
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/463653.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Severus_Snape/Harry_Potter
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing, Teacher/Student, courtship_fic, wizarding_rituals, Angst,
      Fluff, underage_(17)
  Collections:
      HPFandom
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-19 Words: 13300
****** Shimmer ******
by Eriador117
Summary
     What happens when Severus discovers Harry's secret?
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Shimmer Part 1
Harry stood nervously outside the shop before he dared venture inside it. His
Aunt Petunia never shopped in Little Whinging if she could help it, much
preferring to go up to London for her clothes shopping. Harry did the grocery
shopping so he was unlikely to run into her popping into the supermarket across
the road either. Still it didn't stop his heart from beating that little bit
faster and the clammy hands, knowing that what he was about to do was something
so abnormal, so forbidden. The truth of the matter was that because it was
forbidden was one of the reasons Harry was here. The excitement was almost a
tangible thing and he wondered if he really would have the nerve to do this. To
go into that shop and actually buy what he'd been thinking about for years.
He was seventeen now, the Dark Lord was dead, killed by a joint Avada Kedavra
performed by he and Snape and Harry thought he deserved a treat. It was the eve
of his return to Hogwarts for his seventh year and he'd managed to change some
of his galleons at Gringotts that morning into Muggle money and now it was
burning a hole in his pocket ready to be spent. He wasn't sure there were any
similar items for sale in the wizard world, he wouldn't know where to start
looking and he definitely didn't want to ask Ron or Hermione.
This shop he passed every day on his way to the supermarket and every day he
was drawn to the window display. It changed frequently. Today the model was
wearing a black lace baby doll nightie just skimming her hips, a pair of
panties visible beneath the nightdress. It looked so soft and Harry wondered
what it would feel like against bare skin.
Taking a deep breath he pushed the door of the shop open, the sound of a bell
jangling to announce his entrance to the bored looking shop assistant. She
glanced up at Harry and gave him a false smile, tapping the counter with talon
sharp nails painted blood red.
"Can I help you?"
"Er - um - I'm looking for a present for my girlfriend. Lingerie," he added
unnecessarily considering he was standing in a shop that sold nothing else.
"What size is she?"
"Oh. I don't know."
"Well, how tall is she? What build? Short, thin, what?"
"Um, similar to my build, I suppose," said Harry.
"Cup size?" asked the assistant.
"Cup size?"
"For her bras," explained the girl.
"Er - um - she doesn't wear a bra," Harry glanced quickly around the room and
his eyes fell on a satin camisole, "she wears those."
"I see," said the assistant, smiling faintly and Harry was sure that his whole
body was blushing now. He just wanted to disappear. "Your build, you say?"
With that, the assistant emerged from behind the counter and proceeded to show
Harry all that they had in stock. He hadn't known there would be so much
choice, satins, laces, ribbons, plain, decorated, see-through and more. After
about an hour perusing everything, he chose three fairly plain camisoles, one
each in jade green, soft peach and pale cream, along with lace trimmed knickers
to match, enjoying the soft feel of them in his hands. He glanced at the
plastic model in the window again and ordered the baby doll nightie set as
well.
"We also do stockings and suspender belts," advised the assistant. "If you
think your girlfriend would like them too."
"Um, okay," agreed Harry, although he hadn't really given stockings much
thought until now.
His parcels wrapped and his wallet considerably lighter, Harry made his way
back to Privet Drive, his purchases hidden in a supermarket bag. Somehow he
didn't doubt that if he'd returned to the Dursleys' with a bag proclaiming to
have come from a shop called "Intimate Secrets", they were sure to be more than
curious.
Luckily no-one was home when Harry returned and Harry rushed upstairs to unpack
his things. His heart was beating frantically in his chest almost as if he'd
run all the way home and for once in his life he was glad that the Dursleys
never bothered with him when he was in his room. He couldn't lock the door from
the inside, but he put a chair underneath the handle so that no-one could come
in and emptied his bags onto his bed.
Harry lifted up each item in turn, letting the silk fall through his fingers,
loving the way the colours shimmered in the light. The jade shifting like an
angry storm tossed sea, the peach fading like sunset and the cream camisole
reminding him of one of Florean Fortescue's ice-creams. Oh, God. Was he really
going to do this? Harry gripped the fabric so hard his knuckles turned white.
What was the point of buying them if he wasn't?
He stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, tugging his underwear down and stepping
out of them. He pulled off his socks and stood there, naked, staring at the
lingerie on the bed. His cock was already growing at just the thought of what
he was about to do. Harry couldn't decide which he wanted to try on first. He
looked from one to the other and settled on the peach set.
He hefted the camisole over his head and let it slip down his body. It fitted
him perfectly, the spaghetti straps more decorative than really there to hold
it up. The material felt so wonderful against his skin and his nipples hardened
against the silky fabric. He pulled on the knickers, gasping as he felt the
silk slide along the hairs on his legs, his cock twitching and filling with all
the blood in his body it seemed. Harry walked over to his wardrobe, opened the
door and stared hard at himself in the full length mirror attached to the door.
Harry had never been a vain boy, had never considered himself to be anywhere
remotely good looking, but even he couldn't prevent the gasp of appreciation as
he took in his reflection. There was no other word for it - dressed in his new
outfit, he looked beautiful and he took a while to just look at himself wearing
the lingerie. Looking at himself standing there alone, he wished there was
someone who he could show himself to like this, but he knew there wasn't.
He conjured up an image of a tall man with dark hair and even darker eyes,
fully clothed in black robes, caressing Harry through the silk and Harry
shuddered with desire and a touch of fear. It was a secret that he would never
be able to share. He didn't even know if the man was gay never mind whether or
not he would understand why a boy would want to dress up in women's underwear.
Harry couldn't stand looking at himself any longer, he snapped the door shut
and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes free of tears.
Not quite knowing why he did it, Harry wrapped up his new lingerie inside his
invisibility cloak and placed them all in his school trunk. It wasn't as if he
would get a chance to wear it at school, but better that than leave them around
at Privet Drive for his relatives to find.
***
"Today, we will be attempting a complex healing potion," Snape told the seventh
years on their first lesson. How he hated teaching. After Voldemort's defeat,
he'd thought he would be able to finally reclaim his estate and do what he
wanted with his life for a change. But no, Fudge was still an idiot and it was
suggested, rather forcefully in fact, that of course Professor Snape would not
be sent to Azkaban, but he still wasn't trusted and was effectively under house
arrest at Hogwarts. His sentence was to teach children who cared not one whit
for the magic that was Potions and were complete incompetents to boot. Snape
was just glad that at least his advanced class no longer contained Longbottom,
his marks on his OWLs too low for Snape to allow him in his class.
Unfortunately the other bane of his seventh year Potions, Harry Potter had
received an Outstanding in his OWL and there was no way Snape could keep him
out without looking like a vindictive, bitter man. The fact that he was a
bitter, vindictive man when it came to Harry Potter was besides the point.
Snape glared at the boy in question, his head down as he concentrated on
stirring his Potion, so that he wasn't even aware of it. Potter dropped diced
dandelion roots into his cauldron, the mixture hissed and bubbled, giving off a
noxious odour. "Potter!" he barked. "You aren't paying attention! When were you
supposed to add the dandelion roots?"
"Um, when the potion turns green, sir?"
"Green. And what colour is your potion, Potter? Or are you colour blind as
well?"
"Blue sir," replied the boy in a subdued voice that Snape never often heard him
use in front of him. "I don't understand. It was green when I added them, sir.
It's not my fault!" Oh, that was more like it, more like the fiery boy of fifth
year before Voldemort was defeated.
"Are you talking back to me, Potter? Detention, my office, eight o'clock
tonight."
"That's not fair!" protested Potter, like he knew the boy would. It wouldn't
make an ounce of difference to Snape.
"Detention at eight o'clock, Potter. One more word about it and I will take
points as well. Now, get back to work."
Harry glared at him, eyes blazing jade fire but he didn't say another word.
Snape's breath hitched in his throat and he felt his loins twitch as he took in
the boy's flushed, angry face. Snape found himself staring at that perfect skin
and messy hair, wanting nothing better than to run his hands through it. He
snarled and turned away, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. What the
hell was the matter with him? He hated Potter. He loathed the boy. Didn't he?
Snape found himself wondering whether giving the boy a detention tonight was
really the best idea, but he couldn't go back on the punishment now. He spent
the rest of the lesson berating every Gryffindor in the room, feeling better
when he took points from Hermione Granger when she tried to help Harry rescue
his potion. Snape paced the room until the end of the lesson, pretending not to
take notice of Potter, but his eyes were drawn to that raven head again and
again.
Wondering if his hair was as soft as it looked. Wondering what girls took the
boy's fancy, or boys, feeling jealous heat flare in the pit of his stomach.
They would never be good enough for Potter. Potter was - Potter was -
Snape sat down on his desk, feeling the world lurch around him as he admitted
to himself what he'd been hiding from himself ever since Potter's sixth year.
Potter was his.
***
Harry turned up for his detention at five minutes to eight, knowing that if he
was late it would have been even worse. When Snape opened the door and motioned
for him to come in, Harry did, his insides twisting nervously. He'd been having
a funny feeling in his chest ever since Potions that morning, when he'd caught
Snape staring at him at odd moments. The look in his eyes wasn't loathing, but
for the life of him Harry couldn't understand what it was.
Harry knew that he was falling for his professor, but tried his best to ignore
his feelings, knowing that there was no way Snape would ever return them. A
stack of soiled cauldrons along with a scrubbing brush and a bottle of cleaning
fluid were waiting for Harry on his worktable. Snape indicated them with a
pointed finger, Harry sighed and got to work.
He quite liked physical work, it helped to tire him out. Ever since Voldemort's
demise he was finding it harder and harder to fall asleep and when he did, his
mind was filled with nothing but nightmares. As he scrubbed the cauldrons, he
watched Snape when he was sure the man wasn't looking at him.
Snape was brewing a potion, his stance as rigid as a stone pillar, every muscle
in his body under his control. The only part of Snape moving was his right arm
as he stirred the potion, for a while Harry wasn't even sure the man was
breathing, his chest looked so unmoving.
Harry enjoyed watching him, enjoying the man's precise movements. He wondered
what it would feel like to have the man's intense concentration focused
entirely on him and he shivered as a pang of desire fluttered in his lower
belly, causing his cock to harden and his face to flush. Harry scrubbed the
cauldrons harder, hoping the work would be enough to quell his aching arousal
for he couldn't do anything else about it here.
Two hours later, pleasantly exhausted, Harry finished his last cauldron. He
returned the cauldrons to the store room, cleaned out the scrubbing brush in
one of the stone sinks and put the cleaning fluid away. Snape had finished his
potion a few minutes earlier and was now decanting it into five clear glass
phials, the liquid inside a very pale mauve.
Harry hovered by the man's table, waiting to be dismissed. Snape didn't speak
to him until he'd finished and stoppered the last bottle. Harry felt a yawn
approaching and only just managed to place his hand over his mouth in time.
"Are my detentions boring you, Potter? I'll have to think of something more
exciting for you to do next time."
Harry's cock twitched as his mind regaled him with images of what exciting
things the Potion master might do to him.
"Sorry, sir," replied Harry, feeling a blush creep on his skin again. "I - I
didn't get much sleep last night."
"You're still having nightmares, then?" asked Snape in a concerned tone.
"Yes, sir. I thought they'd stop, now that he's gone. I keep dreaming that he
comes back and kills y- and kills people." Saved. No need for Snape to know
exactly who was in Harry's nightmare. He much preferred the other dreams he had
of Snape, dreams that made him wake up sticky and breathless. "Sometimes I just
wish I didn't need to sleep at all."
"Have you been to see Madam Pomfrey?"
"She'd just try to dose me with Dreamless Sleep. I'm allergic to one of the
ingredients."
"Yes," nodded Snape and handed him one of the glass phials. "Why don't you try
this? It's an experimental version I've been working on. There isn't any
valerian in it."
Harry gaped at the man in front of him. "How did you know I was allergic to
valerian, sir?"
"You don't remember the first time you touched it in my class, Harry? First
year, a Thursday if I remember correctly. You came out in a very bad rash and
were in the infirmary for three days, you couldn't keep anything down, not even
water and Poppy had to feed you through a magical drip."
"You remember that?" asked Harry as he took the proffered phial.
"It's very important that I remember details like that, otherwise a student
could get killed. Potions is not just cookery. It is a very dangerous
discipline and you need your wits about you. I hope it works for you. You are
dismissed." Snape waved a hand at him, as if he wasn't really bothered about
what he'd done for Harry.
"Thank you, sir," said Harry feeling tears threaten at the back of his throat.
No-one had ever done such a thing, just for him. He almost ran to the door,
unwilling to let the man see him cry. He clutched the phial to his chest as he
made his way back to the dormitory, almost as if he was keeping it safe.
He took a few drops after he undressed and climbed into bed. He fell asleep
straightaway and that night there were no dreams.
***
"Harry! You've got to go to the infirmary!" Hermione repeated again.
"Leave him alone, Hermione, he's fine," added Ron.
"I'll be okay," mumbled Harry, despite the pain in his backside. How could he
have been so careless in Care of Magical Creatures? He knew that you weren't
supposed to turn your back on a manticore, ever. The bite stung like hell, but
there was no way on earth he was going to go to Madam Pomfrey today. Not today.
Why hadn't it happened yesterday? He would have been fine going to the
infirmary then.
"Harry, don't be such a boy! It might get infected! You don't know where that
thing's been!"
"Infected?" he asked, turning pale, envisioning parts of him falling off
completely.
"I know it's embarrassing, Harry, but really, she's a nurse. I'm sure she's
seen lots of stuff."
Harry wasn't so sure that the matron would survive the knowledge that the Boy
Who Lived enjoyed wearing girls' underwear, but he allowed Hermione to drag him
to the infirmary all the same. It probably would be best to get the bite seen
to, he was just worried how he was going to achieve it without anyone seeing
his choice of underwear. Why, oh, why had he worn it today?
Once Hermione had seen him firmly into the medi-witch's tender care, she hopped
from one foot to the other, as though anxious to be elsewhere. Her face was red
and she kept looking at Harry oddly. Did she think that Harry wanted her to
stay? To see?
"Um, I'll be fine now, Hermione," said Harry. "I'll see you at dinner."
"Oh, okay, Harry. See you later."
"Well, Mr. Potter? What seems to be the trouble?" asked Madam Pomfrey.
"Um - er - I've been bitten by a manticore."
"I thought it was care of them, not attack by them? Where was the teacher when
all this was going on, hmm?"
"It's not Hagrid's fault!" protested Harry vehemently. "It was mine. I dropped
my quill and when I bent down it attacked me and bit me."
"Oh, so it bit you on the - "
"Yes," mumbled Harry, wondering if the day could get any more embarrassing.
Madam Pomfrey was holding a hand over her mouth, whether from shock or to
prevent herself from giggling Harry wasn't sure. She led Harry to one of the
beds and pulled a curtain round it, conjuring up a hospital gown as she did so.
"Undress for me, Potter and put this on. I will come back to you in a moment."
Harry heaved a relieved sigh. He wouldn't have to show his underwear at all,
when he undressed he could just put it in the pile beneath his robes and
uniform. He'd never been so glad in his life for the flimsy cotton gown. Once
Pomfrey had left him, he got undressed quickly, folding all his clothes in a
neat pile on a stool beside the bed. He stood waiting by the side of it, it
would hurt too much to sit or lie down.
When Madam Pomfrey returned, she had a glass of frothy blue liquid in one hand
and a jar of something thick and green in the other. "Drink this, Potter, it'll
help with the pain and stop any infections." Harry took the glass she offered
him, glancing at it warily before taking a sip. It wasn't as vile as Skele-Gro,
but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. He grimaced at the bitter after taste
and hoped it worked better than it tasted.
Pomfrey hefted the jar. "This is a salve for your injuries, bend over so I can
ascertain any damage."
"Um, do you have to?" Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other. To
have anyone look at him there, it was beyond any embarrassment he'd ever felt
before.
"Yes, Potter, I do. The salve works best when applied directly to the wound,
that means bare skin. Now, please bend over." The woman's tone left no room for
argument. Harry tugged his gown up to his waist and leaned over the bed,
resting his upper body on the bed itself and widening his stance to balance
himself a little more steadily.
Unfortunately this position was one that featured prominently in his dreams and
fantasies of the Potions master and his prick decided that was what was
happening and he felt himself hardening against the bed. Mind you, his dreams
never featured the medi-witch in any capacity and it was usually a desk he was
bent over, not a bed. His prick didn't seem to care about any of that and was
merrily leaking onto the bedclothes and greedily enjoyed the friction of being
trapped between Harry's body and the bed.
Harry could feel himself blushing and just hoped the woman hadn't noticed his
arousal. He knew it wasn't the witch's touch per se, it was just a reaction to
stimulation but he felt humiliated all the same. Harry started when he felt the
cool gel being applied liberally to his buttocks, feeling both aroused and
uncomfortable at the touch of another's hands on his bare skin. He hoped
desperately that it wouldn't take long so that he could take care of his other
little problem, which was rapidly becoming a larger problem as the minutes
passed.
He gripped the bedclothes either side of his torso so hard his fingers stung
and he had to consciously hold himself back from thrusting down onto the bed.
It was agony and he bit the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from moaning
or crying out. At last, the matron's hands stopped stroking him and she patted
him once on rump, forcing him down onto the mattress.
Harry couldn't help it, he'd been so aroused that he came instantly, spurting
helplessly onto the sheets below him and moaning his release, beyond caring by
that point. He lay there, breathing hard and shuddering, his whole face ablaze
with shame once he'd finished. He waited to be berated, to be lectured, but it
didn't come. Madam Pomfrey just tugged down his gown and said briskly, "There
you are, Potter. All done. I'll leave you to get dressed. Come and see me if
the pain lingers."
"T - thank you," he squeaked, not turning round. He could hardly face her after
what he'd done. He heard the curtain swish as the medi-witch left. Harry lay
for a few moments more, trying to get his breathing under control before he
attempted a cleaning spell on both himself and the bedclothes.
His legs were feeling a little wobbly when he stood up, Harry bumped into the
stool holding his clothes. He fell back with a thud onto the floor, landing
flat on his back and tugging the stool down on top of himself. He struggled to
right it and to get himself off the floor. Just then the curtain was pulled
back once more and Harry glanced up, expecting to see Madam Pomfrey again.
"Are you all right - Potter?" came the voice of his Potions master as he stared
at Harry on the floor, dressed in nothing but the flimsy gown. His eyes went
from Harry to the pile of clothes now scattered about the floor, including
Harry's choice of underwear. Snape didn't say another word. He bent down,
offering his hand to help Harry up.
Once Harry was on his feet again, he helped Harry gather up all of his clothes
and set them neatly on the bed. Snape still held onto the camisole and Harry
wondered what the man was thinking. Was this something he found so hard to
understand?
"Is this yours?" he asked softly, his fingers stroking the peach silk. Harry
shivered and nodded. What was the point in denying it now? He just wondered how
long it would be before Snape told his Slytherins and Harry's shame would be
spread around the whole school. Maybe he could run away before that happened,
but he didn't really have anywhere to go. Snape eyes were locked on Harry's and
Harry felt himself falling into their dark depths.
"It's very pretty," said Snape turning away and leaving Harry staring after him
as if he'd been hit with a stunning spell. Snape hadn't seemed upset or even
surprised at what he'd discovered. For just a moment, a very brief moment,
Harry was sure he saw something in the man's eyes. Something like a flicker of
interest.
***
For the next few weeks leading up to Halloween, Harry found himself wondering
even more about Severus Snape the man, rather than the teacher. A couple of
times he'd caught the man staring at him during meals and in lessons, but Snape
was always quick to glance away, but not before Harry noticed the two spots of
colour high on his cheekbones. What was the man thinking? Was he wondering what
Harry was wearing underneath his clothes? Did that excite Snape? Knowing that
Harry might be wearing lace and satin?
Harry sat down for breakfast on Halloween morning, shifting slightly in his
seat as he felt the lace shift and move over his slowly burgeoning erection,
delicious tendrils of arousal spiking up and down his spine. He glanced at the
top table, hoping to catch Snape's eyes, hoping that the man would know how
Harry was feeling just from his heated looks, but Snape was absent.
The morning owls swooped in, laden with letters and parcels from home for most
of the student body. Harry felt a pang of envy and tried to damp it down. It
wasn't as if he ever received anything from the Dursleys' before, so how come
it was so upsetting today? He just felt left out when everyone else opened
their letters and all their sweets from home. Hermione of course received a
large parcel of sugar free snacks and she glanced longingly at Ron's box of
sweets and tricks from Fred and George.
Just as Harry was about to get up from the table, feeling a little alone time
was in order before class, a large black owl swooped past his head and perched
on the table in front of him. It dropped a small white box tied with a blue
ribbon onto Harry's lap. Harry's name was scrawled on the top of the box in
gold letters.
Harry gaped, both at the gift and the owl. The owl sat serenely on the table,
preening its glossy feathers.
"I've never seen a black one before," sighed Hermione, stroking the owl's head
softly. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"
Harry nodded absently, his mind on the box. Who would be sending him a present
for Halloween?
"Who's it from, Harry?" asked Ron, leaning across the table to look at the box
that Harry had set back on the table.
"I don't know, there's no card."
"Open it, then," urged Ron. Hermione nodded her agreement.
Harry untucked the ribbon and lifted the lid off, to be greeted with red tissue
paper. He rustled it out of the way to see what was inside. A pair of white
leather gloves. Harry just stared at them, not understanding. Why would someone
send him a pair of gloves? The school supplied his Quidditch uniform, which had
black gloves, not white anyway. Wouldn't white gloves get dirty very quickly
anyway?
"It's a pair of gloves," he told his friends, removing them from the box to
show them.
"Harry! You devil!" laughed Ron. "So, who is it then?"
"Oh my God!" exclaimed Hermione when she saw them.
"What are you two on about it?"
"White gloves, Harry. They're an intention to court," explained Hermione.
"They're what?"
"Someone wants to court you, that's how it's done," added Ron.
"Honestly, am I the only one who pays attention in History of Magic? We did
wizarding courting rituals last month!" snapped Hermione.
"I still don't understand. What's that got to do with a pair of white gloves?"
"It's like chess, Harry," said Ron. "The gloves are the first move, to let you
know that someone is interested in courting you."
"I get that bit, but what does this courting thing mean exactly?"
"Er - someone wants to get to know you better. To see if you would be
interested in pursuing a relationship with them."
"What Ron is failing miserably to explain, Harry, is that someone wants to know
if you would be interested in becoming betrothed to them and then eventually
marriage. It's how it's done in the wizarding world. All very formal."
"But I'm not even going out with anyone!"
"Well, you wouldn't be, would you? Not unless you agreed to be courted
formally," said Ron.
"But you and Hermione..."
Hermione glanced around to make sure no-one else was looking at them and pulled
out a necklace from beneath her blouse. A small ring was hanging on the chain.
"Ron and I courted formally over the summer," said Hermione. "Both our families
know, we're getting married once we've left school."
"I see," said Harry, not at all surprised at their news. "So these gloves, does
this mean I have to get married?"
"No, no, just that you might consider being courted by this person. By giving
you the gloves, they are leaving it up to you as to how you proceed. If you
wear the gloves, you let them know that you are open to being courted, if you
don't wear them within a week, they know you are definitely not interested. If
you do wear the gloves, the suitor has a month in which to convince you to
become betrothed to them." Hermione patted the owl again.
"What if I don't want to get married to them? Can I turn them down?"
"Yes, but only after the month is up," said Ron. "But, Harry, you've got to be
very tactful. Charlie turned down this witch once and she didn't take it well,
cursed him and everything. So, who do you think sent you the gloves, Harry? Cho
Chang? I heard she's doing really well at Puddlemere United."
"And she's also going out with Oliver Wood," snorted Hermione. "Do keep up,
Ron. Harry hasn't heard from her since she left school, have you, Harry?"
"No. Um, there's probably something I should tell you. This intent to court or
whatever, I don't think it's from a girl. I'm - I'm gay."
Ron dropped his fork, his mouth opening and closing in a very good
impersonation of a landed trout.
"Since when?" he demanded. "What about Cho? What bout Ginny?"
"What about tall, dark, mysterious men?" grinned Hermione.
"You knew?" Harry gaped at her.
"Of course I knew, Harry. I'm not dense. Do you think he sent the gloves?"
"I hope so," said Harry, grinning back.
Ron just kept looking from one of them to the other. "Have I missed something?"
"Yes, Ron," smiled Hermione, whispering something in his ear. Ron paled, went
red, then went green, then paled again.
"Harry no! Tell me it isn't true!!!"
"Sorry, Ron," smiled Harry and put on his new gloves.
Potions was their first lesson.
Part 2
Snape's heart lodged somewhere in his throat as he watched the seventh year
advanced class take their seats. He had been hopeful, but at the same time he
hadn't let himself dare hope. Harry was wearing the gloves and smiling up at
him as if he'd just been given the most wonderful gift in the world.
"Potter, see me after class," he barked, but even to his own ears it didn't
sound half as menacing as he'd intended it to.
"Yes, sir," replied the boy, frowning at his teacher, but Snape could sense the
humour underneath. Harry looked up, to make sure Snape was watching, and he
proceeded to take the gloves off. With his teeth, tugging at each finger and
rewarding Snape with a lingering look as he did so.
Snape felt all the blood drain from his face and settle into his lower abdomen
and lower still. He coughed and made his way back to his desk, sitting down and
using it as shield. He was trembling, he was actually trembling at that little
display from the brat and he took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself
down. There was still an hour and a half of double Potions to get through yet
before they would be alone.
Snape did not know how he survived that class, Harry seemed to enjoy torturing
him, rubbing his quill against rose red lips, nibbling on the tip, then tapping
it against his cheek. Snape wanted to be that quill, wanted to know if Harry's
skin was as soft as it looked. He found himself staring at the boy at odd
moments throughout the lesson, breath hitching when their eyes caught each
other at it.
At last the bell rang and the students hurried out. All but Harry, who remained
seated at his desk and gazed up at him with undisguised longing. Snape stood up
from his chair and walked to the front of his own desk, he leaned against it
and looked, just looked at this boy who had torn his world upside down.
"You wore the gloves, did you know they were from me?"
"I - I hoped they were," said Harry, flushing a delightful shade of pink. He
looked like a candied rock and Snape so wondered if the boy would taste as
sweet as he looked.
"So, I take it my attentions are not unwelcome?"
"No, they are very welcome."
"So I have your permission to court you?"
"You don't have to court me, I already know how I feel about you. I love you,
I've been in love with you for a few years now, professor."
Snape stiffened at the title, but realised that he had not yet given Harry
permission to use his name. "In that case, I think you may call me, Severus
while in private, don't you?"
"Okay, Severus," Harry rolled the name off his tongue and Snape felt his groin
tighten. It sounded like both a promise and a prayer. "But you have to call me
Harry."
"Very well, Harry, but I still intend to court you. This is one thing I am
going to do properly. You are from a very old, very influential wizarding
family, Harry. If I do not court you first, even if we got married, it would
not be considered binding and anyone else could claim courtship rights to you.
I do not intend to let that happen. I made a mistake, Harry, a very foolish
mistake when I was your age and it led me on dark paths. We will court
properly. Madam Pomfrey has kindly agreed to chaperone any outings we might
take."
"We need a chaperone?" asked Harry, blushing, Snape could almost feel the heat
emanating from the boy's skin. "So, um, we're not allowed to do anything?"
"Before we go any further into this courtship, Harry, I have to tell you some
things about me. I am not a virgin."
"Er, I didn't think you were."
"As an unmarried, unbonded wizard, I should be. The wizarding world is still
very much a traditional one, Harry and it is expected that no sexual contact
takes place outside of the marital bedchamber, especially with the older
wizarding families, like the Potters, Malfoys, Weasleys and Snapes. However, I
fell in love at seventeen with someone much older than me. Young lovers are
sometimes foolish, Harry and I believed him. Believed him when he said he loved
me, that we would be betrothed as soon as possible and I allowed him to...
Needless to say, he was nothing more than a liar and left me the next day. My
family found out and disowned me, I was disinherited, without a home, without
money. I was offered shelter by Lucius Malfoy, a distant cousin and following
Lucius led me to those dark paths we talked about."
"But it wasn't your fault!" said Harry indignantly. "That man seduced you, why
did no-one blame him?"
"I was the one who'd brought dishonour on the Snape name, Harry, not him. As my
parents rightly pointed out to me, I should not have let him do it. I will not
allow you to suffer that, Harry. Nothing will happen between us until we both
have bonding rings on our fingers, no matter how much we might wish it."
Harry swallowed nervously. "You're saying all those things as if you expect me
to be a virgin," he said at last.
"Harry, it doesn't matter to me whether you are or you aren't, I'm not my
parents. But I must insist that we refrain from anything inappropriate until we
have formally courted, been betrothed and are on our honeymoon. I need to do
this, please."
Harry got up from his desk and moved to stand beside Snape, staring into his
eyes. Snape stared back at green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you,
Severus. I would be honoured if you would court me." Harry bent down and placed
a chaste kiss on Snape's cheek, before whispering against his skin. "Just so
you know, I am still a virgin."
With that, Harry was out the door and Snape was shaking against his desk. He
only came to his senses when his next class bustled in. He'd agreed. Harry had
agreed to be courted. Now the only question was, how was he to go about it? For
once in his life, Severus Snape would swallow his pride and ask someone for
help. He was going to need the assistance of Harry's friends. Next stop,
Hermione Granger.
As he smiled to himself, Snape didn't realise how nervous he was making his
students.
Snape? Smiling? Things had to be bad!
***
The very next day at breakfast, Potions master Severus Snape marched down to
the Gryffindor table and handed a single red rose to Harry. At the uttered
unexpectedness of the gesture, the entire Hall was silent. A few moments after
Snape had returned to the teachers' table, the noise level rose to a level
normally not heard before. Harry caught a few words of conversation from the
other tables, the Gryffindors were still in shock and blessedly silent.
"Did you see that?"
"A red rose!"
"And he had gloves yesterday."
"Oh my God! Snape? Snape's courting Harry?"
"I think it's romantic."
Harry looked down and stared at the flower. It was such a deep red that it was
almost maroon, attached to the thornless stem was a small card with Harry's
name scrawled on the front. He turned it over and read the message on the
reverse. "Harry, I would be honoured if you would join me for dinner this
evening in my rooms at eight o'clock. Madam Pomfrey has kindly agreed to
chaperone."
Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he stared at the
top table and nodded his answer. Snape smiled at him and lifted his goblet in
acknowledgement. They were really going to do this. He and Snape were actually
courting. What impressed Harry the most was that Snape had presented him the
flower in public. He knew Snape was an intensely private man, for him to risk
the ridicule of the students like that had to mean something.
Hermione and Ron were looking at him goggle eyed. Harry laughed and handed them
both the card. "He wants me to go to dinner with him."
"That's great, Harry," said Hermione, sounding genuinely pleased for him. Ron
didn't seem to know what to say.
"It's all right, Ron. I know you don't like him, but I do. I really do."
"I don't understand it," said Ron. "But you used to hate him too, didn't you?
How can you suddenly say you like him?"
Harry couldn't explain without betraying the man's trust. Harry had seen a
different side to Snape during their disastrous Occlumency lessons of fifth
year, but he would never tell anyone else what he'd seen. How Snape's abusive
childhood mirrored his own so much that he felt an instant understanding with
him. That he knew that Snape wasn't truly an evil man, that he'd been led
astray due to things that Harry's own father and friends had done.
Snape had made choices, bad choices, but he'd paid for them a thousand times
over. If it hadn't been for Snape, then Voldemort would still be around. Harry
knew he could never have done it on his own. He cast a preserving spell on the
rose and then tucked it into his satchel, ready to face his classes with a
heart lighter than it had been since that final battle.
***
Harry stood outside Snape's door at five minutes to eight, dressed in a pair of
black jeans and a blue dress shirt. Underneath he was wearing the peach silk
lingerie set that Snape had been so enamoured of in the infirmary. Even though
Harry knew that the man wouldn't see it, he had the impression that the man
would somehow know and that he would know that Harry had been wearing it for
him.
Wiping his sweaty hands on the thighs of his jeans, Harry knocked in the Potion
master's door. Madam Pomfrey opened it with a large smile and ushered him into
the sitting room of Snape's quarters. Two black leather sofas sat on either
side of a large brick fireplace, unlit at the moment. The room was lit by
torches perched on the walls and a large candle chandelier in the middle of the
ceiling.
Alcoves in the stone had been commandeered as bookshelves, occasional tables
dotted about the room were full of books as well as parchment and inkbottles.
Harry scanned the books, noting that there were Muggle novels and poetry as
well as wizarding books. Only a few of the books in the room were related to
Potions.
Snape was nowhere in evidence. Harry glanced at his watch, he did get the time
right, didn't he? God, he was so nervous. The only date he'd ever had was that
disastrous Valentine's day with Cho, he just hoped this one would go a lot
smoother.
"Do sit down, Harry, Severus will be along in a moment." Madam Pomfrey sat down
on one of the sofas, Harry settled down beside her.
"How's the bite?"
"Oh, better, thank you." Harry flushed, remembering that this woman had seen
him orgasm and he heartily wished that Snape had arranged for someone else to
be their chaperone. Was he going to be reminded of that day for all of the next
month?
A door opened somewhere behind them, Harry craned his neck to see Snape
emerging from what he took to be either the bedroom or the bathroom, but the
door was angled so that he couldn’t see into the room. Snape had forgone his
robes tonight too, but he wasn't going for the casual look. Harry suddenly felt
terribly underdressed.
The man was dressed in a Muggle Tuxedo, with a white ruffled shirt and black
bow tie. Harry was sure all the breath had left his body. Snape's hair was tied
back in a ponytail and Harry found himself staring at the angled jaw and high
cheekbones, assets that were normally hidden by his hair obscuring his face.
The man looked good enough to eat and Harry suddenly wasn't hungry for food.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know it would be formal dress. I can go and get
changed..."
"Nonsense, Harry. You look exquisite, as always," smiled Snape. He waved his
wand and conjured up a small table set for three. "Dinner will be ready in a
moment," said Snape as he hurried out of the room again. Madam Pomfrey and
Harry both stood up and made their way to the table. Harry pulled out a chair
for her and she grinned up at him. "What a gentleman, Harry. Severus is a very
lucky man."
"No, I'm the lucky one," replied Harry as he took his own seat. He couldn't
believe that he was actually here, that he was on a date with Snape. That Snape
wanted him to be here. Harry wished that they were alone, he knew that
conversation between them was bound to be stilted with the medi-witch there,
but at the same time he knew that Snape was honouring the wizarding tradition,
that he cared enough about Harry to do so and Harry felt awed.
There was no question in Harry's mind that at the end of the month, he would
agree to a betrothal, agree to be married to Snape. He was giddy just thinking
about it.
Snape returned a few moments later, levitating dishes and serving spoons which
he set down on the table. None of them spoke during dinner except to comment on
the food; leek and potato soup to start, roast duck in a plum sauce for the
main course and the lightest chocolate mousse Harry had ever tasted for
dessert.
The three of them adjourned to the sofas for coffee. Madam Pomfrey on one,
Harry and Snape on the other. They were close enough to touch, but they didn't,
Snape keeping his distance the whole time. Harry wished he'd worn robes over
his Muggle clothes. The scent of Snape was driving him insane with arousal and
he could feel how heated his face was. Snape smelt of cinnamon and chocolate
from their dessert, as well as un underlying smell that Harry couldn't
identify, just one that he labelled as Snape. It made him feel both protected
and wanted at once.
A couple of times, he glanced at Snape over the rim of his coffee cup and was
caught in a hungry gaze that he was sure matched his own. Snape's hands were
trembling as he sipped his coffee and Harry realised that the normally stoic
Potions master was having similar trouble to Harry's.
"May I use your bathroom, Severus?" asked Madam Pomfrey, setting her cup down
on the end table next to the sofa, moving a few parchments out of the way
first.
"Of course, second door on the left," replied Snape with a smile and waved her
off. He turned to Harry with a wicked grin. "Alone at last," he growled, moving
even further towards Harry on the sofa. The leather creaked and Harry thought
he might faint. Was it getting rather hot in here? He swallowed and moved
slightly away from the other man. All the blood in his body seemed to have
settled heavily in his groin and he had to bite a back a moan. Snape hadn't
even touched him and already Harry was aflame.
"May I kiss you?" whispered Snape huskily.
"Is - is kissing allowed?" panted Harry, his eyes darting to the closed
bathroom door. What if Madam Pomfrey came in and caught them snogging on the
sofa?
"Kissing is allowed," said Snape, his eyes never once leaving Harry's. "That's
why Madam Pomfrey has kindly left us alone for a few minutes."
"Okay," said Harry relieved, it was just kissing. He'd been kissed before by
Cho Chang, he could handle a few kisses, couldn't he?
"Lie back," said Snape softly, sliding from the sofa and sinking to his knees
beside it. Harry stared at him, but did what the man asked of him, staring up
at the ceiling. He was perspiring heavily and almost jumped out of his skin
when he felt Snape's hands on his face, stroking his lips. "Gods, you're so
beautiful, Harry," sighed Snape as he leaned forward over Harry, pressing his
lips hard against Harry's.
Harry could no more have stopped the moan of need than he could have stopped
the sun from rising each morning. He was wrong. He was not prepared for kisses
like this. The man wasn't just kissing him, he was claiming him and Harry's
body arched up almost of its own accord. Oh, God, he was so hard. Feeling
Snape's mouth on his, the wet slurping sounds were almost enough to undo him.
Snape still held his head in a firm grip and Harry concentrated on that, trying
to keep himself grounded. He felt as though he might float away at any moment.
Snape's mouth finally left his and Harry whimpered at the loss. It changed to a
relieved grunt when he felt Snape trailing kisses down his cheeks and onto his
neck, licking the hollow of his throat. Harry moaned and closed his eyes just
as a soft cough was heard from the direction of the bathroom door.
His eyes snapped open and Snape stood up, releasing his hold on Harry. Harry
scrambled to sit back up on the sofa again, totally mortified. He tugged his
shirt down over his thighs, knowing that it probably did little to hide his
erection and he just knew his face was red.
"Severus, I think it's time Harry went back to his dorm, don't you?"
"Yes, Poppy. Very well."
Harry stood up on shaky legs and Snape helped him to the door, holding his
elbow. He felt so lightheaded by the time they reached the door, he was sure he
was going to swoon like a heroine from some Muggle romance novel.
"Goodnight, Harry," said Snape, smiling down at him and trailing his hand
across Harry's face.
"Goodnight, Severus," said Harry, standing on tip toe and giving Snape a soft
peck on the cheek, aware that Madam Pomfrey was still looking that them. "Thank
you for a wonderful evening." He glanced over his shoulder at the medi-witch
and uttered a hasty goodnight to her as well and left the dungeons.
***
Snape turned round and sighed, his hand tracing his cheek where Harry had
kissed him. Poppy was glaring at him, her arms folded over her chest, her
tongue making an annoyed clucking sound. "Really, Severus! What would have
happened if I hadn't returned when I did?"
"Nothing, we were just kissing."
"Just kissing my eye! It isn't very fair on, Harry, is it?"
"What? He said I could kiss him."
"I don't mean that. I mean getting the poor boy so worked up and then not being
able to do anything about it. He's seventeen years old, his hormones are all
over the place and you took advantage to do more than you should have done when
you know neither of you could go any further. If you want me to continue
chaperoning, I want your assurance that nothing like that will happen again."
Snape stared at her. Was it true? Had he taken advantage of Harry to try and
push the boy just that little bit further? There was no denying that Harry had
enjoyed his kisses and attentions, but maybe he should have stopped them
sooner.
"I'm sorry, Poppy. It won't happen again, I don't know what came over me."
"I do," smiled Poppy. "It's called love."
***
Over the next month, Harry went out to dinner with Snape to Hogsmeade and
London as well as having dinner with him in the man's quarters. On weekends,
Harry had special permission from the headmaster, as did any other courting
couples who had a chaperone, to go on outings with his intended. They went to
art galleries, museums, even a Muggle funfair once. Harry had never been to one
before and he couldn't stop smiling the whole day.
They didn't kiss again, Madam Pomfrey was like a guard dog and wouldn't let
both of them wander off anywhere alone, but she did let them hold hands, which
they did quite frequently.
On the thirtieth of November, Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, quill in hand,
parchment across his lap trying to find the right words to say to accept
Snape's betrothal. Hermione had already told him that all he needed to write
was I accept your suit. But that just seemed far too impersonal to Harry, he
wanted to write something that came from his heart, the only problem was that
his heart didn't seem to want to co-operate today. He was hopeless at poetry.
He sucked the end of the quill, thought, then thought some more. When Ron
pulled back his curtains to call him for breakfast, Harry was still frantically
scribbling away. He spelled the parchment and tucked it into his schoolbag,
ready to give to Snape tonight.
***
"Severus, stop pacing, you're going to wear a hole in the floor," Poppy told
him. "He'll be here, don't worry."
Harry would come to dinner, yes, but would Harry still want to be bonded to
him? The past month had been one of bliss for Severus Snape, but what about
Harry? Had he finally come to his senses and realised that he wouldn't be happy
being saddled to such a damaged old man?
When Harry finally knocked on his door that evening, Snape felt sure that his
heart actually stopped beating for a few moments. He was here. He was really
here. Harry wanted this as much as he did, otherwise he would have been sending
a letter with his rejection, rather than telling him face to face.
Snape flung open the door, only for his blood to turn to ice in is veins. There
was a cream envelope clutched in Harry's hand, he could see Severus Snape in
cursive handwriting on the front. Oh. Rejection it was then.
"Mr. Potter, come in," said Snape, being deliberately formal. Harry looked
surprised but entered the room anyway.
"I - I wanted to give you this," said the boy who'd managed to steal his heart
and crush it, all in the space of the past month. Snape wished he'd never
started the blasted process in the first place. When would he ever learn?
Happiness was not for him. It never was and he crushed the emotions so far down
his chest he thought he was drowning in them.
Madam Pomfrey smiled and greeted Harry while Snape ripped the envelope open
with his thumb. Best to get it over with as quickly as possible. His whole body
trembled as he read what was on the parchment. The parchment was wet but it was
a few moments before he realised it was with his own tears.
I want my love to be all yours
To you my heart I give
With you I want to be always
Without you I can't live
I want to share your secret thoughts
And all your hopes and fears
To help you when you need it
To kiss away your tears
Is this true, can it really be?
Are you the one
Who dreams the same dreams as me?
Love forever,
Harry.
P.S. In case I wasn't very clear, I accept your suit.
 
Snape looked at the boy standing nervously by his side, he was a shimmery blur
through his tears. Harry looked like a scared dog afraid that he was going to
be kicked by his master. What courage it must have taken to not only write such
thoughts down, but to bare them to him. Harry had bared his soul, he realised,
and was now waiting to see if Snape was going to do the same.
"Harry, that poem was beautiful," Snape said, his voice little more than a
croak. "No-one has every written me poetry before. I never thought I would be
one who would inspire anything more than ridicule, certainly I never expected
poetry to be written to me. Thank you." He bent down and kissed Harry chastely
on the cheek, mindful as ever of Poppy hovering in the background.
"Really?" asked Harry, as eager as any puppy. "You really thought it was good?
I didn't think I would be any good at poetry."
"It's beautiful," Snape repeated, although the words hardly conveyed the depth
of his feelings on it. Harry had written a poem to him. He could almost taste
the young man's passion as he'd written it. How could any poem fail to move
when it was written with such fervour? "So, you're saying you want to tie
yourself to a man over twice your age?"
"I do," grinned Harry.
"Well, in that case, I have a present for you too." Snape moved to the table,
already set for three, and retrieved the carved wooden box sitting on top of
it. He handed the box to Harry, who couldn't seem to decide whether to stare at
Snape or the box more. "Open it then," urged Snape, the suspense getting too
much for his old heart to handle.
Harry opened the box and Snape saw the boy's eyes lit up at what he saw inside.
"Oh, Severus! They're gorgeous! Are they both for me?" Harry trailed a finger
softly over the jewellery inside.
"They're bonding bracelets," said Snape. "We both wear one." Snape edged closer
to Harry and took one of the bracelets out of its velvet bed. The gold
bracelets had been in the Snape family for generations and Snape had at one
time despaired that he would ever find anyone to share them with. As the last
of his line, he really ought to have been thinking about settling down with a
nice witch and raising lots of little Snapes, but his inclinations had never
run that way.
Each bracelet was etched with tiny scenes from history and they were both set
with six diamonds apiece. They were worth a small fortune, but Snape had no
qualms about giving Harry such a gift. "Here, let me," Snape undid the clasp
and placed the bracelet around Harry's wrist. They both shuddered at the same
time, sensing their power trying to merge. Harry's hands were still trembling
when Snape dropped them. Harry reached inside for the other bracelet and placed
it reverently on Snape's arm, power crackling like electricity between them.
Snape so wanted to taste that which was still forbidden. Harry's breath caught
in his throat and he stared avidly at Snape, licking his lips with a soft swipe
of tongue. Severus stifled a moan and was glad he'd worn robes tonight.
Madam Pomfrey coughed loudly behind them. "Gentlemen, your dinner is getting
cold!"
Harry and Snape both chuckled, the tension of the past few moments dissipating
as if it had never been.
Snape extended his elbow, Harry latched onto his arm and they took their seats
at the table, their first meal as
a betrothed couple.
***
Harry groaned and pressed his feverish head against the cool porcelain of the
toilet bowl. Nice toilet. Ron was being a sympathetic friend, cooling Harry's
brow with a wet flannel and keeping Harry's hair out of the way each time Harry
had to void the contents of his stomach yet again. Of course, Harry might have
been more appreciative of those gestures if it hadn't been the fault of Ron's
brothers that he was in this predicament in the first place.
Current predicament being bent over the Weasleys' toilet, puking up everything
he'd ever eaten and a head feeling as if he'd just come off worst in a fight
with a mountain troll. And fifty of his friends.
"I can't believe you let Fred and George get the drinks!" Harry moaned weakly.
"You know what those two are like!"
"Sorry, Harry. They promised they wouldn't do anything too bad."
If this was what the Weasley twins considered not too bad, Harry was just glad
that his stag party was finally over. What had possessed him to agree to let
Fred and George organise it? He just hoped he hadn't done anything too stupid
in his drunken state, as he could hardly remember a thing about it. The
strongest drink Harry had ever had before was a shot of brandy his Aunt Petunia
had given him once when he'd had a terrible cold. In hindsight, he probably
should have brought his own flask and drank from that all evening.
"Oh, God," groaned Harry. "Snape's going to kill me! I promised I wouldn't get
drunk."
"It's not your fault, Harry," said Ron, smoothing his brow again. "How were you
to know that they were going to spike your butterbeer?"
Ah, there was the rub. Harry should have known, he should have suspected the
twins might do it, he should have used the spell Snape had taught him to check
food and drink to see if it had been tampered with. He had been an idiot, pure
and simple.
"What did they give me anyway?" asked Harry just as there was a knock on the
bathroom door. Ron went to answer it, talking in muffled voices with someone in
the hallway. He returned bearing gifts, or in this case a potion bottle.
"It's from Snape," said Ron, handing Harry the bottle. "He said you might need
it after last night."
Snape knew? Knew what happened and brewed him a potion? Harry looked at it
warily and cast the spell he should have cast last night. The potion was what
it appeared to be; a hangover cure. Harry downed a few sips and almost at once
his headache and the nausea receded. There was also something a little extra
that Harry was sure Snape had added just for him. Harry felt euphoric, almost
as if he was floating and he grinned madly at Ron. "Wow! Snape really knows his
stuff!"
"Of course he does!" laughed Ron. "He's a Potions master. Come one, let's get
you ready." Ron knelt down and hefted Harry up from the floor with his arms
underneath Harry's armpits and tugged. It still constantly amazed Harry how
strong Ron was. He was a head taller than Snape now and Harry felt dwarfed
compared to both of them.
Ron helped Harry back to Ron's bedroom, where Harry's wedding robes were
waiting. Everything was in a shade of powder blue; a v-necked tunic with laces
at the collar, a pair of trousers with a button fly and an over robe which just
about skimmed his ankles. Snape's outfit would be the same, except his would be
in a darker shade, with him being the older groom.
"Are you nervous?" asked Ron as he helped Harry to dress. Ron and Hermione had
been married straight out of school and Hermione was already three months
pregnant with their first child. It seemed the Weasley genes were as keen to
spread than ever and Harry stifled a grin.
"A bit," he admitted. "I mean, it's not every day you get married, is it?"
"I don't mean about the wedding," said Ron, turning pink. "I meant about - you
know - the sex."
Harry laughed. "Ronald Weasley, are you asking me about my love life?"
"I was just curious, with you both being two blokes and all. I mean what do you
actually do?"
Harry was rather curious himself. He and Snape hadn't had a moment alone to
discuss things, Harry really only had a very vague idea of what two men could
do together. "I don't really know much about it myself, Ron, if you must know.
But I love him and he loves me, so hopefully the rest will work it itself out."
"Of course it will," said Ron briskly, patting down Harry's robes, smoothing
out non-existent creases. "You'll knock him dead, Harry."
***
Harry barely remembered the ceremony, he knew he'd said some words, so did
Snape and then Dumbledore had bound both their hands with a ribbon and
announced that they were now bonded. Everyone agreed that the wedding had
everything a good wedding should have; there were speeches and cake, drunk
relatives making fools of themselves on the dancefloor and two grooms who ...
seemed to have disappeared from the dance floor.
"Ron, where's Harry?" asked Hermione as she glanced back over her shoulder at
the other couples dancing.
"He was over there dancing with ... Oh, Snape's gone too."
The both looked knowingly at each other and burst into fits of giggles.
"Those randy sods!" said Ron once he'd got his breath back.
***
"Severus, where are you taking me?" asked Harry as Snape dragged him along with
a firm grip on his hand. Not that Harry was complaining, far from it. Ever
since their first dance, with Snape pressed so close against him, Harry had
been achingly hard for his new husband and he could hardly wait until their
wedding night. It was even a little difficult to walk in his condition and he
wondered if Snape knew what he could do to Harry with just a smouldering look.
They had arrived in the Weasleys' orchard, the most private place on the
property and Harry felt his heart speed up in his chest. Snape pushed Harry
none too gently up against the trunk of a tree and proceeded to kiss Harry
breathless. They both moaned at the same time and Harry wrapped his arms around
Snape's back, holding him in place. Snape rocked his hips and Harry could feel
the man's erection next to his, Harry rubbed back equally frenzied. Oh, God,
this was so good, so unexpected and he never wanted it to stop.
Snape pulled away from the kiss, bending low to nibble on Harry's ear and
whisper wanton words inside it. "I can hardly wait to be inside you, Harry.
Tonight can't come soon enough. You're so perfect. I want to feel you squeeze
around me as you come. Do you want that? I want to fill you. Do you want to
feel my come inside you?"
Harry's knees buckled and he almost slid down the length of the tree at the
man's words. He wanted that and more. Harry arched his head for more kisses and
his husband obliged until Harry was lost in a haze of sensation. He was sure he
must have been floating at one point. Could you die from too much pleasure?
"Gods, Harry, I so want to taste you. I can't wait until tonight, will you let
me?"
"T- taste me?" gasped Harry as the man licked his neck. He wasn't quite sure
what the older man meant. Snape's hand skimmed down his chest, caressing his
hips and then Snape cupped Harry's erection in his hand.
"This Harry, I want to taste this."
"Oh God!" moaned Harry. "Yes, please, oh please!"
Snape wasted no time in undoing Harry's buttons and then he sank to his knees
in front of Harry, his mouth so close to where Harry wanted it, yet not close
enough. Harry could feel himself leaking, could feel every little puff of
breath ghosting over his hard length as Snape just knelt there for a few
moments, his eyes searching out Harry's, as though still seeking for
permission. "Severus!" Harry wailed. "Oh, please!" He needed, God how he needed
and Snape was just staring at him, as if he'd never seen anything as wonderful
in his life as an aroused and desperate Harry.
Maybe Snape realised how desperate he was or maybe he just decided to be
merciful, for the next moment Harry was introduced to the bliss of having his
husband's wet, hot mouth wrapped around his aching prick. Harry yelped and
tried to keep himself still, the urge to thrust was almost overwhelming and he
didn't want to choke Snape.
"Severus, oh God, Severus," Harry panted over and over like a prayer.
His own hand had never felt as wonderful as this, the suction, the noises he
and Snape were both making, Harry was dizzy and mindless with desire. He knew
if it hadn't been for his husband's hands holding firm to his hips he would
have fallen to the leaf littered ground long since.
Snape was sucking and licking all around the tip, swallowing Harry's copious
dribbles of precome as though it was nectar and Harry moaned at the sight of
that dark head swallowing him whole. "Ahh!" Harry groaned. "I'm gonna come!" He
tried to tug Snape away from his groin as he felt the impending orgasm. But
Snape would not relinquish his prize, just sucked even harder and batted
Harry's hands away from his head. Oh, God - he wanted, Snape wanted Harry to
come in his mouth. That thought was almost enough to undo him.
Harry shuddered and groaned, scraping his hands back behind him on the trunk of
the tree, the first tremors of his orgasm ripping through him, releasing pulse
after pulse of seed into his husband's delicious mouth. "Severus!" screamed
Harry as the final jolt left him almost breathless and trembling.
Snape kept suckling him, making sure to get every drop until Harry had gone
completely limp again. Harry's knees and thighs felt as though they would not
support him for much longer. Snape released Harry's prick with a small pop and
gazed up at his husband, his eyes still smouldering like banked coals. Harry
felt another small tremor go through him at that look and a small spurt of
semen flew from his prick to land on the soft earth and Harry almost fell,
before he felt Snape's strong arms around him, supporting him.
Snape turned his head, kissing Harry and Harry could taste himself on the man's
tongue, slightly bitter, but with an underlying sweetness too. Harry eagerly
pushed his tongue in Snape's mouth for more, surprised how much he enjoyed the
shared taste of he and Snape. Just as Harry was beginning to harden again,
Snape pulled away from their kiss.
"I suppose we ought to get back to the party," suggested Snape.
"But you haven't..." said Harry.
Snape laughed and bent low to whisper in his ear. "Why, Mr. Potter, are you
suggesting that the first time I take you it should be here, in the middle of
the orchard where anyone can come and see us?"
Heat flared low in Harry's belly and he grinned at his new husband. "I wouldn't
mind," he admitted.
Snape laughed and kissed Harry's hair. "I still think we ought to leave that
until we are back at the Manor and are guaranteed some privacy," Snape moved
his head lower and swooped in for another kiss. "But there are still other
things we might do."
***
It was half an hour later before they managed to tear themselves away from each
other. It was as if that now once he'd actually discovered how good things were
with Snape, Harry didn't want to do anything else. In that small space of time,
Snape had brought Harry to two more orgasms by both of them rubbing their hips
frantically against each other, Snape had managed one. Harry was all for going
again, but Snape reminded him softly that he was older and wanted to save
something for their wedding night so Harry reluctantly agreed.
When they returned to the party, the only people who seemed to notice they were
gone were Ron and Hermione, everyone was too drunk or too involved with each
other to care. They kept winking and leering at Harry whenever Snape's back was
turned and Harry realised, flushing, that those two knew exactly what he and
Snape had been up to. He probably did look a bit dishevelled despite their
cleaning spells and a few times, Snape removed leaves from Harry's hair,
smiling in reminiscence. Harry's lips felt sore and swollen from Snape's
kisses, but not sore enough that he would forgo them if any more were on offer
later.
As dusk fell, Harry and Snape took their positions by the Weasleys' door to say
their farewells to everyone. The wedding party would continue without them, but
dusk was the traditional time when the newlyweds left to begin their new life
together and Harry could hardly wait. "Ready, Harry?" asked Snape as he took
Harry's elbow, gazing deep into his husband's eyes. Harry nodded and Snape
Apparated them both straight into the master bedroom at Snape Manor.
Sitting in the middle of the enormous four poster bed was a rectangular box
with the legend Intimate Secrets in curlicued gold writing. Harry turned round
to his husband, beaming.
"I hope you didn't mind, Harry. I got you a present. I hoped you might wear it
tonight? You don't have to, just if you want."
***
Snape's heart was beating far too loudly in his chest. Ever since he'd
discovered that Harry enjoyed dressing up in girls' lingerie, he'd been haunted
by the fact that he was dying to see Harry in some. He just hoped he hadn't
gone too far by buying Harry something. He loved Harry no matter what he wore,
but he would like to see his young husband dressed in lace and silk, even if it
was just once.
Harry bounded onto the bed like an eager puppy and lifted the lid of the box.
"Oh, Severus, it's beautiful!"
He gave Snape a sultry look, fluttering his eyelashes, but then totally ruining
the effect by giggling madly.
"Sorry, Severus, I'm just so happy. Thank you. Can you turn around while I
change? I want you too see the full effect."
"Very well," mumbled Snape and turned, his stomach a hard knot of anticipation.
Not to mention other parts of him, much lower down. Severus used the time to
remove his own clothes, leaving him standing naked in the room.
"Okay, you can look now," said Harry a few moments later.
Snape turned and stared at his new husband, his mouth agape. Harry was a vision
in a white night dress, a satin bodice flared out into a shimmering see through
fabric that skimmed the boy's thighs. His cock was already tenting the dress
and Snape sucked in a few deep breaths. "It's beautiful on you, Harry. How does
it feel?"
"It tickles a little, every time I move, the fabric rubs against me. I want you
to feel me through it, will you, Severus? Will you touch me through it?"
Snape didn't need a second invitation. He stalked to Harry in two strides,
tugging the boy against him and claiming his mouth in a heated kiss, before
tumbling both of them back onto the bed. Soon Harry was squirming, wriggling,
writhing on the bed with need and Snape knew he could not last much longer. He
skimmed his hands down Harry's chest, enjoying the little hitching breaths
Harry made as he caressed him through the silk and lace. Snape bypassed Harry's
cock altogether, he tucked the cloth out of the way and dipped his fingers
lower, caressing the skin around Harry's buttocks and he mewled in pleasure.
"Oh, Severus, please!"
"What do you want, Harry?" Snape pressed a kiss to Harry's inner thigh, his
legs fell open almost of their own accord.
"In me, God, I want you in me!"
"Your wish is my command," smirked Snape and fumbled for the oil on the bedside
table. His own hands were shaking as he smoothed the oil over his fingers, his
cock begging to be buried inside that warm flesh. Harry tensed up as soon as
Snape breached him with one finger, a startled cry coming from his new husband.
"Ssh, Harry, it'll be all right. Bear down around my finger, that's it, that's
it," Snape soothed as he began to stroke Harry's cock through the silky fabric
with his other hand, trying to use pleasure to distract him from the pain.
He kept Harry on the edge for a while before adding another finger, this time,
Snape found the right angle to hit Harry's prostate and the boy almost arched
off the bed in his pleasure, squealing madly. He was begging for more by the
time Snape had three fingers in him. Harry's obvious arousal and enjoyment were
having an effect on Snape and he was more than ready for the next stage, but he
waited until Harry cried out.
"Severus! Enough! Inside me! Inside me!" he begged, bucking his hips and
howling, his hands fisted in the bedclothes.
"It'll probably be easier for you if you're on your hands and knees," said
Snape, wanting to reduce the amount of pain Harry might feel. Harry scrambled
into position, kneeling on the bed, but he used his hands to brace himself
against the headboard.
"Will it hurt?" asked Harry, as he glanced at Snape back over his shoulder.
"A little," admitted Snape. "I'll try and be careful, Harry. I don't want to
hurt you."
"I know, Severus," smiled Harry and blew him a kiss, wobbling a bit as he
removed one hand from the headboard.
Snape coated his erection with a generous helping of oil, stroking Harry's
entrance again with an oiled finger to make sure he was more than ready. Snape
pulled up the skirt of the nightdress, laying it flat against Harry's back,
leaving his bottom exposed to his gaze. He caressed Harry's back through the
material, enjoying Harry's hiss of pleasure before he slid home, gripping
Harry's hips firmly in his fingers. He thought there might be bruises there
tomorrow. Harry was everything he had imagined. So hot. So tight and Snape had
to take a few deep breaths to prevent himself from thrusting frantically into
that soft welcome heat.
***
The fingers had prepared Harry well but nothing could have prepared him for how
he felt, knowing that it was Snape's cock inside him. Snape inside him. He
leaned his head against the headboard and groaned as he was stretched almost to
breaking point.
"God, Severus, move!" insisted Harry, clenching his buttocks and rewarded with
a throaty groan from the man embedded in him. Snape began thrusting in earnest
then, Harry held onto the headboard. It was rattling against the wall from the
force of their movement and when he felt Snape reach a hand round to stroke his
cock, he was lost, coming almost immediately, soaking the front of the
nightdress, gasping and bucking wildly. "Severus!" he screamed as the
aftershocks tore through him. His toes curled into the blankets beneath him,
his knuckles turning white as he grabbed the headboard.
Snape gripped his hips and bucked inside Harry, spilling himself a mere moment
after Harry. The sensation was strange, to feel Snape's seed inside him like
that, but not unpleasant. Harry leaned his head against the headboard, as Snape
leant his head on Harry's neck. The two of them stayed like that for a while,
getting their breath back, before Snape slid out of him.
Snape tugged Harry down on the bed and embraced him, kissing Harry's face all
over. "I love you," he whispered against Harry's lips.
"I love you too," responded Harry, reaching up and pushing Snape's hair away
from his forehead. "So that's what I was missing, eh?" Harry felt as if he was
floating somewhere up near the ceiling and his legs seemed to have turned to
jelly. He didn't think he'd be able to move.
"Did you mind? The waiting, I mean."
"I was a little frustrated sometimes, but I'm glad we waited. It made our first
time seem so much more special, don't you think? A wedding night to remember."
Harry snuggled in close and rested his head on Snape's chest.
"What are you doing?" asked Snape with an indulgent grin.
"Snuggling," mumbled Harry through a yawn.
"I do not snuggle," stated Snape indignantly and tried to move away, but
Harry's grip on his waist prevented it.
"Don't worry, Severus, I won't tell anyone."
"Hhmph," snorted Snape, but he no longer moved away. As Harry felt himself
drift off to sleep, he felt Snape sink lower on the bed, resting his head on
the pillows and resting his hands on Harry's lower back.
Harry grinned to himself. No, Snape may not be a snuggler, but he was
definitely a cuddler.
Definitely.
THE END
End Notes
     This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by
     JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to
     Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner
     Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark
     infringement is intended.
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