|HP, HP/SS, Never Wake A Sleepwalker, NC-17
||[Feb. 20th, 2006|09:00 pm]
Title: Never Wake a Sleepwalker
Summary: Ever wonder why you should not wake a sleepwalker? Well, take the answer to that question, add a bit of magic, and this is what you get. Started as a one shot that got away from me...
Genre: Romance, Humor, Smut
Warnings: Slash, Smut, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Abuse of a School Scarf
beta'd by Alisanne, Angel Eyes, Melisande, and knightmare.
A/N: Plot bunnies…meh. Think this one might have had mange. This started out as a one shot, just the first chapter, but then the bunny came back for more... so this is what you get.
Disclaimer: 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.
Chapter 1--Never Wake a Sleepwalker
"Lumos!" Ron said, blue eyes scanning the room warily as he was jerked awake at the sound of someone stumbling through the dorm room. It took a moment for his sleep clouded brain to realise that the person making all the racket was Harry. He was walking very strangely toward the door, bumping into trunks and bedposts only to right himself and keep going.
Awareness making Ron's eyes go wide, he jumped from the bed and chased after Harry, breathing a sigh of relief as he got to the stairwell in time to cast cushioning charms along the whole thing. If Harry tripped on the steps, Ron didn't want him getting seriously injured. Miraculously, Harry's slow, measured steps took him down safely, not even bumping into the wall once.
As the two boys entered the common room, Hermione looked up, a scowl on her face at the intrusion. She had less than three inches of this scroll to complete for her History of Magic homework—which wasn't due til the end of the next week—and did not appreciate being interrupted.
"Harry, Ron, what are you two doing up, wandering around this time of night?!" she asked, starting in on her two friends in a rather loud voice, considering the time of night and the state of slumber most of the Gryffindors were currently enjoying.
Ron's eyes widened comically at Hermione's sharp tone and he hissed, as loud as he dared, "Hermione, shut up! You might wake him!"
Hermione just blinked at Ron. "And that would be a bad thing, why?"
Ron's eyes were now roughly the size of dinner plates as he quietly shrieked, "YOU NEVER WAKE A SLEEPWALKING WITCH OR WIZARD, WOMAN! Didn't you hear what happened at Pompeii, and Atlantis, and the Great Fire of London???" At Hermione's blank stare, he dug his fingers into his scalp. "Of all the times for you to have not read something, Hermione…" His voice trailed off as he heard the sound of the Portrait swinging shut…with Harry on the other side.
"Shite!" Ron ran as fast as he could, barely waiting for the Portrait to open before he was sliding through. And lucky he did, because he caught up to Harry right as he was about to step off the seventh floor into nothingness. The staircases had moved again. Ron grabbed Harry and pulled him back, just holding him, shaking a little at his friend's near death experience.
Hearing a sound behind him, Ron turned to see Hermione with her hand over her mouth, looking pale as a ghost. "Tell me again why we can't wake him up," she requested, lowering her trembling hand and turning worried eyes on Ron.
Speaking quietly, he explained, "It's very, very dangerous to wake a sleepwalker. No one quite knows why, but something happens with their magic when you do. The more powerful the person, the more powerful the tragedy they cause. Someone waking a sleepwalking witch, who was the magical equivalent of Lavender or Neville, was what started the Great Fire. Can you imagine what might happen if we woke someone with Harry's power?"
Hermione went nearly weak in the knees at that thought. Shaken, she moved to Ron and Harry and said quietly, "I'll stay with you. Let me know what to do."
"We just need to follow him until he wakes up or goes back to bed."
Harry started struggling against Ron's hold, causing both other teens to panic. Luckily the staircase chose that moment to swing back to them, allowing Ron to release Harry after Hermione cast some more cushioning charms.
They followed him for nearly an hour, walking up and down staircases, wandering through dimly lit hallways, until Harry turned the corner and walked into the great entryway. Ron and Hermione had been keeping a sharp eye out for anything that Harry might injure himself on and as a result had not been really looking at where Harry was going. Thus it was that he walked right into Snape, who was making his nightly rounds.
Seeing an unholy light gleam suddenly in Snape's eyes, Ron frantically shook his head and said quickly, "He's sleepwalking, sir! Please don't wake him."
Snape deflated, rather perturbed at not being able to yell at his favorite verbal punching bag. The only reason he did these damn nightly rounds was in the hope of finding Potter so he could torture him just a little. The little brat was rather good at avoiding him, which only made Snape redouble his efforts.
Ron, Hermione, and Snape all went stiff with shock when, instead of moving around Snape and continuing on, Harry let out a small, happy sigh and wrapped his arms around the other man, snuggling his face down into the crook of his neck. "Mmmm."
Ron's eyes went wide and a small "eep" came out of him when he saw Harry start to nuzzle the side of Snape's neck. Snape's arms went immediately out to the sides, as if to say, "I'm not touching him! See? I'm not touching him!"
Harry's hands moved up to grasp at Snape's shoulders, and he continued making happy little noises as he went from nuzzling to kissing and licking at the skin of Snape's neck and the underside of his jaw.
Ron started to step forward, to do what he wasn't sure, but his Professor hissed, "Don't be an idiot, boy! Do you want to be buried under this damn castle for all eternity?"
Ron actually had to think about that for a moment. He finally decided the lives of the thousands of people who were sure to die horribly if he woke Harry were a bit more important than his future mental health. But the image of Harry rubbing against Snape as he nibbled on his earlobe would definitely be cause for Ron to admit himself to St. Mungos.
Harry's hands were now buried in Snape's hair, tugging on it to get to Snape's mouth. Snape stood tall and straight, not about to give in, until they all heard Harry start to whimper with frustration. Oh, hell!
Snape had been doing an admirable job of ignoring the sensations Harry was causing with his lips and teeth, but when he finally gave in—for the good of the country, of course—and lowered his head enough for Harry to kiss him, he couldn't block the utterly devine sensation of the soft, full lips rubbing against his own, the hot little tongue flicking against the seam of his mouth. Tilting his head slightly, Snape gave in and took control of the ridiculously arousing kiss. The boy was good!
Watching his best friend snog the daylights out of their most hated Professor was the final straw for Ron. He slumped to the ground in a dead faint.
Hermione heard Ron fall, but was too engrossed in the rather titillating sight of Harry and Snape snogging to bother to turn and help him. She made a mental note to cast some basic healing spells on him in a moment, and then focused all her attention on the two men who were suddenly devouring one another in the middle of Hogwarts.
Dragging a shaking hand through her hair, she moved to lean against the wall as Harry started running his hands over Snape's lean body…under his robes. "Oh, my," she whispered, fanning herself a little bit, as she watched one of Snape's long fingered hands disappear down the back of Harry's pajama bottoms. From the way the fabric was moving, she could tell her Professor had completely lost himself to the kiss and was kneading Harry's arse with that hand, while the other buried itself in the shaggy mess that was Harry's hair.
She watched, stunned and rather aroused, as Harry pulled back from the kiss, lips swollen and bright pink, eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks before slowly rising to show a look of sleepy confusion on Harry's face.
"Where am I? What's going on? Professor?"
Hermione avidly watched Harry's brain finally kick in as his cheeks turned bright red. Flicking her gaze rapidly back and forth between Harry and Snape, she realised that both men were sporting rather bright blushes and…she peeked…rather healthy erections. Hermione grinned wickedly to herself as she made a mental note to collect her five Sickles from Ginny. Harry was gay!
"Professor?" Harry asked, voice rising several octaves at the end of the word. "Why is your hand down my pajamas?"
Snape removed his hand so fast, the snap of the elastic band at the waist of Harry's bottoms could be heard echoing up and down the hallway.
"Perhaps, you little idiot, because your hand is down my pants! One hundred points from Gryffindor for roaming the hallways after curfew, and one hundred points for molesting your Professor!" With that last bit growled in Harry's face, Snape reached down, pulled Harry's hand from the front of his trousers, and spun to leave.
Hermione was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she watched Snape stop, turn around and bark out, "And detention, with me, for a week, Potter! If nothing else, you can use the time to brew an Anti Sleepwalking Potion!" With a flap of his robes, he was gone.
Hermione turned to Harry, unable to stop a delighted giggle.
"What?" he asked, still embarrassed.
"Enjoy your detentions, Harry. Mind if I borrow the Invisibility Cloak to come watch?"
"Hermione!" Harry sounded scandalized.
"Oh, and Harry? Thanks for winning us back the one hundred points!"
A look of total confusion was her only answer to that.
With a wicked grin, she pointed to the House points meters, which showed one hundred points leaving, before another hundred points went right back in.
Chapter 2--That's My Scarf!!
Harry sat at his regular workstation in Potions the next morning, squirming a bit in a mixture of embarrassment and lust. He had no memory of what had happened the night before prior to waking up, but the first thing he'd felt upon waking had been a skilful mouth on his and a wickedly sensual hand kneading his arse, one long finger stroking along the crack.
Opening his eyes, he'd had a split second to see the unguarded look on Snape's face; the lust-filled eyes, wet, swollen lips, and harsh breathing had been enough to make Harry want to devour him…again. But he'd been so confused, wondering what was happening, and then his brain had caught up with his body, and it had hit him exactly who he was wrapped around…and whose cock he had cradled in his hand.
The entire scene after that was emblazoned on his mind's eye and played itself over and over throughout the rest of the long night and into the morning. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so perpetually red in the face. And he still didn't really know what had happened, dammit!
Ron had refused to talk about it last night when Hermione had finally Ennervated him, and again this morning had just shaken his head and said, "You don't want to know, mate. You really don't want to know."
Hermione had been even less help than that with her giggling and innuendo. Of all the times for her to remember she was a girl and prone to these sorts of things, why did she have to pick now? Harry was going nearly crazy, thoughts and emotions swirling around inside him, seeking something to latch onto.
And Snape was acting as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't shifted Harry's world completely off its axis with one kiss, one touch, and one look. Harry followed Snape with his eyes as he stalked around the room, firing off a lightning round of questions as his way of helping them revise for the NEWTs that would be taking place the next day.
Harry watched Snape gesture toward the board at the front of the classroom with one hand and his gaze became caught on it. It was the same hand that had brought him so much pleasure the night before. He shuddered on his hard stool, his gut twisting and tightening in remembered lust.
Gods, he needed to remember! He had only a few days to figure this out before the final leaving feast of his Hogwarts career, to see if there was anything to pursue or if it was just a product of his overly stimulated hormones. As Snape swept past him on his circuit of the room, robes flowing out behind, he caught a whiff of the man, triggering a sensory memory so sharp, Harry could taste him once again on his tongue.
Harry shuddered again, closing his eyes and willing his aching erection to subside. His detentions started this evening…and Harry was afraid he would not survive them with his dignity intact.
"Come in and shut the door behind you, Potter," Snape said that evening, not looking up from the stack of end of term papers he was grading for the first and second year students.
Harry walked into the classroom slowly, apprehensive about his first detention alone with the man who he had, from the little bit he remembered, taken severe advantage of the night before. He moved to one of the farthest workstations, where a cauldron had been set up for him. So, Snape didn't want him getting too close, apparently. Harry felt unaccountably dejected at that thought.
"Instructions for the potion you will spend this week brewing are on the board."
Harry looked across the room, squinting a bit to make out the words written in Snape's elegant scrawl, reading through the rather short list of instructions. With a confused frown, he spoke up. "Sir, according to the instructions, this potion only takes approximately thirty minutes to brew. Including prep time, that only amounts to about forty five minutes."
"I'm glad to see you at least managed to learn to read in your seven years here," Snape said, marking through a line on a scroll with a vicious slash of his quill.
Becoming slightly annoyed, Harry was barely able to maintain a civil tone as he said, "You said I would be brewing this all week."
Slapping his quill down, Snape finally looked up at him, lips pressed together in an angry line. Drawing in a breath through flaring nostrils, he said in a deathly quiet tone, "Yes, Potter. You will brew this potion as many times as it takes to ensure that you could brew it in your sleep if you had to. Thus will I be certain not to have a repeat of last night's performance!"
Harry dropped his gaze quickly, his cheeks staining with the hundredth blush of the day. "Sir, I—"
"Potter, perhaps you need a stronger prescription! Do you not see that I am trying to work here? Your infernal interruptions will cease imme—"
"I just wanted to say I'm sorry!" Harry burst out, not really caring that he was interrupting Snape. After all, the man had, only moments before, interrupted him. Drawing in a calming breath, he said, softly but clearly, "I went to sleep in my dorm and woke up in the hall. I don't remember what happened between going to sleep and waking up, but I assure you that I did not intend to…molest you. I'm sorry."
Snape looked at him for several moments, before asking in a bored tone, "Are you quite finished?"
Harry's shoulders dropped a bit in defeat as he flicked his gaze away in annoyance and nodded his head.
"Then, I repeat, you will find the instructions for the potion you will be brewing this week on the board. Begin."
Severus watched Harry leave an hour later, a draft of air from the door momentarily causing the boy's robes to mould against his backside, highlighting the firm, round arse Severus could still feel flexing beneath his fingers. Dropping his quill and all pretence of working, he pushed back from his desk and stalked to the door, watching Potter slowly walk away.
The boy had been tormenting him this evening, biting his full lower lip, flicking nervous little glances at him, fingering his wand like it was…something else entirely. Severus found himself wishing last night had never happened, that he didn't know the stirring passion that lived inside Potter.
With a sigh, Severus turned back to his desk, his state of extreme arousal preventing him from leaving the classroom until it had been taken care of. Stopping short, he saw a hint of red and gold peeking at him from under Potter's workstation. His scarf. Picking it up, Severus brought the slightly scratchy wool to his nose, inhaling the musky scent that was pure Potter.
Returning to his seat behind his mammoth desk, he ripped at his robes, anxious to release his aching arousal, but quite unwilling to let go of Potter's scarf to help speed up the process.
Freeing himself at last, he sat back with a sigh and spread his legs, the cool air of the dungeons teasing along his length. Closing his eyes, he replayed every moment of his interlude with Potter from the previous evening, from the moment the boy's lithe body had bumped into his until the last aching second: the drag of Harry's palm against his cock as Severus pulled his hand free.
And, oh gods, if he'd waited just one moment longer, it wouldn't have mattered. He'd have come all over the slumbering boy right there in the hallway, active participant or no. Severus had learned something about himself last night: he actually did have a will of iron. That was the only explanation for him yanking Potter's hand out of his pants, instead of thrusting himself over and over into it.
Reaching a shaking hand into his desk drawer, he pulled out a tube of lotion, one he normally used to treat minor burns in the classroom, but would suffice for a quick hand job. Drizzling the creamy substance over his cock, he smoothed a hand over it, working the lotion in. He then wrapped Potter's scarf around his hand and slowly ran one finger from the tip of his cock, down the sensitive underside, across his scrotum, and behind as far as he could reach, considering he had only opened the fly of his trousers, not pulled them down.
As his finger pressed firmly against his perineum, he hissed, on a ragged breath, "Potter…"
Harry turned, realising he'd forgotten his scarf under his workstation, and retraced his steps to the Potions classroom. He stumbled to a halt when he heard his name hissed from inside the room, and peeked through the partially cracked door to see Snape still seated behind his desk. Now, however, he was leaning back in his chair, head thrown back and eyes closed as his arm, the end of Harry's scarf just visible above the desktop wrapped around it, moved languidly in a way all too familiar to a healthy, hormonal teenager.
Harry stood where he was, the thought of closing the door and leaving Snape to his privacy not even entering his mind. For such a new object of his fantasies, Snape was proving surprisingly adept at providing future wank material.
Sweat broke out on Harry's brow as his straining ears picked up the words Snape was whispering, the acoustics in the room allowing even the smallest sound to carry to the back of the classroom.
"Potter.... yeah... deeper... lick… yes, like that!… Take it all, Potter. Put that mouth to good use… nnngh!"
Harry's breathing was ragged and eyes round behind his glasses as he watched Snape's back bow and his arm jerk twice before he slumped into the chair with a soft groan. Forgetting all about his scarf, Harry turned and sprinted down the hall to the end of the corridor where there was a boy's urinal. In very short time, he was flushing his release down the toilet.
Leaning against the cool tile wall, he came to a decision. He would gain access to Hermione's memory of the previous evening…even if he had to take it by force. Pushing resolutely away from the wall, he strode quickly up the seemingly endless number of stairs to Gryffindor tower. His mission: find Hermione and make her tell him everything.
Chapter 3--Seducing the Seducer
Harry pulled out of the Pensieve, a bit shaken and a whole lot aroused by the memory he'd just viewed. He turned to Hermione, who had been rather eager to jump in the memory with him, opening and closing his mouth as he fought to find words to say after…that.
"See?" Hermione asked, a knowing smirk on her face. "I told you it was hot."
Harry felt a vague quiver of disgust that one of his best friends had obviously had such a good time watching him wank their Professor in a darkened hall after curfew. Dropping his head into his hands, he moaned, "What am I going to do, Hermione?"
"Well," she said, a wicked gleam entering her unremarkable brown eyes, "you could always go sleepwalking again."
Harry looked up at her through his fingers and gulped, a little bit afraid of the evil light that was suddenly shining from Hermione's eyes.
Severus Snape strode briskly through the halls, robes flapping smartly behind him as he stalked toward his quarters. The sounds of furious whispers reached him, and on instinct, he moved toward the wall, edging along it until he was close enough to make out distinct sounds. Closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing and concentrated on the cadence of the speaker, his years as a spy working in his favour.
"You idiot! You know Malfoy said not to do anything that would lose us House points! He'll sanction you for this; you just wait and see!"
"But, it's Potter! Surely, Malfoy won't care if we send Potter off the Astronomy Tower! It was just a Sleepwalking Spell, Zabini. It can't be traced back to the Slytherins now, and all that would have happened is that Potter would have lost points for Gryffindor for being out past curfew."
"What do you think would have happened if he had been hurt…or if someone had been stupid enough to try to wake him, Nott? You really are an idiot, aren't you?"
"Oh, like anyone truly cares anymore, Zabini. Have you noticed that ever since he killed the Dark Lord, the Headmaster has little time for him? Who will notice, or even care if precious Potter disappears off the face of the earth?"
"Be that as it may, Nott, until Slytherin has the House Cup firmly in hand, no more pranks of any sort. Am I clear?"
The last words were issued with hissing menace, and as Severus listened to Nott's high pitched, affirmative answer, he wondered exactly where Zabini was pointing his wand. A smirk touched his lips before he realised the full import of what the boys had said.
So, Potter had been under the influence of a spell the previous evening? That was rather…disappointing. Severus had made plans to position himself outside the Gryffindor Common Room this evening after curfew, in case Potter had a relapse. After all, it wouldn't do to have Potter snogging just anyone in the halls, now would it?
With a soft growl of displeasure, he continued on his way to his quarters.
The next night at precisely seven o'clock, Harry took a deep, steadying breath, and knocked on the door to the Potions classroom. At Snape's, "Enter!" he opened the door and strode as confidently as he was able into the room, forcing himself to make eye contact with his Professor.
Trying to still the blush that wanted to spring to his cheeks, he deliberately moved his supplies to the workstation closest to Snape and settled onto the stool there. When Snape merely lifted a brow at him before returning to grading essays, Harry decided that drastic action was necessary.
Clearing his throat a bit loudly to gain Snape's attention, he said softly, "Sir, I was wondering if you'd seen my scarf. I left it here last evening, under the table, I think. Do you know if the house-elves, or…anyone else…might have found it?" Harry held his breath, waiting to see what kind of reaction he would get.
Snape's eyes darkened for a moment and his lips parted the barest fraction of an inch when a vision of Potter's scarf wrapped around him as he pleasured himself flashed across his mind's eye. Blinking once to dispel that memory, he reached down and opened the bottom left drawer of his desk, withdrawing the red and gold scarf. Placing it on the far corner of his desk, he motioned to Potter, who strolled forward to receive it.
Harry moved to Snape's desk, quaking a bit inside over the step he was about to take in his newly formulated plans to seduce one Severus Snape. Gathering the length of his scarf into one hand, he brought the material up to his face and, capturing Snape's gaze with his own, drew a deep breath of the scent lingering there.
"Thank you, sir, for taking such good care of my scarf for me," he said huskily, before turning and walking back toward his cauldron.
Severus grasped the edge of his desk when Potter turned to walk away, reeling at the blatantly suggestive tone in Potter's voice and the knowing look in his brilliant green eyes. He knew, Merlin only knew how, but Potter knew what he had done the previous evening with that scarf. When Potter reached his workstation and glanced back at him, licking his lips lightly, a calculating gleam entered Snape's eyes. The boy wanted to play, did he?
With a flick of his wand, Snape changed the directions on the board, and announced, "You appear to be somewhat proficient at brewing the Sleepwalking Potion, Potter, and as you sat your NEWTs this morning, the only thing left to do is teach you some practical potions you might have use for in your…everyday…life."
Snape allowed suggestion to fill his tone as he said, "You will find instructions on the board for a lubricating potion which has a slightly aphrodisiacal affect. I'm sure you'll need it, especially the aphrodisiac."
He watched, smug, as Potter's eyes darkened, but was taken aback when, after scanning the list of ingredients, the brat said, "Hmmm, yes, this will be difficult to do by myself, though, sir. Step three alone will require at least two people. Don't you agree?"
Severus sat back in his chair, fingers laced over his abdomen, as he contemplated Potter. The young man was being almost painfully obvious, but it was…amusing to witness his attempts at seduction. Very well, he had no objection to playing along. Technically, Potter was no longer his student since he'd completed his Potions NEWT that very afternoon. Severus would bite off his tongue before admitting it, but based on Potter's submission to the exam board, it would not surprise Severus if he received an Outstanding for his efforts.
Smoothly rising to his feet, Severus moved to stand behind Potter, his stride pure predatory grace. And a predator he was. Potter might think he was directing this little drama, but Severus had no doubt who would end up the conqueror in their battle of wills.
With a flick of his wand, the necessary ingredients were laid out on the workstation, arranged by their order in the potion. "Now," he said softly, allowing his words to ghost over Potter's ear, "you must ensure that the rose hips are chopped precisely. If not, the potion will be lumpy and rather ineffective."
He smirked as Potter shivered against his chest, but was again surprised by the young man's daring when Harry cleared his throat, and said, "Can you show me what size the pieces should be…sir?"
"Certainly, Potter," he agreed, after a bare moment's hesitation. A wicked thought entering his head, he picked up Potter's silver Potions knife, and placed it in the young man's hand, wrapping his own, longer fingered one, around it. "You'll learn faster if you are…participating. Trust me," he said with a smirk he knew Potter couldn't see. He moved in close behind Potter, allowing his groin to brush up against the young man's backside as he curled his taller frame around Potter's to "help" him chop the rose hips.
With deliberate movements, he guided Potter's hand through a series of slow, measured slices, satisfied to note the way Potter's breathing turned ragged. When the rose hips were in perfect, tiny, precisely equal pieces, he reached forward to light the flame under the cauldron, driving his hips forward into Potter's and forcing a soft groan from the young man, which he attempted to cover with a pitiful little cough.
Severus continued with his efforts to drive Potter insane, maintaining his presence at his back, brushing against him as often as possible and pushing him to the height of sexual frustration. He noted with amusement how Potter's hand shook when he added the essence of aloe to the mixture.
When the final ingredient had been added, Severus took pity on Potter and moved away from him, striding to the storage room to collect a vial of cherry flavouring and a sanitized, stoppered vial.
Carrying them both back to where Potter stood, fair face flushed with desire, Severus showed him the cherry flavouring. "Adding this, after you have removed the potion from the fire, will give the lubricant a pleasant taste." Putting words to action, he banished the flame from under the cauldron with a wave of his hand, and tipped the vial over the steaming contents, allowing a small amount to pour out before he righted the vial. As he did so, a small bit of the red liquid dribbled down the outer edge of the glass and dripped onto his hand.
Seeing Potter's green eyes locked on the tiny bit of liquid on his hand, Severus held it up and said, "Would you like to sample it?" His words were a challenge, one he knew no Gryffindor could turn down.
Harry captured Snape's hand with both of his own, so far past aroused that he could barely think for the sexual images fighting for dominance in his head. Bringing the pale hand to his lips, he allowed his tongue to flicker lightly over Snape's finger, taking his time with the treat, not wanting to lap it up too quickly. When every last bit of flavour was gone, he pulled the digit into his mouth. After suckling lightly for a moment, he released Snape's hand with a disappointed sigh, surprised when he was offered a vial full of lubricant.
"Your hour is up, Potter. Return tomorrow night at the same time, and I'll show you how to brew a very effective, very relaxing, massage oil."
Severus chuckled lightly to himself when Potter gathered up his things and fled the room, robes tented at his groin. With a wry grin, he looked down at his own obvious arousal. He could still feel Potter's hot little tongue sliding so sensuously over his skin.
Oh yes, he would enjoy this week.
Chapter 4--Gryffindor Plots
Harry rushed through the Portrait hole, making a beeline for the stairs to the boy's dorms, when the Voice of Doom stopped him.
"Harry!" Hermione called, rushing over to where he stood. Nearly vibrating with excitement, she looked around, lowered her voice, and asked, "Well, how did it go? Did you get to him like I told you to?"
Harry swallowed heavily, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as his eyes gazed longingly at the stairs—and freedom. "Hermione," he asked quietly, "can you give me a minute?"
"What? Why? We need to outline our plan of action, Harry," she lectured insistently, poking him in the chest to get him to look back at her.
"Hermione…" he whinged, plucking at his robes, drawing her gaze to The Problem.
"What? Ewww, Harry! Why didn't you go to the loo?! Gross! What if McGonagall had seen you or something? Go! Take care of that! Ugh!"
Harry blinked in amazement as his cock wilted at those shrewish words. "Thanks, Hermione," he said dryly, meeting her gaze once more. "Think you took care of it for me." He grimaced then at the image those words brought to his head, shuddering a little in revulsion. "Now, then. What was so important that I couldn't take myself off for a nice wank first?"
Hermione pursed her lips and sniffed in disapproval, but the light of challenge quickly came back to her eyes. "I have a PLAN."
Harry backed up a few steps, watching her warily. She was slightly obsessed with helping him, and he really needed to figure out why before he let her get too deeply involved. But…she said she had a PLAN, and could he really afford not to hear her out? After all, he'd just left his last detention with his virtue intact. Tomorrow night was the Leaving Feast, and he was desperate.
This week had been pure, unmitigated torture for him, each detention following the path of the one from Tuesday evening, when he'd collected his scarf back from Snape. Tonight, he'd been driven so close to the brink by the small touches and husky whispers that he'd felt his balls drawing up, when Snape had whispered into his ear, "Your hour is up, Potter."
He'd stood at his workstation, shaking all over, grasping onto the countertop as he willed strength back into his legs. He'd cursed softly as Snape had left the room, a smooth, dark chuckle trailing behind him.
At least Harry had something to show for those detentions. To accompany the flavoured lubricant he'd made the first night—and used all week to help relieve the ache of his "detentions"—he'd also made three different kinds of massage oil, two aphrodisiacs, and one love philtre. The legality of the last one didn't seem to bother Snape, so Harry hadn't mentioned it.
"Harry. Harry!" Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his eyes, drawing him back to the present and making him realise he was half hard once again. It couldn't be good for him to be hard so much—could it?
With a sigh, he walked over to a vacant sofa and slumped down onto it, knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid Hermione until she got whatever she wanted off her chest. Turning a disgruntled look on his friend, he asked, "Why are you so interested, anyway? Why do you want to help me seduce Snape?"
Hermione did that little half grin while pursing her lips thing, the one that said whatever she was thinking wasn't quite pure. "I'm interested because I'm your friend and want you to be happy," she said, allowing her expression to soften. Of course, she kept the thought, 'plus, how else am I going to get to watch you and that sexy beast snogging again?' to herself.
Harry's mouth quirked up in a crooked grin as he gave her a half hug and a soft, "Thanks, Hermione. You're a great friend, you know?"
She hugged him back, hiding her smug smile.
The next night, after the Leaving Feast and the rest of the Gryffindors had settled into their beds, Harry and Hermione met in the Common Room. Hermione looked him up and down and said, "Do you want to look one more time? You need to act and react the same, or he's going to know something is going on."
Harry shook his head. He didn't want to tell his friend that if he looked at her memory of him and Snape kissing one more time, it wouldn't matter if he wanted to be stealthy or not, he'd run down to the dungeons and attack Snape. Too much stimulation was not healthy for a person his age. It couldn't be.
Dragging in a deep breath, he looked at her and pleaded, "Tell me I'm not going to make a fool of myself. Tell me he's not going to push me away and laugh at me, or tell me what an idiot I am for even thinking he could ever want me."
Hermione softened and smiled at her friend. "He's the luckiest man in the world, Harry, to be the man you want. If he doesn't realise that, I will make sure and let him know."
Harry grinned nervously and set his bare shoulders. "Well, let's do this then, shall we?"
Hermione barely restrained a squeal of glee that she was about to get another private viewing of Harry and Snape making out in the halls. "You first. I'll follow behind and cast the cushioning spells. Once we step out of the portrait hole, no opening your eyes. If I see him, I'll say his name or something, all right?"
Harry nodded, eyes wide at the thought of what they were about to do. He wondered if he should have thought to bring any of his oils or the lubricant…not that there was very much of that left. He trembled slightly as he thought about brewing it again with his sexy Professor. He spun and walked quickly to the exit, not wanting Hermione to see how his thoughts were affecting him.
As he reached the portrait hole, he paused and threw an anxious glance at Hermione. "What if he really doesn't want me?" he asked, the question one that had been uppermost in his mind all day.
"Why wouldn't he want you, Harry?" Hermione asked, exasperated.
"Well, I mean…it's just that he hasn't really made a move toward me all week. Yes, he's teased the hell out of me, but that could just be his way of punishing me for what happened Sunday night. You know, get me all worked up and then laugh in my face when I leave tomorrow?"
Hermione worried her lower lip as she thought of that. "Actually, Harry, it probably has more to do with the school wards than anything."
Harry just looked at her blankly, prompting her to roll her eyes and huff out, "Honestly, Harry, reading Hogwarts: A History just once won't kill you. This is a boarding school where students and Professors often share a great deal of time together. Of course there are wards."
"Oh," Harry said and nodded, then shook his head in confusion. "Why did the wards let us kiss, then? I mean, umm, well, when I woke up, my hand was…umm…" Harry waved the offending hand through the air.
Hermione smiled, melting a little bit at the memory of Harry's hand disappearing into Snape's trousers. "Well, I'm sure that had something to do with the wards recognising danger. They're not going to wake you up by stopping you when it could have potentially harmed all the students and the school itself. If you two had continued once you woke up, then something would probably have happened."
Harry nodded and turned back around, determined. "Time to seize the day, eh?"
Hermione grinned. "Go get him, tiger!"
Harry grinned back, and stepped through the portrait hole into—hopefully—his future.
Severus stalked through the corridors, listening carefully for any sounds, eyes sweeping the halls carefully, looking for anything to be out of place. He had always thought it a colossal waste of time, making rounds the night before the students left for their summer break, but tonight… Well, tonight he was expecting Potter to make his move.
He chuckled darkly to himself as he thought about the keen look of frustration that had been on Potter's face when he left him the previous evening. The glazed eyes, flushed cheeks, and that mouth! Wet and red from where the boy had been chewing voraciously on his bottom lip. It was enough to drive a man insane.
Faint sounds reached him then. Footsteps approaching him, whispered cushioning spells. Severus felt his lips twist into a smug, satisfied smirk. The boy was really too predictable. Severus would have to see what he could do about that appalling trait.
He walked purposely toward the sounds, crossing his arms and scowling darkly at Hermione Granger as she and Potter came around the corner. She adopted an expression so innocent it could only be false and hurried to explain, in a soft whisper, "He's sleepwalking again, sir!"
Severus lifted one eyebrow in amused disdain. Only Gryffindors could truly expect to get away with such a lack of proper subtlety. Sighing heavily, he nodded at Granger and said, "I'll take charge of him from here, Miss Granger. Go back to your dorms now."
Severus cut off the girl's cry of dismay with the judicious use of a scowl, accompanied by a raised eyebrow. "You doubt I can care for him, Miss Granger?"
He watched with no little amusement as Potter used his voice to track Severus. Within moments, toned arms wrapped around him, and a trim body snuggled right up to his. A breathy little sigh of pleasure blew air against the sensitive skin of his throat. Without pausing to think about it, Severus bent and swept Potter into his arms, ignoring for the moment the tiny smile that lurked around the boy's lips.
As he turned toward his quarters, he heard soft footsteps behind him. Spinning back around, he pinned the foolish young woman with his gaze. "To bed, Miss Granger!"
He shook his head when the girl huffed in irritation and stomped back off in the opposite direction.
Turning his gaze once again to the lithe figure in his arms, he growled huskily, "You can open your eyes, Potter. Your little girlfriend is gone."
Potter peeked out at him through one eye, mischief dancing in its emerald depths, before he grinned and tightened his arms around Severus' neck. "We have to stop meeting like this, sir."
Severus snorted and rolled his eyes, shifting the boy slightly in his arms.
"I assume you've thought this through?" he asked sardonically.
Potter's smile turned seductive. "I've thought of nothing else all week."
"What do you want, Potter?" Severus asked, dropping his voice to its silkiest register. He knew full well the impact of his voice on the young man in his arms. He watched in amused satisfaction as Potter's eyelids drooped and he caught that full lower lip between his straight, white teeth. Potter's next words, though, stole his breath.
"I want you to touch me with those impossibly long fingers of yours. I want to rub against you until I come. I want to suck you and lick you and I want you to do the same to me. I want... you."
"I do believe that can be arranged," Severus murmured, before turning and striding back toward his dungeons.
Chapter 5--Greedy Brat
Harry snuggled into the arms holding him so securely as Snape strode through the halls; not wanting, but feeling compelled, to say, "I can walk, you know."
Snape merely crooked one eyebrow at him and tightened his grip on Harry, a dry, "You wouldn't be trying to insult my stamina and vigour at this point, would you, Potter?" escaping him.
Hearing the words "stamina and vigour" made Harry's humour fade, to be replaced by a sizzling awareness of the man holding him. He was achingly conscious of a hand wrapped around his lower thigh and the tip of a long finger brushing occasionally just beneath the nub of a nipple. His breathing became harsh and erratic, drawing Snape's notice.
"Problem, Potter?" he asked, cutting his dark eyes to Harry's face in a sly look of fiendish satisfaction.
Harry whimpered, and brought his hands up from where they'd been loosely circling Snape's neck, to thread his fingers in slightly lank hair. Parting his lips on a soft sigh, Harry pulled gently on Snape's head and leaned forward until he could nuzzle into the fascinatingly fragrant skin of Snape's throat, glorying in the telltale speeding of the pulse there.
He let his tongue slide teasingly against the thick tendon there, gasping in pleasure when the hand at his chest shifted and a nail scratched lightly over the hard tip of his nipple. He whimpered again and bit down lightly, worrying the skin between his teeth as his hips moved in a slightly rolling rhythm. He was vaguely aware when Snape carried him through a doorway. The rumble of his voice as Snape set the wards vibrated against Harry's lips and he broke out in small tremors, knowing that no matter what, he would never be able to last.
"Please," he moaned into Snape's ear, trying to get closer yet to the object of all his desires.
"What do you want, Potter?" Snape asked, voice rough and low, crushed velvet rubbing over Harry's senses. He slowly lowered Harry to the floor, allowing his body to glide down the front of his, robbing Harry of coherent thought.
"I...I can't stop thinking about your hands. Sweet Merlin, just touch me with them, touch me like you did before, in the hallway. Please." Harry was panting, almost frantic now in his need.
Snape slid his hand down slowly, edging under the waistband of Harry's sleep pants, running one long finger gently over the seam of his buttocks while the others splayed out over one cheek, smoothing the skin there, kneading softly. "Is this what you want, Potter?" Snape asked, breathing the question into Harry's ear.
"Yes! No! Gods, it's not enough! More...please...I need more."
Severus smiled smugly as he allowed his questing finger to part the firm cheeks of Potter's arse and slide down to stroke languidly against the puckered little opening. When Potter moaned and clutched desperately at his robes, curving his lithe, compact body into Severus' much taller frame, the smile slid off his lips. The pleasure he'd received from teasing the needy young man in his arms all week was muted by his own rampant desires.
When Potter latched once more onto the sensitive skin at his throat, Severus was unable to hold back a hiss of pure want. Plunging the hand not busy memorizing Potter's beautiful arse into his messy hair, Severus pulled until the assault on his neck ceased, and lowered his head to capture Potter's lips with his own.
This kiss was everything their first sleepwalking-induced kiss in the hallway hadn't been. It was fierce and hard and fast. Severus growled low in his throat when he felt Potter's nimble fingers working frantically at the row of buttons on the front of Severus' robes. When it was open enough to simply slip off his shoulders, Potter plunged his hands under the fabric and it slithered off Severus, gliding slowly down his arms to pool at his feet in a black puddle of material.
Potter immediately set his keen fingers to the task of removing Severus' long sleeved, starched, black shirt, giving up halfway and simply ripping the material open when his frustration at not being able to touch skin became too great. Small black buttons flew everywhere, bouncing under furniture and across low tables with the force of Potter's passion.
When he immediately moved to attack the belt buckle, Severus stopped him, pulling his hand out of Potter's sleep pants to grasp at his wrists. "Patience is a virtue, Potter. Have I not taught you even that much this week?"
Potter's eyes narrowed in ire, and he pushed Severus back against a wall with his body, mouth attacking a dark nipple as he struggled to free his hands. Severus' head fell back against the wall, as Potter's wriggling hands brushed against his straining erection. The hot mouth nipping and licking at his chest was nearly as distracting, but Severus didn't pride himself on his restraint for nothing.
Utilizing a bit of force, he pulled those wandering hands away from his groin, noting absently that his belt had come unbuckled in the struggle. He brought Potter's hands around behind the young man, capturing him in an embrace at the same time. Severus leaned down and began nibbling on Potter's rather delicate ear as he steered him backward into the bedroom.
His wards were set to human presence in his rooms; as soon as they crossed the threshold soft light illuminated the room. He didn't pause or stumble even once, and within moments, he was lifting Potter, to place him in the middle of the large bed. As he stood back to appreciate the view, he watched a wicked look flash through Potter's eyes before he sat up and began to crawl toward Severus, his young body all lithe grace.
"Do I need to tie you up, Potter?" Severus asked smoothly, satisfied to watch Potter's eyes glaze over at the promise underlying his light tone.
Harry froze, a rush of need at Snape's suggestive words leaving him shaken and nearly ready to beg. He allowed his head to drop down below his shoulders for a moment, using the brief few seconds to attempt to gather his composure. Sucking in a deep breath, he raised his head back up, and speared Snape with a look so filled with pleading Harry would remember this moment with a touch of chagrin. Later. Much later. For now, all he did was say, "Please."
"Such a pretty word. What, exactly, do you want? Tell me."
Harry looked into Snape's eyes, mouth falling open with a tiny sound as he saw the blazing passion clearly written there. He was so used to this man hiding every thought and emotion that seeing his need laid bare shook Harry to the core.
"I want…everything," Harry admitted softly, the words barely audible.
"Everything? Hmm. Lay back, then, Potter, against the pillows."
Harry sucked in a deep breath and resumed his original position on the bed, though he was unable to lay still under the hot scrutiny from Snape. He could not stop his body from rubbing luxuriously against the soft bed spread.
"Problem, Potter?" Snape asked, voice pitched low and filled with seduction.
Harry tossed his head, that dark voice going straight to his prick. "Oh, Merlin!"
He heard Snape tsk, before stating humorously, "'Sir' will do…for now. You look like you're in pain, Potter. Would you like me to make it better? I could…massage it for you."
Harry's fractured cry must have sounded like permission because before he knew it, his sleep pants were gone and long fingers were wrapping around his cock. He tried to hold back, really he did, but when he glanced down and saw those fingers stroking him—long, thin, slightly stained—he lost it.
He'd never had such a powerful orgasm in his life. He came so hard his feet cramped up and his thighs quivered for a full three minutes. As he finally relaxed back against the pillows, he became aware that Snape was leaning over him, licking the come from his chest. His recently spent cock stirred at the sight of that slender—was everything about this man long and slender?!—tongue lapping at the thick, creamy semen on his chest like a cat after milk caused Harry to moan.
Forgetting the threat—promise?—to tie him up, he pulled his hands down to bury his fingers in the long, inky black strands of Snape's hair. A rumbling noise let him know that his lover was not averse to having fingers stroking along his scalp.
Severus left off his treat to sit back and look his fill at the taut, toned young body stretched out on his bed. He made a mental note to sacrifice a small mammal to whichever deity was responsible for this treat. As his eyes swept downward to Potter's toes—a particular kink of Severus'—he snorted an amused laugh.
Potter, still breathing erratically, pushed himself to his elbows, and asked softly, "What?"
"It seems I was remiss in disrobing you," Severus replied, eyes lingering on the ugly cotton socks still covering Potter's feet. When he shifted his gaze back to Potter's face, he saw the extraordinarily arousing sight of a blush spreading over the young man's chest to stain his cheeks a soft pink colour.
With a decidedly wicked smile, Severus slowly eased off the bed and walked to the end of it, picking up one smallish foot in his large hands. He slid his fingers under the top of one of Potter's socks, gliding it over his anklebone with a caress that caused his breath to hitch before guiding the material over the bend of his heel. He allowed his fingers to tickle along the sensitive underside of the foot, lips quirking when Potter flinched. Bringing the foot up, he murmured a cleaning spell and took one of the delightfully curved toes in his mouth, smiling around it when Potter started trembling.
He didn't know if the young man was a virgin, but it was obvious he'd never been seduced by one who knew what he was doing. Severus' eyes glinted with satisfaction at that realisation. He pulled his mouth slowly off the toes, sucking in beautiful imitation of another action he was determined to perform later this evening. Keeping his gaze locked on Potter's, he licked down the inside of the foot, sweeping his tongue up to pay special attention to the delicate anklebone resting just under the skin there. A smirk curved his lips when Potter dug his head backward into the pillow, a small cry wrenched from his throat as his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.
The boy was far too easy to arouse. Ahh, to be that young again. Severus smirked as he paid equal attention to Potter's other foot, this time not stopping at the ankle, but continuing to nibble up the surprisingly long leg. As he rose higher on Potter's body, he crawled gracefully onto the bed, licking and sucking small kisses on the inside of his knees, his thighs, and bypassing the engorged erection to scrape his teeth over beautifully protruding hip bones.
When he felt hands trying to guide him back to Potter's pleasure centre, Severus growled and whispered an incantation, eyes narrowing in satisfaction as he looked up the line of Potter's body to see his hands shackled to the headboard of the bed. As his gaze drifted back down, Severus had to close his eyes at the all too erotic sight of Potter's face. It was the sexiest 'fuck me' face he'd ever encountered.
Potters eyes were mere slits, a teasing hint of darkest green peeking out from between his black lashes. His mouth was open in a frozen plea, lips red and swollen, from their earlier, almost brutal, kisses, as well as his tendency to bite them when aroused. His face—his entire upper body, actually—were flushed with desire, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he sucked in great lungfuls of oxygen.
Severus opened his eyes once more, steadying himself with a firm grip on Potter's sleekly muscled thigh. Teasing himself, wanting to see how far he could push the young man in his bed, he leaned down until his mouth was directly over Potter's cock. And then he softly called his name, allowing his breath to gust over sensitive flesh. "Harry."
That was all it took to turn Potter from a quiescent, post orgasmic partner to a twisting, moaning wild thing. The rough calls of 'please!' and 'oh, gods!' made Severus chuckle softly, even as his own erection begged for attention. Lifting and spreading Potter's thighs ever wider, he summoned a pillow and placed it under the slim hips. Sliding down flush against the bed again, he forcefully held those same hips in place as he lowered his head. "Look at me, Harry. Watch me."
Potter's head came off the pillow, eyes burning bright, muscles corded as he fought the restraints on his arms. He was past words at this point, the only sounds he was capable of producing seemed to be harshly demanding noises. Locking gazes with Potter, Severus ducked down 'til he was perfectly positioned, and spread the firm arse cheeks before languidly swiping his tongue over the tiny puckered opening. Potter screamed, hips driving off the bed in reaction, tearing free of Severus' grasp.
Severus was amazed to see that Potter hadn't come, after the force of his reaction to that first teasing bit of rimming. When he settled back down, Severus threw an arm over his hips and settled in to do this properly. Drawing back momentarily, he whispered another spell, ensuring Potter would not come until Severus wanted him to. And then, he dove in.
Harry was mindless with passion, unable to hold on to any thought. All he knew was that his body was being played by a master, the tongue driving so forcefully into his arse pulling screams from his throat. When a hand crept up his chest to pluck lazily at his nipple, a tear of frustration squeezed itself out of Harry's eye. He was moaning and pleading, so far beyond begging at this point that 'please' was a mere memory. The tongue in his arse was curling and licking and thrusting and Harry was so hard he hurt, but the constriction of his balls and cock was keeping him from fulfillment.
Harry surged forward when he felt Snape let go of him, trying to follow that body, that tongue, that had been bringing him so much pleasure. He didn't realise he'd shut his eyes until he had to force them open to see where Snape was. What he saw caused him to drop his head, breathing a small prayer of 'yesyesyesyes'.
Snape was slowly unbuttoning his trousers, lowering the zip carefully over his burgeoning arousal. He peeled off both trousers and boxers in one go, sliding them down long, pale, lean legs. When he straightened back up, Harry sucked in a hungry breath. 'Long and thin' apparently did not apply to everything about the man. Long, definitely, but thick as well, Snape's cock was dark red and shiny with arousal.
Harry knew he was probably blubbering at this point, but he wanted his hands released. He wanted to touch it…needed to touch it. Snape apparently understood his guttural moans, because with a command, the restraints were gone, and Harry's hands were drawn like magnets to that generous erection.
With a small whimper, he closed his fingers around Snape, some part of him delighting in the hissing breath that was expelled above him. Harry turned liquid eyes up to the man he'd been waiting forever for, and whispered, "Fuck me."
Snape growled in acceptance before pushing Harry back down and taking his mouth in a dangerously passionate kiss. So lost was he in the mouth claiming him that Harry very nearly didn't notice the fingers preparing him so excellently. He did miss Snape getting the lube that he was currently working into Harry's opening as he stretched the muscles there.
Snape's mouth left his, causing him to release a needy moan, his head lifting from the pillow to follow, lips trembling for another taste. "Look at me," he was commanded, and, acceding to the demand of that voice, slowly lifted his lids, staring blindly into jet black eyes, as he was slowly penetrated.
Harry cried out and arched up. It burned, but it was so good; what he wanted and needed more than anything, yet it hurt, too. Tossing his head on the pillow, he pulled against Snape's forearms, not sure if he wanted more or less of this exquisite pain.
Severus looked down at Potter, jaw clenched as he held himself still. He couldn't remember ever thrusting into a tighter, hotter arse in all his considerable experience. The noises Potter was making were driving him to distraction and he was only able to remain motionless by sheer force of will.
When Potter relaxed completely and began rocking his hips, making little mewling sounds, Severus nearly broke down and thanked him. As it was, he had to keep an iron hand on his own personal reins, forcing himself to move slowly, dragging his cock out gradually before pushing smoothly back in.
He kept up his slow rhythm for several minutes, until Potter reached up, clasped his buttocks, planted his feet in the mattress and slammed Severus into him. "You're going too slow," he gasped.
"I can see" thrust "finesse" stifled moan "is not your strong suit. Fuck, Potter!" Severus hissed when Potter raked his short fingernails down his back. Giving in to the demanding young man, he sped up the pace until he was slamming into Potter, the dull slapping sound of skin on skin punctuated by sharp cries and deep moans.
As he felt the signals of his impending orgasm, Severus had the presence of mind to mutter the incantation to release Potter from the magical restraints surrounding his cock and balls, and lowered his head to murmur, "Come for me, Harry."
With a convulsive shudder and a shout, Potter came, his hands scrabbling at everything within reach as his back arched off the bed. Caught up in the entirely too sexy view below him, Severus stopped holding back. With three more shallow thrusts, he was releasing into Potter's grasping channel, a low moan pulled from his lungs.
Collapsing to the side, Severus lay there, trying to order his scattered wits, hell, even to remember his own name. That was the most explosive orgasm he could ever remember having and if he wasn't so busy trying to relearn how to breathe, he'd probably do something foolish like declare his undying lust for the young man who had the audacity to drape himself across his chest.
Harry looked down at Snape, caught in wonder at how different he looked when he was relaxed and sated. Casting a quick cleaning charm over the whole bed, he slid down and laid his head on Snape's chest.
"Are you comfortable?" he heard Snape grouch, in his snarkiest tone.
"Mmm, yeah, very much. Thanks for asking," Harry replied with a cheeky grin, before snuggling closer. An easy silence descended over them as they recovered from the very strenuous activities of the evening.
The longer Harry laid there, however, the more uncomfortable he became. What should he do now? Should he get up and leave? He didn't want to force Snape to throw him out, but he wanted to explore this a bit further, as well. Nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Snape asked, a bit sharply, "What?!"
Harry lifted his head and raised wide, confused eyes to Snape. "Is it all right if I stay the night?" he asked softly. It was the closest he could come to asking the question he most wanted answered.
"Now that I've witnessed first hand how woefully inadequate your sexual education has been, I expect you to gather your things and bring them here," Snape replied with a smirk. "It would take the most dedicated student at least a month of intensive training to be prepared for the outside world in all things sensual. Considering what an abysmal student you've proven to be over the years, it may well take you the entire summer, if not longer, to become proficient at the art of lovemaking."
Harry lowered his head, hiding a grin. "Yes, sir. I will study every day, I promise." He waited for the satisfied grunt he knew was coming before adding, "Just as long as you promise to give me detention whenever I need it."