Spirited Boy

an Over Tea Smutlet

by Dementor Delta

Notes: Written for the lovely Barbana for the amazing art she did for my story Parseltongue-tied.
 

Severus Snape knew the exact moment he was no longer alone in the Infirmary. He didn't even bother to look up from the book he was reading. Since he knew Potter had scant patience, Snape almost instinctively set out to test it.

Potter, surprisingly, passed the test. Snape finally looked up from his book. "Mr. Potter, you're still alive." It had been the first question to Minerva on his lips when he'd revived this morning though he'd never admit it to this young man.

"Yes, sir."

Snape noticed, not for the first time, that Potter had grown, filled out a bit in his last year under Snape's tutelage. They stared at each other.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for disobedience," he said, gaze dropping languidly to the still-open book in his lap. "You're dismissed."

He had no doubt Potter wanted to say something in his own defense. Nevertheless, it had been Snape's heart that had taken a jolt when he'd seen the unnecessarily disobedient child still in the classroom when Granger's cauldron had gone up.

Silently, Potter whirled and started for the door.

Without looking up Snape said, "I expected more spirit." Potter's face was clouded as he turned. Once more they stared at each other.

"I've--" A grimace. "I've already lost enough House Points," Potter said. "Term is almost over." Not a plea. Potter never begged for anything because, Snape had reason to believe, he never got it either way.

"Ah," he said, closing the book slowly. "I suppose I'll be treated to a display of your most blistering invective as soon as that happy event occurs." He saw from the expression on the boyish face that he'd hit close to the mark. "How mundane." He had a brief image of opening his door to Potter, but in this image it was not invective on the boy's lips.

"I--" Potter tried again, then clamped his mouth closed. "It's almost over, sir. You'll never have to see me again in a couple of weeks. Why can't that be enough for you?"

Snape waved a hand over the Infirmary bed. "I dislike enforced idleness." He'd seen Potter once in this same ward, the bedside table overflowing with cards, candy and even flowers. There were none around Snape's bed.

Something flickered over the young man's face, then it was gone, but it left some residue. "You said I was dismissed," Potter said. It was clear, however that he didn't really want to go. Interesting.

Snape pretended to be disinterested. "As you wish." He filled his newly-healed lungs luxuriantly. "Unless--"

It was a bit like adding a passive reagent to a potion. It didn't change the outside appearance but the composition was irrevocably changed. He had Potter's curious attention. "Unless," he repeated, as Potter took a step closer. "You'd like to treat me to your tedious rant early."

Interest sparked along the student's posture, lifting his shoulders, giving a tilt to the head that reminded him suddenly that this boy talked regularly to snakes. There was interest in those eyes, and Potter wasn't hardened or cynical enough to hide it. "So you can dock more points? No thank you, sir." But he didn't turn to leave.

"A preview then, with amnesty."

Another step closer to the bed. Against his wishes Poppy had left Snape's bed by one of the high arched windows. Late afternoon shadows, divided into slanted squares, lay between them.

"What amnesty?"

Snape waved a hand aimlessly. "Say, five minutes, no points in jeopardy."

One more step closer. Potter was in the weak sunlight now, hair showing traces of russet buried deep within before he stepped out of the sun and closer to the bed. "And the ten points back you just took," the boy negotiated.

Retrieving his wand from the edge of the bedside table Snape conjured a small hourglass. "Done," he said, tapping the glass with his wand. The fist-sized glass turned over but the sand remained in the top half.

Potter dug in his heels. "Those ten points back first."

He sniffed disdainfully. "Ten points to Gryffindor for--" He hesitated. Somewhere far below, the Gryffindor House tally was hesitating too.

"Creative use of invective," Potter supplied. Quite without meaning to Snape found his mouth twitching into a smile.

"Creative use of invective," he repeated, then taped the hourglass with his wand. Sand began falling.

Potter seemed to be watching the sand falling, as he took the few short steps to the bedside. When he looked up his eyes were glittering strangely.

"Perhaps you need a deep breath," Snape prompted. Surely the boy had spirit enough for a scant five minutes to tell his professor what he really thought. With their back and forth history, Snape was curious.

"Yeah," Potter agreed with a soft smile. "Perhaps I do." He was sliding onto the bed before Snape could scramble back. "Perhaps you do too." Then Potter was leaning into him, eyes focused on Snape's mouth just before the boy's mouth covered his own.

His first impulse, of course, was to deduct House points. That option removed, he got his hands onto Potter's disconcertingly firm shoulders and got space between them. He couldn't decide if it was too much space or not nearly enough.

"What on earth--"

"Just a preview," Potter said, words flowing into Snape's mouth. "You did ask." Then the mouth was moving over his again, warming like flash paper as the warmth spread.

"This isn't--" he tried again.

Somehow Potter had slid further onto the narrow bed, his chest close to Snape's. "It is," Potter rebutted, laying his forehead onto his professor's. The sigh was soft. "I've got five minutes to say all the things I want to say to you once term ends. Let me say them."

It wasn't until the hovering hourglass dropped into his lap, its sand spent, that Snape realized five minutes had passed. Snape sat back with a startled expression; he could feel the astonishment rippling over him as though Potter had cast an astonishment spell, though why anyone would invent one Snape had no idea. He could tell by the expression on the boy's lips that Potter was not astonished at all but utterly smug. Smug in the way that Snape himself usually was, so that the basic fundamentals of the universe had somehow been inverted.

Time to set them to rights.

With an unsteady hand he reached for his wand again. Another soft spell and another hourglass appeared in the fraught air between them. This one was a bit more elaborate, with silver fittings around a highly polished cherry wood base. The sand, falling much more slowly, was mixed with vibrant green crystals. He could see curious eyes, exactly the color of the crystals, peering into the glass.

"What's that?" he heard, in a voice that at least showed some sign of the shift in the universal fundament.

"That," Snape said, leaning back into the pillows of his narrow Infirmary bed. "Is a record of the exactly 337 ½ hours you have left as a student in this school."

"You keep track of when you'll be rid of me?" Potter asked, voice noticeably shakier than a moment before.

Snape could feel the universe groaning on its cosmic wheels back into place. "I have news for you boy, I'm not the only one." With an unhurried gesture he tapped the glass bell with his wand and the instrument disappeared.

As if on some signal Potter slid off the bed. Their thighs, which had been very close, seemed to miss each other already. "I'll go then, sir," he said, squaring his shoulders. "I shan't trouble you any further."

He let the irritating student get halfway across the room, savoring each step. "You haven't been dismissed," he said at last.

Used to obeying, Potter halted and turned slowly. Snape could see in the boy's face that at last all was right with the universe. "I know you enjoy tormenting me, sir," Potter began, his jaw barely moving enough to let the words out.

"I do, I admit," Snape said agreeably. Potter looked like he was working up a true blast of his feelings when Snape, unhurried, went on. "Though not perhaps for the reasons you think."

That stopped Potter cold.

"We all sublimate our baser urges," Snape went on conversationally. "You've obviously channeled yours into some sort of ridiculous crush on an inappropriate subject. I channel mine into baiting you." He let that sink in. "Come here."

Feet dragging, Potter came back to his bedside. "However, in approximately 337 ¼ hours I'll be free to channel them into somewhat more conventional outlets." Something dawned in the entirely too open face. "At exactly that time I shall change the password on my quarters to--" He paused, then pulled Potter close and whispered two words in his ear.

"That's the most ridiculous password I've ever heard," Potter said with a smile.

"Something no one would accidentally say so close to my chamber door," he pointed out as Potter slid back onto the edge of the bed. "If you've any of the spirit you've shown here left, you may use the password. It will change at midnight."

"I'll be there," Potter said, with the confidence of youth. Snape, who knew how fickle such confidence could be, let one fairly clean hand slide into his.

Snape slid his hand away after a gently squeeze. "Best not. If Minerva comes in here now…" He'd seen that cat-in-cream look once too often of late.

"I don't want to get you in trouble," Potter said, biting his bottom lip. Snape snorted.

"It isn't trouble I'm worried about with your head of house," Snape said, even though he knew Potter wouldn't fully understand.

~~**~~**~~**~~

The last grain that fell through the hourglass hovering six inches from Snape's nose was a green one. He stared at the graceful top half of the instrument then plucked it out of the air and set it on the reading table beside his armchair.

He wasn't, even now, 100% certain he was standing up to change his own password. It was obviously a fool's errand. The idea of sitting here for four hours waiting for something the boy had probably already forgotten was ludicrous.

He had his wand out, however, to change the ward as he opened the door. An hourglass was hovering in the air in front of him.

Behind it was Harry Potter.

"Where did you get that?" he asked automatically, not sure if he was more surprised to see the hourglass, a twin of his own, or Potter.

"Professor McGonagall gave it to me. I didn't tell her I'd seen another one just like it." Just as Snape himself had done moments before, Potter reached out and plucked the hourglass from mid-air. "It's empty," he said. When Snape made no reply he asked, "May I come in?"

Snape stepped aside. Potter and hourglass followed. Snape closed the door softly while Potter set the glass down on the floor. "You have ten seconds to convince me…" he began.

Potter took off his shirt. "You gave me five minutes in the Infirmary."

The lean bare chest had already convinced him but he wasn't quite ready to concede. "One of which you wasted with indecision."

Potter dropped to his knees at Snape's feet. "I wasn't indecisive. My experience has just taught me to be cautious with snakes." But there was nothing cautious about what he was doing with his hand, and when his mouth followed, Snape lost track of the conversation all together.

So when Potter picked it up again, he blinked in confusion and, he suspected, lust. "That's about five then," Potter said, getting easily to his feet. "Are you going to let me stay?"

He clamped his hands onto either side of the boy's face. "I may never let you leave." And then the universe shifted again on its fundament, because Snape kissed Potter. Only this time Snape had no interest in setting the woeful universe back to rights, not when his own personal universe had narrowed to the press of two desperate bodies.


Potter was throwing off clothes like a furnace throws off heat. Snape tried to remember what one wore to a seduction. Then he looked down at Harry's lithe body. Oh yes, that's right, he would be wearing Harry. Speaking of which…

He pulled the young man down onto the hearth rug--it was fairly thick, not too stained with potions, and had the advantage of being within tumbling-onto range. Potter had managed a trick Snape knew he'd want to just watch someday--that of unbuttoning Snape's shirt with one hand and keeping Snape's cock interested with the other. He wondered fleetingly if Potter was ambidextrous, wondered too if he should tell Potter that his cock would stay fairly interested without the attention.

Once on the floor Snape propped himself by leaning backwards on his palms while Harry pushed his coat off his shoulders. "If you're going to call me Severus," he began as Harry, no longer multitasking, turned his attention to Snape's shirt and got it off in record time.

"Am I?" Potter asked, stealing a kiss.

Snape shucked out of his own trousers while Harry devoted attention--flawless attention--to the kiss. "I think you should," he said, when his own movement broke them apart. Now that they were both naked he pulled Potter's face close again. "Considering."

Harry, on his knees beside Snape, slung one leg over his waist, straddling him without breaking the kiss. Instead he began moving it downward. "And you think you should call me Harry?" he said from beneath Snape's ear. His hair must have tickled his nose for he felt it twitch against his neck.

He could feel his predictably still-interested erection bumping Harry's bare backside. "It does seem fitting," he managed, voice a bit thick even to his own ears.

Harry traced one of his nipples with his fingers as if not paying attention. "I don't know," he said finally, still very intent on his task. Snape's chest hair was very sparse but Harry seemed to have traced a trail around his nipple. "I like the way you say 'Potter'," he explained, "with that little edge of menace."

Snape ran his hands down Harry's back, then over the muscled cheeks of the arse straddling him. "It was malice," he clarified.

"Sexy though," Harry pointed out, humping his own erection against Snape's belly experimentally.

"Considering where you are now, your concept of 'sexy' is seriously in question," Snape countered. Then more softly, "Harry."

Harry shivered. "Severus." The universe stayed comfortably in place. Just to test the rightness of it they kissed again, Harry's arms draping around Snape's neck.

"Harry," he said again, running a finger over the boy's wet bottom lip. "How much have you done?"

"Can't you ask me tomorrow?" Harry said, sucking gently on the side of Snape's neck. "Tomorrow I'll have done everything." The untidy head popped up suddenly. "You aren't going to say no, are you?"

Snape eyed the elegant column of Harry's throat. "Spread your knees a bit." Harry's rather coltish legs widened across Snape's hips. He could feel the slight weight of Harry's balls beneath his hand as he inserted it between his legs. Then down along the spread backside, his longest finger firmly in the crease. "With a tight arse like that? I'd be mad." He looked up to gauge Harry's reaction but the boy's head had dropped back, lips parted slightly as Snape caressed him. He edged just the barest tip inside.

"Anything at all?"

Green eyes opened languidly, his hips still moving slightly against Snape's belly, brushing his own cock. "A bit," he admitted. "Not this." He looked like he wanted to close his eyes again. "Enough to know I like it." He pushed downward on the tip of Snape's fingers. "Can you come from this?' he asked a bit breathlessly.

"No," Snape said, acquiescing to Harry's physical plea and jabbing inward slightly. "It just makes you want to."

A sexy smile turned up the corners of those perfect lips. "I want to." Another gasp, perfectly timed to match Snape's determined intrusion. "Want *you* to," he added then held his breath for a moment at something that Snape was doing. "Oh." He dropped his head onto Snape's shoulder, groaning slightly. "Doesn't feel like that when I…"

Still using his longest finger Snape withdrew and rubbed small circles around Harry's opening. "When you what?" he asked when Harry didn't finish the sentence. He got his other hand between them, cupping Harry's balls.

Harry's hands were gripping his shoulders tightly. "Fiddle about. You know." He plumped up once, a silent plea that Snape ignored before he made it a verbal one. "Go back inside. I'm not a baby."

"Let me up," Snape ordered crisply.

The green eyes snapped open, distress plainly visible. Snape leaned over and brushed a light kiss on Harry's mouth which the boy was too surprised to return. "I didn't really think you were coming tonight, Harry," he admitted softly.
"I said I would," Harry said, his voice low. But he shifted backwards, over Snape's still interested prick and into the space between his spread knees. Snape got up on all fours and let Harry kiss him again.

"And I, in my long experience, believe everything you tell me," he replied, and Harry had the grace to smile at that as Snape got to his feet. It was odd to think that someone was watching him as he walked into the bathroom, watching with hungry eyes, and oh yes, just stroking himself gently.

"Catch." He threw the small glass jar. Potter, his right hand engaged, caught it in his left. Snape got back onto the hearthrug and splayed his legs again. Harry draped his legs over Snape's then let Snape scoot him closer until their cocks bumped. He kissed Harry again, taking one of the young man's hands and guiding it over Harry's own balls and into his cleft.

"Fiddle about," he said softly, leaning back to unscrew the jar. He coated two fingers and spread a nice base coat around Harry's tight hole. Harry still looked puzzled. "My last time as a professor to evaluate your technique," he said, seeing heat leap into Harry's eyes.

Another kiss. "You aren't my professor any more."

He moved Harry's still-slack hand across the now slick cleft and pressed it at his opening. "But still your instructor." He saw another kiss coming but dodged it by sitting back. Harry let Snape guide his own finger inside. Snape watched Harry as he made a face as the finger slipped inside. He made a silent promise to keep that expression on his face for a long time.

"Lean back so I can see," he said, and Harry obeyed with a speed he'd only ever employed on the Quidditch field. Of his own volition Harry raised his knees to get more depth, his usually flat belly making hills as he hunched over. Snape let his own hand run down the tight shaft of Harry's erection, down under the taut balls and to hand working in and out of Harry's hole. Harry started to pull out when Snape's hand started rubbing along the back of it but Snape gently pushed him back inside.

Then very slowly he edged his own fingertip along the underside of Harry's finger, coaxing him open even further.

"Oh..oh god," Harry gasped but Snape could tell it wasn't pain dragging those heaving breaths out of the boy. Deeper. Then deeper still until his own finger paralleled Harry's then went in to the knuckle. He could feel movement around his finger--Harry's muscles adjusting to the intrusion, Harry's own finger alongside his, and the pulsing of muscles holding Harry's prick erect.

He wrapped his other hand around the shaft, feeling the same pulse. "No, don't," Harry gasped. "I'll come."

Snape felt the truth of it. "A great many times I think," he said, releasing him with reluctance. He pulled his finger out of the tight cavern below Harry's cock, feeling Harry's finger move out with him. Then, together, back in. Out. Again. Then faster, moving their fingers as one inside Harry's channel.

"Ohgodohgodohgod," Harry moaned and Snape guided both their fingers out. He needed both hands to lift Harry up, to balance him while Harry slid onto his rigid cock. Harry, more clever with Potion masters than he'd ever been with Potions, spread his legs and helped in all the ways that were important.

Snape heard Harry made a noise deep in his chest, better yet, felt it vibrating into his own. Harry started moving, tentatively at first, but with the confidence he exhibited in all endeavors, warranted or not. Just now, it was, Snape reflected, quite warranted.

"That's the spirit." He slid his hands up the finely muscled back and let Harry kiss him, though his exuberance nearly sent them both sprawling. "Lean forward a bit," he said when he had both breath and a free mouth to use it.

Harry leaned forward. Snape watched smugly as the boy's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh that's…" he began, but abandoned verbal communication in favor of moving his pleasure center against Snape's cock.

"I know," he said, wedging his hands around Harry's own prick, matching Harry's stroke, pulling his face back just enough to watch Harry's expression as he came. It was, he thought, worth putting up with Minerva McGonagall's smug expression for the next hundred years or so to see just that look on Harry's face.

He pulled Harry close and held him through the last of the exquisite shudders. Then, even when Harry stilled, his head dropping onto Snape's shoulder, he held onto the boy even though his own unspent prick clamored for movement, preferably something that could be described as 'hard' or 'fast'.

"I didn't think," Harry said at last, his mouth very close to the mark Snape knew he'd probably left on Snape's neck. A pause then a soft sigh. "I knew you'd have sex with me," Harry tried again. Snape angled his face over his shoulder but Harry's head lay beyond his vision. "I didn't think you'd make me…" he said almost too softly for Snape to hear, even as close as Harry's lips were.

Snape waited while Harry shifted a bit. His own prick misread the cue as a signal to action and only quieted when Snape forced it.

"I didn't think you'd make love to me," Harry finished at last.

Snape swore on the spot to send Minerva McGonagall flowers. Or catnip.

"Did you think it could be any other way, between us?" he asked softly. His head still on Snape's shoulder, Harry just shook his head. "Lost your tongue?" Harry demonstrated that not only had he not lost it, but knew some interesting things to do with it. Snape dropped his head back and let Harry kiss his neck, his chin.

"Hold on to me," he directed, settling Harry firmly before gently pushing him backward and following, rolling them onto the hearthrug without losing his seat. Strong legs wrapped around his waist.

Once he was on his back Harry rubbed one leg across Snape's arse. "Can you do that thing again?" he asked breathlessly.

Snape moved his hips slowly. "This thing?" Luckily Snape expected no more than a whimper.

Now that he had taken Harry's measure Snape surrendered to the pull of tight hot flesh surrounding him, urging him to move, then once he did, to move deeper and then faster. Harry began to move with him as though riding a broomstick instead of being ridden.

He knew that Harry had gotten hard again and tried to put some space between them so Harry could come again. Strong hands gripped his back, then his arse until he gave in and pressed back again. Then he felt Harry clench again, this time in climax so that the firm strong body was arching. He had a moment every teacher knows of the satisfaction of having a student under their care doing well, before his own climax overtook him and he had the joy of both.

They lay panting like racing thestrals until Harry tenderly brushed aside the damp strands of hair on his cheek. He forced his eyes to focus and looked down into Harry's flushed face. On the cream-pale shoulder was a dab of pearl colored fluid. Snape licked it off, then eased himself out of Harry.

He tucked himself under Harry's arm and let the boy wend trails through his hair.

"How did you know," he asked at last, smoothing the heel of his hand across Snape's forehead. "How did you know how I felt?"

Snape looked up, over the sparse patch of hair under Harry's arm. "I didn't," he admitted, thinking again of the moment of shock weeks before when Harry had slid onto his Infirmary bed and kissed him. He ran his hand across Harry's damp belly. "I still can't quite believe it."

Craning his neck, Harry looked down at himself while Snape trailed a finger through a strand of semen, making sure he had Harry's attention. "Looks pretty real from here," Harry said thickly as Snape sucked the now-damp finger into his mouth. Harry's eyes sparkled with interest as he pulled Snape's finger out and sucked it into his own mouth. Snape gave it a few playful thrusts.

Harry's voice was now very thick when he said, "What does a fellow have to do to get fucked in a real bed around here?" Determined fingers pulled his face away from Harry's nipple. "You do have one, don't you?"

Snape inclined his head to the slightly ajar door across the room. He licked the nipple he'd been pulled away from. "I can't let you in yet," he said, without looking up.

The same fingers guided his head to his other nipple. "Get rid of him. You're mine now."

Having rid the nipple of its pearl necklace he looked down the rest of Harry's slightly sticky skin. "You're filthy," he said, punctuated by another swipe of his tongue. Soon he had Harry writhing beneath his tongue, cataloging his body by the sounds he made. He delighted too, as he had not delighted in anything in a long time, in the slow rise of Harry's cock, though he did not touch it with hands or tongue. He had plans for that cock.

He felt Harry's urgent hands in his hair as he hoisted the thin hips up so he could finish cleaning him off. The sounds Harry was making now were more like words, the usual entreaties to the Muggle god, but just as nonsensical.

"You did say that by morning you wanted to have done everything?" Snape asked, wiping the edge of his mouth delicately on the inside of Harry's thigh.

The untidy head, which had been thrown back into the hearthrug as Harry's hips had moved restlessly, snapped up. Snape could tell the abrupt switch of mouth functions had left Harry gratifyingly disconcerted.

"A temporary moment of uncharacteristic self doubt," Harry said, and Snape was tempted to give him points for coherency until he remembered he couldn't. "You, er, don't have to stop," Harry went on hopefully.

"You have an appallingly short attention span," Snape said, rubbing a finger across the leaking slit of Harry's very attentive penis, measuringly. "About this long," He tried to think of some god to thank for it but for some reason Minerva McGonagall's face swam into focus. It was probably, he reflected, the only time he'd ever thought of a woman while between a man's legs.

"I reckon I've got one night to teach you before you become unaccountably smug as a lover," he said, letting his chin follow his finger, and more importantly, letting his colleague's face fade away.

"How do you figure?" Harry asked, but his eyes were watching Snape's chin.

"Once you've gone in balls deep and seen what it does to me I'll never be able to intimidate you again."

Dragging his eyes away with apparent reluctance, Harry said, "You've never intimidated me." Before he could refute the statement, using copious examples, Harry went on, "Balls deep, you say?" He rubbed his own chin thoughtfully.

"I'd expect no less." He ran a finger down the crease of Harry's scrotum to illustrate by example.

"Will you teach me that thing?" Harry asked, pulling himself into a sitting position until their mouths were very close.

"If you don't learn 'that thing', you'll lose buggering privileges," Snape said silkily.

Harry smiled, though this close the lines blurred. "I only get one shot at it?"

"Mmm," Snape said, nodding.

"Won't it reflect more on you as an instructor if I bollix it up?"

Snape got to his feet then pulled Harry up. "So it behooves me to make sure you get it right."

Harry got it right.

They would argue, in years to come, if it was Harry's natural ability or Snape's excellent instruction, though usually such arguments ended up with Snape conceding that Harry did have some innate talent and Harry admitting that perhaps Snape's rather explicit directions, especially in the latter part of the lesson, had achieved such satisfactory ends.

Nevertheless, just to make sure Harry had mastered it, they tried it again in the hour before dawn.

~~**~~**~~**~~

Snape watched the door close behind Minerva's back, knowing he'd never undervalued her as a friend in their years of association, but thinking that catnip wouldn't be amiss after all. He picked up the tea tray she'd left and went back into the bedroom.

Eyes that had been sleepy and sated when he'd left the bed in his bathrobe, gleamed appreciatively. "Oh good. I'll need to keep up my strength if I'm to fend off your admirers this early in the morning."

Snape set the tray on the bed, shucked out of his dressing gown and sat cross legged on the bed. "I daresay Minerva wouldn't appreciate even your most stunning wandwork in my defense," he replied, pouring tea for both of them.

Harry accepted his cup with a rather speculative expression. "Speaking of wandwork--" he said, adding sugar to his tea.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I knew you'd be smug," he said, but he didn't pull away when Harry ran a hand over his knee. He plucked one of the strawberry tarts from the laden tray and hand-fed it to Harry, not realizing how unabashedly erotic it was until he saw Harry put down his tea cup, and the gleam in his eyes was no longer speculative.

Harry took the tea cup from Snape's hand and set the tea tray on the bedside table. Snape stretched his legs out so his feet rested just below his own pillow. Harry climbed over his knee on all fours and leaned in for a tea-flavored kiss.

"You and McGonagall have a weird thing going," Harry said, tilting him backward until he was flat against the rumpled bedcovers.

"Ah, the erudite vocabulary of a British schoolchild," Snape replied.

Harry straddled him as though he'd been doing it all his life. Or at least all night. "Weird as in matching hourglasses." A kiss along his bare shoulder. "Weird as in the way you two look at each other." The next kiss was lower down. "Weird as in she visits your quarters first thing in the morning." Lower still. "And she was there in the Infirmary when you were injured."

Snape filed that last statement away as interesting information. For, while he'd expected the old cat to be watching over him, there was no way Harry could have known unless he was there too.

"Jealous?" he asked instead.

"Insanely," Harry whispered. The next kiss was no kiss at all, but more of a thing one would do with one's tongue to please a lover. It certainly pleased Snape.

"Though I'm fairly certain," Harry went on, around a mouthful of cock, "That you are not all that interested in women."

Snape, truly caught, didn't have anything to say about that.

Harry flicked his tongue across the top of Snape's firming cock. "You'll tell me about it someday?"

Snape had the feeling he'd agree to anything as long as it didn't have the words 'dark lord' in it nodded. "Someday," he agreed, eyeing the barely touched tray. "Over tea."

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