oh, ha ha. Like I'm going anywhere." He felt a little self-conscious lying
  naked on Snape's bed, but resisted the urge to hide under the covers. After
  all, he had just come down the man's throat. He started getting hard again
  thinking about that incredible blow job. A gasp from the doorway.
  "If you only knew how long I've wanted to see you like this. In my bed,
  waiting for me." The smooth voice was very low. In two strides Snape was
  beside the bed, looking down at him.
  Harry was glad now he hadn't covered up. Snape lay down and pulled Harry into
  his embrace again, adjusting him so that Harry was kneeling astride Snape's
  prone body. Snape opened the jar he had brought. Oily fingers brushed over
  Harry's entrance, rubbed lightly. He pushed back against them. One fingertip
  slowly breached him, withdrew, pushed back in more deeply, over and over
  until the entire finger was inside him. The black eyes were fixed on Harry's
  face.
  He leaned forward and kissed Snape's enticing mouth, his long neck. The
  finger pulled out and slid back in, tantalizing him. His prick was rock hard
  again. Snape's other hand was playing with his nipples, pinching and twisting
  them gently. Another finger joined the first; the same tormenting process of
  gradual entry took place. Harry was panting and moaning by the time a third
  finger began penetrating him. The fingers stroked over the sensitive little
  spot inside him and he cried out. He buried his flaming face in the crook of
  Snape's neck as the fingers thrust in and out of him slowly, twisted, opened
  inside him. Snape did this to him for what seemed like hours. He was going to
  die. Snape was still in Voldemort's service and this was some evil plot to
  kill him with pleasure. He groaned.
  Snape tugged his head up, kissed him. Cool lips over his hot cheek. "Mm?"
  "Oh yes. Now."
  The wonderful fingers were slowly removed. Snape pushed Harry so that he was
  sitting up. A little pause; Harry saw that Snape was spreading more of the
  salve over his erection. Then the slick hardness was nudging him. Snape
  rested his hands on Harry's hips. Harry pressed down firmly. It hurt much
  more than he thought it would; he couldn't repress a little yelp of pain.
  Snape instantly started to haul Harry up, off his cock; he resisted, clamping
  his thighs around the other man's sides and pushing down again.
  "Harry--" Still trying to pull him off.
  "No! I want to--" It was a good thing his legs were so strong from Quidditch.
  But he'd have bruises on his hips from Snape's hands. "Please."
  "All right. All right. Don't fight me." The grasp slackened. "Slow down." One
  of the hands moved to Harry's fading erection and began stroking it.
  "Concentrate on this. Relax."
  Harry obeyed. He pushed down slightly, taking in a fraction more. The burn
  was easing and Snape was alternately caressing his balls and fisting his
  prick. A little farther down; he pulled up and pressed down once more. Snape
  was looking into Harry's face; a little trickle of sweat ran down the other
  man's cheek. He was clearly controlling himself fiercely. The intruding cock
  still burned inside him. Another push, slight withdrawal, push down, again
  and again and again. It hardly hurt at all now.
  Snape grasped his hip and shifted him a little, then, for the first time,
  pushed up into Harry. A miniature shock of pleasure ran through him. "Oh!" He
  moved up and down so that he could experience that again. "Sev..."
  Words fled him as Snape thrust up again. So he moaned instead, and rocked up
  and down more quickly. The hand on his erection sped up. Harry leaned over
  Snape's head and put his hands on the headboard. Much better; now he had more
  leverage for his movements. And that incredible feeling inside, the little
  explosions, and the warm hand pulling on his cock, thumb rubbing over the
  leaking tip repeatedly, and god, the look on Snape's face, and the sensations
  flooded through Harry, spun out through him and then streamed back into his
  cock, his balls, his ass and exploded once more. He heard himself yell
  something incoherent as the pleasure raced through him. He gripped the
  headboard with white-knuckled hands as the spasms shook him. The body
  underneath him was tense, still.
  Suddenly Harry was lifted off. Snape pushed him face down on the bed, rolled
  onto him, and thrust in strongly. Here was the loss of control Harry had
  asked for. He was really being fucked now, no other word for it; Snape was
  pulling out almost completely with each stroke and re-entering not quite
  violently, but close to it. And the raw silk voice was right at Harry's ear,
  whispering all kinds of deliciously obscene things that made Harry blush yet
  again. "You're so hot, so fucking hot. I just want to fuck you all night,
  take this tight ass, make you come over and over again."
  Each phrase was punctuated by a surprisingly gentle kiss. Harry squeezed
  deliberately around the invading member. "Oh, you--" Snape bit his shoulder.
  One last, powerful thrust and Harry felt his lover shudder against him. A
  muffled shout into the back of his neck as Snape held himself deep inside for
  a long moment. Snape relaxed on top of him, kissing his neck and shoulder
  almost apologetically.
  Harry managed to turn his head to the side. He felt boneless, drained.
  Snape slipped out. He turned Harry over and drew him into his arms. "I didn't
  mean to be so rough."
  "God, I loved it." He kissed the inviting mouth. "Loved it." Another kiss.
  "You didn't hurt me, if that's what you're worried about." Time to change the
  subject. "So, why did you buy me?"
  Snape actually laughed. "Persistent little bugger, aren't you?"
  "Mm, yes. But that's what got us here, so no complaining." He freed a hand
  and stroked Snape's shiny hair, ran his fingers through it. It was as nice to
  play with someone else's hair-- with Snape's hair-- as it was to have his
  played with, he discovered.
  Snape rolled away and got out of the bed.
  "Hey!"
  "I don't want to be stuck to you on a permanent basis, Potter. With you, yes;
  to you, no. I'll be back." He returned shortly with a warm damp cloth and
  wiped Harry off carefully, then wrapped his arms around Harry again. "All
  right?"
  "Yes, but I'm about to expire of curiosity here." He put his hand back into
  the black hair. "You bought me because..."
  Snape rested his hand on Harry's back. "I bought you because Draco Malfoy is
  an arrogant little twerp who needs to learn that he can't have everything he
  wants. And because he had some extremely nasty things planned for you."
  Not the answer he was expecting, although he wasn't quite sure what he had
  been expecting. "Why would that bother you?"
  "Mm." A long pause. "I think you know why."
  Harry considered. Yes, he did know. Snape had already told him in a way when
  he complained about being stuck together. That was probably as close as he
  was going to get for now to any kind of declaration. And considering Snape,
  it was really quite a good declaration. He grinned. "All right. And you know
  how I feel."
  "Yes." Snape relaxed against him, gave him a kiss.
  Harry burrowed into the embrace. "So, is this the part where you tell me all
  the things you adore about me?"
  Snape pulled the covers up over them. "No, you insolent brat, this is the
  part where I let you sleep for an hour and then send you back to your dorm."
  Harry yawned. Must have been the suggestion of sleep. "I can stay longer than
  that. I hexed my roommates."
  "What!" Snape pulled away and looked at him.
  "If they talk about us, their balls will fall off." He smiled. "That's what I
  told them, anyway. Remember when I asked you about the testicle-tingling
  curse the other night? I found a use for it."
  Snape chuckled. "Potter, that's almost Slytherinesque of you. I knew there
  had to be a reason why I liked you." A kiss to his cheek. "Go to sleep now."
  Harry wrapped his arms around his lover and obeyed. He'd make Snape tell him
  all the other reasons tomorrow.
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