schemingreader

Another Snarry? So soon? This is the one I have been writing in collaboration with cruisedirector. It was fun to write! I hope it is equally fun to read!

Title: Charmed, I'm Sure
Authors: schemingreader and cruisedirector
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Graphic sexual description, dirty talk. Harry is well over the age of consent.
Summary: On the eve of the final battle, Harry wonders whether someone has him under a spell. Why else would he want to shag Severus Snape?
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry, Severus, Grimmauld Place and finite incantatem.
Note: First in the Cum Aege Cingere series. Thanks to xochiquetzl for the Latin beta on the title, which means "to surround with a shield."



"I swear, Ron, I must have been hexed!"

"What do you mean, mate?"

"How else would you explain this?" Harry's eyebrows lifted to his famously messy hairline. "What else would explain my sudden desire to shag Severus Snape?"

Ron's face, which had so far shown only confusion, twisted in disgust. "You didn't tell me you wanted to shag him!" he objected. "You only said his hair wasn't quite so bad as you used to think and he had a commanding voice..." Now Ron looked as though he might be sick. "I don't know any hexes strong enough for that. It must be Imperius."

"But who'd want to curse me to want to shag Snape?" It didn't make sense, thought Harry. It wasn't as if Snape liked Harry any better than Harry had liked Snape...well, until a couple of days ago.

From the corner where Hermione sat with her head in a book, there was the sound of a tongue being clicked. The eye-rolling was inaudible. It was just like ten years ago, when they were back at Hogwarts, except that now they were working on battle plans instead of homework.

"She's doing it again," whispered Ron.

"It's not Imperius, anyhow, Ron," Harry said. "I can resist Imperius, and Imperius feels kinda peaceful, you know. This doesn't feel peaceful, at all."

"Well, when did it start? You didn't just wake up wanting to -- you know -- this morning, did you?"

No, he hadn't, though in complete honesty, Harry had once woken up with his pyjamas wet and a fading memory of a dream in which a scarred hand with yellow fingernails had just given him the best orgasm of his life. "I think it was while Tonks was talking about Draco's rescue. I started thinking about how Snape had got him away from Hogwarts. Then I wondered whether Snape and Draco had..."

"Enough!" Ron had put his hands over his ears. "I get the point. Maybe it's some kind of delayed curse? You had to hear certain words in a certain order to trigger it, or something?"

The quiet snicker from the corner was impossible to ignore.

"It couldn't be because Harry genuinely admires Professor Snape?" Hermione muttered scornfully. "Oh, no, even though the animosity between them has cooled to nearly bearable levels you couldn't expect either one of them to acknowledge a feeling, heaven forbid."

"Harry's acknowledging feelings!" Ron said a bit defensively. "Can't you, er, give him credit for understanding his own, um, emotions?"

"Nice try, Ron," Hermione said.

"Do NOT tell me I have the emotional range of a teaspoon, again," Ron said. "That really hurts my feelings."

"But Hermione," Harry interjected, "this doesn't exactly feel normal to me. I really think there is something weird going on here. I can accept that maybe I might fancy, you know, a man. I mean, someone like, like, Sirius was. But this is different."

Ron was no longer covering his ears, but his expression was no less horrified. "But Sirius was old enough to be your father!" he exclaimed. "For that matter, so is Snape!"

"And Madam Rosmerta is about as old as they are, but that didn't stop you from fancying her!" Hermione's smirk only made Ron turn an even deeper shade of red.

"In any case," Hermione continued, "this isn't technically a hex. If you feel love or lust for someone, it's a charm. Hexes are hostile and negative, and a love charm isn't."

"Is this meant to be positive, then?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Just ignore him, Harry. What doesn't feel normal about it?"

"Well, it's..." Biting his lip, Harry tried to figure out how to explain this in a way that wouldn't make Ron try not to listen or Hermione laugh. "Usually, when I've liked someone, it hasn't been all at once. I noticed that Cho was pretty before I ever thought about kissing her, and Ginny and I were friends for a long time before we..." The warning glare from Ron made Harry cut that thought short. "Well, before I realized that I wanted to date her. With Snape, it isn't as if I want to take him to Madam Puddifoot's or go for a walk around the lake with him. I don't even want to talk to him, particularly! I just want to..."

"Shag him, right," finished Hermione in a serious tone over Ron's unhappy whimper. "You know, not everyone falls in love before they feel lust."

Ron gaped at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione, my moral compass?" he demanded.

"Look, let's just acknowledge human nature, all right?" Hermione continued sagely. "The fact that I have to tell you this, Harry, is just a measure of how your upbringing has cut you off from normal human interaction."

"You think it's normal that he wants to shag Severus Snape?" Ron interrupted.

"Certainly," Hermione responded placidly.

"So do you think I should do it?" asked Harry.

Ron gave a screech. Even Hermione sat up and yelled, "Absolutely not, are you mad? The man is an emotional minefield."

After a moment Hermione looked unhappy. "That was the wrong thing to say, wasn't it, Ron. Either Harry will take that as a challenge, and try get Snape into bed, and blame me for goading him into it -- or worse, Snape will turn out to be the love of his life and he will always remember that I was negative about it."

Ron bleated, "Love of his life! Harry, you won't do it, will you?"

"I don't really see how I can," Harry replied rather gloomily. "Can you imagine what he'd say if I walked up to him and said, "'Oi, Severus, fancy a fuck?'"

"He'd probably point his wand at you and turn you into a beetle." This did not make Harry feel better, but Ron looked relieved. "Best never to speak of it at all, I think."

"On the other hand, if someone has put some sort of charm or curse on Harry, Snape might be the person we know best equipped to discover how it works." Hermione looked thoughtful. "Mind you, I'm not suggesting that you come out and tell him you want to shag him..."

"You just said you thought it was perfectly normal for me to want to shag him!" objected Harry, just as the door creaked open.

"I thought the three of you were going to work on strategy, not discuss your lingering adolescent sexual confusion," said Snape, who stood in the doorway glowering at them.

Hermione didn't bat an eye.

"Actually, as difficult as this may be to believe, Professor, this side conversation is germane to our discussion of strategy."

"Miss Granger," Snape responded.

"Harry is concerned that he has been the target of a spell."

"Unlikely, but of course we can do the appropriate scans," Snape said. He did not sneer. He was taking it seriously. Harry was gratified. "Mr. Potter, as I am no longer useful as a spy, I can assist you by checking you for magical signatures. If that is agreeable."

Now Harry was terrified. What if it really wasn't a hex, or a charm, or whatever? How could he explain that he was having strange feelings that seemed out of character? Snape had never liked Harry following hunches. He wasn't a hunch sort of person.

Not to mention, how could Harry avoid telling Snape that he...was... you know...interested. In Snape. In a sexual way.

Harry looked at Hermione and shook his head. Unfortunately, all she did was to smile a little and nod encouragingly as she stood up. "Come on, Ron, we can grab some lunch while we take notes."

Ron -- who had frozen in his seat from the moment Snape entered, as if he expected to be turned into a beetle if he spoke -- gave Harry a look that was partly apologetic but mostly delighted to have an excuse to get out of there. "Just don't say anything stupid and you'll be fine," he muttered to Harry as he rose.

Practical as that advice might have been, it didn't really give Harry any clue where to start as Hermione strode out of the room with Ron chasing after her. Now he was alone with Snape, who had not taken his eyes off Harry since Hermione mentioned the hex. "Tell me exactly what has happened to arouse your suspicions," Snape ordered.

Harry really wished Snape had used a word other than arouse. He also wished Snape's voice did not sound so sexy, and that Hermione and Ron hadn't left them alone together. "I think maybe someone is trying to influence my behavior. By making me feel, um, uncontrollable lust."

"Potter," Snape said impatiently. "You are twenty-four years old. How unusual is it for a man your age to feel lust?"

Harry looked at the floor, and then at the ceiling, and several other places that were not directly at Snape.

"This is one of your hunches, isn't it," Snape said in a flat voice. "Which means I have to pursue it, because your hunches are sometimes correct." He sounded pained.

"I'm--I'm just embarrassed by what it is. It's two days since we finally disarmed the last Horcrux, and I'm feeling so...I wonder if it's a side effect. That's all." Harry wasn't telling him a lie, he thought. It had been a strong feeling for the past two days. It could have been a side effect of the Horcrux. All of this was true.

Harry was just omitting one detail: the object of these sudden, inexplicable lusts. Perhaps Snape could perform the diagnostic without actually knowing that. It would certainly be helpful--

Harry yelped. "What is it, Potter," Snape said in a distracted voice, "have I trod on your toe?" He was standing very close all of a sudden, bending over Harry to look into his eye. "Could you take off your glasses, please, I want to check your pupils."

"For, er, dilation?" Harry said, in a slightly higher voice than usual.

"Very good," Snape said, almost to himself. He was using a tiny light at the tip of his wand to look.

"Is it like when they put the drops in your eyes, you know, to check your vision?" Harry asked. Was he babbling? He was babbling. Please please please don't notice that I'm hard please.

"No, Potter, that's to check the retina. You were right the first time; this is to check that your pupil dilates normally and isn't affected by anything magical."

"Is it, uh, dilated?"

"Yes, your pupils are dilated."

"Does that mean I was hexed, or, you know, affected by..."

"Just--just let me concentrate for a moment, please!" Snape's face was still very close to Harry's. He smelled nice; Harry didn't expect that. Aftershave, or maybe it was his soap or shaving cream. Harry's groin throbbed. And then, too late, he recalled the more frequent reason for Snape to gaze into his eyes. The room began to swim.

"No -- don't -- " he choked, trying to concentrate, but he'd always been crap at Occlumency with Snape. Wildly he cast about for something else to think about. He tried thinking about Quidditch, but the broomstick turned into a giant erection, and he tried thinking about Transfiguration, but everything transfigured into images of hands stroking over his body. He was so terrified of picturing Snape's face that he tried to force himself to think of some good-looking girl, but the generic pretty one he conjured pulled up her skirt to show that she had a penis.

Harry was scarlet when the room reformed around him and Snape looked embarrassed to be there too, though he was still much closer than Harry thought he needed to be. "Potter, did you grow up among Muggles with prejudices against homosexuals?"

Harry nodded uncomfortably.

"Then if you found yourself attracted to men, you would have reason to wish to believe yourself hexed?"

"It's not that I'm attracted to men!" All right, that had been a stupid thing to say, and Ron had warned him against saying stupid things. "Listen, the Dursleys hated magic and the Irish and anyone who wasn't exactly like them. I wouldn't be pretending I was hexed because of what they'd think."

"Purebloods strongly frown on same-sex couples as well."

"I care about what people like the Malfoys think even less than I care about my relatives!"

"Then what makes you believe you have been hexed, rather than that your own latent desires are surfacing?"

"Well, maybe I am attracted to men, and I can accept that, it's fine. Perhaps I'm bisexual: I like girls, I like boys." Harry shrugged. "It's just that this isn't attraction, it's a sort of madness."

"What do you mean?" Snape asked in a neutral voice. Harry was amazed that Snape wasn't mocking him. Indeed, since Snape's role as the spy had been exposed, his entire attitude toward Harry seemed to have changed. Though he did try to look into Harry's thoughts without his permission, so maybe he still was a git at heart.

What did he mean? He meant that he had wanted to kiss people before, but his heart hadn't pounded like it was pounding now, pooling his blood between his legs where it beat inexorably.

"I--I mean, this isn't like anything I've experienced before, that's what I mean. It feels like magic, not like sexual attraction. I mean, it's sexual attraction, it's just not..."

Harry realized that he was still looking into Snape's eyes, at much closer range than he ever had. Snape's pupils were dilated, though the difference between them and his irises was just barely discernible in this light.

"Why are you trusting me, Potter? You shouldn't trust me. You ignore all the evidence of your eyes," Snape's voice had a strangled sound.

"I'm...I'm not sure what you mean." Harry paused to lick his lips. His mouth felt very dry, maybe because all his blood had rushed to his groin.

"I mean..." Snape swallowed, and when he spoke again his voice was low and throaty. "It isn't any easier for me to listen to you talk about what your prick wants than it is for you to tell me about it."

Helplessly, Harry let out a groan; just hearing Snape say the word prick made him think he might come in his pants. "Sir," he said without even thinking about it, and then Snape moaned, too.

Was it possible that Snape himself had used some kind of sex magic on him? Snape had just said that Harry shouldn't trust him. Yet he found it impossible to believe that Snape would have done such a thing...not because he had such faith in Snape's ethics, but because Harry couldn't imagine that Snape would want Harry to pursue him only because of a spell. If Snape wanted Harry, he would probably want him begging freely...

Harry's gaze had dropped, trying to stop Snape from reading his mind any further, and then he realized what was meant by all the evidence of his eyes. Snape was as hard as he was.

"Do you think..." Harry said, his ears ringing with the blood pounding in them, "do you think this is a side effect of disabling the Horcrux? Since it seems to be affecting you, too, and..."

Snape did not answer. His face took on a peculiar ferocity as, with unexpected gentleness, he tipped Harry's face back to his. His face got closer, and Harry realized in a moment of panic that they were going to kiss.

As Snape's lips touched his, he thought his legs would fail him. There must have been some enchantment, for the kiss to feel like this. Snape, at least, was not himself, because if this was Snape then Harry didn't know him at all. Even when he'd been thinking about shagging Snape, he'd never given any thought to kissing Snape; if anyone had asked Harry, he would have guessed that Snape wasn't any more subtle at kissing than he was at teaching Occlumency.

And Harry would have been wrong. Snape's mouth moved slowly and deliciously over his own. Snape's tongue was sneaky and persistent and even though Harry felt clumsy, like he was sucking too hard and pressing too strongly, he would not have broken the kiss for anything.

Except that if someone didn't stop, he was going to come in his trousers.

It was Snape who broke the kiss, but only in order to run his lips over Harry's face to his neck.

Harry gasped. "Snape, er, Professor Snape, remember this could be a spell! You don't really want to do this..."

But then he lost the ability to form words because Snape's tongue was describing a circle under his ear. Snape's hard thigh was between his legs. He pushed his cock against that muscle, perhaps three times, and came, explosively, in his pants.

Panting, he sagged against the other man. He registered the arms around him, and felt a hand in his hair.

Well of course, Snape must still be under whatever baleful influences had caused this. Harry was grateful that Snape wasn't turning him into a beetle just now, but even in his state of panting relief, he knew that there would be hell to pay.

"Prof -- sor -- Sna -- Severus," he spluttered, clutching Snape around the back, since it was the only way he could speak and remain upright at the same time. Snape's mouth was still on him, now sucking his earlobe as if it contained some magical elixir, and Snape's erection was still pressed against his hip.

Would it be better to try to put a stop to this right now, before anything else happened for which Snape might want to kill Harry when he came to his senses, or would it only be polite to try to do something about that? It wasn't as if Snape could pretend that he hadn't been willing...or, at least, that Harry wasn't just as afflicted as himself.

Hesitantly, he tried sliding a hand around, pulling it across Snape's side and between them. He felt as much as heard Snape moan in his ear. "Let me," Harry muttered, cupping his hand over the rigid shaft he could feel beneath Snape's clothing. Maybe the spell would be broken if they both...

Snape howled his name, thrusting against his hand, and Harry felt his spent cock try to twitch in response. The madness wasn't going away.

After a few minutes. Snape released Harry from their mutual clinging. He didn't look at Harry, but seemed embarrassed.

"Professor?" Harry said.

Snape cast a cleaning charm on himself and on Harry, and looking down, adjusted himself inside his clothing. He didn't speak. His hair fell into his face but he didn't push it aside, so Harry couldn't see his expression.

"Sir? Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Potter, I..." Uncharacteristically, Snape had no words ready.

"Do you see why I thought that wasn't normal sexual attraction? That it had to be a magical effect or something? Because you don't even like me, and it affected you, too. I mean, okay, I'm twenty-four and, well, maybe I didn't know I liked men before or something, and well, maybe I could get carried away. But you're, you know, I mean, what are you, twenty years older than I am and even you..."

Snape just looked at him. His expression, which Harry had only seen angry or cold, was something else. Harry felt like his heart was turning over in his chest. The darkness of Snape's expression was anger, yes, but it wasn't cold at all.

Didn't Snape hate Harry, though? He was only hurt because he was confused by this weird sex magic, right?

Which of the two of them had this all wrong?

"Since I am twenty years older than you," Snape began in an imperious tone, then paused and lowered his voice, "you might consider a few facts. For one, while you may be -- unseasoned -- in your sexual experiences, I assure you that I am not. I am quite capable of recognizing and taking responsibility for my own urges."

Well, at least Snape didn't somehow think that all this was Harry's fault. But the rest was even more confusing. Was Snape saying that he took responsibility for what Harry was feeling? Again Harry wondered whether Snape had put some sort of spell on him, maybe rationalizing that it was for Harry's own good. There was some kind of magic at work here; Harry could feel it.

Harry didn't know very much about sex magic -- those books had been in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts, and since leaving school it wasn't as though he'd had time to indulge in reading about it. But he did think it was supposed to work better if the people practicing it were...attached to each other.

"Sir," he said, because it seemed the safest way to address Snape right now. "Hermione said, well, she thought it was perfectly normal for me to want to, ah, shag you -- you probably heard the end of that conversation. Is that what you're saying, too? Because, all right, it might be perfectly normal for me. But it's not perfectly normal for you. Perhaps you have a lot of sexual experience, but it's not like you like me, or something. You think I'm arrogant and as thick as two planks."

"When did I ever..." Snape began.

"'You lack subtlety, Potter. It's one of the things that makes you such a lamentable potions maker.'" Harry parroted Snape's words to him from a decade ago. "Not that you were wrong about that."

"Saying that someone lacks subtlety isn't the same as..." Snape sputtered.

"See, you don't...you would never...it's completely out of character for you. Here you are taking all the responsibility for your urges and all, and you're going to be so angry with me afterward. Like Ron when he took Amortentia by mistake." Harry thought for a moment. "Unless this is your spell or potion or something and you're doing it to be self-sacrificing. I mean, you would do that, you've already shown you would do anything..."

"Potter. For Merlin's sake would you stop."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to remind you of---of that."

'You think that--sexual congress--with you--is comparable to being required to perform a Killing Curse?"

"No, well, I suppose, if you put it that way..."

"Potter!" It had taken awhile, but Snape finally looked as if he might be thinking about hexing Harry. Which was comforting, in a way; it meant that Snape hadn't changed that much, even if the old Snape would have started exploding jars of potions ingredients several minutes earlier. He had, after all, let Harry interrupt him three times, which had to be a record.

"All right," nodded Harry, taking a deep breath. "Why don't you tell me what's going on, then? Because you can't tell me what we just did is completely normal. This might be the longest conversation we've ever had, and it's normal for me at least to talk to someone before I let them kiss me till I come in my pants!"

Snape was flushed, which gave his pale face a feverish appearance. "You are arrogant and thick as two planks," he said in a pained voice. "Which, if you were older, you might realize is not always a deterrent to desirability."

Harry's stomach tightened in a rather pleasurable way. Was Snape saying he was desirable? But why did he even care whether Snape found him desirable? He and Snape didn't like each other!

Harry flushed, but he did need to know. "You have done a diagnostic and you don't find any evidence that I'm being manipulated magically--some kind of befuddlement, or some magical aphrodisiac or something?"

Snape shrugged. "I haven't been as thorough as that. It appears to me that there is no hex, no enchantment; you merely haven't experienced your full potential for sexual desire."

"But you have. This isn't something new to you." Snape did not answer. "Professor?"

"That's a rather personal question, Potter."

Harry counted to ten. He had had to do this relatively frequently since Snape had rejoined them. It still made him angrier than almost anything when someone withheld information from him, especially if it was something "for his own good."

But perhaps there really was something personal. It was sex, after all. It was unfair for Snape to expect Harry to respect his privacy when he had just read his mind--subtlety or no, that's what it was--but when was Snape ever fair?

"Well, if there's nothing harmful about this, and you aren't going to hex me for it," Harry said, taking a breath.

"Yes?" Snape said, raising his eyebrows.

"I really want to kiss you again."

The stare Snape gave him made Harry so uncomfortable that for a moment he wished Snape would hex him. It couldn't possibly be worse. At least then he'd be able to fight back...maybe even make Snape tell him what was going on.

"Your friends could return at any moment," Snape said finally. "I will come to your room in ten minutes." Without another word he whirled and strode out the door.

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, hoping to make his head clear. It didn't help. He'd been happy to let the Order keep using Grimmauld Place as its headquarters, but sometimes he really wished he could have a private conversation in his own house without having to worry about all his allies barging in.

And Snape was coming to his bedroom! He had better make sure it was clean, Harry realized. He raced out of the room, only to bump into Hermione, who was coming down the hall from the other direction.

"Well? Do you still want to shag him?" she asked with the sort of seriousness that only Hermione could give to that question.

Blushing, Harry nodded. "And if that's not bad enough, I think he might want to shag me, too."

Hermione pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I don't really see how that makes it worse," she said. "I mean, wouldn't you be more embarrassed if you wanted to and he thought you'd gone mad?"

"At least then he'd be doing everything in his power to fix me! What if this never goes away? What if we both decide we like shagging each other and we don't stop?"

It was hard not to notice that Hermione was smiling. "Why, exactly, would that be so horrible?" she asked.

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn't think of what he wanted to say. Then he remembered: his room, ten minutes. "I have to go," he announced, and fled.

Well, why would it be so horrible? Even the word "shag" had him so hard he could barely make his way down the hall. But there was some reason this was a bad idea, wasn't there?

Harry dashed into the room and silently cast the bed-making charm.

Hadn't Hermione just told him herself that Snape was an emotional minefield?

Like Tonks, he wasn't much at household charms. He'd better do it by hand. He pulled up the sheet.

Should he really be having sex with someone who actively disliked him? That was rather a problem.

What was the point of having a house-elf if his room was such a pit?

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to have sex under the influence of possible magical compulsion. What if it put him in Voldemort's power?

Blimey, there was dust on every surface in this place. Scourgify. No, that didn't do it. Scourgify! That was a bit better.

On the other hand, he did stand a good chance of getting killed in this next battle. Snape did, too. Should they really pass on the opportunity for sex that promised to be so mind-bogglingly good? Damn, he was hard...

Shit! Shit! The wardrobe door wouldn't shut. Shit! Of course this was a bad idea. Snape was going to mock him mercilessly and then leave. Of course it felt like an aphrodisiac, he probably slipped something in Harry's food.

Or perhaps he'd slipped it into his mouth on his tongue when they were kissing.

Harry realized he was staring into space. He sighed through his nose. Kissing.

Shit! It had to have been ten minutes. Harry tried to comb his hair with his fingers but it wouldn't lie flat, of course. He sat on the edge of the room's one chair. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he tried to call out forcefully as he rose, but his voice cracked on the last syllable.

Snape might not have heard, though, because the door was already opening. He stepped through, shut it and turned the heavy metal lock that Harry never used because no one had ever come into his bedroom uninvited. Then he pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm.

Maybe Snape had planned all this so he could come here and perform some horrible hex on Harry. That actually seemed more plausible than Snape coming here for sex. But Snape put the wand back in the pocket of his robe and began to unfasten the buttons.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked nervously. Which was a very stupid question, and Harry already knew the answer. His own hands were already beginning to unfasten his trousers. But he'd felt that he had to say something.

"The last time you kissed me, our clothing did not escape unscathed. I am attempting to avoid another incident."

Just the thought of coming on Snape's bare skin was nearly enough to make Harry lose control again. He left his shoes and trousers in a pile on the floor he'd just cleaned and threw his shirt beside them.

"I guess you know I've never done this before. With a man," he said.

Snape, who was folding his clothing neatly on the chair Harry had abandoned, reached into the pocket of his discarded robe. Now he's going to hex me, thought Harry, but what Snape pulled out was a little pot of something with a stopper. Harry guessed it was lubricant.

"Fuck," he whispered, wondering why he was so excited instead of nervous.

"Potter," Snape began in a serious voice. He sat on Harry's bed in his pants and vest. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He'd clearly misinterpreted Harry's reaction to the lube.

Harry launched himself at the older man. He threw his arms around his shoulders and pinned him to the bed. Their naked legs tangled, knees bumping. Hairy, his brain registered, Snape's legs were hairy.

"Potter!" Was Snape laughing? It was just a guffaw, an expulsion of air--the wind knocked out of him, his face unnatural, a twisted smile.

"I want to," Harry said. "Don't laugh at me. I want to. What if we die?"

Snape reached up and tangled his fingers in Harry's hair, bringing their faces close enough to kiss. Their lips touched, and then Harry felt the softness of Snape's mouth, the endless feeling of their tongues touching.

He hadn't realized how long he was kissing with his eyes shut until Snape broke the kiss.

"You're still wearing your spectacles, Potter," he said. His fingers caressed the sides of Harry's face as he slid the eyeglasses off carefully. He folded the temples with a soft click and placed them on the chair.

"You're still wearing clothes," Harry blurted. Harry wasn't.

"True," Snape replied. He pulled off his vest. His chest was hairy, and there were a few gray hairs sprinkled in with the black ones.

"I want to--can I?" Harry said. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Snape's pants and pulled them down. Snape's cock sprang out, large and nearly red.

Snape made a sound, but Harry couldn't stop looking. "I don't know what you want me to do, exactly," he said finally.

Snape looked at him very seriously. It felt odd to receive such a somber look from a naked, aroused man, and it made Harry smile. "What do you want to do?" Snape asked him.

In all the vague fantasies that had been in Harry's mind since this madness began, he realized, he had been shagging Snape. He hadn't given any thought to what it would be like for Snape; he had had Snape on all fours or on his back, and Harry had been thrusting mindlessly into him.

"I'm not sure I know," he said aloud, turning as red, he suspected, as Snape's cock. He hated ever having to admit to Snape that he didn't know something. It was usually used against him sooner or later.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Snape asked.

The question seemed to reverberate in the still air of the room, so that Harry felt he must remember to breathe.

"Oh. Yes." The "s" hissed out of him like he was speaking Parseltongue. He briefly wondered if he had, by accident, from looking at Snape's cock so intently.

Snape brought his arm around Harry's body, so that they were lying full length next to each other on the bed. Harry was on his back and Snape on his side. Snape kissed him and began to run his hands down Harry's torso. He stopped at a nipple with one hand, and then the other was on Harry's cock.

"Oh!" Harry's eyes rolled up in his head for a moment. Snape kissed him again, stroking his cock almost lazily, so slowly, touching his chest. He writhed.

"It's so..." he said, when Snape released his mouth. "I want...ah. It feels so good, I want to do it to you. Can I try? I might--ah!" He didn't want to come right away, but he was worried that he might. Snape relaxed his grip a bit.

"Is it a sign that I've been hexed if I want to--to put my mouth on you?" Harry asked.

Snape huffed a laugh that turned into a moan. His breath was warm on Harry's face. "I doubt it's a sign that you've been hexed, Potter, but it is very likely a sign that you're queer," he said.

This particular piece of information was less disconcerting than it would have been several days earlier. Discovering that he was attracted to men wasn't nearly as strange as discovering that he was attracted to Snape. Harry had always thought Snape was ugly. His complexion was unpleasant and his nose was too big and his teeth were yellow, but more than that, his eyes were cold and he always sneered. Even now, he didn't think Snape was handsome, but the expression on his face was far from cold, and looking at his groin made Harry's mouth water.

Before he could think too much about the impulse, he slid down on the bed and put his hand on Snape's cock. The foreskin slid away from the head when he tugged down, exposing the shining crown. Leaning over, he ran his tongue across the tip, feeling the furrow at the top of the slit. It didn't taste too bad, and he liked the noise Snape made when he did it, so he put his mouth over the bulge at the end and sucked.

This made Snape hiss, and a hand dropped into Harry's hair. "Gently," he said in a voice that was more plea than command.

Harry took his mouth away long enough to say, "Is it all right--can I make you come this way?"

Snape couldn't speak for a moment. "Please," he said.

Harry tried to slide the entire length into his mouth. He'd always wanted Ginny to do this for him, but couldn't ask her. Still, he gagged as the head of Snape's cock breached the back of his throat. He didn't even have the whole thing in his mouth!

"Don't--don't hurt yourself," Snape's voice said in a groan from a million miles away. Harry put his hand around the bottom of the cock and his mouth around the top, and sort of bobbed up and down in a rhythm of his own devising. The skin slid easily. He made his lips firm so that it would feel like a hand, only better, and sucked experimentally.

Snape was moaning above him. Harry stretched his neck so he could keep sucking and look at Snape's face. Snape's head was thrown back and his body curved away.

Soon Snape lifted himself on his shoulders and looked down at Harry. He said, "Potter, Harry, Harry, I'm going to come!"

Harry smiled up at him around his cock. Sex with a man was a lot easier!

Then his mouth was filled with bitter spunk as Snape nearly screamed with pleasure. He choked a little, and Snape immediately pulled back, but this was worse. Semen spurted into his face and hair.

In a moment, Snape had gathered Harry up into his arms. He kissed Harry's face, wiping the semen from his eyebrows. "I'm sorry," he whispered breathlessly.

Harry didn't think Snape had ever apologized to him for anything. His throat still burned, but it wasn't terrible, and he liked the way Snape was kissing him and licking his face clean.

"If you lie back, I'll return the favor," murmured Snape after a few more kisses.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Harry said in what he hoped wasn't too much of a whimper, forgetting for a moment not to use such language with a professor. Except of course Snape hadn't been his professor for a long time; Harry just forgot, and cringed whenever Snape disagreed with him in a meeting or made a suggestion. Maybe Snape hadn't hated him for a long time and Harry just hadn't noticed.

In any event, he couldn't really think about it any more when Snape shifted over him, sucked on one of his nipples for a little while, then moved down and put his mouth on Harry's cock. He didn't suck right away; he rubbed his tongue up and down one particular spot just beneath the head and licked into the slit, even though Harry could feel that his cock was leaking.

Snape put a hand on Harry's balls, rolling them up toward his body. He did something with his lips to cover his teeth and took Harry's cock into his mouth, tongue still moving against the shaft. Harry couldn't help it; he was spurting into Snape's mouth before the cry of warning had even left his lips.

He wanted to lie in Snape's arms. That was weird. Maybe it was just because he'd had such a brilliant orgasm. But what if it was...

"Potter. Stop worrying about being hexed." Snape said in a rumbly, sleepy voice.

"So you do think there's a possibility?" Harry asked. Snape arranged them on the bed. He pulled Harry's head onto his shoulder and put his arms around him.

"Maybe," Snape admitted.

"It's not just because I'm gay and didn't know it?"

"Who knows," Snape murmured.

"Did you do something..." Harry started to ask, but his eyelids were very heavy. "Or did someone else do something to you, too. Because I could like you, maybe, that part could be real. Because I could like someone, you know. But you don't like me. That's what I still think. " He was so sleepy now.

"I know you do, love," he thought he heard Snape say, but then again he was falling asleep. Even under a spell, Snape wouldn't say something like that. He wished that Snape would stay with him while he slept.

"I'll stay for a little while. It would be good for you to sleep. Potter."

"S'Harry," mumbled Harry. If Snape was going to give him orgasms like that, the least he could do was call him by his...

Harry was having a strange dream, though not a bad one. He was in bed with Severus Snape. Who had rolled with his back to Harry, and Harry's cock was sliding up and down in the cleft between his buttocks. It felt good, and Harry was moaning.

Snape was moaning, too. "Harry," he sighed. "Harry..." Yes, a pretty good dream, having Snape say his name like that, let alone having Harry grind against him naked. "Here, here."

He opened his eyes. Snape had pulled Harry's arm around in front of his body and was pushing something into his hand. It was the little pot.

Which meant three things: Harry wasn't dreaming. He and Snape had actually sucked each other off earlier. And Snape was inviting him to fuck him.

Maybe, thought Harry, he should stop thinking of Snape as Snape. "You have to show me how," he said.

Snape rolled onto his back and pulled Harry on top of him. Their cocks touched as they kissed. Harry made another involuntary sound. The heat of the other man's erection against his was exquisitely pleasurable.

"Is it even morning?" Harry said groggily.

"Yes," Snape whispered. He reached Harry's hand down below his balls. "I'm going to tell you about what we're going to do, all right?"

Harry looked into Snape's serious face, and nodded. He kissed him on the mouth, and then looked into his eyes and nodded again.

"We are going to have anal sex," Snape said in his classroom voice, which was very quiet in the dark house. Harry drew in a sharp breath.

"You will use your fingers to prepare the opening. It has millions of nerve endings and is one of the most sensitive areas of the body. Take some lubricant on your index finger, and insert it."

As Harry did this, Snape gasped. Harry looked as his face.

"Can you feel that there are two rings of muscle there?" Snape's voice was thick with desire. "As you stimulate the anus and the receptive partner relaxes, both the first ring of muscles, which I can control, and the second ring, which is involuntary and tied to stress response, will open. You will be able to introduce a second--finger--"

Harry kept watching Snape's face. Snape continued to lecture Harry.

"In addition to the sensitive tissue at the opening, there is a pleasure center at the prostate gland, which you can feel with your fingers if you--ah!" Harry had found it. Snape's eyes rolled and fluttered shut for a moment.

"I want to--can I--" Harry stuttered.

"Patience," Snape said sharply. Patience was something Harry was very short on at that moment, but he bit down on his lips and moved his fingers, trying to see if he could make Snape roll his eyes like that again. He didn't want to hurt Snape, after all.

He tried spreading his fingers a bit and discovered that it didn't seem to be causing any pain. "Severus," he tried saying.

"Harry." No one had ever said his name like that before. Harry whimpered loudly. "Take some of the lubricant and put it on your penis. Use more than you think is necessary -- it should be quite messy."

It was, and Harry's fingers squelched as they stroked up his cock, but the embarrassment was just enough to help stop him from coming. He was afraid he'd erupt before he ever got inside Snape.

Snape had raised and spread his legs so that when Harry moved over him, his feet were practically at Harry's shoulders. Snape's cock was rigid against his belly. "Take a pillow," he instructed. "Push it under my hips...there."

Harry could wait no longer. He took his cock in his hand and pressed it against the hole. It still looked too small, and at first Harry thought it wasn't going to open for him. He was whimpering miserably, afraid that he was going to come all over the backs of Snape's balls, when Snape did something and moved his hips and the head pushed inside.

"I can do this," Harry thought, "just as long as he doesn't say 'penis' again. Or my name. Oh God."

He looked at Snape, who was spread open to him, his cock hard on his belly. Silently, as though he knew what Harry was thinking. Snape pulled up one of his legs so that Harry could place it on his shoulder.

Harry's cock could slide, now, slowly, into this other person's body. It was hot, and very tight, and slick from the lubricant, and it felt like he was in some way in the right place--home. It was Snape, he was inside Snape.

"All right," Snape said softly, "all right, Harry?" and he didn't sound mocking, or like he was teaching, or even like a lover. It was just a friendly question.

Tears started at the corners of Harry's eyes, which was the closest he ever really got to crying. He wanted to say so much but when had he ever been able to say anything to Snape?

"Yes, all right," Harry said in a choked voice. "Will it hurt you if I move?"

Snape gave a small, aroused grunt and said, "Move," and Harry pushed in further and Snape groaned. Then he swung in and out.

Snape's voice made deep gravelly grunts with each thrust, uh uh uh, his face ecstatic. Harry was doing this to him. He had seen this man save someone's life and he had seen him kill someone and he was seeing him now, coming undone.

Harry saw Snape grab his own cock and begin to wank in time with his strokes. "Yes, Severus, yes," he gasped. He was going to come.

He started to say so, but just as he did, Snape went still and groaned. Harry felt a ripple around his cock, then a sudden squeeze. A white jet shot over Snape's belly, leaving a long streak partway up his ribs. Snape groaned again, and Harry watched as spurt after spurt spilled onto his belly, mostly little surges after the first big one.

Except in a bunch of magazines that Fred and George had once passed around, Harry had never seen another man have an orgasm. He decided immediately that he wanted to do it again. But as Snape's muscles relaxed around him, his cock reminded him that he needed to come now. He started to move again cautiously, afraid of hurting Snape.

"Let go," Snape wheezed. Harry didn't know whether that was supposed to be permission to move or permission to come, but as soon as he gave a real thrust forward, he felt his balls tighten.

Snape had a hand on his chest and was tugging on one of his nipples. Crying out, Harry came and came, grinding his groin against Snape's bottom. He kept making noises and shaking even after it was over, until Snape pulled him down, still inside his arse, and put his arms around him.

"I love you," Harry said. He hadn't known he was going to say it. He hadn't even thought about saying it, which probably meant that he was still under some spell.

But he didn't feel like he was hexed; he felt like everything in the world had scrambled, rearranged and come back better than they ever had been before.

Even so, as soon as he said it, Harry felt terribly embarrassed. Snape didn't say anything, which was good. Harry didn't want to know that Snape didn't love him, or why what he was feeling was only sex, or why this was a bad idea. He was grateful for the silence.

It was enough that he had let Harry feel all of this. If Snape had said "I love you too"? Harry wouldn't have been able to believe that anyway.

Snape just held him, even though their bodies were starting to stick together a bit. He played with Harry's hair, and planted warm dry kisses on the top of his head.

Finally Snape said, "We're going to be sticky." He grasped his wand and Summoned a washcloth, and quietly cleaned them both up with it.

"Could you--could you stay here?" Harry asked shyly.

Snape gave him a puzzled look, but he put down the wand and lay back, putting one hand behind his head. Harry had started to settle back down against him when he realized that the question could have been taken to mean some more indefinite period than a few minutes this morning.

He raised himself up on one elbow and looked down at Snape's face. If this was all the result of a spell, it was working very strangely. He still noticed how blotchy Snape's skin was where he'd scrubbed it clean, and Snape's nose was as big as ever, just like before. On the other hand, he'd never just blurted out I love you to Ginny like that.

"You have questions," Snape observed, not looking altogether pleased. Maybe he had hoped Harry would be clever enough to figure out what was going on by himself.

"A few," Harry said, nodding. He dropped his eyes. Snape's cock was lying in a quiet curl over one of his thighs, pale now against the dark hair. Seeing it like that, Harry felt a funny surge of possessiveness. He looked back up at Snape.

"If you really believed this was a hex, why not try finite incantatem?" Snape asked.

"It's too early in the morning," Harry said.

"You're awake now," Snape pointed out. His face was expressionless.

"All right," Harry said. He silently Summoned his wand--something he could do thanks to Snape's lessons. Every time he used non-verbal spells in front of Snape he hoped that Snape noticed.

Then he had a thought, and wrapped himself up in the sheet. If Snape got angry, he didn't want to be completely naked. Pointing the wand at Snape, he intoned finite out loud. His throat was tight.

"Why did you perform the spell on me, you fool?" Snape asked in an irritated voice. "Aren't you the one who has bizarre inexplicable lust toward an inappropriate object?"

"All right," Harry said. "You do me, then."

Snape hesitated.

"Go on," Harry said. Snape lifted his wand and repeated the spell. Harry did feel something change. He looked at Snape experimentally.

"You aren't yelling at me," Harry said. "That's a good sign. You aren't angry then."

"Why would I be angry with you, annoying and obtuse as you are? We have just enjoyed a very pleasurable sexual encounter."

"That's all right then," Harry said, and snuggled down in the bed, his body just under Snape's armpit, his head on the other man's shoulder. He put his arm across Snape's chest, and enjoyed the sensation of Snape gradually relaxing.

He must have done something to me, Harry thought, but it didn't work properly. He was nervous about taking off whatever it was. I'll never understand him. The whole thing's crazy.

I want to be on the bottom the next time.

"I still have questions, you know," Harry said sleepily.

"Go to sleep, Potter. We have to be up in an hour."