An Awfully Odd Adventure
Challenge: Part of the Infinite Cantatum Harry/Severus AU FQF, Challenge #104, Harry Potter meets Peter Pan.
Warnings: Not chan, despite appearances and multiple references to the word 'boy', AR
Flying, Harry thought as he looped around a particularly tall tree, was just about the best thing a boy could do. Endless stretches of beckoning blue sky usually helped clear the cobwebs from his head. Lately giant spiders seemed to be nesting in his head every night, making him restless, not content with his usual pursuits.
Beside him, hardly more than a speck flew Hedwig, keeping pace with his wild dashes and spectacular loop-the-loops. Harry panted, pulling out of a steep dive near the shore. How easily Hedwig hovered just beneath him. Hedwig had been his first true friend.
Around him the sky was all but empty, the earth stretching out below him like so much nursery quilting. He was the king up here. Even when others flew with him he would always be the best. Harry spared a thought for the other boys. He could have asked them to fly with him today, but lately they'd all been more focused on other things, things he didn't care to understand.
Easily he whirled around, gliding effortlessly toward the shore, sparkling white water ahead tempting him with its exciting updrafts, warm wet scents carried on exotic breezes. Harry picked up speed as the great wash loomed closer, all but whooping in delight as he dived to skim over the waves, then up, up, Hedwig on his heels, following a white winged gull nearly to the clouds.
Breathless he halted, hovering high above his realm. And stopped, nearly tumbling from the sky. There off in the distance was a white speck cleaving the water. For long moments he watched it grow larger and realized it was a sail.
With Hedwig faithfully by his side, Harry set out across the water. The ship seemed to grow larger and larger until he was nearly on top of it as it hove through the waves. Pacing the clipper, Harry flew lower until he could hear the sound of the men in the rigging calling to each other as they worked the sails. Angling to remain in the billow of the main sail Harry flew low enough to
catch a glimpse of the furiously whipping flag.
Black background. Harry's heart began a dull thud. Closer. A white outline--yes, a hideously gaping skull. Emerging from the jawbone was the twisting shape of a snake, its eyes a fiery red.
There was no doubt about it. Pirates had returned to Neverland.
All boys save one grow up. Harry Potter had lived here in Neverland as long as he could remember. He'd been found in a shabby secondhand pram in Kensington Park, according to the boy who'd brought him here. He remembered almost nothing before coming here with Peter. Peter had taught him to fly and to find other Lost Boys like himself. And just before he'd gone away to grow up at last Peter had introduced him to Hedwig, a fairy.
He'd missed Peter awfully at first, but there were so many adventures to go on, and the world beyond Neverland when those adventures paled. Peter had warned him that time spent away from the island kingdom would age him, so Harry was very careful of his time spent in that confusing realm. He certainly didn't want to grow up.
But really it was such an interesting place, and even if sometimes one lost track of one's shadow, surely it was worth the price of a bit of age. After all he'd been a boy for ages and ages.
Spiraling down to the tree house that was the Lost Boys' home Harry made sure his shadow was intact. Its most recent loss had led to--"Harry Potter!" A shrill voice made him brake in mid-air. "Don't you dare come in through the window. Use the front door like a proper gentleman. And wipe your feet!"
Pursing his rather delicate lips Harry eyed the portal in question, a hole cut in the bare bark of the tree house wall. Very carefully he sat on the windowsill and looked toward the corner from whence the voice had come. "I've been in the air all day and haven't touched ground to get dirty," he explained, stretching out his gangly legs, presenting his immaculate green slipper-clad feet.
A score of guilty faces looked up. His friends were arranged in two semi-circular rows around Hermione, who sat primly with a book in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other. "Next time, Harry dear," the sole female voice spoke, and Harry smiled brightly and slid off the windowsill. "You've missed most of class," she scolded.
"Haven't got time for that now, Hermione," he said, feeling the tiny tingle as Hedwig settled on his shoulder. His green eyes swept the subdued boys. "There are pirates coming!"
The announcement sent a jolt of excitement through the rough hewn room. Ron jumped up at once. "Pirates!" The red-haired boy looked at his fellow students excitedly. Then he caught sight of Hermione and sat back down quickly.
"Nonsense," Hermione said, in her best no-nonsense voice. "You told me yourself there haven't been pirates here for years and years." Her eyes, framed by bushy hair, narrowed. "In fact you were wishing for pirates just the other day when you got tired of playing Jungle Safari."
"But I saw them!" Harry protested, approaching the improvised schoolroom imploringly. "A huge ship with dozens of scurvy knaves and a hideous Jolly Roger flag!" He could see the exuberance kindling in the faces of his friends.
"For really real?" Neville asked, eyes wide as saucers.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Hermione huffed. "Hasn't anyone read 'Neverland: A History'?"
Various sized boyish heads swung back toward her. "There haven't been any pirates here for a hundred years."
Harry, always a stubborn lad, dug in his slipper shod heels. "Just come and see then." He shot a glance out one of the arched tree house windows aching to fly through it, a dozen boys hot on his tail.
"After class," Hermione said, picking up her book dismissively. "Perhaps."
Frustrated Harry tried to catch the eye of his best friend Ron, but Ron had been making calf eyes since Harry had brought Hermione to Neverland. "Fine," he said, kicking an imaginary bit of flotsam from the bare wooden walls of the tree house. "I'll go myself."
"You really should concentrate on your education," Hermione said, her voice softening. It was the same voice he'd heard in her nursery all those months ago when he'd lost his shadow.
"I've read about you," she'd said then, tousled and sleepy when he'd bumped into a stack of books, toppling them over with a loud enough 'thump' to wake her. "Or at least I think I have." She'd eyed him owlishly. "The books don't say anything about a scar."
Involuntarily Harry's hand had reached up to touch the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Peter had told him he'd had it before coming to Neverland.
"Are you Peter Pan?" Hermione had asked, voice quickening with excitement.
Just as she was reaching for a book he'd answered, "I'm Harry." She'd paused, arm outstretched. "Peter grew up a long time ago."
She'd had a million questions, and Harry had found himself edging toward the tantalizingly open window. Shadow or no shadow he was beginning to believe something his predecessor in the Lost Boy Retrieval Department had told him over and over. "Women are nothing but trouble." Harry could still see Peter shaking his elfin head. "Things change when women come here. We had one once; did I ever tell you the story?" And because Harry loved hearing stories he'd shaken his own head 'no' even though they both knew he'd heard every one of Peter's stories.
Now he was the one who'd brought a woman to Neverland, though to be sure he couldn't quite remember how he'd agreed to it.
"I'll just go have a look see then," Harry said, snapping himself back into the present, and whirling around for the window. Hedwig fluttered off his shoulder and took flight as he did. By the time Harry reached the bay the wooden clipper rode snug at berth, a long gangplank lowered to the dock, a dock that had miraculously survived the years since it had been built for other pirates, ones now all but legend.
Tars, in garish colors, swarmed over the ship. Harry fluttered down into the top of a tall tree and watched as sails were struck with quick efficiency. The seamen were a wildly mismatched lot--some were old seasoned veterans with fearsome scars on their faces and tattoos on their brawny arms, some were fresh faced and chipper, looking barely old enough to shave. A shouted command drew all eyes including Harry's to the main deck, overlooking the lower section of the ship.
It had sounded like--it was: a woman's voice. On the high deck stood a woman, plain of feature and dress. Where the crew wore bright reds and blues, striped shirts and trousers, canary yellow bandanas or even, thrillingly, a tricorn hat with the same evil skull symbol as the flag, this woman wore simple brown. A loose brown shirt all but hid the womanly frame. Her hair, brown, was wrapped into braids, pinned firmly to the back of her head.
From his perch Harry watched her unfurl a parchment and read something while the crew listened raptly, then gave a brief cheer while she re-rolled the scroll. The men, not without a hearty sea chant or two, set to finishing their tasks.
Then there was the whip crack of another voice, male this time, that drew every eye on land and ship to the imposing figure that had materialized beside the woman. It was a man, and Harry knew with dead certainty it must be the captain. He had on a bright red frock coat, flared at the bottom, with matching knee length trousers. White stockings accented long legs. A devilishly ornate sword hung from his hips.
The captain, talking to the woman, turned so Harry could see his face, and the flying boy felt something come over him all at once, a peculiar sort of shiver he attributed to his first glimpse of a true pirate captain.
For without a doubt the cruel face could belong to no other. Long black hair, straight and unbound hung just past his narrow shoulders. A large wicked nose was clearly visible even from this distance. Then Harry got another shock when the crackling breezes blew one of the sleeves away, revealing a gleaming silver hook in place of the man's left hand.
Pirates. No doubt about it now. Harry almost lifted out of the tree in sheer excitement. The late afternoon sun was sinking slowly into the sea beyond Neverland as Harry watched the ship and crew make ready for dock. Slowly the men finished their tasks under the supervising visage of the stern woman who had hardly moved since consulting with the captain, who'd leveled a glare over the crew before disappearing below decks in a sweep of flared coats, Harry watching with undisguised curiosity.
Then, torches held high, the men began leaving the ship. One by one, sometimes in pairs as they would finish coiling ropes or lashing sails or polishing decks, the men would report to the woman on deck with a jaunty salute then depart the ship. Distantly Harry could hear the clinking of glass bottles and low masculine laughter as the men disappeared along the coast.
At last there was no one left on deck, for even the hawk eyed woman had crossed the lower deck and vanished below, obviously not joining the men on shore. Harry stretched, flexing his green shod feet like fins before eyeing the lazily flickering fairy beside him.
"Fancy a look around?" he asked, grinning.
By now it was quite dark, and loud rough noises could be heard farther along the shore where the flickering lights of fires on the beach could be seen. Harry spared little thought for the crew so near the mermaid's lair. Harry and Hedwig flew along the dock, up along the mast, around the prow where the masthead loomed up suddenly, giving him a start. Swooping up to the topmost mast he looked around and got his bearings. Then down, down the slightly swaying mast to skim along the dutifully polished deck, which smelled slightly of lemon. Alighting on the deck he stilled and listened. Around him the ship creaked and rustled, bumping lazily against its moorings.
Harry let his eyes adjust to the ambient light, mostly moonlight glittering off the water and a few dangling lanterns. Just above his perch, if he craned his neck, he could see a small square silhouetted against the water. An open window, lit by candlelight.
Taking flight, Harry rounded the topmost deck, sliding as though weightless over the side of the rounded hull. Sure enough the single square open window burned with light in the otherwise featureless hull. Hovering Harry peered in. He had not, after all, seen the captain leave with the crew.
Immediately to his left he spied a splash of red, and for a moment Harry almost dropped down. It took him a moment to recognize the captain's coat, hung neatly over a desk chair. Then he turned toward the right. A snug bed, built into the wall itself was hung with gauzy white curtains. The curtains had been tied back, and Harry could plainly see the bed's sole occupant.
The man was shoeless and coatless but still had on the flowing white shirt, the red trousers and the white stockings. The long haired man lay half-reclined against several thick pillows. One knee was raised but lowered slowly while Harry watched. And nearly gasped. In one hand, his only hand, the man held his manhood and was stroking it slowly.
Harry watched, mesmerized and confused. It was suddenly difficult to hold his hovering position. He found himself bobbing up and down in synchronicity with the slow strokes of that long fingered hand. The man moaned. So did Harry. Dark eyes snapped open, going straight to the window.
Harry yelped, whirling to dart away and found his tunic caught on a protruding nail in the hull. The frightened boy scrabbled against the wooden surface to free himself until he felt himself hauled manually through the window and dumped onto the floor at the man's feet.
Slowly Harry looked up. A long way up. To his disappointment the red trousers were now closed though the front lacings were loose. One very angry pirate scowled down at him. Then without a word the owner of the stockinged feet moved away, and Harry heard the dismal thump of wooden shutters being bolted. Behind him, a creak and a shout. "Ms Shmi!"
Lifting his eyes Harry saw the woman in brown enter. "Yes, Captain?" Her brown eyes widened at the sight of Harry sprawled on the floor.
"Bring some rope!" the captain said, and she scurried to obey. It was only a moment before she returned with thick ropes, and once again Harry felt himself hauled up, this time to his feet.
"Help me tie him to the mast," came the clipped order, and Harry was dragged backward to the solid base that sprouted up through the deck, then lashed securely by ropes across his legs and chest. When they were done both adults stood back and simply stared at Harry.
"What is it?" Shmi asked, voice hushed.
"I don't know. It flew by my window." Both gazes turned toward that dismayingly bolted opening.
"Do you want me to poison it?" Shmi asked, voice regaining some of its usual authority. "I've some rat poison in the hold."
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but the captain was shaking his head. The shiny black hair rippled across one shoulder at the motion. "Not yet," he said, bringing the wicked curve of the hook to stroke his chin. Harry's eyes bulged. "It may know of some treasure in these parts."
Shmi nodded decisively. "Very good, sir." She cast a speculative look at the bound boy and left.
The tall man walked around the mast once, shoeless feet all but silent on the deck.
"Are you Captain Hook?" Harry couldn't help but ask. Even in the candlelight the silver hook gleamed evilly, arm still crooked under his chin.
"I am Captain Snape," came the soft hiss. "Captain Severus Snape." The hook reached toward Harry's face, and he forced himself not to flinch as cold metal glided along his jaw, then flicked away. "Who are you?"
The silken hiss made him shiver but he answered, "Harry." Then echoing his host, finished with "Harry Potter."
"Ah." This came from behind him. The captain, Snape, was slowly circling him. Not being able to see the imposing figure emboldened Harry’s tongue.
"What--what exactly were you doing when you uh, caught me?"
The pirate stopped directly in front of him, a frown creasing the dark brows. "What do you think I was doing?"
As though they had no connection to his brain Harry's eyes slid to the now fastened fly of the snug knee length trousers. "I don't know," Harry replied. Just the memory of it, mere minutes old, was enough to send a frisson of awareness through him. To counter it he cocked one eye toward the pirate. "You looked awfully absorbed in it."
A feral gleam glinted in the hard black eyes. "You really don't know? Harry shook his head. "Don't you ever touch yourself." The merest flicker of his eyes. "Down there?"
Harry straightened as much as the ropes allowed. "Of course. When I make water." Puzzlement creased his boyish brow. "But I don't lie down." He sighed, chest heaving. "And you're quite a bit bigger than me." He let his eyes rest on the front of the red half trousers. "Down there," he added for good measure.
Snape dismissed his ramble with a flick of his hook. "You're a boy. I'm a man."
"I've been a boy for ages and ages," Harry replied, thinking fondly of Peter who'd grown up.
"Surely you're big enough," A frown, which somehow didn't make the frightful face more frightening, crossed Snape's face. "That is, old enough--"
Harry toed the soft cloth of his green shoes. "That's just it, I don't know how old I am."
Then Harry discovered a smile didn't make the frightful face any less so either. "Oh, you're just delicious, aren't you?"
Harry swallowed hard, studying the menacing features, or trying to. There were lacings on the white linen shirt too, not quite done up at collar and cuffs. "I don't know."
The smile stretched the face in unpleasant ways. "I'll let you know."
Green eyes widened. "Do pirates eat children?" Such facts hadn’t been mentioned in 'Neverland: A History'.
The captain crossed his arms under his chest, cautious of the sharp, deadly hook. "That's one option." The face under the fierce brows studied him intently. "Are there any more like you?"
Harry thought best how to answer, and settled on, "Like me?"
Snape made an impatient gesture. "Voyeuristic flying boys with abysmal fashion sense?"
Though he didn't quite understand the meaning of several of the words in question, Harry brightened. "Oh yes, lots!" He frowned. "And one girl. Does she count? She doesn't fly unless we give her fairy dust."
Snape looked like he wanted to say something, even going so far as to open his well formed mouth before shutting it with an audible click. While he was waiting, Harry pulled against the ropes. They were quite secure.
"She's very tiresome," he added helpfully. "But she dresses nicely."
The dark head shook once like Harry did himself sometimes when pulling out of a particularly tricky dive. "Why were you spying on me?"
Harry thought he ought not to mention how dashing the captain had looked on deck, wind lashing the raven wing hair. "Thought you might be up to no good." He tried to look stern.
That earned him a frown. "On what basis?"
Harry sputtered. Dashing or not--really! "You--you're a pirate! You're sailing under the Jolly Roger!"
One corner of the expressive mouth quirked up. "There's a joke in there, but I think it will go over your head."
Harry’s expression clouded over, certain the pirate was laughing at him but not sure what about. "You aren't any sort of proper pirate at all! Where's your band of bloodthirsty cutthroats?" The men he'd seen working efficiently to dock the clipper had looked like ordinary blokes, ones you might see at any job in the Real World outside Neverland. Well, except for the profusion of wide legged striped pants and tricorn hats.
There was a distinctive smirk on the lead pirate's face. "Off raping your mermaids, most likely."
Harry frowned. "That sounds bad." He tested the ropes again, feeling a bit guilty because the tightness of it made him feel quite fluttery inside. "Should I go and rescue them?"
That earned him a lifted eyebrow. "The mermaids or my crew?"
Harry blinked, puzzled, then forgot it as the pirate loomed over him. "Who's going to rescue you?" The voice was a silky hiss, and if he hadn't been bound so tightly he would have shivered.
"Hedwig, of course," Harry answered, quite disappointed when the cutthroat straightened away from him and scowled.
"Who or what is a 'hedwig'?"
"My fairy friend," Harry replied, glancing toward the bolted window. There was enough of a crack in the shutters, he thought, that the diminutive fairy could slip through and unbolt the shutters. "She'll have flown back straight away to tell the others you've captured me."
Snape sat down hard on the edge of the bed. The white curtains puffed then settled. "Do you mean to tell me I'm about to be descended on by a horde of annoying brats any moment?" He pinched the bridge of his not inconsiderable nose. "That wasn't very sporting of you," he said from behind his hand.
Harry bit his lower lip, now conscious of his bad form. "I forget you're new here."
The pirate got to his stockinged feet and stalked across the cabin, hook extended menacingly. Closer and closer he came until Harry's heart was pounding wildly in his chest. Glinting evilly in the candlelight the cruel crook of the hook arched into the air right beside his head.
Harry closed his eyes, determined to meet his fate like a man. Or at least a very brave boy. Then he felt the ropes slacken. "What are you doing?" The hook had sliced cleanly through the knot, and the coil of rope pooled around his green shod ankles.
"Releasing you."
Harry stared down at the trailing tendrils. "Well, that seems unnecessary. I assure you, they will rescue me."
"My point exactly," Snape said, slipping into his shoes, buckling on the sword before swinging the red frock coat from the chair. Shrugging into it he went on. "I've no wish to come to harm over a particularly foolish boy." He shot a glance at Harry, who still stood by the mast, ropes all around his feet. "Don't get sulky on me. It's all fun and games until someone loses a hand," he snapped, loosening the bolt and pushing open the shutters. "Fly away and leave me alone."
Daintily Harry stepped over the ropes, but didn't go any further. "Well," he said, trying to find an excuse to explain his reluctance to leave. "You still haven't explained to me about this raping business."
Snape peered out the window, frowned then looked back at his erstwhile guest. "Most unpleasant," he said curtly. "Now, off you go."
Slowly Harry took the few steps required to get closer to the window. Outside, across the moonlit water he could see lights moving. "But--" he said, stepping onto the sill. He looked back at the thunderstorm brewing on Snape's face and sighed before pushing off into the balmy sky.
"Harry!" It was Ron, leading the others along the coast toward the bay. He stared over Harry's shoulder at the fearsome pirate ship behind his leader. "What happened?"
Harry flew into the flock, gratified that even Hermione had come to his 'rescue' though she was being stabilized by Neville on one side and Draco on the other.
"I escaped the hideous pirate lair," he crowed on the dancing flight back to the tree house, telling them all a wildly improbable (save to the throng of once again adoring fans) tale of his imprisonment and escape. Adoring that is, until he suggested a midnight flight into the Real World to scatter pigeons in the park when littlest Lost Boy Neville, lip quivering as he slanted a glance at Hermione quietly darning a thick black sock, spoke.
"But Harry, that's past our bedtime."
Settling into his hammock, Harry sighed, restless despite the comforting if slight weight of Hedwig by his head.
The next afternoon Harry once again flew along the elegantly sculpted lines of the ship, circling the empty masts, skimming along the S.S. Dumbledore (for the name was carefully painted on the prow) from stem to stern. Cautiously he approached the open window of the captain's quarters, smiling to see that the window was not bolted. If he'd expected a repeat of last night's unusual display (and he could hope) he was disappointed.
Once again the heavy red frock coat was hung over the stiff wooden chair. Only this time the captain was occupying the chair as well. Without waiting for an invitation he suspected would not be forthcoming, Harry flew through the open window and landed gracefully.
Snape, leaning forward over the sturdy desk, quill in hand, scowled at him. "What are you doing back? Get out." The dark gaze darted to the open window as if debating whether to shut it. The day was still sultry; closing it would stifle any fresh ocean breezes.
"You were wrong about that raping business," Harry said, eyeing the older man. Snape was dressed much the same as the day before only today he had on dark trousers, still laced and buckled around the knees, opaque white stockings and a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up. Harry could see there was a silver cuff attached to the hook, cupping what must be the stump of his left arm.
"We went this morning to rescue the mermaids, only they didn't want rescuing."
Snape eyed him politely. "Ah. Perhaps another time." He looked pointedly at the window.
Harry smiled shyly. "You were right about the other thing though."
The chair creaked as the older man leaned back, strong thighs splaying slightly as he shifted. "Imagine my delight." A beat. "Well, are you going to tell me or not?"
Harry kicked up one toe and studied it, his hands behind his back. "The uh, other thing you were absorbed in. It was quite nice." He looked up, but Snape's scowl hadn't changed, well, except perhaps to become a bit more scowly.
"Really, is there a point to this? I've loads of work to do and as you may have guessed, no crew save Shmi at present."
Harry plopped down on the edge of the bed. It had been neatly made, the curtains tied back with white ribbons. Dark eyes followed him.
"You are awfully interesting. See how much I've learned from you already. I never even knew my er, equipment could do *that*.”
Something played at the edges of Snape's well formed lips, but Harry couldn't call it a smile. "So glad I could abet your boyish fantasies." Then, as if a thought struck. "Say, I'm not about to be descended upon by another rescue party?" He reached behind the chair to where his sword hung, testing the hilt.
Feet fidgeting Harry stared at the floor. "No, they're all busy fussing over Hermione."
A heavy sigh from across the room as the elegant fingers slid off the sword handle. "Another fairy?"
Harry laughed, imagining a bushy haired fairy. "No, she's just a girl. The lads are dotty over her."
The quill scratched over the parchment on the desk. "And you are not?"
Thinking hard Harry knew he liked Hermione. She'd stitched his errant shadow back on after all, and had asked him all about Neverland, and how he'd come to be there, and how everyone, one by one, had been brought to live on the enchanted isle.
"Well, she orders one about and makes us use table manners and wants everyone to read lots of books, but I suppose she's all right.” He sighed. "What's--what's a boyish fantasy?"
The quill went back into play, brushing the neatly shaved chin. Harry knew all about shaving--he'd visited Peter as he was growing up and had even tried it once himself. Of course he never had whiskers here in Neverland unless he stayed in the Real World too long.
"Something, or someone you think about while you are--" Snape used his bottom three fingers, the ones not holding the quill, to make a curl above his palm then pumped his arm several times in a hand gesture Harry suddenly recognized. "Absorbed," Snape finished.
Harry brightened. "Oh, that would be you then."
Snape blinked. "Don't you have some rescuing to do somewhere?"
Harry frowned at the abrupt change of topic. "Already tried the mermaids. They were quite opposed to the idea."
Snape tried another tactic, returning his good hand to its non-absorbed position. "Surely your band of um, Merry Men will miss you?"
Slumping Harry hooked his thin knees to the edge of the bed and leaned back slightly. "Since Hermione came back with us they aren't as mad for reckless death defying adventures."
That not-quite smile was back. "Are they all that keen on learning table manners?"
He was nearly prone on the comfortable bed now. Much nicer than a hammock he thought idly, gazing up at the white curtains. "She gives rewards for good behavior." He studied the clouds through the mullioned windows behind the bed. "A kiss." Suddenly restless he shot back to a seated position. "Kissing is for sissies."
"Hmmm," came the thoughtful response from across the room, and Harry looked over. "You should try it. It's quite nice."
The Lost Boy studied him skeptically. "Are you certain? You've been wrong before." The man before him made no response. "You're a very strange pirate."
"You're a very strange boy." Snape set down the quill and adjusted his wide sleeves. The lacings were dangling a bit, trailing over one knee. The opposite one, that would have to be serviced by the missing hand, remained loose. "Shouldn't you be off doing 'boy' things?"
"Shouldn't you be off doing 'pirate' things?" Harry retorted, feeling very clever. "You haven't once asked me if I have any treasure."
A peculiar look settled onto the severe face. "Considering my current lack of crew I couldn't take it from you if you had any."
Scooting off the bed Harry went over to the window. A nice breeze was coming from the water. "You could go fetch them," he pointed out, staring out to sea. "They're all lolling about the mermaid's grotto in the altogether." The memory brought upon it the now familiar restless feelings.
"Had a nice look, did you?" came the amused response. "A bit of Peeping Potter?"
A warm flush spread up his face. He didn't look toward the pirate at all. "Some of them were uh, absorbed, so I studied a bit." The ocean seemed very far away now. "To see if I'd done it properly. As men do," he added.
A slight chuckle startled him out of his reverie. "All in the interest of science, is that it? Harry Potter, Boy Scientist?" Long legs shifted in the wooden chair.
His mood lightened, despite the not quite gentle teasing. "In the interest of future endeavors," he said with a slight waggling of his eyebrows. He frowned though at a memory. "Then, off to the other side of the lagoon, were two men." Harry bit his bottom lip and looked up enquiringly.
"Ah. McNair and LeStrange."
"They were quite absorbed in each other." It had given him a fluttery feeling to watch. And he had watched.
"A bit queer," Snape confirmed. There was something in the fathomless eyes Harry couldn't interpret.
"It looked uncomfortable," he decided.
A smirk. Not a smile. Never that. "I assure you, it is" Then back to frowning. "Stop floating around like that. Watching you is giving me a headache."
He'd been holding onto the sill of the window bobbing slightly to catch the breezes. "I'm sorry," Harry said, landing easily on his slightly pointed shoes. The pirate was scowling fiercely now, and Harry thought the older man might really have a headache coming on. "I didn't mean to keep you from your work," he said, meaning of course exactly the opposite. Then, drawn by curiosity and the idea of glimpsing a real pirate map Harry sidled over to the desk.
"Accounts."
Green eyes blinked. The parchment, instead of having jagged landmarks and a huge 'x' to mark the spot, had neatly numbered columns. "Pirates keep accounts?" Disbelieving he leaned in closer, brushing the long legs as he did.
"Of course." The dark head leaned over, a long finger dragging down one of the columns. "In this column is what we've stolen. And this is from whom." The finger touched the next row. "Ship expenses come out of the booty." Again a long stroke of the index finger. "Shares for the men."
Harry couldn't help noticing that Snape's share was quite a bit larger than anyone else's. This close he could faintly hear the in and out of breath from the man beside him, feel the slight disturbance it made. The pirate sat back abruptly.
"Step away," he commanded softly. "You're too close."
Harry, a bit transfixed by the proximity, heard the softness of the words but not the meaning. "You smell quite nice," he commented. "Not like a pirate at all." He closed his eyes and inhaled.
"What did you expect?"
Hearing the smooth voice with his eyes closed was quite interesting. He did manage to think about the question. "Hmm, like blood and guts and death."
"Well, I've had a wash."
Green eyes opened slowly, meeting black ones for a long moment until Harry spoke. "I think I should like to try it after all."
Snape shook his head slightly. Their faces were so close Harry could see individual strands in the drape of inky black hair falling over one shoulder. "Try what?"
As though speaking made it so Harry leaned forward, managing to murmur his desire before putting it to action. "Kissing."
Lips touched lips, Harry leaning in for more contact, feeling the need to move but not quite knowing in which direction. Some instinct he didn't know he possessed beckoned 'in', while another, equally insistent 'out' but neither seemed quite right, so he settled for 'closer'.
The pirate, whether from shock or something else didn't draw away. Harry found himself wanting to ask for something, to put words in the mouth moving against his own, but not quite sure what to ask. He was getting ready to open his mouth, to ask something, anything, when long fingers curled around each bicep, and he was unceremoniously picked up and set of range of the pirate.
"Come in," Snape said, voice steadier than Harry's felt, and the cabin door swung open to admit the high cheek-boned first mate.
"I've brought tea," she said with a smile. Then, "Oh!" as she caught sight of Harry. Her gaze dropped to the tray. "There's enough for two," she said cheerfully as though finding flying boys in her captain's cabin were an everyday occurrence. Harry surreptitiously pulled the pointed edges of his green tunic down just a bit. "Let me fetch another cup."
Shmi entered the cabin with a polite if puzzled glance at Harry, now standing beside the desk, one arm covering part of the parchments. Then she glanced at the open window and nodded to herself as she set the tray down.
Harry watched Snape look up, and he felt a flutter of something in the soft expression in the so far usually harsh face. He bit his bottom lip a bit guiltily. The woman straightened her long skirts and said, "I'll be right back."
Snape laid back languidly in the chair, eyeing Harry with a look that made him want to pull his tunic down again. Instead he cleared his throat. "Pirates take tea?"
An amused smirk broke the eye contact as the captain cast his glance over the laden tray. "All civilized souls take tea." He waved his good hand over the tray. "Please help yourself." He poured a cup of the gently steaming tea and handed the cup to Harry who blew on it gently before adding sugar and milk. The first mate returned with the promised extra cup, smiled at them both and left as gracefully as she had come.
Harry looked at the now closed door. "Is she your wife?"
Snape, who had been sipping tea, sputtered slightly then lowered the china cup. "She's my first mate. Growing a conscience?"
Harry ignored the question, not certain what it meant. "But she's a woman."
One of the thick black brows arched. "But a fine pirate in her own right." He picked up the delicately patterned tea cup, not bothering with the matching saucer. "She can wield a cutlass with the best of them." He held out the highly polished hook to eye level and sighted along it. "Or better."
Harry leaned over the desk and selected a biscuit. "Do you kiss her?" he asked, under cover of choosing the sweet.
The dark eyes narrowed. "Do you presume it is any of your business?"
Harry shrugged and patted his mouth for crumbs. "Do you want to kiss me again?"
Something flickered in the dark depths. "*You* kissed *me*." Fastidiously with the one good hand he set down the cup and used a napkin, fine linen ones Harry noted, to dab his own mouth.
"Then I shall do it again," Harry decided. Green eyes focused on the finely shaped mouth. "You were right; it is nice." He took a step closer, only to be stopped by the curved edge of the lethal looking hook in his chest.
"But I am not, and you shouldn't be kissing me. I'm a pirate and you--" The formidable features slid into a frown. "Well, I don't know exactly what you are."
Harry went very still, looking down at the gleam of the silver hook. He saw his own eyes reflected in the curved surface. "A Lost Boy," he said softly. "I was left in a pram when I was a baby. Peter found me and told me the couple who left me didn't even look back." He looked up defiantly, his feet rising slightly off the deck in his agitation. "I'm never going to grow up!" he stated firmly, stepping backwards away from the hook.
Harry watched Snape retract it, heard the soft thud it made on the desk. "I don't mind that you did though," he said, taking a step closer, leaning forward without fear to touch his lips again to the pirate's slightly tea flavored mouth.
But only for a moment. Snape straightened, and Harry felt like a page in one of Hermione's books, as black eyes raked him. "You may as well learn to do it properly," came the honeyed voice. Harry let himself be pulled closer, trapped, if willingly, between powerful thighs. He could feel the heat of the other man's body.
"In the interest of future endeavors," Snape said and closed his mouth again over Harry's. This time the firm lips didn't stay still but began to move on his until the Lost Boy, quite feeling this was against the rules of some game, somewhere, opened his mouth to protest.
And melted. He'd never melted before and didn’t understand the relationship between kissing and dissolving but didn't think he should ask Hermione to look it up for him.
Future endeavors were definitely required.
Large powerful hands molded his body, and when he opened his eyes, only then did he realize his own hands had slipped under the drape of glossy black hair to wrap under the buccaneer's neck. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips over Snape's and even though not invited inside this time it was quite nice. Especially with firm hands holding him just there. Harry sighed into the other's mouth.
"Your manners are indeed quite pretty," he heard, thinking how novel it was to feel words forming in a chest so close to his own.
"Thank you," he said automatically, fascinated by the well formed mouth so near his own. Watching it speak, breath ghosting into his, softer even than Hedwig's wings on his face.
"Would you like your reward?" The voice caressed his cheek like silk so that it took the distracted boy a moment to catch on.
"Oh yes, please," he said, not sure what form his reward would take since they'd already covered kissing, but certain if the kisses he'd had so far were any indication he would like it very much. The body moved against his, and Harry's arms fell away, allowing the pirate to stand. He immediately wanted to lean in again but felt large hands on his shoulders, guiding him around so that they switched places.
Harry now sat on the desk chair. The pirate, very tall from this angle, stood in front of him, the long curtain of black hair hanging over the severe features, nearly obscuring his face. As if reading Harry's very thoughts the man tossed his head back as though the ocean winds were pulling through it. Harry got that fluttery feeling in his chest that had nothing to do with flying.
Slowly the pirate dropped to his knees, as though collapsing in mock death in a stirring game of Bandits and Lawmen the Lost Boys were playing. Except they hadn't played much since Hermione had come, and this game promised to be quite as much fun as Bandits, even if it was just the two of them, and he wasn't quite sure he was the fearless hero anymore.
The silver hook slid up one of Harry's thighs, which were conveniently spread wide enough to admit one rather tallish pirate. The hook looked very wicked lying there, gleaming and spotless right down to the lethal looking tip.
Yet, it was the other hand, the non-hook, non-silver, supposedly non-wicked one that he should have been looking out for. Long pale fingers curled into the waistband of his green tights and pulled them down before he could utter a squeak of protest, not that he was exactly sure he would have, given fair warning.
The air felt cool on his exposed flesh, but he had not long to appreciate the draft as the pirate's mouth opened and again, without warning, swallowed him quite whole. Harry suddenly decided that having good manners was obviously the most important thing he had ever learned and really, why wasn't it stressed more in the Lost Boy curriculum?
For the second time in his life Harry felt the growing pleasurable sensation pooling between his legs. He tried to look down, to watch the tantalizing mouth as it pulled him in then slowly released him, but the sight gave him the strangest sensation of lightheadedness, something he never got, not even when flying.
Except this was so much better than flying. He caught a glimpse of his own length pushing into the curve of the older man's cheek, clearly outlined in skin like artwork, though he'd never seen one of such unusual medium. Grubby boyish fingers dug into the edges of the chair, whether to keep himself from sliding off or to keep them from tangling in the silky looking black hair he didn't know.
For he did want to touch the captain, in the exact same way he was being touched, and in others he could only imagine but nonetheless wanted very much. It did not occur to him to warn the pirate what was about to happen, for he barely recognized it himself, the zip of sensation, like the magic of fairy dust on a mortal child, like that first flush on their faces, full of happy thoughts, when they know they can fly.
His hips arched off the wooden chair, despite his desperately clutching hands, despite the solid weight of Snape's head pinning him down, sucking him as though that same fairy magic was flowing out of him, draining him.
It wasn't until he realized he was being fastidiously tucked into his tights that he came back to his senses. Wide eyed he watched the captain's face leaning into his, as though to kiss him, or impart secrets of the universe for all the difference Harry could discern in this moment.
"You should go."
Harry blinked in confusion. "Where?" Was there some secret pirate lair he should know about? He hadn't really been paying attention the last few minutes, but he wouldn't have thought anyone could speak with his mouth occupied like that.
"Wherever Lost Boys go to get away from evil pirates," Snape said, mouth now quite unoccupied.
He started to protest that the pirate wasn't really evil at all but reconsidered, thinking the boundary wasn't quite as clear to him as it used to be. "Can't I stay?" Honestly he wasn't sure he had the strength to fly and couldn’t quite picture himself just walking down the gangplank.
The pirate eased away a little, enough for the boy to see the slight flush staining the pale cheeks. "Can you read?"
Since it didn't sound like Snape was going to send him away Harry nodded eagerly, though he wasn't, even before Hermione's intrusion, much of a reader. He much preferred someone to tell him stories. The pirate stood, turning slightly to gesture with hand, not hook. Harry's head followed the gesture, noticing the pile of books beside the bed.
"Find something to read, and keep quiet," the warm voice said, perhaps meaning to sound harsh but not succeeding. "I have accounts to finish."
So, even though the pirate ignored him Harry stretched out comfortably on the bed. He'd seen many beds of course, visiting the Real World, but had never imagined himself in one. He'd only ever slept in a hammock, Hedwig's soft glow his only night light. Beds, he thought, bunching up the pillows and inhaling, were nice too.
He sorted through the books. Right on top was 'Rip Roaring Pirate Tales' with a scrap of parchment stuck in for a marker. Just the sort of thing for a boy who loved stories, Harry thought but dutifully dug deeper. Under 'Tales' was 'Dames At Sea'. Idly he opened up the marble patterned cover and saw an inscription.
"Thank you" it said simply in a loopy feminine hand and was signed, 'S. Shmi'.
There were other books, like 'Neverland: A History' and 'Walking the Plank: Tales of Men and Boys' and many others of the sort, including, inexplicably 'Poisons and Their Antidotes' on the very bottom. He shot the pirate a sharp look after unearthing that one, but for all appearances the man was utterly engrossed in the ledger.
It was a perfect opportunity to admire the long elegant form, so Harry did, never one to waste an opportunity. He let his gaze wander from the tips of the shoeless white stockinged feet to the top of the sooty black head. The hook, the boy noted, was carefully resting on one thigh while Snape worked. Then he gathered up 'Rip Roaring Pirate Tales' and began to read.
Harry awoke to the feel of the warmth of a hand and the coolness of metal on his skin. The cabin was quite dark, so he could barely see the long shape beside him. He could feel the weight that settled beside him in the wide bed. But he knew that touch, knew the flutter of black hair as it fell over his face, knew those lips pressing hotly into his own. Fiery kisses claimed his mouth then sank to his neck. Nearly as one they groaned in frustration as roving lips met unyielding tunic.
Three hands guided the green top over his head. It was lovely to feel the captain's lips on his shoulder, his collarbone, his nipples. His own hands rapidly discovered that Snape too wore no shirt, but being pinned to the bed by kisses, so many of them in unexpected places, he was powerless to delve further down.
As though responding to his waking wish his hands found themselves tangling in the black silk hair within reach, thwarted only momentarily when the last barrier to his supposed modesty was removed as Snape slid his tights down for the second time that day.
This time, though Harry had exhibited no good table manners that he could recall, he knew now what they were both straining toward as once again the warm mouth enveloped that lovely place between his legs. He welcomed it now eagerly with soft cries and movements of hips that normally he might have thought awkward but now seemed quite appropriate.
The Lost Boy was happy to note that the amazing feeling was no fluke, that he was just as happily spent as upon previous occasions. He also discovered that it was altogether pleasant to be wooed to sleep with soft words and softer kisses and the lovely feel of a strong body beside his, one hand settling into the curve of his hip.
Harry awoke alone. Or as alone as one can be with the whispery brightness of a fairy perched upon his chest. "Hallo Hedwig," he said sleepily, letting the heated flush of fairy anger wash over him. He felt too extraordinarily lovely to put up much of a fight, and after all, he had to admit he hadn't come home last night, and yes, he was ignoring her and the other lads, just as she accused.
"I know Hedwig, but it's nice here too," he countered when the rush of invective slowed to a glittering spurt, dust motes of shiny fairy dust sprinkling his naked skin. He couldn't help thinking he would like the pirate to see him thus. "Can you see my clothes?"
A tinkling laugh, one that from past experience he knew meant she was up to no good, greeted the question as the tiny creature alighted and flew out the window with a shimmery wake trailing behind.
With a thwarted sigh Harry got out of the cosy bed. There was a towel by the washbasin, damp no doubt from the pirate's shave this morning. Fortunately it was large enough to knot around his slender hips.
The ship was, as he'd expected, still quite deserted. He listened briefly to the noises the great vessel made, the slap of rigging overhead, the quiet gurgle of the sea against the hull. Somehow the noises reminded him of Snape, and he set off cheerfully to explore.
More noises ahead, of a no doubt human variety, and Harry found himself in the galley. First Mate Shmi, filling a tea kettle from the rain barrel beside the iron stove, looked up, unsurprised to see him still on board. "Well, you're a mite more chipper than I'd of expected, considering where you spent your night."
Harry, who'd been looking with what he hoped was polite interest at the loaf of bread and crock of butter, looked up, puzzled. "Are you going to fuss at me too?" he sighed. "I only know three females, and you're the second this morning to dress me down." He set his arms akimbo on his hips.
"No, laddie," the woman said, voice not unkind. "Sit down, and eat something. I expect you're famished."
He couldn't deny it, not with his stomach rumbling an unmistakable agreement. Mindful, however of his manners, he used the razor sharp knife to cut the bread, offering it to his hostess first. She declined, going to the larder and pulling out cheese and a tankard, filling the latter from a keg behind him. Harry feasted while she drank the tea she'd brewed.
"If you don't mind some advice from an old sea salt," she said, when he was done, and sitting back contentedly, hastily swiping at some crumbs that had fallen on his chest. "You really should put on something before wandering around like that. Even though we've no crew at present," she added for good measure.
"They've gone missing," Harry admitted. At her puzzled face he clarified, "My clothes I mean. I went to bed with them on and--" He blushed, not aware that he was able to do so. He tried clearing his throat. "I expect my fairy's chucked them into the sea. She was angry when I didn't come home last night."
"Ah," came the enlightened response as the older woman got to her feet. "I reckon we have something of one of the boy's that might do you." She cast a different eye upon him. "Billy Bones is about your size, being the youngest and slightest of the crew." When she returned she carried a set of clothes. "Nothing as fetching as that green stuff you're used to, but I don't suppose the captain'll mind."
The bundle contained a pair of short knee length pants, similar to the ones the captain wore, only of white cloth with black stripes running lengthwise. A crisp white shirt where the sleeves were only slightly too long opened from throat to mid-sternum. White stockings and buckled shoes completed the offering. Harry went back to the captain's cabin to change. He found Ms Shmi again in the galley and presented himself for inspection, though he felt very awkward and heavy in the unaccustomed shoes.
"There now, don't you look quite the young man?" she said admiringly, and Harry twisted one of the sleeve lacings in embarrassed joy. He knew time in the Real World added to his age, but he'd never thought of himself as a young man. It sounded nice somehow. And more permanent than Lost Boy.
"I've a mind to show the captain," he said.
A sly smile crept over the plain woman's face. "He's gone off to find the crew," she explained.
As it turned out, Harry could fly in the heavy shoes but had to tack a bit with the shirt, whose lacings had come hopelessly undone immediately. He discovered the disconsolate captain not in the Mermaid's Grotto, but several sparkling lagoons over in the Crocodile Cove. Perched on a large gray rock overlooking the placid inlet, the pirate was the verriest picture of gloom: knee up, head down and resting on one hand, staring moodily across the peaceful water. Harry fluttered down to the softest landing he could make given his footwear situation.
"No luck with the crew, eh?"
Black eyes bored into him once, then resumed staring moodily over the cove.
"I tried the Mermaid Lagoon first," Harry explained, trying to pose in his new clothes but not attracting the kind of attention he hoped. Though funnily enough, as proud as he was of his new attire, he wanted nothing more now than to shuck out of it. Being even slightly grown up, he was discovering, was confusing.
A grunt came from Snape's direction. "Surveying the last remnants of a once proud fighting force--now reduced to rutting like goats." He snorted, tossing his head. "Or like carp, I should say," he went on, half to himself.
Harry had no idea what 'rutting' was though if it involved that interesting hip movement he'd spotted while flying over the mermaids and errant pirates, he rather thought he would be all for it, if the captain was involved.
"Some of them even have webbing between their fingers, I swear." Snape lifted his hand and spread the fingers as though checking for contagion.
Harry gave off posing and crawled in between Snape's unresisting knees. "Peter used to say this was a seductive place." His chin nestled on the sturdy thigh.
"Peter sounds very wise," came the suddenly soft voice from overhead. Weight on his head, then long fingers carding through his untidy wind-blown hair.
Harry sighed and stroked the expanse of thigh beside his chin, enjoying the sun-warmed feel of it. "He was practically grown up by the time he left."
The blissfully moving fingers halted once, then resumed. "Did Peter ever kiss you?"
Harry’s eyes, which had been closing dreamily, shot open. Keeping himself in the V of Snape's legs, he scrambled up. From this angle he was just a bit taller than the seated pirate. "Like this," he said, dropping a kiss between the thunderclouds of Snape’s brow. He found that he very much wanted to kiss the thundercloud away and was in a perfect position to do so. And when the storm did indeed break, it released not rain and atmosphere but passion and breathless excitement.
He felt swept away by fierce kisses, but anchored like a ship between the whipcord muscles of Snape's thighs. Lost Boys longed for adventure, he reminded himself as he reached for the lacings of Snape's trousers, fingers trembling as though touching Hedwig for the first time.
It occurred to him of course that the pirate had displayed no overtly pretty table manners and thus deserved no reward, but it seemed they stood two to zero in the reward department, and it was time to start catching up. It was a bit strange at first, but his mouth rapidly became accustomed, and he began to see why the pirate had chosen this particular type of reward as it seemed to please both parties.
After a few terse instructions the pirate stopped speaking altogether for surely the sounds he made could not be said to resemble speech. Then Harry heard a coherent word, or what he thought was a coherent word, for it sounded like 'close', which he took to mean 'closer'. He didn't see how it was physically possible to get any closer than this but he tried.
And because the pirate had done the same for him, it seemed impolite not to swallow it all down.
He found he had to catch his breath, though he wasn't sure why, for it had been far less exerting than flying. He took comfort in the strong fingers in his hair as he leaned back against the relaxed thigh.
"You're a very surprising boy," Snape said at last.
Turning against the limb that supported him Harry met the jetty eyes. "I'm a young man."
"But not grown up."
Harry shrugged. "I'd have to leave Neverland to do that."
"Like Peter," Snape said, and Harry nodded. "But you've left before if you were brought here as a baby."
Harry laid his head back on the bracing thigh. Snape smelled good, like sun-warmed cloth, and a hint of the lemon polish used on the ship. "To find other Lost Boys." It was the hand spearing through his hair that made him feel so nice, he decided. He told the pirate how he'd found Ron first, who'd been pushed out of his pram by two brothers and ignored by a mother already swollen with another baby. And of Draco who'd been alone when he'd fallen out, but with his father in the next room ignoring the crying fair haired baby. And of the others, Neville and Blaise, Colin and Oliver. Lost Boys, all.
The sun suddenly seemed very warm, and Harry, though it was awfully comfortable here between Snape’s legs stretched languidly. "I'm for a swim."
"Are you mad?" The hook swept over the deceptively drowsy cove. "There are crocodiles down there." As if to punctuate his point, one of the scaley creatures slid from the rock ledge below them into the water and vanished.
Harry unfurled himself slowly and stood up, indulging in a real stretch, enjoying Snape's eyes on him, for Harry could feel them, sure and heavy as his new shoes. "They lost the taste for human flesh ages ago," Harry explained. "One of them ate one, a man I mean, and it disagreed with her awfully. So it's been bred out of them." Still feeling a bit drowsy, Harry wanted to feel the revivifying effects of the water.
"Swim with me?"
"I'll watch." And he did watch. Harry could still feel the jet black eyes on him as he made his way down the slope to the sandy edge of the cove. He peeled out of his new finery, folding it carefully before wading into the cool water. The first layer of the water was lightly warmed but got cooler as he strolled out. He'd never really thought about how marvelous the water felt on his naked skin--for though he always swam in the altogether he'd never had his, what had Snape called it during those heated moments?--his cock start to harden.
Sighting along the cliff Harry was stabbed with disappointment to see the rock decidedly empty of pirate, until he saw one very bare corsair striding into the water. "I couldn't resist," he said simply as Harry swam close.
"I am rather irresistible," Harry agreed, floating into the waiting arms. Bare feet found purchase along the sandy bottom, and he found himself pressed full length against the lean hard pirate. Which was quite different, he decided muzzily, than being even half or only slightly dressed. He was suddenly harder than he'd ever been, though considering he'd only started tracking such things two days ago, he supposed it might be a natural, welcome progression of things.
He heard a noise in the back of Snape's throat, felt the legs shifting until a firm thigh intruded between his own. The cool metal hook was carefully balanced on his shoulder as the other hand cupped his flanks, urging him to move.
And it was such a relief to do so, Harry did. Once Snape realized he had the way of it, moving himself against the man's thigh, the hand slid off his bottom and around to the front, cupping his hardness, enfolding it. "Oh!" he cried, startled at how much his own movement aided whatever quest they were on. It was enough that they were on this particular quest together.
"Come for me Harry," Snape said very close to his ear. "I want to see your face when you come."
Harry's head dropped back, lips parting as though in expectation of a reward, but his body now had knowledge of pleasure sweeter than kisses and helped him, urged him as surely as hand and hook upon his skin. Even the water seemed to reward him, lapping sensuously against his suddenly heated skin.
"Come for me Harry," the pirate urged him again.
"Yes!"
"Say my name."
Almost he said 'Captain' but remembered in time. "Severus," he cried again, arching into the welcome hand stroking him before collapsing, drifting, being enfolded, hearing pleasant things in his ear. Strong arms held him as he drifted in the water, his legs tangling more firmly planted ones. Finally he found the strength to stand, enjoying the feel of their bodies drifting together, the way the soft hair on his chest drifted into the heavier pelt on the other man's.
"You *are* irresistible," Snape said, amusement coloring his honey-warm voice. Harry felt a soft kiss on the top of his head before Snape moved away. "Have your swim, lad. I must away."
"May I come to the ship when I'm done?" Now that he'd heard the word 'come' in a different context he felt his face warming when he spoke it.
"At your peril, boy," Snape intoned, but Harry had heard that same voice whispering soft words to him in the dark and could find no menace that was not promise in it now.
Blissfully Harry sank beneath the mere, missing the other body already but watching as the pirate gathered his clothes, dressed, and, not without what Harry hoped was a fond look over his shoulder, strode away.
Was the pirate fond of him? Harry wondered, chasing one of the smallish crocodiles until the creature rolled onto its back, presenting its white belly for a rub. It was quite nice to hear the gravelly sounds it made while Harry stroked it. He vowed to try the same thing tonight on another prickly creature.
Harry swam, had a nap on the shore and woke up, for the second time that day, to a very bright light in his eyes. "Hedwig!" He started to smile then remembered the fairy's mischief this morning and sat up rather forcefully, looking frantically for his new clothes. Luckily he was using most of them for a makeshift pillow. He sank back onto the bundle and smiled lazily at her. "I've thwarted you, naughty one. I intend to keep these."
The fairy looked down, her glow dimming to a becoming blushing pink, scuffing her tiny feet on the slight mound of his belly in an attitude of remorse. "I shan't scold you then," Harry said, feeling too pleased with himself to be truly cross. Hedwig looked up almost shyly, so he extended a finger, and she hopped aboard daintily. Then, in excited fairy language, she told him all the things the Lost Boys had been up to, and though it sounded frightfully dull to Harry he listened with polite attention.
It occurred to him, during the recitation of lessons and experimentation, that his Boys were doing a bit of growing up too. "Well, I suppose I should go and see for myself, shouldn't I?" Hedwig nodded enthusiastically, scattering fairy dust again all over his chest. He shook her off gently and, still not giving her access to his clothes, dressed. Off they flew to the tree house.
On a day as sultry as this his friends were all outside, sprawled in various postures of attentiveness around Hermione, who was perched on one of the largish mushrooms that grew around the place. It was she who spotted him first, her eyes alight with a delight that made him feel quite ashamed of ever wanting her to leave.
"Harry!" she cried, and they all looked up as he landed lightly in their midst amongst much back slapping and 'what ho's!'. He'd been gone from them longer in the past, usually to the Real World, but they knew, thanks to Hedwig, this absence had meant something different.
He bowed politely to Hermione, who curtsied with due grace. Ron, who'd clapped him heartily on the back took her hand, his freckled face beaming. "We've such news to tell you!" Ron said after pleasantries were exchanged. An expectant hush fell over the assemblage. Ron blushed slightly and deferred to Hermione.
"We--" she said, downcast eyes sidling toward the ginger haired boy. "Ron and I that is, we--"
Harry waited expectantly. Then Neville, the smallest, roundest Lost Boy (for he had never lost his way to dinner) piped up. "They're starting a school!" Then everyone started talking at once about 'real schools' and 'teaching really useful things'. Harry let it all swirl around him until he felt a roughened elbow poking his side.
"A word, mate?" Harry nodded, and together he and Ron left the happy chatter, kicking off lightly, skimming the treetops in mere seconds. They landed by unspoken mutual consent on the ridge overlooking the harbor. Harry could see the lamps on the mighty pirate ship from here. It gave him a stab of something he'd only ever felt when off on one of his excursions in the Real World.
"Hedwig told us you were sleeping in the pirate's bed," Ron said. Between them they never wasted much time on small talk. "I was all for dashing in to rescue you but 'Mione said you might not want it." Open blue eyes met his, and Harry smiled fondly.
"No, I'd of been very cross," he admitted.
Ron threw a stone down the long slope that led to the rocky ledge of the harbor. "She said you were like the mermaids now, happier now with your lot than without." Harry started to say something, but Ron held up one hand. "Anyhow she suggested we go and watch the mermaids ourselves to see what she meant and we uh--got the picture." He was blushing quite furiously now, and though Harry thought it was a rather charming look on his oldest friend he didn't say it.
"So, now we've got this school thing going," Ron went on, obviously changing the subject. "Hermione thinks we can get some students in the Real World, that they need a place like this, maybe even get some girls." Girls, Harry knew, save the rare exception, had always been forbidden in Neverland. Harry gazed down at the tall masted clipper below. Theoretically so were pirates.
"It will be different now," he said. "I expect we're all doing a bit of growing up."
Beside him Ron threw another stone down the long slope. "It isn't as fearsome as I'd expected. I mean, when a girl looks at you like that, like you've done something important--" His friend wasn't blushing now, but his voice had gone all dreamy and soft. Then with a sigh Ron stood up and dusted off his backside. "Best get back. Hermione will be worried." Harry suspected that with the approaching dusk his friend wanted to get back for other reasons. As Harry did himself. He grinned when Ron caught him looking onto the water towards the ship lying at dock. "Suppose you should too." They clasped arms before kicking off in separate directions.
Harry flew in through the open window of Snape's quarters, but the room was empty. The bed, he noticed, had been neatly made, but otherwise all was as he'd left it this morning. So he went off in search of the pirate, though on an empty ship it really wasn't all that difficult. Voices were floating up from the galley.
"Ah, there's our young man," First Mate Shmi said with a kind smile as Harry entered the room, making a slight bow. That got him an approving nod from the captain. "Sit down lad, and I'll fix you both some supper."
Snape frowned. "Galley slave is not in your job description."
Shmi leaned one brown-clad hip against the wooden countertop. "Our cook has webbed feet now. You told me so yourself," she said dryly. Then she settled her gaze on Harry. "Hungry after your swim, are you?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Harry replied enthusiastically as one broad tanned hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing him lightly.
"There now, see. The boy's hungry." She pulled out a basket from the cupboard, and Harry heard the rattle of cutlery. "Besides I've no one to fuss over anymore save you lot." She set the basket down and squeezed Snape’s shoulder the same way she'd squeezed Harry's. He wondered if it was some kind of pirate comraderie thing he would have to learn.
"You know I'll stay on as long as you'll have me, no matter what you decide," she said earnestly, and Snape reached up and covered her hand with his one good one. A look passed between them, then she looked at Harry. "Though it seems to me you've found yourself a snug harbor right here." She laughed as though she'd made a joke, but Harry noticed Snape wasn't smiling. "Off you go boys. I'll bring supper up to your room."
Harry leaped lightly to his feet, Snape following more slowly. He looked back at his first mate as though about to say something further then down at Harry as though they hadn't been properly introduced. Then the pirate sighed, and the ghost of a smile played around the particularly well-formed lips as they left the galley.
Harry, who was not afraid of ghosts, went to slip his hand in Snape's larger one but encountered not warm flesh but cold metal. Leaning out over the railing of the main deck he let the gentle sea breeze fill the white shirt, billowing like a small sail. He ventured to ask, "Can you tell me how you came to lose your hand, Severus?" It seemed all right to use the man's given name now that he'd all but been ordered to scream it.
The pirate's face took on a decidedly feral air as he flourished the appendage in question. "Ah! There's a tale that will put hair on your chest!" Harry knew he didn't mean literally since Snape had obviously seen that he already had hair there. But it sounded like a ripping good story all the same. "There once was a pirate king named Tom Riddle. Now, you may imagine what end of trouble that name gave him."
"Why? It sounds very fierce to me," Harry put in, thinking loyally of course that 'Severus Snape' was quite the fiercest name he had ever heard.
"Who'd quake in fear when they heard that a pirate like 'Tom' was scuttling their frigate?" Snape countered in evident glee. "So he changed it, and there his troubles began." The tale took them into the captain's cabin, only interrupted when supper arrived. Harry listened raptly and had more questions when the tale was done, but once the pirate had finished his supper and his tale he pushed away from the small table and looked at Harry gravely.
"I'm thinking of staying in Neverland," Snape said very seriously.
"I'd like that," he replied immediately, jumping out of his chair and flinging his arms around the luckily prepared pirate. Solid metal touched his back, angled away as they steadied in the sturdy chair.
Harry's face was very close to Snape's. "I suppose that answers that question," Snape said dryly, and Harry pushed his head onto the broad shoulder, nudging the black hair with his nose. Though the perch was precarious it was nice being this close. And since they were this close he did what he'd wanted to do since boarding the ship, and began kissing Snape anywhere his mouth could reach. Again he heard the vibrations in the chest below him as Snape groaned and pulled his head up, kissing him back rather soundly.
"You're all knees and elbows," the pirate complained, shifting his legs.
"Not just knees and elbows," Harry said back, rubbing himself against Snape's abdomen. He decided he liked the husky tone his voice had taken on. "Does my reward tonight involve taking my clothes off?" he asked silkily, for though he enjoyed this immensely, Snape had hinted at more.
"Actually," came the dripping honey voice, and Harry shivered from it, "I want a reward from you tonight. Though I do not think you will mind the taking of it overmuch."
Harry looked up from the patch of ivory throat he'd been nuzzling. "Well then, does your reward involve taking my clothes off?" While he liked his new clothes he was not averse to shedding them again. "Touching you was ever so much nicer without them." He started to wriggle out of the shirt his companion had agreeably loosened for him.
"Liked that, did you?" There was a definite smirk on the older man's face.
"Oh yes," Harry admitted, untangling the last knot he'd put in the shirt to keep it from flapping as he flew. Then he set to work on Snape's lacings.
"Not so fast," Snape chided, though he leaned his head back to grant better access. "Don't you want to know what form my reward will take?"
"Will it speed things up if I just say 'yes'?" Then he was lifting Snape's shirt over his head and thought he heard a muffled ‘'cheeky brat' from within the linen.
Harry leaned in for a kiss, wanting very much to feel their now bare chests together, but Snape pulled back. "I'm going to take something from you," Snape said, waiting until Harry had no choice but to meet the inky black eyes. "Something that once taken, cannot be given back."
"Oh, but I would give--"
"You cannot give what you don't comprehend," Snape countered gently, and Harry nodded solemnly. "Afterward if you don't want to stay with me, we'll pull up anchor and leave Neverland, never to return."
"I'll stay," Harry said. "I know you don't mean me any harm, not to have taught me so many lovely things already. When I'm here with you, I don't feel so lost."
"You're impossible," Snape said, perhaps meaning to sound stern.
"But irresistible. If this means I can stay with you, then this thing is something I'm well rid of," Harry said, being allowed to lean in at last, luxuriating in the feel of so much skin against his own. "And you'll take good care of it?" He moved his hips without knowing he was about to and heard a sharp intake of air. Strong arms went around him exactly the way he'd just discovered he wanted.
"Yes, Harry," Snape said, standing with the Lost Boy About To Become A Man clinging to him. "Yes, I'll take good care of you."
"That's okay then." They crossed the cabin, and Harry found himself kneeling on the bed, finally able to reach the buttons of Snape's trousers. Soon the older man was in exactly the condition Harry wanted to be in--naked--but instead of stopping to ponder life's inequalities, for he was not that sort of boy, he set about righting that inequality, shucking out of his own trousers and stockings. Harry all but pulled the pirate onto the bed on top of him, nearly delirious with need to feel all that skin against his own, eager to summon that whorl of pleasure he found with Snape, eager indeed to surrender whatever bounty Snape wanted.
But he found himself thwarted by the older man's languorous pace, frustrated but aroused by the frustration as well, enabling him to concentrate on giving pleasure back to this man who had given him so much of it to start with.
Until now he hadn't thought there was any more intimate feeling than a hand on his cock. Until that hand followed the cleft between his legs to the entrance between, an entrance he'd only ever before thought of as an exit, until a gentle finger disabused him of that notion. He wasn't even aware that he'd made a sound until the finger stopped. Curious he pushed back against it, hearing a rich chuckle from above him as he surrendered to the novel caress. He spread his legs wider.
"My eager boy," Snape said softly from behind him, dropping a light kiss on Harry's shoulder before reaching beside the bed for his discarded trousers. Harry, not knowing he could be utterly relaxed and utterly aroused at the same time, watched him pull a slender golden vial from one pocket before once more draping himself over Harry's prone form. Then he was being urged up onto the aforementioned knees and elbows, as fingers touched him in that slightly forbidden, though he supposed it wouldn't be now, place.
Having watched the mermaids diligently he almost expected the idea of long skillful fingers breaching him. What he didn't expect was the thing that came alive inside him. He felt himself wanting to dissolve again, with the sure knowledge of several days practice that he would re-form in short measure. But then came the soft murmured words above him, some familiar like 'open' and 'yes', though hardly in this context, some unfamiliar like 'fuck' which he decided was quite a delicious word all on its own, so he repeated it over and over.
Then something larger at his wonderfully relaxed entrance and again he eagerly pushed back on it, stilled by hands on his flanks. "Slowly," though the tone of it and the sentiment perversely made him want to push back harder. He refrained, poised, waiting, sensing. How could he suddenly want something without knowing exactly what it was?
His pirate wanted it. So he didn’t cry out at the rush of pain, but Snape stilled anyway, murmuring gentling words, the kind Harry himself had used when gentling fairies, though of course this irony was utterly lost on him.
And because he wanted, in this moment, what Snape wanted, it was as though a magic spell had been cast, turning the pain to pleasure faster than he could imagine. So that when the building of pleasure combined with his heart's own desire to please, he found himself being pleased instead. Snape’s hand wrapped around his cock; Harry moving in both directions, finding both pleasing.
Most pleasing of all though was the sure knowledge that came with a shout and a shudder that he had indeed given what it was that Snape wanted, but received a reward of his own. Loud breaths sounded in his ear, not unlike the inevitable catching of breath when one had been on a particularly hair raising adventure or death defying rescue. Those same breaths slowing as weight pressed into his back, as Harry, still on all fours, turned his head to brush a kiss against the flushed, glistening cheek to let him know it was all right.
They settled easily together amid the silks and brocades that covered the bed. "That was brilliant," he managed.
"And you would know exactly how?" Snape asked archly, shaking the damp hair away from his face before settling quite comfortably against Harry's side. "I might be the worst lover in the world, and you would never know."
"Lover," Harry echoed, adding another word to his burgeoning erotic vocabulary. It sounded nice. Then he frowned. "You might have told me it was going to hurt a bit."
The eyes that had been drifting closed snapped open. "Are you all right? I thought--" he began, but Harry, thinking of his crocodile friend this afternoon, soothed the contrition away.
"I'm fine. Just--you might have said something though. I wasn't expecting--"
His lover smiled thinly. "If pirates gave warnings, we'd be privateers, not pirates."
"It's all right," Harry said cheerfully, assessing the effect contrition had on the older man's face. "It didn't put me off another go." He moved his hips suggestively and made a mental note to fly over the mermaids tomorrow to see if they had any more interesting movements.
"What? Now?" The eyes definitely no longer looked sleepy but quite incredulous.
"This silk is awfully distracting, but I suppose I could wait a bit if--" He considered. "You could tell me another story." The idea of listening to that voice while prone was nearly as stimulating as the silk. He moved his hips again. Nearly.
"I'm not much on fairy tales," Snape admitted, and Harry smiled.
"Not a fairy story," he clarified. "A rip roaring pirate tale. One from your own life." Long fingers were stroking through his hair, but he looked up, over the curve of sternum to see the pirate's fond expression.
"What would you like to hear about?" Snape asked softly.
Harry considered. "Well, I couldn't help noticing that the figurehead of your ship is an enormous gray wolf--"
The feral look that took over Snape's face turned into a leer and soon an evil laugh of utmost piratical delight.
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