Potter's hands settled on his back, silently beseeching Severus to remain where he was, half lying on top of him.
This was not going at all as he'd anticipated. Severus stared down into Potter's angular, fire-lit features, smelling the sex on both of them.
"You were fantastic last night," Potter said in that same sleep-thickened voice. "Thank you."
Severus could feel his cheeks warming. Potter wasn't reviling him for his shameful show of weakness? He was thanking him?
"Are you all right?" Potter asked.
Severus considered the idiotic question. He'd given himself to this man like a pig on a platter last night. Potter could have done anything with him, and he would have been defenceless to prevent it. No, that was untrue.
Severus knew that he wouldn't even have tried to stop it. From the moment Potter had touched him and he'd felt that incredible well of power throbbing under the younger wizard's skin, he'd been lost. He didn't understand what made him need to feel a greater wizard's magic suborn his own, but he was self-honest enough not to deny it. However, self-honesty in no way prepared him to deal with the consequences of his weakness.
"Severus, are you all right?" Potter repeated, reaching up to stroke his cheek, appearing genuinely concerned.
Severus managed a nod. It mightn't be much, but his brain was as frozen as his flesh at the moment.
"Gods, you're freezing," Potter fussed as if he'd read his thought, shifting them around until he'd gotten the blanket over them both. "Is that better?"
The gentleness was so alien to his experience that it nearly frightened him. Not trusting his voice, Severus gave another nod.
Potter was apparently much more capable of speech in the morning than he was, for he started to ask, "What time . . . ." then glanced at the grandfather clock in the far right corner of the room. Potter no doubt performed some type of silent sight-enhancing spell because his glasses were still on the table, yet he was able to read the clock well enough to answer his own question with, "It's only half past six. We have time. Relax."
At the light urging of the hand on the nape of his neck, Severus lowered his head to the cushion beside Potter's and tried not to tense as his companion threw a friendly arm and leg across him. The men he'd known in his past were not the type given to cuddling, and even if they had been, they wouldn't have wasted it on the likes of him.
Severus was bewildered by Potter's attitude. Potter had spent his entire adult life in the Wizarding World. Surely, even a dense Gryffindor must understand how . . . inappropriate his behaviour had been last night?
"Are you always this quiet in the morning or is something wrong?" Potter asked after five minutes of stroking him failed to relax his tense muscles. "If I've overstayed my welcome, you can just say."
"Whhatt?" Severus rasped out, the sound more like a raven's croak than a question.
"Last night was . . . pretty intense," Potter seemed to choose his words carefully. "I, er, probably shouldn't have done what I did."
"You shouldn't have done what you did?" Shock forced the words from his mouth before Severus could think better of it. "It was I who suggested it. I who . . . revealed such a . . . humiliating weakness."
"Whoa, there," Potter said, propping himself up to stare down at him. "What are you talking about?"
His cheeks flaming hot as the fire in the hearth, Severus stared at Potter's neat little nose and detailed his transgressions, "I displayed a deplorable lack of control last night. I abandoned all dignity and put myself totally at your mercy. Most men would view what I did as a . . . perversion and have punished me for my weakness -"
"First off, what you offered me was incredible, not a perversion, and certainly not a weakness," Potter interrupted, his eyes bright with emotion. "It takes courage in this cocked up world to ask for anything we need. You didn't mince words with me or try to hide what you wanted. You laid it all on the line, right up front, risking it all, and being honest. There's nothing weak or cowardly about that. Anyone who would reward your courage with punishment," Potter spat out the word like he wanted to murder someone, "isn't worthy of you."
Worthy of him? Potter wasn't mocking him. He meant what he'd said. Severus could see it in the glowing Gryffindor sincerity.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut. That brightness was too much to look upon. Potter's words hit him like a blow, or maybe like the abrupt, unexpected removal of a crippling burden.
By the gods, could it be true? Potter had judged him, as he'd known Harry must, only . . .he hadn't been found wanting.
Potter's arms came around him and pulled him close.
There wasn't even a thought of refusing the gesture. Trembling, because he knew he wasn't worthy of this, he snuggled closer, offering up a silent prayer to whatever power had brought him this blessing that it not be snatched away from him too soon, that he be given some time, however short, to enjoy this before Potter realized his mistake and moved on.
Potter held him tight for a very long time, stroking his back while he rested his lips on the crown of his head.
Severus was glad he'd taken the time to wash his hair yesterday. Potter's hands and nose had been in it most of the night.
Had Potter been another Slytherin, Severus would have worried about appearing weak by accepting this unnecessary contact, but he could tell by the way Harry nestled against him that the younger man was enjoying it as much as he.
Severus was intensely aware of his own body as he lay there in the shelter of Potter's arms, but not on a sexual level. An utterly alien sense of contentment was humming through his languid limbs and there was something else, a warm emotion that he failed to recognize.
It took Severus a while to determine what it was that he was experiencing, for even as a very young child, he'd known nothing like this. He'd spent his life amongst predators. He didn't even recognize what it felt like to be safe in another wizard's company, and the concept that the person he was with would protect him was so unique in his experience that it took him a long time to recognize it. But that's what it was; there was no denying it. Lying here in Harry Potter's arms, he felt protected.
Finally, the younger man broke the silence. "I better floo back to my quarters to get ready for class. I've still got fifty papers to grade. Can I see you again tonight? Maybe we could play some chess?"
Potter sounded so hopeful, as though it would crush him if Severus refused.
Refusal was the furthest thing from his mind, but his self-preservation instincts counselled him that it wasn't a wise idea to continue this on a regular basis. He'd never experienced emotions like this in his life. When Potter eventually walked away, like everyone else had, it would kill him.
Severus opened his mouth to give a gentle refusal, but the expression in those myopic green eyes gazing at him with such open hope and longing changed the cold logic of his intended refusal into a completely unexpected, "If you'd like."
Severus tried to curse his own weakness, but the relieved joy spreading across Potter's face made him very glad his heart had overruled his common sense. There'd be time enough for hurting each other down the line, after Potter moved on. For now, perhaps he could simply enjoy Harry.
"Brilliant!" Potter beamed, and then gave him an impulsive hug. "I wish it were the weekend so we could just lie here all morning."
Did people do that, Severus wondered, lie around naked all morning? His ignorance of interpersonal relationships was truly appalling.
"Well, we'll just have to wait till Saturday," Potter said.
"Yes, Saturday," Severus echoed, hoping he didn't sound as mystified as he felt upon hearing someone who'd already shagged him suggest that he would still be around and interested in nearly a week.
Potter's hands framed his face and guided him into a deep kiss that somehow felt like a promise.
"God," Potter said in a breathy voice when their lips finally parted, "I can't believe how incredible you are. I'm going to be useless all day thinking about tonight."
Severus searched those spectacle-less, slightly unfocused eyes for lies, but found only hunger and warmth. No false flattery, no hidden agenda, just . . .good old-fashioned lust. He tried not to let the sentiment affect him. Potter was more than twenty years his junior. Hormones ruled young men's lives to such an extent that there was probably nothing personal in the statement; Potter would have felt the same way about anyone he'd shagged. But that in itself was a pleasant change. To be viewed in the same light as this handsome young man's other paramours and not as a terrible, disgusting mistake was an honour.
"Till tonight, then," Severus added, uncomfortable under that bright gaze.
With visible reluctance, Potter extracted himself from their embrace and rose to his feet.
Severus tried to keep his eyes on the younger man's face, but couldn't help but survey the trim line of that lithe, muscular body, or note the pleasing jiggle Potter's standing had caused in his genitals. Potter ran a hand through the ragged, black bird's nest he called hair, silently summoned his spectacles from the nearby side table, and then stared around the fire-lit floor. "I've no idea where my clothes are. Shrink them down and bring them tonight, will you?"
"You're going to floo naked?" Severus asked.
"Shocking, isn't it?" Potter grinned. "Let's just hope I don't mispronounce my own chambers. First time I flooed, I ended up in a pawnshop in Knockturn Alley by accident."
"I trust that they asked a sufficient amount for you. I expect if you show up like this, the shopkeeper will be able to charge a couple of thousand galleons more."
Potter gaped at him. "Was that a compliment?"
"Don't be insulting," Severus snarked, but there was no true bite to it.
His chuckle seeming to fill the room, Potter stood there staring down at him. Finally, he shook his head and said, "You're a surprising man, Severus Snape." Then Harry took a handful of glittering floo powder from the jar on the mantel, carefully enunciated, "Harry Potter's chambers, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding," stepped into the blazing green flames, and flooed away, stark naked.
Potter's laughter seemed to linger in the air after he was gone.
Severus stared around the wreck of his sitting room, wondering why it should abruptly feel so cavernously empty.
He knew he should get up and put the room to rights, then prepare for the day, but he was too overwhelmed to move. The events of the last two days were simply too incomprehensible for him to take in stride.
This madness should have ended in an embarrassing scene on Saturday evening when he'd misinterpreted Potter's reasons for associating with him. But Potter hadn't refused his inept seduction; to the contrary the younger wizard had come back for more. When he'd lost control last night and shamefully offered himself to Potter, the Gryffindor hadn't done what every other wizard had in the past. Potter hadn't used him, debased him, and then walked away in disgust. For the first time in his life, he hadn't been made to pay for his pleasure with either humiliation or pain. When Potter could have used him like a whore and done anything he wanted with him, Harry had cocooned him in his magic and fed him delight until he could barely see straight.
What was even more amazing was this morning's development. He'd never encountered respect and affection after sex before. Potter wasn't behaving as though he were lowering himself to be with him, or as if he pitied him. Harry almost acted as though he were the one being given the gift. It was utterly mystifying.
As incomprehensible as it might be, Severus was resolved to do nothing to jeopardize their connection. Although everything inside warned him that this liaison had the potential to destroy him as none other had, it felt too good to end it prematurely. He'd ride it to the end, short as that ride might be, and deal with the consequences when they hit. Severus consoled himself that those consequences couldn't be nearly as terrible as those he'd endured after taking the Dark Mark on his arm. Whatever happened with Harry Potter, it couldn't ever be that disastrous.
This unlikely affair would end soon. Severus knew that. Potter was young, charming, and good-looking. Sooner, rather than later, a wizard his own age would catch Potter's interest, and he'd come to his senses. It hurt Severus just thinking about that inevitable rejection, but he wasn't fool enough to imagine it wouldn't happen.
Right now he was probably an unusual diversion. Potter no doubt viewed him as an exciting challenge. No Slytherin could fail to comprehend the thrill of conquering the unobtainable. But as time went by, that thrill would fade. Potter would see him as he truly was, and they would become a cliché – an older wizard desperately attempting to rekindle the dead interest of his young lover. Severus knew that he had to prepare himself for that eventuality. When that time came, he knew what he must do. He was going to have to let Potter go with dignity and grace, and try to be grateful for the time he'd been given.
It was a grim future, but when had his prospects ever been otherwise? The mistake he'd made at seventeen had doomed him to a life of ostracism. Severus knew that he was lucky to have Potter at all. He knew that. Still, even after only two nights, the shadow of Potter's inevitable desertion was a heavy pall on his heart. How much worse would it be after even a few more encounters like last night?
But did it really matter? Was he going to deny himself the chance to feel alive if only for a few more days? Severus had no illusions. Tonight or tomorrow night at the latest, Potter would bugger him and then there would be no conceivable reason for the younger man to linger. His last mystery would be known, and Potter would leave.
As much as that acknowledgement stung, in some ways it was a relief. All pretences would come to an end. This confusing social interaction would stop, and he could return to his quiet solitude to lick his wounds in privacy.
