
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3730975.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape, Harry_Potter/Ginny_Weasley
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape, Ginny_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Blow_Jobs, Accidental_Voyeurism, Book_6:_Harry_Potter_and_the_Half-Blood
      Prince
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-12 Words: 2796
****** Seven Seconds ******
by Lizzy0305
Summary
     A lot can happen in seven seconds.
Notes
     I'm a terrible friend. I should be answering letters and messages,
     but I had a second and I recently rewatched Kill Your Darlings (if
     you havent seen it, what on earth are you waiting for? go. go now.)
     and I just couldnt get THAT scene out of my head and this... this had
     to happen. It's short as hell, and I'm sorry. I swear For Charity is
     next :)
     There's Ginny/Harry stuff down below but you know me. this is snarry
     to the very core.
     Oh and Sexy.Lil.Emo help with the editing :) You're so precious,
     darling :)
See the end of the work for more notes
“One,” says Harry but it’s only a hiss in the darkness. He inhales sharply, the
first contact just too much, almost unpleasant. She’s too quick, her mouth
already sucking on the head of his cock. It’s not bad, but this hastiness isn’t
nearly as good as when Harry handles it alone, languidly, carefully.
“Two,” he sighs, as she twirls her tongue on the tip. Gin’s gotten better at
this in the past weeks, and Harry’s gotten better at holding on. Yet they still
play this little game, and Harry has to count the seconds.
It’s almost laughable that their time together can be measured in seconds only.
They meet in the middle of the night and they barely kiss like during daylight;
and if they do, it’s more rushed, more teeth, more biting, more gripping, and
though it’s not bad, it’s just… not what Harry wants. And then Ginny is on her
knees, opening his fly, and the next moment, she’s sucking him, her mouth so
wet, so hot Harry all but loses his mind.
Losing one’s mind isn’t bad, but Harry thought sex would be something else.
It’s all nice and good and that momentarily bliss when he’s coming is pure
happiness - undoubtedly. But he imagined it to be more… personal. He looks down
on the red head but instead of love, he only feels emptiness.
It could be anyone else, he realizes. She’s just a mouth at the moment, and
this isn’t love, not even lust – just a need for relief. These stolen moments
in the middle of the night became nothing else just addictive releases. Just a
flash: ignition, flames high and bright. But it’s simply not enough anymore.
Harry wants more, he wants the long burning, the shimmering light, the fire
that smoulders for days, that burns down forests, that isn’t over after only
seconds.
“Three,” he whispers, almost bored. Then he notices the shift in the darkness.
His eyes are wide open as he watches the shadow step into the thin strip of
moonlight. And for a second, he holds his breath and hopes, hopes that Snape
did not hear, did not notice them but then Ginny makes the most obscene
slurping noise and Harry grabs into her flaming hair to pull her up. Maybe if
they ran or…
Snape turns and recognizes Harry immediately. Harry can't move, he’s caught in
those intense, black eyes.
“Four,” Harry says then, voice steady, eyes staring defiantly at Snape,
challenging him. For what, who knows?
Snape raises an eyebrow, looking almost amused but he doesn’t start shouting.
Instead, he crosses his arms and leans against the wall, not making a single
sound. What the hell is he waiting for, Harry doesn’t care. But the professor
isn’t shouting, he’s not taking points, he doesn’t even look particularly
angry, but then again, one never knows with Snape.
Harry shrugs mentally, grabs into the red hair more firmly, and looking Snape
dead in the eyes, he says slowly, “Five.”
Snape takes a controlled, deep breath then exhales through his nose
noiselessly. Harry grunts, but he doesn’t care anymore about being too loud.
What he feared most has happened, though not quite as he imagined.
The strip of moonlight shows only one half of that well-known, hated face, but
it’s enough for Harry to see the amusement. But there is something else there,
lurking under those sharp edges, those deep shadows and Harry can’t put his
finger on it.
“Six,” he moans because he thinks about it. About putting his finger on it, on
him, on Snape, touching him and not Ginny, grabbing into his hair and not into
Ginny’s. His hips buck forwards and he finally feels his face heat up. It is a
wonder that he feels it only now, given Snape has been watching them for three
whole seconds.
“Seven,” he shudders as the word spills out of his mouth, but the thin lips
chose that moment to pull up into a smirk, smug and taunting and Harry knows,
Snape is laughing at him inwardly, so he collects all of his strength and grips
into her hair firmly enough to stop her for a moment. And, though only barely,
but the moment is enough for Harry to steady his heart and he wills his orgasm
to delay even if only for a few more seconds.
“Eight,” he whispers darkly and still holding her by the hair, he starts
thrusting forward slowly, carefully.
Snape’s lips twist slightly and Harry knows he’s impressed. Eyes not moving
from Snape’s face for even a second, Harry holds Ginny’s head with two hands
and fucks her mouth with slow, deep strokes. He knows exactly how depraved it
looks because he can see it in Snape’s eyes. And even though every stroke is
burning through his whole body, he keeps prodding, hitting the back of her
throat, making her gag slightly, but he never stops and keeps his body in
control because those eyes are watching him with burning intensity.
“Nine,” says Harry, voice husky and suddenly the black eyes drop down to his
cock for only a fraction of a second then they are back on his face but the
expression has changed. Snape’s amusement has finally turned to anger. His
breathing is faster, his eyes are scorching Harry’s skin even more, penetrating
Harry’ soul and Harry could all but see Snape’s blood boil. But Harry knows
that the anger isn’t directed towards him this time. No, Snape is angry at
himself, for letting his control snap and look down, look where he’s not
supposed to, see what he shouldn’t; lose control but in vain. Because he can't
see Harry, Ginny’s head is in the way, he can’t see anything but Harry’s slow
thrusts, his hands gripping into red hair and his face, eyes glinting in the
moonlight, lips pulling into a smirk.
The retaliation comes right away. Snape licks his lips and Harry’s eyes flicker
down to watch the pink flesh move across soft lips and Ginny as if knowing
what’s going on over her head licks the head of Harry’s cock, tongue pressing
down firmly, then she sucks hard.
“T---ten…” grunts Harry, coming hard, his orgasm making his legs buckle and
shake, his groin in flames, the burning more powerful than any time before. He
is shooting hot semen down her throat, his eyes dry and prickling but Harry
wouldn’t shut them for anything. He keeps staring at Snape as his orgasm washes
over him, waves of pleasure filling up all his senses and yet all he sees is
Severus Snape, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking amused, smiling
smugly.
Ginny stands, cleaning her mouth. “You’ve never been so rough before…” she says
and Harry can hear how coarse her voice is, but her tone isn’t offended. She
doesn’t mind. She doesn’t know the reason, she never will and it will never
happen again, Harry promises to himself. This could never happen again.
“Sorry,” he whispers.
“Don’t be,” she answers and Harry is too scared to tell her, he’s not sorry for
being rough, but for the cruel shadow, who has hidden into the darkness once
more, but is still with them, only a few steps away, watching. “You coming?”
“Be right there,” Harry says with a half-smile and leans against the wall,
pretending to catch his breath.
She seems proud as she looks over him head to toe and smiles. “I think ten’s
your lowest so far. If I’ve known being rough makes you come sooner, I would
have made you do this a long time ago.”
He nods, unable to say anything, unable to lie, to explain, to correct her that
it wasn’t because he was rough, and making him come under a minute isn’t
actually something she should be proud of. He keeps quiet instead and she waves
goodbye then and walks away. Harry finally closes his eyes and takes a deep
breath.
“How long are you planning to hide, sir?”
“Here I am, thinking once in my life I could probably let you walk away but of
course, Mr. Potter, you do not encourage favouritism, do you?” Asks a bodiless
voice.
“I wouldn’t say that…” Sighs Harry zipping himself up.
“Are you so full of yourself that you think I would not take points after this
display,” Snape asks and steps into the moonlight again, “or so arrogant you
think you can earn it back?”
Snape’s anger melts the second their eyes connect. Something darker and more
dangerous takes its place and the first time, Harry feels actually frightened.
Not of Snape, but of his own emotions. He steps closer. “I am neither full of
myself, nor arrogant. I did something bad and I got caught. You would never let
me walk away. Not really. If you don’t take points tonight, you take them
tomorrow during class. Sir.”
“I am touched, how well you know me, Potter. Let it be as you wish.” Snape
smirks, then makes a little wave with his hand, “Two hundred pointsfrom
Gryffindor.”
“What?” Harry cries. “You can't!”
“I absolutely can and I absolutely will.”
“But… but that’s too much for being out after curfew!”
“Ah, it indeed would be. That is only fifty points each, Potter,” chuckles
Snape and he steps closer. Harry shudders not quite sure if it’s because of the
proximity or the sound, but soon realizes, it hardly fucking matters. He just
came thinking of and watching his professor. Everything hardly matters anymore.
“What’s the other hundred for?”
“The other hundred, Mr. Potter, is attributable to Miss Weasley and her abysmal
knowledge of pleasuring a man.”
“Oh. I wouldn’t call that abysmal,” says Harry with a shrug. It wasn’t that
bad.
Snape takes a deep breath, it’s almost a sigh. “Oh Potter, you know nothing,”
he turns to leave, robes flaring around him, just another shadow in the
darkness. “Ten seconds…” he huffs probably to himself, “barely even counts.”
Harry can't move but his mouth opens on its own. “Well, I don’t know… those
last seven seconds pretty much changed my whole world.”
Snape stops mid step, frozen on the spot. Harry stares at him resolutely, his
gaze burning a hole into his back.
Harry’s determination doesn’t waver when Snape doesn’t turn around, because
he’s not an idiot and he knows how dangerous an offer like that can be for a
professor. And Snape is much more than that. His position as a spy, his job as
a Defence professor, even his life could be in danger, Harry knows that and
therefore he denies to be sad when Snape doesn’t turn around. But he sees his
fingers flexing, his shoulders tensing, which gives some sort of hope.
“You know nothing,” Snape repeats, his voice only a hiss.
“Actually,” Harry argues, “I know a lot of things. I know you’re my teacher. I
know you’re a spy. I know Dumbledore trusts you, I know Malfoy doesn’t. I know
I don’t love my girlfriend. And I certainly know I wasn’t thinking about her
when I came down her throat. I know there are things you have to do even if you
don’t want to and things you cannot do, even if you want to.”
Suddenly, Snape is in front of him, fingers fisted in Harry’s worn shirt.
“Remember that. When the time comes, remember what you just said, Potter.” With
that, he’s kissing Harry, lips harsh, tongue pushing inside Harry’s mouth,
twisting around his, dancing with it. The kiss is deep, ardent and sensual.
Urging but not the way Ginny’s were – it is desperate because they both know it
won’t happen again.
It’s over too soon, Harry clings on but Snape pulls away with one last, soft
kiss. “Remember what you have just said,” he whispers and then he’s gone.
It happens right next day that Harry is forced to remember his words. A mere
twenty-four hours later, as Snape casts the deadly curse and Dumbledore tumbles
over the railing. When he sees the blank expression on Snape’s face, he
remembers their conversation and the kiss. He screams in pain, heart shattered
for his mentor and for Snape too, whatever the man is to him. His scream is
loud and vicious and will ring in his own head for hours afterwards, but now no
one hears him. And yet, Snape looks around as if noticing something, his eyes
stopping over the spot where Harry stands for only a moment. Their eyes are
connected and Harry has to remind himself that he cannot be seen. Then one by
one the Death Eaters are gone. Malfoy trails behind, looking aside to Snape but
Snape’s head is down. He pushes the blond boy past the door and says quietly,
“Remember.”
Harry can hear how broken his tone is, how deeply devastated he is, but he
knows what he said and he knows there is nothing they can do.
He can hear Malfoy’s voice, timid and scared as he asks, “What?”
Snape doesn’t answer, or at least, Harry cannot hear him anymore.
***
He never imagined he would be back here once again, yet here he is, clutching
the yellow paper. The Shack is even more terrifying now, the memories, his
memories too, not quiet settled in his mind and everything seems more
confusing. His eyes wander to the pool of blood, sullied by dirt and dust, and
he feels the most awful clutch around his heart.
He knows it was foolish to come here alone, he knows it, but hell, he would
seize even the smallest ray of hope. And hope came; it came on wings in the
form of a brown owl, carrying a piece of parchment.
He unfolds the letter and reads it again. There’s only a question there still,
nothing else. It could be asked by anyone, could mean anything. There’s a
chance it wasn’t even for Harry. But when he read it, he was sure he knew where
that message came from, knew it was for him, knew why he received it.
But now, hope turned into doubt.
Until…
“Do you remember?” Asks a deep voice; it’s the same question as in the letter.
Harry twirls around, eyes frantically looking for the body that belongs to that
voice.
Snape is leaning against the doorway, covered in blood, it is still trickling
from the wounds on his neck.
“You need help!” Harry cries and rushes to him to help him stand but he’s
pushed away.
“I need an answer,” Snape grunts, voice weak but demanding. “Do you remember?”
“Yes, yes, I do!” Harry says quickly, tearing off a piece of his shirt to cover
the wounds but before he could, Snape grabs him and makes him look into the
fathomless black eyes that have been haunting Harry ever since that night in
Hogwarts.
“You do?” The uncertainty is clear in his face and his voice too and Harry
knows suddenly, words won’t be enough to convince Snape. So he leans in and
kisses Snape softly and tenderly on the lips, carefully shifting his hand to
cover the lean neck and the snake bites.
“I do,” he whispers softly then says in a firmer manner, “Now can we please get
someone to patch you up?”
Snape lets out a long breath, one, it seems, he has been holding in for years.
“Yes. Yes, now we can.”
There is something in the way he says “we” that makes Harry smile. Quickly, he
presses another kiss onto the soft, thin lips, but he’s caught and Snape is
more arduous when he kisses back. Harry tries to push him away, afraid that his
wounds would open more, and as if realizing the inappropriateness of his
actions, Snape pulls back swiftly, looking suddenly ashamed. Harry just smiles
at him, “Mediwitch first. Kissing later.”
“Finally, I can do what I want and you would stop me?”
“Severus,” Harry says softly and the name somehow doesn’t feel weird coming
from his lips. “You are bleeding. I swear you can do whatever you want whenever
you want to, but now, mediwitch.”
“If you knew what I have in mind, you wouldn’t be so quick in making promises,
Harry.”
Harry smirks as he looks into the black eyes, “You’re not the only one who has
been thinking a lot about those seven seconds.”
“Seven seconds…” Snape huffs and grabbing into Harry apparates them onto
Hogwarts grounds. “That girl cannot please a man even if she was lectured on
the subject. Seven seconds indeed…”
“Think you’re better?” Harry asks looking up at the man with a teasing grin.
“Better?” Severus laughs. “You’re not going to be counting seconds with me
Potter, I can guarantee that. In fact, you won’t have the mind to count at
all.”
End Notes
     I mentioned our gold fish Wanda the other day, right? Up until now
     she lived in a small pond in our garden. Now she is my room, until my
     sister picks her up tomorrow morning. I AM SO SCARED THAT SHE'S GOING
     TO DIE LIKE I DONT KNOW FISH? HOW DO THEY WORK? I EAT THEM NOT FEED
     THEM USUALLY . someone please send help. i dont want to be a fish
     murderer
     PS: She's fucking looking at me with dead, black eyes and keeps
     saying "nope". what does it mean? help щ(ಠ益ಠщ)
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