
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/732034.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Severus_Snape/Ron_Weasley
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-03-23 Words: 4818
****** Rescue ******
by starstruck1986
Summary
     Warnings/Content: Dub-con, frotting, language, cross-gen, underage
     sex if you're from a country with an 18 limit (Ron is 17 and this is
     set after his poisoning in HBP). A bit PWP.
     Summary: It should have just been an innocent bath, and then he had a
     visitor...
Ron had been feeling off for days, but had kept his mouth shut to avoid being
nagged by everyone to go to the hospital wing. He didn't want to see the walls
of it ever again after being poisoned. The school matron was worse than even
his mother, and that was saying something.

So it was his aching bones and tired mind which saw him relaxed into a corner
of the Prefect's Bathroom luxurious bath-cum-swimming-pool. Thick bubbles
covered the surface if the water and clung to his skin, throwing up a fresh
perfume into the air. The room was full of steam and his fringe was sticking to
his brow, but that was just how Ron liked it, and, he decided, what he really
needed to feel better.

He kicked out his legs in front of him and flexed his toes, lifting his feet up
until his big toes poked out through the bubbles. He wiggled them for something
to do and then let them drift back to the bottom of the bath. He was bored, but
the water was too hot and soothing to even consider leaving so soon; all that
awaited him in the Common Room was yet more homework,and he didn't feel like he
had the brains to do any of it.

Well, you know you haven't, because you're as thick as two short planks... a
nasty voice quipped somewhere in his mind, and Ron felt his mood darken at the
whisper. He sank down until his chin touched the bubbles and glowered at the
opposite wall.

Ron had always known that he wasn't the cleverest, or the best, at anything. It
had always been a sore point with him, and no matter what he tried to do to
improve his intelligence, or at best his homework marks and test results,
nothing seemed to work. It had never niggled at him as much as it was
currently, however, and no matter how hard he tried to direct his mind to other
subjects -including the impending battle for their lives, it seemed- nothing
worked.

Luckily, everyone else was too absorbed in their own problems to take any
notice of his, which made him feel better, because the last thing he wanted was
anybody fussing over him or, even worse, confirming his worst fears.

Being seventeen sucks bollocks.

He closed his eyes and blocked out the sight of the room, inhaling the steamy
air. He let his feet slip over the tiles lining the bath and ducked beneath the
surface of the water, reaching to hold his nose as he kept himself below. The
heat surrounded him, the pressure caressing his face with softness which would
have made him sigh if he could have opened his mouth. He cracked open his eyes
and watched the play of light for a moment, before his lungs started to protest
and he kicked upwards for fresh air.

Gasping, Ron blinked the water out of his eyes and reached up to push his hair
back away from his forehead.

“Weasley.”

The sound of his name cracking through the air made Ron jump, slip on the
bottom of the bath and accidentally take in a mouthful of water, which made him
cough like hell. Throat stinging, Ron looked up with accusing eyes into the
face of Severus Snape.

Except for the fact that it wasn't the normal face of Snape that Ron was used
to -it was bruised, and bleeding, and one eye was puffed up almost to the point
of being closed.

“What?” Ron muttered, glancing around to check that his body was covered by
bubbles. “I mean, what do you want, sir?”
“The bath,” Snape answered, as if as much should be obvious.
“Well, I'm sort of in it.” Ron made a face.
“I can see that. Get out.”
“I was here first,” Ron cried indignantly. “Go and use your own bath.”

Tongue running away with him, his mouth snapped shut as Snape's expression
turned acidly vicious. Ron felt colour beyond the heat of the bath flaming in
his cheeks and he wondered what he should do. If he got out of the bath, Snape
would see him naked. If he stayed in the bath, Snape might kill him. Neither
option was appealing.

Ron only noticed then the slump of Snape's shoulders and the tattered state of
his robes.

“Sir, are you all right?” he ventured nervously.
“No, Weasley. I am not all right. Please, just do as I say, and remove your
skinny carcass from that bath before I drag you from it!”

His fraught, tired voice rang harshly in the tiled bathroom and Ron shivered,
both with anxiety and hurt at the cruel slight on his lanky frame. He wasn't
attractive, Ron knew that much, but 'skinny carcass' was just mean in his
opinion.

Frozen into position, Ron had every intention of wading his way to the side of
the bath and hoisting himself out of it, naked or not, merely to get away from
Snape's temper. He even got as far as lifting one foot from the bottom of the
bath, but then Snape did something which nearly knocked him onto his backside.

The man turned around, muttering something beneath his breath, and began to
pull at the buttons of his robes. He shed the fabric quickly, casting it onto
the floor and aiming a vicious kick at the ruined clothes. They slid across the
floor and hit the bottom of the wall. Ron heard the locking spell cast at the
bathroom door, one different to that which he had used -the one which had
clearly been rather poor if Snape had been able to get in.

He could break anything though, and no matter who was in here he would have
chucked them out.

Ron's attention was grabbed again by Snape bending to remove his boots, and to
his horror, he was completely naked. Even scarier, his back was alive with
barely healed welts which looked far too fresh for the man to be contemplating
water.

“Sir, what's happened to your-”
“Shut up,” his professor snapped. “Get in that corner and keep your damned
mouth shut if you won't leave me in peace completely.”

Ron watched, stunned, as the man stiffly sat down on the edge of the bath and
slipped into the water. He sank to chin-depth and then made his way to the
opposite end to Ron, where he settled into a corner, sat down on the convenient
stone bench which ran around the perimeter, and closed his eyes. Ron moved to
the side quickly, hoping to take advantage of Snape's closed eyes to get out of
the bath, dry himself, and run the hell away. He got as far as putting his
fingers on the delicate mosaic bordering, however, before Snape spoke to him.

“Where do you think you're going, Weasley?”
“You asked me to go, so I am.”
“No point in going anywhere now, your ineptness has forced us to share a bath
anyway, you might as well stay and finish.”
“I don't think that I... um...”
“Does it make you uncomfortable, being naked in the same bath as another man?”
“Yeah. It would most blokes, I think.”
“Not the ones I know.”

Ron was alarmed by what he thought was the dark and dirty undertone to Snape's
voice. He looked at the wizard to find that he still had his eyes shut.

He's a Slytherin. Probably sleeps with his eyes open.

“Your brother Charlie, for one.”
“What?”
“Your brother Charlie. He enjoys baths with other men. The amount of times I
found him in here, each time with a different boy. Tell me, does he still enjoy
such loose morals?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Then clearly you are as thick as you look, Weasley. Walking around with shit
in your eyes, too fucking blind to notice what's going on around you and who
might be watching you.”

Ron didn't know what to respond to first -Snape's insults, the fact that he had
sworn, or who Snape thought was watching him.

“Who's watching me?” he asked finally, unable to stop the steel edge from
creeping into his tone.
“Me.”
“You?”
“I watch everybody, don't feel special in any way, Weasley. I can assure you,
you are not.”
“Right,” Ron said flatly, putting his hands on the edge of the bath and pushing
up out of it.

The roar of the water leaving his body made such a racket that he winced. Water
spilled over the tiles and ran in every which direction. Cursing beneath his
breath, Ron looked around for the nearest towel and, to his dismay, found that
they were on a bench nearest to Snape. With a quick glance, he found the wizard
staring at him, his one good eye boring straight into his naked, wet body.

“Like what you see?” Ron sneered, his cockiness spurred on by the insults Snape
had laid into him.
“More than you would care to know.”

Floored again, Ron looked desperately about, hoping he might have missed a
towel which was closer. With no such luck coming forth, he raised his chin and
walked carefully around the edge of the bath to the stack of fluffy white
sheets. He picked one up and unravelled it, putting it quickly about his waist.
With his cock covered up, he felt much better.

“Don't cover up on my account. As I said, I was enjoying the view.”
“Stop fucking with me,” Ron muttered, forgetting himself.
“What?” Snape asked sharply.
“I said, stop messing with me,” Ron said, raising his voice. “Very funny, haha,
to take the piss out of the skinny carcass.” He swallowed as he walked back to
his clothes. “Go and fuck yourself,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“I'd much rather fuck you, Weasley.”
“What the fuck?!” Ron exclaimed, his voice bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.

Snape just laughed and looked away, shaking his head. Ron noticed how his wiry
arms were spread out along the side of the bath, and his armpits were darkened
by black curls. On his left forearm lay the shadow of his Dark Mark. A shiver
went up Ron's spine.

His head suddenly seemed far too full again, the tiny bit of peace the bath had
given him was long gone. He was too confused; Lavender had gone psycho on him,
Hermione was just being plain odd and now, apparently, Snape?

No fucking way. I need to go to bed.

“Come here.”

Snape's voice was like molten honey, Ron thought, as he blinked at the man
still in the water.

“Weasley, come to me.”

Another shiver rocked his body.

“W-Why?”
“Because I want you to come here, do I need to ask you again? Because I won't.”

It was almost as if his hands were being controlled by an outside source as
they unwrapped the towel from around his waist, Ron thought. He let the cotton
puddle at his feet and took a step towards the bath. He folded back into the
water, wondering why on earth he was doing exactly what Snape was asking of him
-he never did that even in his lessons. In fact, disobeying Snape was one of
his favourite ways to cause trouble, as petty as it was.

He waded through the water, fixing his gaze on the man's face, and finding that
the puffiness had gone and his eye had returned to normal.

“Did you heal yourself?” Ron asked dumbly, licking at his bottom lip.
“The waters of this bath have healing properties, did you not know that,
Weasley?”
“No.”
“You didn't notice that every ache in your bones has left them whilst you've
been in the water?”

Ron blinked and thought about it; Snape was right. His back no longer ached and
his legs, long and weak from growing pains and the break when he was fourteen,
could hold his weight without protesting. He blushed in his ignorance.

“A little known fact. Not many students know even a scraping of the secrets
that this castle has to offer. Except your friend Ms Granger, who knows
everything. Except her own heart, it seems.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some things, Weasley, are best realised rather than told. Come closer.”

Ron did as he was told, until there were mere centimetres between his body and
Snape's own. He waited for more instructions, only sparing the briefest of
thoughts of the oddity of the situation. He froze as one of Snape's hands came
up off the side of the bath and reached out for him, landing on Ron's hip
beneath the water. The fingers gripped into the bone and pulled Ron forward.

“What're you doing?” Ron whispered, noting with alarm that his voice had
deserted him; he already felt like screaming for help.

Snape didn't answer him but continued pulling him closer until, with a jump,
Ron felt his cock brush against something suspiciously similar on his
professor's body. The other hand settled on Ron's other hip and he was held
tightly; his breathing grew shallow and he was unable to even it out or take in
any real amount of air. As a result, his mind began to swim.

“Perhaps you are more like your brother Charlie than I thought... sensible...
pliant... eager.”

Ron gasped as his lips were claimed in a rough kiss and his head tilted to the
side with no effort or encouragement from Snape, though fingers did thread into
his hair after a few moments. Snape's grip was surprisingly tender, though
strong, and Ron found himself arching up into the touch, and jutting out his
hip so that it would make contact with the palm of his professor's other hand.

“Yes, you seem just as much of a slut as Charlie... though you taste infinitely
better...”

Ron exhaled sharply again as his head was dragged backwards, exposing his neck.
He had never realised just how vulnerable being in that position made him feel,
even though he had experienced it before, with his brothers in play fights, and
in Umbridge's office the year before. He began to shake as Snape held him
there, open and without fight, leaving him dangling.

When the first touch of lips ghosted over that naked skin, his knees properly
began to knock. He thought he heard Snape chuckle into his throat.

“God, you taste delicious.” Snape nipped the juncture between throat and
collarbone, and Ron couldn't stop the grunt which fell out of his mouth. “So...
sweet,” Snape whispered into his ear.

A tongue flicked his earlobe and Ron shuddered again, wondering why he was so
nervy and so responsive.

Because this is the closest you've ever come to sexual contact in your life...
and it's with a man... and Snape at that.

Suddenly repulsed with himself, Ron wrenched himself backwards out of the man's
grip and stumbled over his own feet. He landed with a splash into the water,
his head dipping beneath the surface; his throat and nose began to burn as
water shot in and up, and he immediately tried to cough, making it even worse.

A firm gripped seized him and dragged him back above the water, where Ron
continued to cough and splutter, trying to get the water out of his system.

“Stop it!” Snape barked, shaking him slightly. “Calm down and breathe, Weasley.
Breathe!”

Shocked by the admonition, Ron did stop, only to be pulled flush against
Snape's chest. Their bodies met once more and he found himself mortified to
feel the length of the man's hardness against his belly. Another kiss came,
tender and touching, oddly seeming to soothe the soreness put into his airways
by the water. Fingers stroked his back.

“What are you doing?” Ron whispered helplessly, shaking once again and knowing
that it would be noticed.
“I have never known you to ask so many questions, Weasley. If you showed as
much curiosity in your lessons, perhaps you would find yourself receiving
better marks.”
“Stop it,” Ron choked. “Stop being horrible to me. I can be horrible enough to
myself.”

Dark eyes assessed him and Ron blushed under their scrutiny.

“Yes. I can well believe that you can be. But you shouldn't.”
“One minute you're calling me names and the next minute you're tell me not to
be hard on myself? You're not making much sense, Snape.”
“I often make little sense after having been tortured for the odd hour by the
Dark Lord, Weasley. I doubt many men would. I wonder how you would hold up
under such treatment?”
“I don't know.”
“Neither do I, but I hope for your sake that you never experience it... lest
you end up cracking. You are fragile.”
“No I'm not,” Ron hissed.
“Which is it, Weasley, are you thick and useless, or are you strong and
capable?”

Caught out, Ron tried to pull away, but Snape's arms kept him in place. Ron
accidentally trod on his foot and blushed again. Snape said nothing, but one
hand drifted downwards, and then Ron felt.

Long, thin fingers wrapped around his cock and began to stroke it; it felt like
silk in the water. Ron's jaw dropped and he left it there, knowing he must look
a fool, open-mouthed and red-faced. Snape didn't seem to mind, though, as he
continued to work manual magic with his fingers. Embarrassed, Ron found himself
fully hard quicker than even he could have managed it in a wank in his bed.
Snape sped up the rhythm, wanking him harder and faster until Ron found himself
gasping in time to the touches. The Slytherin's free hand curled around the
nape of his neck and held him, never letting up with the other.

Everything seemed to be shutting down, Ron noticed. His vision was blurry, his
head was pounding along with the blood he could hear in his ears, and his
belly, thighs and sac pulled so tight that he thought he might vomit.

“This is... this is... S-Snape, I t-think we should...”
“Stop?”

Ron nodded vigorously, hissing as Snape stopped pumping him and merely gripped
his prick in a vice like grip,

“You don't want me to stop, Weasley... your body is telling you that you want
this... just relax and enjoy it...”

Kisses were peppered over his exposed jawline and Ron gulped.

“Such a beautiful throat.” Snape kissed that too and resumed milking Ron's
shaft.
“Do you want me...” Ron cut off to take a deep breath. “Do you want me to t-
touch you?”
“Only if you want to. But I don't think you do, so don't press yourself for my
benefit.”

Ron had no idea what he was doing as he inexpertly picked up the man's
mirroring hardness. It was larger than his own, but fit neatly into his large
hand; Ron gripped it and gave it a squeeze. Snape moaned and he did it again,
evoking the same response. Loosely, Ron began to move his wrist up and down,
keeping a ring shape between his thumb and index finger. He looked over the
skin of Snape's torso that he could see, finding it sallow skinned and scarred
in several places. Dark hair was damp brushing against his shoulders. As they
met in another kiss, Ron inhaled his scent and found it surprisingly pleasant.

Not that he'd ever considered kissing Snape before, but due to the man's
personal appearance he had expected him to smell badly, almost rotten. There
was nothing to suggest inner decomposition, however, in the scent of herbs
which clung to Snape's skin as a natural musk.

Ron bent his head and nipped at his throat. Snape moaned again, speeding up on
Ron's cock with almost desperation, it seemed. Ron tried to match his speed,
but found his wrist ached and decided in a split second that he was woefully
inept at touching another man.

“Yesssss.” The word was a hiss in his ear and Ron jerked with surprise as Snape
rammed against him, knocking both of their hands away, leaving their bodies to
touch fully.

Hands cupped his buttocks and slid down to the underside of this thighs; they
lifted him easily and Ron wrapped his legs around Snape's thin waist. His
erection rubbed against a flat belly, and Snape's cock rubbed against his balls
and perineum. It was the best thing that Ron had ever felt, despite who was
partnering him, and despite that he was currently enjoying sexual activity with
a member of the same sex.

All thoughts of breasts and cunts were far from his mind -all he cared about
was Snape's cock and that they both achieve some kind of release from their
rutting.

Knowledgeable hands began to guide him, forcing body parts to rub and create
delicious sensations which made Ron breathless, and for his orgasm to build in
the pit of his belly with no thought of restraint.

“Do you feel it yet?”
“What?” Ron grunted.
“The need to come all over my belly.”

Ron moaned with delight and gripped harder with his arms around Snape's back.
He bent his head and kissed him, wincing as their teeth clashed.

“Fuck!” He couldn't help but yelp slightly as a fingertip brushed over his
arsehole and settled over the entrance. Snape met his eye and then, holding
Ron's gaze, he pushed the tip in. “Oh fucky fuck!” Ron cried.

He bit his lip and stuffed his face into Snape's shoulder, glad to hide his
face and for the moment of his breaching to be private.

“Good, isn't it? You like it... my finger within you... touching you in such
private places. Tell me, Ronald, tell me that you like it...”
“I love it!” Ron gasped, thrown by the way the man had used his first and full
name. “Oh, gods, I love it... fuck me with it... please!”
“As you wish.”

Snape followed his command and slowly crept his finger in, twisting slightly
when he met natural resistance from Ron's body. Ron bit hard into Snape's
collarbone and groaned.

“Shh.” Snape's whisper was silk into his ear. “Shh, beautiful boy.”
“Nnhgh,” Ron whimpered, rocking his hips so that his cock caused friction
against the slick belly it pressed into.

To occupy his mouth and to prevent any more stupid noises coming out of it, Ron
used his hand to gather Snape's hair to one side and set about kissing every
inch of his neck and throat that could be reached. Snape froze and allowed him
to do so, seemingly enjoying every touch.

“Imagine that it is not my finger within you, but my cock... Imagine I have you
up against the side of the bath and I am fucking you, wringing every ounce of
your energy from your body... kissing you until you can no longer be kissed for
screaming in desire... can you see it? Do you want it?”
“I want it!” Ron breathed into his ear. “Gods, I want it. I want you.”

The words were totally insane, but he said them anyway. And what was worse was
that Ron was pretty sure that he meant them, too.

“Good boy,” Snape breathed, and suddenly hooked his finger within Ron's body.

He screamed something incoherent as energy seemed to shoot through his body.

“What the fuck?” he gasped, unable to stop a few sobs escaping his mouth.
“A special little spot, very useful.” Snape made the move again and Ron found
himself clinging on, a shaking mess, rutting madly against his professor's
belly, desperate to come at any cost.

Snape began to plunge the finger in and out of his arse, teasing him by tracing
it around the ring before diving back in again. Ron had no idea how long the
cycle continued for before his body finally gave up, drawing itself together
and trembling before releasing with a loud cry, and his cock began to spasm
with his climax.

Snape stopped moving, allowing him to hump out his finish without a word. And
then the finger slipped out of his body and Ron was gripped so tightly he
thought bones might brake, and Snape's face pressed into the side of his own.
Only when he felt a warm rush of liquid between his legs did Ron twig what was
happening -that Snape, too, was coming, but silently and reservedly, with all
the grace of which he usually did things.

Determined not to let the moment pass with out notice, Ron slid his hand down
the man's back and gently began to stroke one of his buttocks, and kissed into
his neck again. It felt like the least he could do, to offer some sort of
support or comfort during that moment, when his own had been so blissful.

Finally, Snape seemed to sag where he stood. Ron unlocked his legs and let them
fall slowly to the floor of the bath, where they took his weight with a wobble.
He leant his forehead against Snape's, knowing that he was breathing all over
the man's face, which was incredibly rude. Snape, however, said nothing.

Ron shortly found himself shivering again as the heat started to leave his
body. He also felt dirty standing in bathwater which had been dirtied by two
lots of semen.

Ew.

He fought off a wave of nausea.

“Don't worry. The water in here constantly refreshes.” When Snape spoke, it was
in a low, gravelly voice. “But we should leave. It will raise suspicion if the
door remains locked for too long. The staff will be banging down the door on
suicide watch.”
“Have... do people do that, in here?” Ron asked, looking around at the walls.
“They have done, in the past. Desperate creatures, who could not be saved.”

Ron swallowed as a wave of sadness seemed to swallow him up.

“Perhaps you yourself needed the rescue this evening?”
“What? I wasn't in here to do myself in!” Ron cried.
“Maybe not in the literal sense. Maybe you will look back on this and feel
something different to what you felt when you entered the bathroom. Maybe I
will. Maybe both of us will wake up in the morning with a hideous sense of
regret.”

Ron thought the latter was much more likely, but he couldn't deny the sated
feeling creeping through his veins, and how happy it made him feel.

“So... I suppose I should... I should go,” Ron said finally, looking around at
the water and fading bubbles. “I should go.”
“We should both leave,” Snape said, with a nod of his head.

They both climbed out of the bath in silence. Ron picked up the towel he had
dropped before and dried himself with it, noting the odd twinge in his backside
as he moved. He moved to his clothes and put them on, one by one, not looking
over his shoulder to give Snape privacy, despite what they had only just shared
with one another. When he had laced up his last boot, he stood up and looked
over his shoulder. Snape was still dressing.

“I'll... Bye,” Ron said pitifully, mentally berating himself for not being
better with words. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Goodbye, Weasley.”

Ron left, fiddling with the strap of his rucksack.

===============================================================================


Severus had meant to Obliviate him. He had meant to throw the redhead against
the wall, or seduce him back into his arms once last time, and wipe away the
memories of their indiscretions. But Ron had slipped away whilst he had still
been dressing himself, and Severus had never even had the chance to find his
wand.

He sat at dinner, pushing his peas around his plate, looking out over the Great
Hall, at a sea of pupils who largely hated him. Ronald Weasley had been at the
top of that list of hatred, he had assumed, but he wondered if they could have
shared what they had done had that been the truth.

Perhaps he is just an extremely good little actor. He will need to be, to stand
by Potter's side.

At that moment, to his horror, Ronald Weasley ambled into the Great Hall, his
bag swinging haphazardly from his shoulder, his shirt tails hanging out and his
tie loose, robes mostly unbuttoned. His hair was a mess, but his eyes were
piercing blue –and as beautiful as Severus remembered them.

Ron stopped and looked at him. Severus let his eyes widen in a warning, but
there was no need. The corner of Weasley's mouth hitched up with a hint of a
smile, and then he carried on walking, right to the Gryffindor table, where he
sat down and started piling food onto his plate.

Severus breathed out. He had been half-planning to carry out the obliviation at
the first chance he could.

For some reason, however, he wanted the boy to have the memories. He didn't
know why, but he couldn't bear to take them away.

-fin-
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