Title: How Harry Rescued a Reluctant Snape, Pissed Off the Wizengamot, and Got Laid for His Efforts
Author: eeyore9990
Team: Dragon, RWOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!!!
Genre(s): AU
Prompt(s): Dissident, Reckoning
Rating: NC-17
Warning/Kinks: *Flirty!Snape and Oblivious!Harry*
Word Count: 12,164
Summary: *see title*
A/N: Thank you to the ladies in Vegas Chat, to eeyore9990 for the final beta, and to my entire, really AWESOME team. GO DRAGONS! Also, a huge amount of love and thanks to the Mods for being fan-fucking-tastic.
The occupants of the courtroom turned, startled, when the doors were thrown open to admit a handsome, confident-looking wizard in sombre black robes.
"Witness for the defence, Harry James Potter," the wizard said quietly as a loud buzzing filled the room.
"Mr Potter! I... we weren't aware that you would be joining us today." The Chief Interrogator shuffled some papers about in front of him without so much as glancing at them, his nervousness palpable to all in the room.
"I can certainly understand that, sir. For some reason, though I specifically requested to be allowed to present evidence for the defence of Severus Snape, I failed to receive a notice of his hearing." The young man turned then to look at the only occupant of the room who hadn't shown any emotion at seeing him enter, a dull red flush filling his cheeks as he ran a slender finger over the lengths of chain binding the defendant to his chair. "Has the Headmaster been giving you difficulty, or do you treat all suspects thus?"
There was a stiffness to the question, and the air filled with the crackle of electricity as the members of the Wizengamot shifted restlessly in their chairs, hearing the undercurrent of anger in the young man's tone.
"No difficulty as such, but Mr Snape is a known Dark Wizard and, as such, is being treated as a threat."
"Leave go, Potter, before you make things worse." The baritone voice of the defendant caused the Aurors stationed at the door to move forward before an icy glare brought them up short.
"Worse? They're about to put you through the Veil, Headmas—"
"Do not call me that!"
"You earned it. Several times over, you earned it."
"It is no longer mine, boy. Stop being a sentimental fool and let this farce of a trial reach its natural conclusion."
"I never thought to see you give up, sir. I must say, I'm a bit disappointed."
"You'll live."
The whispered, "So will you," didn't reach beyond the ears of the defendant, but the rattle of chains snapped the building tension in the courtroom, causing the Chief Interrogator to pound his gavel, regaining order.
"Mr Potter, the Wizengamot has heard the testimony you gave in defence of Mr Snape—"
"That is certainly interesting as I've never given sworn testimony to the Wizengamot on this or any matter involving the Headmaster. I do recall being in front of the Wizengamot before, but that was at my own hearing on the twelfth of August, over three years ago now. I cannot recall discussing the Headmaster at that time, oddly enough."
The Chief Interrogator frowned, colour staining his cheeks before he lowered his voice and said, "The Wizengamot obtained the testimony you gave to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—"
"Without my permission?"
A frizzle-haired witch in the second row spoke up then. "Mr Potter, if I may," she began, her voice kind but bemused, "the many departments at the Ministry are free to share information with one another. It is necessary for such inter-departmental cooperation to take place for the Ministry to run smoothly."
"Thank you, Madam, but as I specifically requested to be present for today's events so that I might give my testimony in person, I do feel that I have been dealt a slight by the Wizengamot as a whole."
"Oh, you mustn't think so, young man!" another witch said from across the courtroom. "We would never think to waste the time and talents of a fine young wizard such as yourself on something as, well, as horrible as the trial of a confirmed Death Eater. We would hate to inflict such awful memories on you."
"Do you hear that, Potter?" the defendant murmured. "Against all odds, you are not the only person I've ever met who never thinks. How my life is enriched. I may now die in peace."
"Shut up, you git."
"Mr Potter, the Wizengamot is ready to put the matter of Mr Snape's trial to a vote."
"Thank you, sir. If I may have a moment to speak?"
The Chief Interrogator's lips drew down into a thin, displeased line, but he gave a short nod of acceptance.
"As I understand it, Mr Snape is on trial today for the death of former Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, is that correct?"
"Murder, Mr Potter. Mr Snape has confessed to murdering Albus Dumbledore."
"I submit that Mr Snape is wrong. He did not, in fact, murder Headmaster Dumbledore."
The explosion of voices in the courtroom forced the Chief Interrogator to bang his gavel several times to regain order.
"Mr Potter! The man has confessed."
"I assume that he confessed to using the Killing Curse on Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"Yes, he did. It is on record!"
"If that's the criteria used to define murder, why have you not arrested me? I force fed Albus Dumbledore poison the night of his death." Again the young man was forced to wait through excited chatter before he could continue. "Headmaster Snape's Killing Curse was an act of mercy for a man suffering a painful, drawn-out death. Those of you who saw Albus Dumbledore in the final months of his life will recall that his right hand was withered. The cause of that was a curse that he took when attempting to destroy one of the Horcruxes created by the Dark Lord Voldemort. The only reason Headmaster Dumbledore did not die the night he sustained that curse was because of the quick actions of then-Hogwarts Professor Severus Snape. Because of those actions, Headmaster Dumbledore's life was extended by a year. Headmaster Dumbledore knew that the curse he had taken was killing him, but he also knew that there was much work to be done to set events in action to ensure the wizarding world's freedom from Lord Voldemort.
"Sometime in the course of that year, it came to Headmaster Dumbledore's attention that a young student of his was being forced to carry out a dreadful task, under threat to that young man's family. Because Headmaster Dumbledore cared so greatly for the well-being of each and every one of the students under his care, he pleaded with the only man he trusted, Severus Snape, to take that student's task onto his shoulders, at great personal cost to Professor Snape. But before Professor Snape could carry out his onerous task, Headmaster Dumbledore took me to a cave wherein Voldemort had hidden one of his Horcruxes. The Horcrux was immersed in a large bowl containing a slow-acting poison. The only way to obtain the Horcrux was to drink said poison. I had to force Dumbledore to drink every drop of that hideous potion. It is, therefore, my fault that Headmaster Dumbledore died. If anyone murdered him, it is me."
The wizard then turned to the defendant and said, his voice carrying clearly throughout the room, "Sir, I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but the night we arrived back on the Astronomy Tower the night of the Death Eater raid on the castle, Dumbledore asked me to find you. He knew he was dying and the one person he asked to see was you. He trusted you and I am so very sorry that I did not grant you that same trust."
Turning back to the Chief Interrogator, he lowered his voice and said, "Sir, if Albus Dumbledore had approached you and asked you to help him... asked you to take his life to spare him more pain or to protect the soul of a boy not yet old enough to be considered a man... would you have done it?"
The Chief Interrogator sat back in his chair, causing the front legs to rise off the floor for a brief second before slamming back down. "Of-of course not!"
"And that, sir, is why Albus Dumbledore did not trust you with his death. He trusted his death to the bravest man he knew, Severus Snape."
Harry watched as the members of the Wizengamot spoke amongst themselves. He could tell from the frowns on the majority of the faces that the outcome of this hearing would not be favourable. Stepping behind Snape, he placed what appeared to be a comforting hand on his shoulder and simply waited.
The Chief Interrogator turned back to Harry and Snape, his eyes grave behind his thick glasses, and said, "Mr Potter, we do not discount the testimony you have given here today, but it is the finding of this court that Severus Snape is guilty of using the Killing Curse on Albus Dumbledore. As the Curse is one of the Unforgivable Curses, and as Severus Snape was not under special dispensation to use said Curse, he is to be taken straight away to Courtroom Seven where he will be put through the Veil."
Loud murmurs broke out among the Wizengamot; Harry took note of those who appeared to disagree with this judgement, nodding slowly.
"I see," he said, pitching his voice above the buzzing in the room. "Then, your honour, you will understand that I have no choice. I cannot allow an innocent man to be subject to death to appease the anger of those who would not even take up wands against Voldemort."
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the movement of the Aurors stationed next to the doors; they'd picked up on the threat in his statement before the members of the Wizengamot, but it was too late. Tapping his finger twice against the DA coin he had palmed in his hand, Harry held tightly to Snape as the navel-hook sensation of a Portkey grabbed hold.
When they landed in the middle of a grassy green field, Charlie Weasley was there to greet them, broomsticks in hand. Harry grinned at him, grabbed his Firebolt and turned to Snape. "I have the house ready for us; just follow me."
Snape, however, didn't appear to be ready to go anywhere. It was always a curious sensation, watching that sallow face flush red with fury. It didn't suit the man at all. Harry sighed and leaned against his broom, waiting for the outburst.
"Potter, you imbecile! What in the name of Merlin's fucking toenails were you thinking? Portkeying out of the Ministry?! You could have killed us both! And you!" he raged, turning on Charlie. "What were you thinking, helping him?"
Charlie rolled his eyes at Harry before turning to Snape. "I'm not the only one helping him, sir. Just the first you've seen. You could say it's a family bonding experiment." He winked at Harry and said, "Well, I'm off; dragons don't stay put like you'd expect."
Harry laughed and waved at his friend before looking up at Snape and sighing. "Look, let's get to safety before you unload on me, yeah? Only I haven't eaten today and I'm starving."
"Of course I'm not going with you! I'm—"
"What? Going back to the Ministry? Good luck with that. I'd say point your broom west and fly 'til you see the Channel, but you'd probably die of hunger or thirst before then, saving them the trouble of putting you to death."
"Do you have the first clue what you've done, Potter?" Harry leaned backward as a bit of spittle built up in the corner of Snape's mouth. "You've turned me into a fugitive!"
"Just a question, sir," Harry said, trying to hold back a grin. "Were you planning to throw yourself on the mercy of the Aurors? You could tell them you're innocent. Tell them someone else did it. Alas," he added mournfully, "you can't use the one-armed man excuse." He displayed both arms before setting his broom at waist-height. "Now, if you’ve finished pouting, mount up. We have a bit of a flight to get where we're going."
"Potter, I don't think you fully understand how—"
"Sir, listen. You can feel free to yell at me all you want. But to do that, you're going to have to get on that broom and follow me, because Molly Weasley made shepherd's pie and treacle tart and I refuse to let it go cold." Swinging his leg over the handle of his broom, Harry looked expectantly at Snape. Seeing that the stubborn man wasn't moving to get on his own broom, Harry said, "Look, the Ministry is that way." He pointed west. "If you want to go have a lovely reunion with Sirius, feel free. I thought you might have a bit of living you'd want to do, after being held in a prison of Dumbledore's making for the past seventeen years. But if you're that eager for death, it's waiting for you."
Shaking his head, Harry braced his feet to kick into the air.
"Wait."
His broom lifted slightly in reaction to his surprise.
"I'll come with you. But first... I would like to know why you've done this."
Harry grinned at him. "Oh, that's easy enough. I thought my fame was dwindling, so I figured I needed to do something completely insane to get back on the front pages!" With a laugh, Harry kicked off, his broom shaking a bit in reaction to his mirth. He looked down, satisfied when Snape finally grabbed his own broom and shot into the air after Harry.
From then, it became a race, with Harry nudging out just slightly over Snape. By the time they reached the house on the outskirts of a tiny Muggle village in the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains, Harry was laughing for an entirely different reason.
Touching down, he turned to Snape just as the other man came to a smooth halt beside him, his feet braced as if for a fight. Harry tossed his head, shaking the hair out of his eyes, and clapped Snape on the back, visibly startling the older man. "I've never seen you fly like that! I thought for sure I'd lose you in that one cloudbank; I should have, actually. My broom is far superior to yours."
"Potter, haven't you realised yet that it's not the quality of the broom that matters but the skill of the wizard riding it?"
Harry's mouth dropped open, the innuendo in that statement spearing straight through him. Snape looked at him, his face impassive for a long moment before he said, "You promised me food. Don't stand there collecting flies; I've no need for them as I'm certain you haven't considered supplying me with a potions workroom."
Harry laughed again, the sheer knowledge that he'd actually managed to free Snape lending humour to everything. Grabbing Snape's arm—and receiving a lifted eyebrow for his efforts—Harry turned and led him into the sprawling house.
"There're six bedrooms above stairs. I'm hoping we won't need them, but if everyone joins us, we might have to bunk two to a room."
"Who is everyone?"
Harry bit his lip and shrugged before saying, "Everyone who helped plan and carry out your rescue. You didn't think I could do this on my own, did you?"
"Perish the thought."
Harry rolled his eyes and showed Snape the rest of the house, somehow comforted by the fact that while the rest of the world had changed, Snape never would.
Potter sat at the table, uncharacteristically silent as he drew designs in the remnants of his food, his head down. The scraping of the fork's tines against the dish set Severus' nerves on edge. Picking up the spoon lying untouched next to his plate, he silently reached over and rapped it harshly against Potter's knuckles, satisfied when the boy jumped like a scalded cat and dropped his fork.
"Stop that."
"Oh, sorry. I just..." Potter shrugged, one hand coming up to pull at his fringe distractedly.
"If my company is so tedious, I can retire."
"What? No!" Potter looked up at him then, his eyes wide and searching. "I'm just... thinking."
Severus snorted. "Potter, you've never before spent a moment in such pursuits; I refuse to believe you'd do so now. In my presence, no less."
He watched as Potter's lips twitched at one corner before he shrugged again. "Yeah, well... you pick up some things, being around Hermione."
Severus lifted a brow at Potter's attempt at humour but made no remark. His own meal finished, he pushed his chair back, gathering his utensils and plate. Potter's hand shot forward then, wrapping around his wrist. Severus stiffened slightly but stopped moving.
"Don't go, sir. I..."
"What do you want, Potter?"
"I want to just... I don't know. Talk? I mean. I have so many questions, sir."
"You want to have a conversation?"
"Yes," Potter said, a long, relieved breath gusting from him. "I want to have a conversation."
"With me?"
Potter frowned slightly but nodded. Then, as if to convince them both, said, "With you."
Severus released his grip on his soiled dishes and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows. "Very well, Potter. Shall we converse about the state of the economy? The appalling lack of a structured educational system for wizarding children prior to entering Hogwarts?"
Potter's expression went swiftly blank before he blinked and shook his head, waving a hand in front of his face. "No, no. Not that sort of conversation."
"Ahh. You had an interrogation in mind, then. Proceed."
"Not...an interrogation. I just need to know what happened. No, that isn't right, either. I need to know why. Why did you do it?"
Severus lowered his lids slowly, his vision narrowing down until he could see nothing of the room, just the merest hint of blurred light. "You'll have to be more specific, Potter," he said flatly, allowing his eyes to close completely as he concentrated on keeping his breathing slow and normal. "Why did I do what?"
"Why did you help? Why did you become a spy? Why did you--" Potter stopped speaking for a brief moment, but Severus kept himself blind, uncaring.
"Why did you save me?"
"Why do you care?" Severus snapped, eyes flying open. "Does it matter? Does any of it matter now, Potter? It's done. It's over."
"Of course it matters!"
Severus shook his head, bringing one hand up to rub against his forehead, pressure building behind his eyes.
"I 'helped' because I had to. I became a spy because even I could not remain blind to the blatant madness unfolding all around me. I saved you because..." Severus tilted his head, considering this one. "I don't know. It was instinct, I suppose. So many years of saving students from their own stupidity in the classroom extended beyond."
Potter deflated in his seat, his lips pulling down at the corners as he looked away. "Why didn't you fight more? At the Wizengamot, I mean?"
"Should I have?"
"Yes!"
"Why?"
"You must have known they wanted to kill you."
"Are you accusing such an august body as the Wizengamot of being capable of murder? I'm shocked at your cynicism, Potter."
"You knew, sir. I know you did. You knew it would be the Veil or..." He swallowed audibly before finishing on a whisper, "Something worse."
"Death is death. I've seen worse already. Why did you save me?"
Potter looked up at him, blinking rapidly. "I—"
"The truth this time, if you please."
Potter nodded, smoothing his hands over his thighs under the table before bringing them up to rest his forearms at the table's edge. "I couldn't let them steal the rest of your life. You already gave so much of it. I couldn't..." He shook his head. "It wasn't fair."
Severus didn't bother to respond to that sentiment.
"I know you won't believe me, sir, but I learned so much from you."
"Correct, Potter. I do find that quite beyond belief."
Potter pulled at his hair again, agitated. "I respect you. No, wait. Don't say anything now, okay? I just... I do. It's the truth. I respect you so much and yet I don't understand why you were willing for your life to end just when you had a chance to really start living it."
Severus looked across the room to the darkened window, his mind carefully forming his response. "I never imagined that I would survive. I was prepared to die." When Potter opened his mouth, Severus raised a hand to silence him. "I knew the night I turned to Dumbledore and offered my services that there would come a day that I would fall on the wrong side of a fatal spell. Barring that, I knew I would be tried and sentenced to death for wartime activities. These things were my reality. They were the only future available once my course was set."
Potter gaped at him for a moment before whispering, "But then... why?"
"You met the Dark Lord, Potter. Would you have done any less?"
Potter drew a ragged breath and stood, gathering dishes in his trembling hands. Severus watched him through hooded eyes, not moving to help clear away their mess. The rattle of dishes against the porcelain sink broke the new, strained silence before Potter wrapped his hands around the edge, his white knuckles visible from across the room.
"And that, sir, is why I respect you."
Severus stood, the scrape of his chair causing Potter's back to tense again.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Potter. What now?"
"It just occurs to me that you've not ever been one to speak so openly."
Severus sighed, resting against the doorframe separating the kitchen from the sitting room. "Potter, I've spent the past five months having memories forcibly removed from my head by Aurors and members of the Wizengamot to use against me at my trials. There is nothing left of my life that is private."
Severus pushed himself upright again and inclined his head toward Potter's back. "Good evening."
As he walked through the darkened sitting room, he failed to hear the whispered thank you that drifted from the kitchen.
Harry remained at the sink, his shoulders rounded as he fought back emotions that often felt bigger than him. It had been a day of stunning highs and crushing lows and his emotions were in turmoil because of it. Several deep, shuddering breaths helped him focus again, and as he turned toward the sitting room to make his own way upstairs, he heard the sound of loud voices coming from outside.
He ran anxiously through the house to the front door, flinging it open with no regard to his own safety, even as loud footsteps down the stairs behind him assured him that Snape was joining him.
"Wand, idiot!" Snape said and Harry lifted his hand slightly to show the wand palmed in it.
A thought struck him then and he called out, "Accio Snape's wand!" Lifting his left hand to catch the slim length of wood as it flew out of the sitting room, Harry tossed it to Snape just as two loud thumps from the darkened front lawn reached his ears.
"Who is it?" he called, knowing it would have to be a friend for them to have come this close to the house.
"Fred," one exhausted voice called.
"And George," said another.
Harry swore violently and ran out into the night, a quick "Lumos!" causing his wand tip to glow brightly. Fred and George were both down, their hands still gripping their brooms as they raised weary faces.
"Hit Wizards," Fred gasped.
"Warn Neville," George added quickly before rolling over to his back.
"Sir!" Harry called, turning to see Snape standing nearly on his heels. "Oh! Sorry, didn't realise you were there. You remember how the Order communicated?" Snape's bored look was enough answer for Harry, so he simply gave the remainder of his request. "Send word to Charlie that Fred and George are here and that there are Hit Wizards on their trail. I have to get a message to Neville."
Not waiting any longer, Harry cast, "Expecto Patronum!" and waited anxiously the few heartbeats it took for his Patronus to become fully corporeal. He could hear Snape casting behind him and a shiver of relief went through him before he realised his Patronus was awaiting directions.
"Go to Neville Longbottom. Carry this message: Hit Wizards have tracked Fred and George to the location. You are in danger." With a swish of his wand, the magnificent, ghostly stag turned and galloped into the night, disappearing quickly. Harry breathed a prayer that it would make it in time.
Turning to Snape, he watched as the gentle-looking doe bowed her head gracefully before turning and loping away in a direction nearly opposite from the way Harry's Patronus had gone.
"Stop gawking and help me get Weasleys Four and Five inside."
Irritated at Snape's words, Harry muttered, "They have names, you know."
"That isn't all they have. Look at the singe marks on their robes," Snape growled before casting a Featherweight Charm on Fred and lifting him gently.
Harry quickly followed suit with George, hoping against hope that there weren't any serious injuries. If so, and if Snape was not proficient at healing charms, the twins might yet be in danger.
As soon as they were inside with George settled comfortably on a bed in one of the currently unoccupied rooms, Harry murmured a diagnostic spell and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the most serious injuries were bruises and light burns.
"Potter."
Harry half-turned to see Snape standing in the doorway, a flask in his hand.
"Sir?"
"How is he?"
"A few light injuries. Mostly exhaustion."
"Yes, his brother was the same."
Snape came further into the room, laid the flask on George's stomach, and uttered a spell.
"What was that?"
"His body needs rest. It would do more harm than good to wake him at this juncture, but he also needs nutrition to help his body heal. The spell moved the contents of the flask directly into his stomach."
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it when he realised he had nothing to say. So simple and yet... it was brilliant. Brilliantly Snape. Trust him to come up with a simple and effective spell for something that could so easily be used for purposes both light and dark. How easy would it be to poison someone with—
Harry cut off that train of thought quickly, not wanting to dwell on such issues. He had, after all, just risked his future and his friends' futures on Snape's innocence. Now would not be the ideal time to let doubt creep in.
Turning into the hallway, he walked out of George's room, waiting for Snape to join him before he closed the door all but an inch.
"I'll leave the hall light on, in case he wakes," Harry said, looking up in time to see Snape shrug, unconcerned.
"Do what you will, Potter."
Harry bit back a sigh and followed Snape down the stairs to the first floor, wondering what had become of the man he'd shared dinner and conversation with. A movement from outside made him glance through the window and what he saw caused him to lose his footing, his heel missing the last step to land with a jolt on the floor. He winced as a sharp pain shot up the back of his thigh and twisted in his shoulder, but he pushed the curtain aside and looked more closely.
The glowing figure outside appeared to be his Patronus, returning from delivering his message to Neville. Wondering why it would wait outside instead of returning fully to him, Harry crossed to the door, opening it quickly.
"Potter, what are you—"
Snape's voice cut off as he looked on the same vision that was causing embarrassment to rise quickly within Harry. It seemed his Patronus wasn't the only one that had returned.
In the darkened clearing in front of the house, he watched as the glowing image of his stag tossed its head and pranced in a display of aggression, hooves digging at the ground so fiercely that Harry wondered if there would be prints in the morning. Snape's Patronus stood perfectly still, its ghostly eyes the only thing to move as it watched Harry's stag's display. After a long moment, the stag approached the doe in a jerky, lunging manner before coming to a perfect halt directly in front of the doe.
The doe cocked its head to one side and slowly stretched out its neck, delicate nostrils flaring as it whuffled in the face of the stag.
"They don't really breathe, do they?" Harry asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the moment, though the entire episode made him slightly uncomfortable.
"Of course not, you dolt." Snape's voice, though biting, was no louder than his own had been.
Harry held his breath as the doe stepped forward, causing the stag to toss its head and shy back with a quiver of pale, gleaming muscle. The doe, emboldened, followed until the stag halted and waited, eyes rolling wildly. In a movement as beautiful as it was graceful, the doe slid its head along the stag's, rubbing down the long neck and under the belly between the fore and hind legs.
"Enough!" Snape shouted, brushing past Harry as he stalked out onto the front porch, clapping his hands sharply. The Patronuses went perfectly still at the sound of Snape's voice before reluctantly separating.
Harry watched, bemused, as his stag returned to him, bowing low before leaping forward into the air and simply... dispersing. The rush that he usually felt when it returned was underscored with something deeper, something darker. Shaking his head to rid himself of the feeling, he looked at Snape and said, "What do you think that was all about?"
Snape pursed his lips and stared down his nose at Harry, one eyebrow arching disdainfully before he slowly said, "I'm sure I have no idea."
Harry frowned as he watched Snape turn sharply and go back into the house, somehow certain that Snape knew more than he was letting on.
Hermione,
I have Snape. Fred and George are here, too. We're safe, for now, though Hit Wizards chased the twins into exhaustion. I don't want to say too much, but if you could let me know how the research is going—if you can—I'd be a lot more relaxed.
Don't be too hard on Ron.
Love,
Harry—
Hours later, the quiet of the house was broken when George stumbled down the stairs, his hair sleep-tousled and lines from his pillow still creasing his cheek.
"Harry? Ah, good. Thought for a minute it'd all been a dream."
Harry looked up and grinned. "Dream? Not likely, mate. Chased across Europe by Hit Wizards? Sounds more like a nightmare, to me."
George returned his grin and shook his head. "Nah. It's always fun when you can lose them. It's the actually getting caught that sucks doxy eggs."
Harry laughed and stood up from his spot on the sofa, going around to look closely at George. "How're you feeling, mate?"
"Like I led Hit Wizards on a merry chase across Europe," George responded dryly. With a shrug, he said, "Nah, I'm fine. Where's my darling brother?"
Hearing the worry in his voice, Harry gestured up the stairs with his thumb and said, "Still sleeping it off. He'll be fine, same as you."
"Yeah." George glanced up the stairs, his desire to check on his twin obvious.
"Go ahead, go check. I'll start some dinner."
"Unnecessary, Potter," Snape said, startling both Harry and George as he had entered the room silently from the far door. "Dinner is served. I heard you wake, Weasley. Are your burns causing you difficulty?"
George slid a look at Harry before he shrugged and said, "Nah, skin's a bit tight, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with in the shop."
"If we can go into the village, I should be able to procure items for a burn salve."
"Ah, that's... not a good idea."
Harry looked at George, reading the nervous hesitation in his speech and manner. "What's happening?"
"Well, you know they found out it was us that blasted the Ministry's wards... but now they're going after everyone who was close to you, Harry."
"Damn. I was afraid of that. Well, at least Draco and Narcissa should be safe."
"Hermione and Ron went to the house in Majorca—"
"We could have been in Majorca and we're in the Carpathian Mountains instead?" Snape interjected.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, sir, so sorry. I was rather limited in my choices for where to escape with you. Majorca simply wasn't available for emergency, illegal, escape-from-the-bloodthirsty-Ministry Portkey locations. I'll try to do better next time."
"Sarcasm is unnecessary, Potter. However, if we have a chance to change locales, I would like to suggest Majorca as our future destination."
George and Harry shared a look before George turned to Snape and said, bluntly, "Hermione took Ron to Majorca to keep him from coming here. He wasn't exactly wholeheartedly behind Harry's plan to free you. His words were, I think, something along the lines of, 'How much d'you suppose front row tickets to his death will be?' That was just before Harry, here, laid him out."
Snape raised a brow, but said nothing further.
Harry shrugged the matter off and refocused the conversation. "Why did Hermione and Ron leave?"
"Aurors received warrants for their arrest. 'Persons of interest in the disappearance of a mass-murderer from the custody of the Ministry.'"
"Fuck!" Harry paced up and down. "Anyone else?" A long pause made Harry look up at George. "What?"
"Dad got sacked."
"What?! He didn't—" Harry flailed his hands around at the house, then Snape. He was beyond words at the injustice of Arthur Weasley losing his job.
"He can't prove he didn't. And enough of his children are wanted now..."
"Fuck... fuck!"
"Mr Potter—"
Harry sighed and pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes, forestalling Snape's reprimand. "I know, I know. Language."
"I couldn't care less about your appalling language, Mr Potter. What does concern me is that seemingly half of the population of wizarding Britain is now wanted in connection with my escape from custody. An escape you facilitated."
Harry's mouth dropped open; while he searched for a response, the sleep-rough voice of Fred Weasley split the sudden silence.
"That's a chance we all took. We'd do it again, too." Stepping into the room, Fred approached Snape and held out his hand. "Sir."
Harry watched, something catching in his throat, as Snape peered down at the hand in distrust before slowly extending his own and submitting it to the warm clasp of Fred's.
"Thank you for all you did, sir."
When Fred finally met his eyes, Harry mouthed, "Well done."
Escaping to the porch for a much-needed bit of peace and fresh air, Severus leaned against the railing and closed his eyes, filling his lungs. The creak of the door made him expel the breath in an irritated gust.
"You shouldn't be so hard on Harry, y'know. He's got his heart in the right place. 'S better than I can say for most you've dealt with."
Severus' mouth twisted as he acknowledged, to himself, the truth in Fred's words. Of course, Potter always had his heart in the right place.
"There are those who would have proclaimed the same for Albus. Yet look where my association with him landed me."
"Yeah."
A short silence descended before Fred said, "Well, just don't hurt him too badly. He's a bit of a crush, y'know."
Severus turned to stare at Fred, the young man's words both shocking and illuminating.
"Repeat that?"
"Hmm?" Fred turned from the view of the night sky and grinned at Severus, lifting one hand to ruffle through his slightly-matted hair. "What's that? Repeat what?"
"You were saying... about Potter..."
"Hmm, yeah. He really likes you. No idea why. You've always been a complete git—err, no offense, yeah?"
Severus rolled his eyes and intoned dryly, "Of course not. Why would I take offense?"
"Well, s'just. You had to, and we all realise that, but it's a bit shocking, see. We didn't know then and we hated you and now. Well. We don't. S'what I mean. We understand now, but we spent so long hating you that it's a bit difficult to not look at you and think, 'Oh, jinx the fucker!' Err, yeah. Language. I know."
Severus waved off the pseudo-apology. "But about Potter?" he prompted.
"Oh, yeah, so. Well, we thought he was barmy. Err, more so than usual, anyway. And then he was going on about how we had to save you. And there was Plan A—his plan—and we all vetoed that right quick. But he just insisted. He thought it would work best, y'see. But of course, we'd still have had to do everything else to get you out, and while our new Polyjuice is effective for twenty four hours, it's not like something couldn't go wrong. What if they'd deliberated? And plus, there would have been the nightmare of getting you alone to drink it and switch places. God! Just thinking about what we'd've had to do to get the Aurors to look the other way." Fred shook his head, drifting off again into thought.
"What was Plan A?" Severus asked, curious. This was the first he'd heard about it, though that could have been more to do with the fact that Fred Weasley's rather jumpy and rambling speech patterns were capable of weaving a haze of inattention over the sharpest mind.
"Oh, ugh. Plan A was for him to Polyjuice into you and take your place. He'd go through the Veil for you and you'd go free."
The full impact of that calmly spoken statement took a few seconds to penetrate Severus' shock. "He was willing to... face the Veil?"
"Yeah, said something rather stupid about seeing his parents again. As if we would let him do something so idiotic."
"Well, this is Potter we're speaking of," Severus murmured distractedly.
A sharp laugh from Fred made him blink and shake his head, clearing it.
"Yeah. But we talked him out of it. And I think he's a bit happier with the way this turned out, all things considered."
"Yes, because it would be difficult to decide: death or living with me for an unspecified period of time."
Fred laughed again at Severus' droll tone but shrugged. "Nah, he likes living with you well enough. Has a bit of a crush, I think."
"Yes, you said." Finally, the boy circles around to the crux of the matter. "I simply don't understand why you would think so."
"Ahh, it's obvious, really. I mean, he's always placed more importance on your approval than anyone else's."
"Perhaps," Severus suggested with a grimace, "he views me as a father-figure."
Fred went into a coughing fit at that, his face flushing so red his freckles disappeared. "I doubt it, s-sir," he finally said, calming somewhat. "He's got Remus for that, y'know? Nah. The way he looks at you. I dunno. It's something."
"Hmm." Severus remained outside for a few moments longer, letting an easy silence fall between them before pushing away from the porch railing and saying, "Good evening, Mr Weasley. I realise you slept most of the day, but you should consider returning to bed. Exhaustion won't be overcome with one over-long nap."
"You can call me Fred, y'know."
"I have many abilities, Mr Weasley. Caring enough to discern you from your flock of siblings isn't one of them."
A rough snort followed him into the warmth of the house.
Harry heard the door shut and looked up, smiling vaguely when he saw Snape enter the room. "Fred still out, then?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Yes, he is."
Harry nodded before returning his gaze to the book open on his lap. He had just found his place again when Snape sat down next to him, dipping the sofa cushions and causing Harry to start.
"Erm, sorry," Harry said, scooting over slightly so as to leave more room for Snape to relax.
"No matter, Potter. There's plenty of space for everyone."
Harry blinked and looked up again, sliding one finger into the crease of the page. The tone of Snape's voice made it seem as if he required some answer, but Harry wasn't exactly certain what he wanted to know, so he settled with an indistinct noise of agreement.
His brows lifted of their own accord when Snape turned to face him, one arm coming up to rest casually along the back of the sofa and one knee rising slightly to facilitate the twisting of his upper body.
"Why so many rooms, Potter?"
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He'd explained this already, hadn't he? Hesitantly, Harry said, "To house everyone. I mean, we may never need it all, but I didn't want to place anyone in the position of having no where to turn if they got in trouble."
"Six bedrooms, though. The twins take one, Longbottom another... there's two empty."
Harry relaxed, seeing where this was going. "Yes, well, we'll double up if we need more space. There're plenty of beds in the attic; we'd just have to put them together."
"Aha. And who were you going to bunk with? Should the need arise, I mean."
Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "I dunno; Neville maybe. Or Charlie or Bill, I guess."
"And who would I be sharing quarters with?"
"Oh, you wouldn't have to!"
"But I would insist. It is, after all, on my account that everyone will have been driven from their homes. Who would I share with?"
Harry began to feel uneasy, the intent look in Snape's gaze sending shivers down his spine. "Well... Draco? I guess."
"Draco? You'd put me in a room with... Draco Malfoy."
Harry shrugged and lifted the hand not holding his book, palm up and fingers spread helplessly. "What would you rather do? I mean, I guess you could choose where to stay."
"How very chivalrous of you, Potter. What if I decided I wanted to stay... with you? Hmm?" Snape's hand slid off the back of the sofa, one long finger extending to touch Harry lightly on the shoulder.
Harry tried to keep his expression calm, but his eyes went wide of their own accord and he couldn't help the small glance down at where Snape was touching him.
"Well," Snape said briskly, withdrawing his arm and allowing Harry to breathe freely again. "It's all a moot point unless we find ourselves with more guests, is it not?"
Hermione,
I'm sorry to keep bugging you. I got your last letter, but I didn't understand all of it. Have you found anything?
Oh, and sorry about the signature on the last one. I'm not used to this. The Howler was unnecessary.
Love to you both.
Me—
The next morning, Harry did a quick fry-up for the four men currently living in the house. As he cracked eggs and shredded cheese, he wondered if perhaps he shouldn't make more in case others appeared.
Biting his lip, he looked from the bread toasting to the sausages sizzling in the second pan. If they had to stretch it, they likely could. He made a mental note to set out some fruit as well.
"Good morning, Potter."
Harry jumped and turned to see Snape framed in the doorway to the kitchen. "Oh! You startled me. Good morning, sir. I'll have breakfast ready soon; tea is in the pot on the table."
"Should I trust your culinary skills?"
Harry grinned down at the bowl of eggs he was beating with a fork but forced his voice into uncertain tones as he said, "I'm nearly positive I should add vinegar to the milk and eggs, right?"
"Potter, you--!"
Harry's peals of laughter cut Snape's shouts off and he turned, his lips spread wide into a grin that nearly hurt as he said, "Sorry, sir, I couldn't help it. Don't worry, there's no vinegar. Just gherkin juice..."
He chuckled again when Snape rolled his eyes and muttered something clearly derogatory under his breath. Probably along the lines of "idiot child," though Harry hadn't been able to hear it properly to say for sure.
Pouring the eggs into the waiting, hot pan, Harry turned the sausages and checked the toast, quickly pulling the golden brown slices off the ancient toasting rack and tossing them onto a plate, sucking on his slightly singed fingers as he did so.
"Twins up?"
"I have no idea. I am, thankfully, not their keeper."
Harry pulled a face, but didn't comment, too busy with breakfast preparations now that the food was all coming ready at once. He piled the sausages quickly onto a plate around heaps of fluffy eggs then carried the lot, plus toast, to the table, setting it into the middle and gesturing for Snape to help himself.
Snape's eyes narrowed on the fare, but he said nothing, merely selected a slice of toast and two sausages before sitting back and staring rather blankly at his coffee and food.
"Sir?"
"Mmm?"
"Is something the matter?"
"I... no."
"Erm, we have other food, too. Fruit. Porridge."
"The food is satisfactory, Potter. Don't concern yourself."
"All right. Sorry, just... you looked..." Harry shrugged, unable to put his concern into words.
"Habits are exceptionally difficult to break, Potter."
Harry cocked his head, waiting silently for an explanation.
"I am accustomed to reading the Daily Prophet with my breakfast."
"Oh!" Harry sat back, pausing as he thought. With a smile, he jumped from the table and walked quickly to the window, opening it and calling for Hedwig. After several long moments, the beautiful, intelligent owl swooped through the window and landed gracefully atop the table, snatching up a sausage in her sharp beak.
"Hedwig," Harry said. "We need a copy of the Daily Prophet. Do you think you can get one without being found out?"
Hedwig's golden eyes blinked slowly at Harry before she hopped forward twice on the table and launched herself into the air, flying back through the window as swiftly as she'd entered.
"That was incredibly stupid, Potter."
Harry shook his head, lips tilted into a small smile. "She's far better at sneaking about than I ever was... and I had an Invisibility Cloak."
Snape snorted and turned his attention to his breakfast, freeing Harry to do the same. Having snacked as he cooked, Harry found himself finished far sooner than Snape and simply sat back, waiting for the other man to finish.
Glancing at him, Snape scowled and said, "What?"
Harry shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just... there isn't much to do here until we know it's safe to move about."
"When will we know that?"
"Within the next few days."
"So you'll be staring at me for at least the next seventy two hours?"
"No, sir, I just—"
"I suppose I had best make it interesting then, hadn't I?" Snape asked in a softly musing tone. Spearing the last remaining piece of food on his plate, he brought it slowly to his mouth.
Harry blinked and started to push back from the table to leave Snape in peace when he noticed that it was a rather large sausage lodged on the tines of Snape's fork. As Snape's lips pursed around the tip of the sausage and sucked it into his mouth, Harry's throat went dry.
Grabbing his plate, he stood so abruptly that his chair toppled over backward. Fumbling with his chair and his plate, he tried to ignore the soft chuckles coming from Snape.
Harry,
I would tell you to be patient, but... I'm sorry. It doesn't look good. I've got one more avenue to track down and then we're out of other options.
I'm so sorry.
Love,
Hermione
Severus stood in the darkened doorway, watching Potter as he bent over a bin, selecting a variety of vegetables to accompany the roast he was planning to prepare for their dinner. Drawing one fingertip along his bottom lip, Severus allowed his gaze to drop to the way the material of Potter's trousers pulled tight across his arse.
"You're blocking my light, Fred," Potter called, his voice betraying a slight hint of irritation.
Instead of moving, Severus drew his wand and cast, "Lumos!" Satisfaction rolled through him when Potter went stiff then spun to see him standing there, one brow lifted as he held his wand carelessly between his fingers.
"Oh! I didn't realise it was you, sir. Sorry."
"No need to apologise, Potter. It was quite obvious you expected Mr Weasley."
"Yeah, he keeps following me around."
"Indeed? It seems I must have a talk with Number Four," Severus mused, more to himself than to Potter."
"What? Oh, no, leave it. He's fine. He's just out of sorts, being cooped up like this."
"Hmm, yes, I do understand the sentiment. As a matter of fact, I would like to speak with you all this evening."
He watched as Potter's eyes narrowed for a brief moment before his jaw thrust forward mutinously. "If you're going to say what I think, you can just save your breath. We're not going back. We've made our beds."
Severus lips twitched before he said, slowly and deliberately, "There are far more interesting activities that can be pursued in a bed than sleeping, Mr Potter. Consider that before you stubbornly decide to stay the course." As anticipated, his words caused a delightful flush to rise in Potter's pale cheeks, and he stayed long enough to enjoy it before turning and leaving.
Hermione,
I can't believe there's nothing we can do. This isn't right.
We're all good here, for now.
Snape is acting weird.
I miss you. And Ron.
Love,
Me—
"While I... appreciate... the lengths you have all taken to see me free, I do not relish spending the remainder of my life hiding from authorities. As soon as arrangements can be made, I shall be returning to England, where I will surrender myself to the first Auror I encounter."
A combination of anger and fear rushed through Harry, leaving him unable to speak. Jumping to his feet, he shook his head wildly, his hands flailing erratically as he tried to find words to express his panic. Finally, one word burst from him.
"No!"
"Potter—"
"No!" Harry shouted again, his body pulsing with negative emotions. "I won't let you... I won't let you sacrifice yourself like this. Again! You've paid your debt, dammit!"
"Potter, I refuse to spend the rest of my life running. Or hiding. If I am meant to survive all this, then I will. There is nothing that you, or anyone else, can do to either stop or save me. Put your hero-complex to rest."
Harry opened his mouth to say more, but George's hand on his arm stopped him.
"This is what you want, sir?" George asked, his voice as serious as Harry had ever heard it.
"Yes, Mr Weasley."
"That's it, then," Fred said, standing and crossing the room to hold his hand out to Snape. "Sir, we never had more fun than the times we were pranking you."
Snape rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked a bit at the corners before he extended his hand to clasp Fred's, releasing it quickly. Turning to George, he slowly raised one eyebrow and said, "Number Five?"
George grinned and grabbed Snape's face in his hands, leaning forward to place a smacking kiss on his mouth. Harry gaped in astonishment even as a coil of something dark and angry began to unravel in the pit of his stomach.
"Come on, guys. Enough."
George pulled back and slid a sly look toward Harry. "Yeah, well. Not like I could resist. You know me."
Harry had to work at unclenching his jaw before he nodded and said, "O' course. Sure, George. But there's no need to accost the man, now is there?"
"Well, he is a fine-looking bloke."
Snape, still sputtering from the assault on his person, finally found his voice then. "Enough, Weasley! You'd best be gone from my sight in the next five seconds or I'll use a curse you've never heard. Five... four..."
At "three" the pop of Apparition replaced Fred's muffled snickers and the twins' loud guffaws carried down the stairs a moment later.
Harry bit back an oath and said, "I'm sorry, sir. I—"
"Potter, unless you conspired with Weasley, leave off. You are not responsible for the actions of others."
"Even my father?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. Holding up a hand, he quickly added, "Don't answer that. I should never have—"
"Potter, it is no secret that I loathed your father and his friends. However, much as it pains me to admit, you are not responsible for their actions, either."
"Then why did you—"
"Does the word espionage mean nothing to you, Potter?" Snape asked, his voice utterly dry.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, agitated by the night's events. "I don't want to rehash history, sir. Getting back to the crux of the matter, I think you're making a mistake."
"It is my mistake to make."
"But... you haven't given it a chance! You haven't done anything, gone anywhere! There's so much we can... you can still do. I just..." Harry heaved a sigh and shook his head. "You're throwing yourself on the mercy of the Wizengamot and they've already shown you that they have as much mercy as Voldemort did."
"Oh, I don't know, Potter. I'm sure they will only kill me. They won't torture me first."
Harry closed his eyes and shook his head, defeated. "You're going to do this. Just allow them to kill you."
"You must not interfere, Potter. I... I am not unaware of how great a sacrifice you have made on my behalf."
"Not just me."
"Even still. I'm rather certain Messrs Weasley, for instance, would not have felt the need to dismantle the wards around the Ministry unless there had been a very compelling reason. One more compelling to them than the life of their crotchety old Potions master."
Harry's lips twitched miserably at the word "crotchety," but he shrugged and said, "Someone would have done something, I'm sure. You were instrumental in the fight against Voldemort."
"Potter."
Harry looked up, blinking against the bleak emotions that were battering him. "Sir?"
"Why did you do it?"
"I... I told you. I respect you. And you deserved to be saved, too."
"Respect."
"Yes, sir."
"Only... respect?"
Harry frowned, unsure where Snape was going with this. "No, sir, not only respect. I mean... What?" The intensity of Snape's gaze on his mouth made him raise his hand, brushing his fingertips against the corners of it as he murmured, "Do I have something on my face?"
"Yes, just here," Snape murmured, bringing one hand to Harry's face, fingers lightly cradling Harry's chin as his thumb smoothed over Harry's bottom lip, pulling against it slightly. Not thinking, Harry flicked his tongue out, pulling it back immediately as it glanced across the tip of Snape's finger.
He was certain Snape was going to berate him when his eyes immediately darkened, but instead Harry watched, confused, as Snape's face come closer and closer; it wasn't until their lips actually met that full understanding dawned on Harry. It simply seemed so... absurd to think that Snape would ever—
A sharp nip on his bottom lip caused Harry's thoughts to scatter and he gasped, effectively opening his mouth to accept the silken intrusion of Snape's tongue. Harry stood there limply, unable to respond, but as Snape stiffened and began to pull away, his hands came up automatically to burrow in the thick material of Snape's clothing as a throaty sound forced its way out of Harry's chest.
If his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied, he wondered vaguely, would it have been a Neanderthal-like grunt of "Mine!"?
Snape moved closer then, crowding against him until he was forced to back up. They didn't stop until the back of the sofa hit the small of Harry's back, effectively trapping him. Snape's hands slid down then, one—that had been cradling the back of his head—skating along his spine, the other sliding from his jaw, down his throat, and over the planes of his chest before he firmly gripped Harry's hips, lifting him until Harry's arse was perched precariously on the back of the sofa.
Harry, unbalanced, grabbed for a handhold and ended with his fingers digging into the lean musculature of Snape's biceps. Clearheaded for a moment, he pulled back an inch and looked into Snape's eyes, biting his lip as he sought some answer in the swirling black depths.
"What are we doing?" Harry asked, unable to muster more than a husky whisper.
"Anatomy lessons," Snape responded dryly, rolling his eyes before dipping his head and running his lips lightly along the side of Harry's throat. The fleeting touch sent shivers through Harry, causing him to clutch rather desperately at Snape.
"Shh," he heard even as Snape's lips ghosted up and over the shell of his ear before he felt the tip of Snape's nose burrowing into his hair, the edge of his teeth scraping along the thin, sensitive cartilage of Harry's ear before biting down gently. As Harry let out a deep groan and leaned into that sharp caress, he felt Snape's hand squeeze his hip before dropping away.
A hand on his knee encouraged him to carefully shift his legs, opening and relaxing his thighs as Snape's fingers traced designs up the inside of the right.
"The benefits of a young, Quidditch-obsessed lover," Snape murmured, testing the musculature of Harry's thigh.
Harry swallowed and let out a shaky laugh. Lover? "Are we...is that? I mean—oh God!" His disjointed question broke off on a shout as Snape used one finger to slowly, lightly trace along the length of his trapped erection. Harry's forehead knocked against Snape's shoulder as he curved forward over the sharp pleasure cramping his stomach.
"Fuck!" The word squeezed itself from his throat, forced past teeth clenched tight against the sudden need clawing through his body. "What are you doing to me?" he moaned quietly, turning his face into Snape's neck, inhaling the musky scent that clung to the man.
"Preparing you," Snape answered darkly.
"For what?"
"For the fucking you are about to receive."
Harry stiffened and pulled back. "What?"
"It was a joke, Potter."
"Really? A joke? You?"
"Don't sound so shocked. After all, if one cannot have a sense of humour while living as a fugitive on the night before he turns himself in, when can one?"
Harry pulled at the material of Snape's shirt, shaking his head fiercely as he said, "Don't joke. Not about that." Twisting his hands in the dark cloth, he looked up into Snape's eyes and said, "Don't go. Give it more time. Please."
"There will never be enough time to stop the runners they'll send after me. The Aurors, the Hit Wizards... I did not sacrifice so much on the promise of freedom to feel satisfied with hiding away."
"I won't let them kill you," Harry said, certainty filling him. Seeing Snape's intention to argue, Harry reached up and threaded his fingers in the lank hair falling over Snape's shoulder and used it to pull him into another kiss. This one was desperate and needy, filled with equal parts determination and despair.
"Potter," Snape murmured against his lips, "you won't—"
Harry growled softly and sucked the following words from Snape's tongue before they could be uttered aloud. Snape would do what he felt he must... as would Harry. He didn't want to spend this time arguing when there was suddenly a much better opportunity before him.
Spearing his fingers through the buttonholes of Snape's shirt, Harry gave a swift tug, listening in satisfaction to at least three of the tiny buttons as they ping-ed off the floor and the low table that sat next to the sofa. Snape's grunt made Harry grin through their kiss as he reached inside Snape's shirt to slide his fingers awkwardly over the small patch of skin he could access.
"This is ridiculous," Snape said, pulling back from the kiss long enough to completely remove his shirt.
Harry bit his lip as he watched the pale skin come into view, eyes tracing over the old wounds and new scars. Unsteady, he lifted his hand and drew his fingers over one that ran along Snape's collarbone and over the curve of his shoulder.
"What did this?"
"If you touch me like that, Potter, you had best be prepared for the consequences."
Harry blinked rapidly and looked up, breath catching at the dark lust filling Snape's expression. He swallowed roughly, his cock giving a firm twitch as he watched Snape's mouth flatten to a thin line, the grooves around it deepening as colour filled his high, sharp cheekbones.
"What are the consequences?"
A firm push against his shoulders sent Harry toppling over backward; only the reflexes born of years of Quidditch and defence-work kept Harry from falling completely off the sofa and onto the floor. Instead, he twisted at the last moment and ended stretched out haphazardly on the cushions. An instant later, Snape joined him, his long, lean body covering Harry's from toe to chest.
"Fuck," Harry breathed, his eyes squeezing closed as Snape's hips ground firmly against his aching prick.
"That is the general idea..."
"Shut up, Snape."
They kissed again, their hunger lending a ferocity to the exchange, filling it with clashing, biting teeth and filthy, desperate words that demanded nothing less than a violent mating. Clothes were brushed aside by rough, needy fingers and shaking hands dragged furrows into pale skin as they each sought to grasp for more than was physically possible.
There was nothing pretty about the awkward sliding of limbs, nothing romantic in the jagged edge of teeth as they bit into firm muscle. The perfection of the moment lay in the sweat and urgency and need that had been roiling under the surface for far longer than was entirely proper.
"God, yes," Harry moaned, his head rolling on the arm of the sofa as Snape's mouth sucked harshly at the skin just above his navel. His fingers clenched in the fine, limp strands of Snape's hair—tugging, pulling, pushing—needing more. Harry pulled his legs from beneath Snape's body, kicking his trousers off the other end of the sofa. Raising one leg to hook it over the back of the sofa, he used that as leverage to push his lower half up, frotting desperately against whatever part of Snape he could reach.
Snape's teeth scored the ridge of bone at his hip, ripping a shout from Harry. Long fingers tangled in the cotton of Harry's y-fronts, jerking against them until Harry raised his hips, allowing them to be freed from one leg and simply pushed out of the way to wrap around the other ankle.
Snape's hot breath gusting over Harry's cock had Harry pushing frantically to his elbows, eyes wide, not even daring to blink the haze of arousal from his vision as he watched Snape's lips part over the neediest part of him.
"God," he pleaded in a broken whisper.
Snape's lips twitched briefly at the corners before his tongue came out and stroked lazily over the head of Harry's cock, teasing the edges of his foreskin and dipping into the slit. A sharp, high breath rushed from Harry's lungs—speech was absolutely impossible as his mind had melted into fragments.
Snape pulled back with a muttered oath, climbing off the sofa and pushing the table out of the way before wrestling Harry around until he was sitting upright, his legs over Snape's shoulders.
"Pay attention, Potter; I expect restitution."
Harry nodded eagerly, ready to offer his soul for Snape to finish what he'd started. He held his breath as Snape lowered his head again, though this time he maintained eye contact until his mouth slid down over Harry's cock. With a loud exhalation of breath, Snape closed his eyes, his hands sliding up the outside of Harry's thighs to grip his hips, pulling against them as he took Harry fully down his throat and swallowed.
Harry whimpered, at first the heat, then the tight muscles squeezing the head of his cock where it was lodged in Snape's throat.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he wheezed, one hand fisted in his own hair, the other punching the sofa cushion under him. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the sight of Snape's mouth stretched wide around his cock; it was nearly as arousing as feeling it sliding slickly up his length.
Snape dragged his head up slowly, his lips tightening around Harry as he sucked so forcefully that his cheeks hollowed out but for the outline of Harry's cock.
"God, yes. That's so hot, sir," Harry whispered, breathing coming fast and shallow as he fought against the need to thrust his hips against Snape's face.
Somehow his urgency must have translated itself to Snape, though, because as soon as he reached the head of Harry's cock, he picked up the pace. Harry dropped both hands to the cushion then, fingers digging into it as he watched Snape's head rise and fall, the heat and suction incredible.
Harry whispered broken encouragement around the moans that rose nearly continuously from deep within his chest. In far too short a time, Harry felt the first signals of his impending orgasm and tried to warn Snape, sliding one hand into his hair and tugging sharply as he babbled about how close he was.
With a low growl, Snape jerked against the hand in his hair and increased both the pace and the suction. Harry gasped for breath, his belly tightening as his balls drew tight and his cock swelled. Throwing back his head with a shout, his eyes slammed closed as he came in long spurts down Snape's throat.
A few moments later, Snape's mouth slid off his softening cock, licking at the head twice as if to ensure he hadn't missed anything.
Harry slumped against the sofa, his ears ringing, his glasses sitting crooked on his face, and what felt like a completely stupid grin stretching his lips wide. Licking his lips, he stared in lazy hunger as Snape lowered Harry's legs to the floor and pushed himself up to stand between them. One long finger crooked itself at Harry, reminding him of Snape's earlier words.
"Restitution?" he whispered, swallowing heavily against the nervousness that suddenly flooded through him.
"Call it whatever you like, Potter, but mind your teeth. And go... slowly. I want to enjoy myself."
Harry woke to a tapping noise at the window. Rolling over with a groan, he shielded his face from the weak rays of the sun before pushing himself to a sitting position and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The warm bed. That he was lying in completely naked.
Blinking to clear his head, the memories of the previous night began to slowly come back to him. Twisting around, he saw that the other side of the bed showed obvious signs of having been occupied, and one long strand of black hair lay across the pristine white pillow.
"Snape," Harry whispered, reaching forward. His hand hovered in the air over the pillow for a long moment before he snatched it back. Setting his jaw with determination, he plucked his glasses off the bedside table and pushed himself completely out of the bed to go open the window and relieve Hedwig of her parchment.
Giving the owl a treat from a bowl by the window, he smoothed the feathers on her head and received his loving little nip from her sharp beak before she flew off to do some proper hunting.
Harry,
I've found it. I'm working on it now. Have Professor Snape meet me at the place tomorrow at noon. I should have collected enough signatures by then.
Love,
Hermione
Harry gripped the parchment tightly as relief swirled through him. Grabbing a pair of denims, he pulled them on quickly before running out of the room, buttoning up as he raced down the stairs calling Snape's name.
"Sir! Snape! I've got it, sir! Sir!"
The lack of acknowledgement slowed Harry down and by the time he reached the sitting room, the utter stillness of the house registered on him.
Oh, fuck.
Snape was gone. Apparently, so were the twins.
The occupants of the courtroom turned, startled, when the doors were thrown open to admit a tall, suspicious-looking wizard in sombre black robes.
"If it please the Wizengamot... I have returned."
The courtroom erupted into noise as every member of the Wizengamot began speaking at once. The sound of the gavel banging harshly barely penetrated, but the Chief Warlock's shout of "Aurors, seize him!" somehow managed to override all other voices.
"Stop!"
This new voice cut through the room, pulling silence down with it.
"You will not touch him!"
The Chief Warlock's nostrils flared and his face went red with impotent anger as he looked toward the doors to see the newest occupant of the room. "Mr Potter, this court has business with you, as well. You will simply have to wait your turn for your own sentencing."
"I don't think so."
"You dare?!"
"I think you'll find, your honour, that Mr Potter has absolutely no sense of propriety in such matters."
"Snape... would you shut up for a minute? God!" After issuing that admonishment to the first intruder, the second turned to address the Chief Warlock again. "I have come to inform this court that we will not tolerate any sort of reprimand issued to Severus Snape."
"Potter, what in the buggering fuck are you doing?" The sharp whisper sliced through the air, causing a titter or two to erupt from the assembled witches and wizards.
"Interfering, of course," came the answer in a voice that was at once slightly amused and wholly nervous.
"Why, Potter? Why couldn't you simply let events transpire as they were intended for once?"
The young wizard moved over to whisper, in a voice that barely reached its intended recipient, "Maybe I would have... but now I keep wondering what it will feel like to do more with you."
"You're saving me because you're horny?!"
"Well..." The young wizard coughed, though the sound was a bit choked, as if by laughter. "The benefits of a young, Quidditch-obsessed lover?"
"You'll be the death of me, brat."
"Never." The young wizard's voice turned hard on that answer before he stepped forward, keeping the once-condemned man behind him as he approached the Chief Warlock, a piece of rolled up parchment in his hand. "Your... honour, I have here over five hundred signatures from witches and wizards all over. As you are aware... it only requires a petition signed by one hundred to open an investigation into the possibility of a mistrial by the Wizengamot. I have proof that this court not only disregarded evidentiary testimony but also blatantly ignored the fact that, as a spy, Severus Snape was protected from prosecution for any acts which can be proved to have been carried out in an effort to protect his position."
Absolute silence descended over the courtroom then; not even a breath was released for a few moments, then suddenly the sound of shifting bodies and voices speaking in whispers broke out among the Wizengamot. The Chief Warlock, face nearly purple, curled his fist over the handle of his gavel and brought it down with a resounding bang.
"Mr Potter. This court does not deal lightly with threats of blackmail. Give me that parchment."
"You may have the parchment, your honour, but it's not entirely necessary. You see, the witches and wizards who've signed it? They're all here, sir. Outside the courtroom, filling the halls and passageways of the Ministry. They want to know why a man as brave and heroic as Severus Snape is being treated in such a low manner by the very body that should be giving him the most support." Carelessly tossing the parchment to the Chief Warlock, the young wizard stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest as the light glinted off the lenses of his glasses. "I'd like to know that myself."
"Aruba, Potter?"
"It isn't Majorca, but... It seemed fitting, sir."
"In what way?"
"Warmth, sun, freedom. Naked bodies. A distinct lack of a Wizengamot."
"Due to your actions yesterday, we may find Britain missing one of those when we return."
"Who says we need to return?"
"Who, indeed."
THE END
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