There were mahogany end tables and armchairs scattered strategically around the room, and a deep plush brown rug on the floor that all but swallowed his feet. Harry didn't know what he'd expected Snape's private chambers to look like, but it wasn't this tasteful comfort.
"You were expecting skeletons chained to the wall and stone whipping posts perhaps?" Severus dryly enquired.
Laughing as much from nervousness as at how easily he'd been read, Harry admitted, "Something of the sort. This is really nice."
"I'm glad you approve," Severus' tone made it plain that he'd made a fool of himself already, but since he'd decided to leave his brain behind upstairs, Harry didn't let it bother him.
Silence fell awkwardly between them. Severus neither invited him to sit down nor offered him a drink, while Harry stood there and tried to find a way to broach the topic that had brought him to Snape's door.
"You wanted something, Potter?" Severus finally prompted.
It was only six weeks of close contact that allowed him to sense the nervousness concealed behind the bluster. Harry had to hand it to Severus. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Severus didn't give a damn about what they'd done last night. The man could be a right bastard when he chose to be.
Harry sincerely wished Severus had chosen another time to demonstrate that natural talent.
Taking a deep breath, Harry ploughed ahead. "I think we should talk about last night."
Severus turned away and crossed to a side table by a door that probably led to the bedroom. The table held several gleaming bottles of liquor and tumblers. Severus took two of the crystal glasses, and poured golden whisky into them.
"I suppose you've come here for an explanation," Severus said. Since he was looking down at what his hands were doing and Harry could only see the tip of Severus' right ear sticking out through his hair, his shoulder, and his side, he couldn't really judge what the other man might be feeling, if anything. Severus' tone told him nothing.
"I think what we did was pretty self-explanatory, don't you?" Harry softly countered, trying to judge Severus' mood.
Severus' back straightened. He stood there still as stone for a long moment, before turning back to him. Harry saw those long fingers clench into a fist around the shiny glasses as Severus tightly asked, "You came for an apology, then? I admit you're owed one. I . . . honestly don't know what came over me."
"Apology? What are you talking about?" Harry asked, abruptly realizing that Severus might be even more nervous than he. "Why would you think you owed me an apology?"
"It was obvious from your reaction that I misread the situation, that you never planned on . . . what happened," Severus said.
Planned on what happened? Harry felt as shocked as he had when he'd sat next to Neville in Transfigurations class when one of his housemate's efforts would inevitably go awry and he'd find himself staring at some bizarre, never-before-seen conglomeration of porcupine and pincushion.
Severus had thought he'd wanted him? Harry tried to think of anything he might have said or done that could have been misread, and then gave it up as a useless task. It didn't matter what had catalysed last night's encounter. This wasn't about apportioning blame. All that mattered was that they'd liked it.
So instead of pursuing that issue, Harry shrugged and said, "We mightn't have planned it, but we both enjoyed it. Why would you need to apologize? I didn't act as though I were unhappy with what we did, did I?"
Harry thought he'd been fairly enthusiastic in his responses, but he knew sometimes situations could be misinterpreted.
Severus was staring at him as though he'd transformed into one of Neville's mishaps. Seeming wary, Severus gave a slow shake of his head and a subdued, "No, you didn't."
"What's the harm, then?" Harry asked.
It seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Severus' already chalky skin lost all remaining colour.
An internal debate seemed to be raging, were the suppressed emotion in those dark eyes any indication. After another prolonged pause, Severus asked in a low, almost dangerous tone, "If not for an apology or revenge, then why are you here? What are you playing at, Potter? What do you want from me?"
Revenge? What was that about?
Deciding to forge ahead, Harry answered, "I, er, was hoping you might be interested in . . . more of the same."
As far as propositions went, it was fairly pathetic; he knew that. Still, the way Severus' face pinched up, Harry would have thought the words actually hurt him.
"What?"
Harry wished Severus would offer him one of the drinks he held clutched in his hands, for his mouth had run completely dry. "We were good together. I thought you might, that we might . . . try again?"
From his expression, Severus looked as though no one had ever come on to him before, like he had no idea of how to respond, and that all language skills had deserted him. Harry actually heard the other man swallow; the sound was so loud.
For a moment, his own insecurities got the better of him, and Harry wondered if Severus found him so undesirable that the thought of a second go round completely disgusted him. It wouldn't be the first time a one night stand had been sufficient to remove all interest. But then he took a good look at Severus' eyes. Whatever was going on, he realized it wasn't about him.
"Why – why would you want that?" Severus asked. Harry could sense how hard the other man was struggling to keep his voice controlled.
"What do you mean 'why'? We had a good time, isn't that reason enough?" Harry tried to be reasonable, but he really wasn't getting what the problem was, especially since Severus seemed to believe that Severus had owed him the apology instead of the other way around. "I'm really not understanding what the problem is here."
"I won't be played a fool," Severus stiffly answered, his glittering black gaze seeming to dare Harry to take issue with the statement.
Since Harry had no clue what the hell Severus was talking about, he responded with a less than brilliant, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry wouldn't have thought that a person could look both disgusted and suspicious at the same time, but the expression on Severus' face pulled it off perfectly.
"It means that you are a young and attractive wizard who could find a 'good time' such as we had last night with any other young and attractive wizard. Why would you bother with someone old enough to be your father? I'm hardly anyone's idea of . . . an ideal sexual partner. If you were me, wouldn't you be suspicious? There has to be a reason for your interest other than the one you've stated."
Harry was glad he hadn't been offered any liquor. It would have come straight up at Severus' words. He cringed inside at what it must have taken for this proud man to ask that question. He thought back on last night, how Severus had seemed to think they were done when he'd finished giving him that amazing blowjob, and how surprised Severus had been by his offer of reciprocation. He couldn't imagine what the older man must have been through to cause this kind of mistrust. Did Severus really view himself as being that . . . undesirable?
Harry swallowed around the lump that was trying to choke him and tried to think of an appropriate response while Severus stood there watching him as though he expected to be hit by an Unforgivable.
"I guess I didn't think about it like that," Harry said at last. He knew he had to tread carefully here, but he had no idea how to proceed. "But . . . I'm not playing you. I swear it. I . . . really liked what we did and . . . just hoped there might be more." Seeing that those words weren't enough, Harry tried another track. "Why can't you believe that?"
"Because it makes no sense. I'm not blind. I know what I look like. Why would a handsome young man who could be with anyone he wanted choose to be with me?"
"How about that blowjob you gave me that melted my brain? Doesn't that count?" Harry asked.
"You could get that elsewhere, and better," Severus dismissed.
Harry caught that doubtful gaze and held it. "No, I couldn't. Last night was . . . unique." Seeing that he had Severus' attention, he asked, "Do you think I don't have to wonder why people are sleeping with me, too?" Reading the continued disbelief, he snapped, "I've been famous since before I could talk. People want a piece of me just because of that."
"How terrible for you."
Wanting to wipe that sneer off that sour puss, Harry lost his temper entirely. "Do you think it's easy having people want you just because they've read about you in the papers? Every time I start to get really close to someone, they jump ship as soon as they get a glimpse of the real me." He was not going to mention the nightmares, not this soon in the game. Severus would find out about them soon enough, providing they got any further than this ridiculous conversation.
"That still doesn't explain what you're doing with me," Severus said. His slightly less accusative tone seemed to suggest that he might actually be considering what Harry had said. "I'm neither richer than you nor more powerful. I have nothing to offer you that you can't get elsewhere."
Harry's blood pressure soared at that 'neither richer nor more powerful than you' line. Severus made the insulting accusation as though those motivations were perfectly acceptable. Harry's mouth had opened to blast out that he didn't sleep with people for those reasons, when an unexpected insight made him snap it shut on the angry diatribe.
He didn't sleep with people for those reasons, but Harry knew other people sometimes did. Perhaps a man who didn't consider himself graced with physical beauty might consider money and power the only reasons why a man twenty years his junior would have sexual relations with him. It was entirely possible that Severus had been this route before, that he had been used that way.
Forcefully calming his anger, Harry quietly offered, "What about your disdain? I can't get that anywhere else, can I?"
"My what?" Severus didn't quite gape at him, but he might just as well have done for the shock in his voice.
Harry sighed. "Everyone wants a piece of the Boy Who Lived, but not Harry Potter. You're . . . different. You can't stand the Boy Who Lived bilk. You barely tolerate me. So . . . what we did last night had to be . . . real."
"What do you mean by real?" Severus snapped.
Realizing that his words might have made him sound like an infatuated sixth year looking for her soul mate, Harry ran a hand through his mess of hair, took a deep breath and said in a calmer tone, "I meant that we were both after the same thing – good sex. It wasn't about some stranger grabbing a bit of celebrity. And it was bloody wonderful, wasn't it? Who wouldn't want more? Can't we just enjoy it and not worry about why?"
He was getting through; he could feel it. Encouraged by the lack of immediate rejection, Harry took another deep breath and tried to relax. Being centred was the only way to go when dealing with Severus.
"You . . . think what we did last night was 'bloody wonderful'?" Severus asked, visibly thrown.
"I just said so, didn't I? Wonderful, and fantastic, and . . . hot as hell."
Gathering his courage, he stepped up to Severus and removed the whisky glasses from his hands. There wasn't even a hint of protest. A thought sent the glasses floating over to the nearest end table where they settled beside a stack of leather-bound books and a lit candelabrum.
Feeling those eyes digging into his face, Harry continued in a softer tone, moving close enough to touch without actually doing so. "I know you're older than me. I mightn't be as smart as you, but I'm bright enough to reap the benefits of your greater experience."
It was like trying to calm a frightened serpent with Parseltongue, Harry thought, realizing that he was all but seducing Severus with words. It was a weird thought, but it turned him on something fierce.
He just wished he were a bit more skilled with language. Action was his forte. Severus would have been far better suited to this, with his deep cultured voice and extensive vocabulary.
Severus had apparently calmed enough to see the humour in the situation, for he gave a snort and said, "Greater experience? I've barely been out of the dungeons in two decades."
Recognizing how hard that admission must have been, Harry held Severus' eyes and answered, "You could have fooled me. In fact, you did."
As little as two weeks ago, Severus would have come back with some scathing comment on his lack of intellect, but tonight he simply stared at him. Finally, Harry saw the light of belief enter Severus' face. "You truly wish to engage in . . . these activities with me?"
This was the first answer Harry didn't have to think about since he'd entered the room. "It's all I've been able to think about all day. What do you say?"
That shock was back in Severus' eyes. Harry knew he'd never know or understand half of what had made Severus Snape into the type of man he was, but, surely, somewhere along the line, someone had to have been kind to him, been genuinely infatuated with him? No one could have made it through fifty years without a single person falling for them, could they?
Harry's brain told him no, but his heart was instructing him to move slowly in case his brain were wrong as he took that final step closer, moving so far into Severus' personal space that he could feel Severus' body heat beckoning to him.
Severus' long fingered hands took hold of Harry's shoulders to gently guide him even closer. The action was cautious, giving Harry every opportunity to pull back.
The man was so damn tall that Harry had to tilt his head back for the ensuing kiss as Severus stooped down to meet him, but their lips fit as if designed for each other. He clasped his fingers in a loose hold at the back of Severus' neck, keeping him in place as he leaned into him.
