His brain seemed to freeze as he recognized just how romantic this setting was. Severus thought back on the last six weeks – to all the times Potter had dragged him out here alone, to the dinners, the going out for drinks, the stopping by for a chat. An utterly preposterous explanation for Potter's attention presented itself. The very idea was insane. But as with all unthinkable thoughts, the moment Severus thought it, it became unshakable.
Was it possible that Harry Potter was courting him?
The concept was laughable, and yet . . . it was a viable, if unlikely, explanation for this unprecedented interaction.
Potter had admitted to being a homosexual. Severus didn't think for one moment that Potter thought him sexually attractive, but he'd lived long enough to know that some men had a morbid interest in bedding someone with his dark past. Potter had never struck him as that type, but he'd been wrong before.
The idea should have repulsed him. Aside from his lightning bolt scar, eye colour, and the cleft in his chin, the Boy Who Lived was all but James Potter's clone in appearance. But if the last six weeks had taught Severus nothing else, he'd learned beyond a doubt that Harry Potter was not his father. Even so, he knew the idea of them together in that regard was a ridiculous notion, but one that wouldn't leave his mind.
Severus reminded himself of all the reasons why he must be mistaken. But for every objection his rational mind suggested, experience provided a counter argument. The foremost obstacle was the fact that Potter was over twenty years younger than him and had been his student. That acknowledgement should have killed the idea right there. However, Minerva had been forty years younger than Albus and Albus' student as well, yet he'd never seen a happier pair. The fact that Potter and he had been at each other's throats for years should have deterred him from thinking of Potter as a potential sexual partner, but the same could be said for most of the Slytherins and Death Eaters he'd slept with in his younger days. There were a million more reasons why it was a very bad idea, the least being its capacity to ruin their working relationship.
Severus had no illusions that this would do anything but destroy him in the long run. Yet, as he stared at Potter's handsome profile, backlit by the brilliant colours of the sunset behind the silhouetted trees, his mouth ran dry at the thought of covering those lush lips with his own. Severus' breathing hitched painfully in his chest when he pictured running the tip of his tongue down the cleft in that strong chin and then sucking his way down the pronounced Adam's apple. It had been so damn long since he'd touched another man sexually that he didn't even care if Potter's motivation were purely prurient curiosity.
He must have made some type of sound when the breath caught in his chest, for Potter turned to look at him. A frown wrinkled the lightning bolt scar on Potter's forehead as he asked, "Are you all right?"
The unmistakable concern in those open features caused a lump to form in the pit of Severus' stomach. His guts were clenched tighter than a fist. His throat and lungs were so fiercely constricted that he could barely draw air, and Potter asked if he were all right. He would have laughed if he could have found the breath.
Instead, Severus gulped with embarrassing loudness.
As if he'd needed any more stimulation, he abruptly became aware of the power coursing through Potter. The man was like a reservoir of magical energy. Potter acted like a carefree young man most of the time. But like Albus, Potter had invented his own camouflage, and sometimes Severus could nearly believe that Potter believed himself to be no more than the simple image he presented to the world. But every time Potter got close to him, there was no denying the raw energy simmering right below the surface, a power strong enough to rule the world, were it his inclination. Dumbledore, Cascius Burke, and Voldemort had possessed this type of magical crackle to their presence, but Severus thought that Potter's exceeded any of theirs.
That magical current pulled Severus like loadstone to magnet. He'd sold his soul to touch this kind of power once, and had been convinced by a wizard of equal force to try to buy it back. There was little Severus wouldn't give to experience that kind of energy, even for a little while. From the time he'd been a child, this kind of power had been his downfall.
"Severus, are you all right?" Potter repeated.
That green gaze held his own, almost mesmerizing him. All Severus could do was watch those lips move while he basked in the energy shooting off Potter like a sleepy cat soaking up the sun's warmth. Such amazing brightness . . . .
The moment felt frozen in time. As on the night when he'd stretched out his left arm and taken the Dark Mark onto his flesh, he sensed that he was at one of those crossroads in time that would forever alter the path of his life. If he took the road more travelled, he could draw back, claim to be fine, and his life would continue along its current course of isolated discontent. But if he took the alternative, the road rarely travelled . . . there would be scandal and shame in his near future, perhaps even ruination. But there would also be a chance to feel alive, if only for the brief instant of copulation.
Just as he had when seventeen, Severus found himself longing for experience. A chance to move beyond his books and potions. A chance to touch and to feel the warmth of another human being. Was it so much to ask?
Perhaps not, but Severus had to weigh whether it was worth his entire life, for that was what acting upon this impulse could cost him.
Severus wavered on the knife-edge for another moment, while Harry Potter stared at him out of those deep and worried eyes.
Then, Severus succumbed to temptation. If nothing else, this would drive Potter permanently away.
He saw those green eyes bulge in astonishment as his mouth descended towards Potter. The absolute shock, the stiffness of the warm, moist lips beneath his own immediately conveyed to him how totally mistaken he had been.
Potter hadn't been courting him. Clearly, the idea had never even occurred to Potter, were the tension that gripped his nicely muscled form anything to go by.
Stars, but the man's closed lips felt and tasted incredible. There was something of spring and perfectly aged wine to the flavour Severus took off the closed mouth, a sweetness that wasn't cloying, counterbalanced by a tanginess that was neither sharp nor bitter. It was the most seductive organic flavour he could remember sampling in his life. He was almost frightened by the hunger those oblivious lips aroused in him.
Even as he continued pressing his mouth against his utterly unresponsive companion's, Severus braced himself for disaster.
He sensed Potter's hands rising behind his back. Briefly, he wondered if Potter would physically throw him off or curse him to put an end to this travesty. Either way, Severus was prepared to accept responsibility for his mistake. Still, the idea of attempting to explain this to Minerva before she fired him made him cringe.
Once again, he wondered what he'd been thinking, how he could have made such a ridiculous mistake. There was as much likelihood of Potter wanting him as there was of Potter wanting Filch.
His muscles tensed as he felt the air stir behind him as those hands moved. Severus closed his eyes, not wanting to see the hatred and disgust transform those soft, sunset-lit features into something ugly. Though his subsequent action was a heinous error, he'd keep the memory of how Harry Potter had looked silhouetted by the orange sunset two minutes ago in his heart until his dying day. True beauty was so rare in his life.
The seconds stretched. Potter's hands neither punched, tugged, nor otherwise inhibited him. Then something very strange and unprecedented happened all at once. Potter appeared to start. A puff of sweet warm breath escaped into his mouth as Potter opened his lips.
When had he last shared breath with someone?
The hands he'd sensed moving in the air behind him settled on his back. As Severus had expected, those calloused fingers dug into his robes, no doubt preparing to toss him off.
Only . . . instead of pulling him away, they simply clutched tight in the woollen fabric. The tension in those clenched lips seemed to crumble all at once. To Severus' complete incredulity, Harry Potter kissed him back – deeply. Potter's mouth opened, his tongue poked out, and within moments, Severus found himself sucking on that rough velvet visitor. Juicy, Harry Potter was so damn wet and juicy. He couldn't get enough of the flavour.
There was nothing restrained in Potter's response. He flung himself enthusiastically into the kiss. Severus literally found himself being devoured orally, and yet, he was still convinced that Potter had never even considered the concept before he'd felt their lips meet. This was sheer Gryffindor impulsiveness, and Severus had never experienced anything quite so intoxicating or exciting.
When they finally came up for oxygen, Severus didn't pause. He gulped in a few lungfuls of air that combined the lush smells of the ferns and balsam trees around them with the equally fragrant bouquet of Harry Potter's personal scent, then licked down the indent in the pronounced cleft in Potter's chin and followed it down. As his lips fastened limpet-like to the skin of Potter's neck and he began to nuzzle his way down the Adam's apple, Potter released a deep groan.
Severus almost smiled around the tender skin in his mouth. He considered the obstructions of the buttons of Potter's black robes and blue shirt below it while his kiss moved closer to them. He briefly debated the proper protocol in removing them. Did one ask or merely plough ahead while in this type of spontaneous clinch?
His past might be filled with many opportunistic couplings, but rarely had they been unplanned; rather, they had been the culmination of sometimes months' worth of subtle strategy. This encounter was unique on all levels. Potter seemed to really want him – at the moment. The younger man had displayed an unprecedented tolerance of his less than admirable personality quirks and had demonstrated something like true concern for his welfare. Potter wasn't getting anything out of this other than the questionable honour of shagging him. For that reason alone, Severus wanted to move carefully, to do nothing to displease Potter.
He knew disillusionment would come eventually, but there was no reason to hasten the process.
Which left Severus in the murky position of not knowing how to proceed. Potter's breathing was even more ragged than his own. Potter was apparently incredibly sensitive, for he'd become aroused hard and fast.
As Severus sucked on that hard Adam's apple, Potter groaned and threw back his head to give him better access to the rest of his throat.
Taking that as silent permission, Severus lifted his mouth from that tasty flesh long enough to softly mutter a spell before diving back in for more. He mightn't be the greatest wizard of their age, but he was more than capable of performing some impromptu wandless magic. The buttons of Potter's blue shirt and the fastenings of his robes promptly undid themselves.
Severus brushed the fabric aside with a stroking hand, staring in open curiosity at the skin revealed. It wasn't as though he'd ever had the opportunity to observe Harry Potter unclothed before. He was struck by the dissimilarities between Harry and his father, whom he had seen at least partially disrobed on occasion during their school days. James' chest had been fairly hirsute. Harry's musculature was broader, thicker, and better developed than his father's, but he was amazingly smooth. A few black hairs decorated the centre of his chest, but that was it. Severus was both relieved and pleased with the differences. That face stirred enough memories. He didn't need . . . .
Forcing his mind away from places he refused to visit, Severus let his lips follow the trail his eyes had blazed down Potter's chest. Potter's nipple proved amazingly responsive when he first licked, then sucked it. Potter's fingers were nearly digging through the robes on Severus' back as he explored the pert pink nub.
Severus could barely credit the sounds Harry was making. The moans and gasping breaths were as arousing as the younger man's tasty flesh.
Potter's needy vocalizations were an unanticipated boon. In the past, Severus had had to work to force sound from his reluctant paramours, but Harry gave him these signs of his pleasure free as a gift. Of course, there was no telling what this gift might cost him tomorrow, but at the moment Severus could only be grateful for it. It made him feel as though his touch were actively desired, instead of merely tolerated, and that was a heady feeling.
Breathing in Potter's clean scent, he kissed his way over to the other nipple and performed the same service on it. The moans were repeated, this time even louder and more frantic.
Severus dropped to his knees on the muddy ground to facilitate moving lower. A part of him considered how they must look, Potter here with his robes and shirt open, the dying sunlight playing over his exposed chest, turning it gold. Severus, himself, kneeling before him, worshipping that burnished flesh.
Severus could feel the rainfall in the wet ground soaking through his trousers, making his knees even more uncomfortable.
He wondered what Potter was thinking, how he was feeling about all this beneath his body's visceral reaction to the sex on offer. Severus also had some concerns as to what Potter would think about him when they were done.
An old poof of a wizard on his knees before a beautiful younger man was too clichéd for words. The potential for humiliation afterwards, and even now, was so terrifying that Severus knew if he paused to actually ponder the consequences, he'd freeze.
He must have faltered to some extent at the very idea, for Potter's right hand, which had been displaced from clutching the back of his robes, moved into his line of sight.
Severus stayed perfectly still as it moved towards his face. In some of the encounters of his younger days, the gaping lack of subtlety to this seduction he'd initiated might have inspired his companion to raise his face to laugh at his crudity or even spit on him. Slytherins and Death Eaters both liked to flaunt their power, and there was no greater opportunity to wound than in a sexual encounter.
With so many of Severus' past lovers, it was all in how the game was played. Cruelty was usually a given. Style, technique, and power were all that counted in those circles. Genetics had not graced him with the raw materials to excel here. Severus had always known that there was never any chance of his winning games of the flesh. He had to content himself with getting as much of what he wanted without sacrificing his pride entirely. Had he been willing to go that extra level, and give up his self-respect as well, he would have been granted more of what he needed, for nothing tickled a certain kind of Slytherin's ego so much as a willing slave, but there were limits to even his desperation. Still, for the open acceptance with which Harry seemed to be gifting him, Severus might have given even his pride for this.
