A Most Peculiar Fairy Tale
Story by Quill Lumos
Betaed by Cyndie
Illustrated by Mystkyten
And Thanks to Hambares for the final polish!
Dedicated to TQA! Happy Birthday LOVE!!
*whispers to Anne* I did the explicit pic just for you. ~ Myst
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WARNING: Story and pics are Slash. Please do not proceed if you are underage.
CAUTION: One pic near the end is explicit. If you want to read the story without that pic, please click HERE.
Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. We do not make any money from the writing or illustrating of this story.
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Finally, Severus was nearly back at Hogwarts. He almost felt happy. As the land surrounding him became more familiar by the moment, as the wild and windswept moor gave way to the small copses of trees which marked the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, Severus felt his heart lift. It truly was home, the only place that had ever felt like home to him.
After travelling all day he had reached the Forbidden Forest at last. He had journeyed slowly, on horseback, because he wanted to savour every minute of his return, now that it was over and the Dark Lord had been vanquished, now that he could finally have a life of his own.
Potter had done it. A mere two weeks earlier he had done what had been prophesied – he’d killed Voldemort. Then, just a few days after the Dark Lord’s defeat, Potter had vanished. No-one knew what had happened to him or where he might have gone. But vanish he had. He had disappeared so thoroughly that even his closest friends had no idea where he might be; or at least if they did, they were not telling Severus.
He had grown close to Hermione during the darkest days of the war and had learned to tolerate Harry quite well. He scowled at himself; he knew he was being disingenuous. He could more than tolerate the boy; in fact, he found him tantalising, mesmerizing and very sensual. Harry James Potter was not for the likes of him, so he settled for grudging respect and civility. It was safer that way.
He knew the youngest Weasley son would always try his patience. The red-head was too exuberant, too much the archetypical Gryffindor for Severus’ somewhat surly disposition. Hermione’s courage, intelligence and steadfast support had impressed him and he found himself growing increasingly fond of the girl.
He had not been able to understand why she did not seem upset about Harry’s disappearance; that is until it finally occurred to him that maybe Harry hadn’t truly vanished after all, not from everyone. Just from the wizarding world…and from Severus.
Maybe Harry still disliked him in a way that he no longer truly disliked Harry? Perhaps that was why Hermione had said nothing about his whereabouts, just telling Severus instead that he shouldn’t worry; everything would be all right in the end. Not that he was terribly surprised to be excluded. He had given the boy enough reason to hate him over the years after all.
Severus couldn’t say why, but the thought that Harry might still dislike him, hurt more than he could ever say or understand. He had tried hard to be civil, polite even, and it seemed unjust that his monumental efforts should be for nothing.
Severus could not forget the boy, though. In those last weeks before the final battle they had buried their animosity and hatred and come to almost respect each other. Their time together, preparing for the final fight with Voldemort, had become precious to Severus and how sad was that?
Despite himself, despite the fact that Potter still resembled his bloody father far too much for Severus’ liking, he could not put the boy out of his mind. That messy black hair, which tumbled to his shoulders in untamed waves and curls; those amazing green eyes, like multi-faceted emeralds, that sparkled with life and energy. Harry’s eyes haunted Severus; they were stunning by any measure of beauty.
The boy was so very beautiful but he was still a boy, nineteen years old and as innocent as the day was long. He was perfect, a hero, and the future of wizarding kind. Feted, loved, adored – Harry Potter was surely not for the likes of Severus Snape.
Severus was a man of peculiar tastes. He liked his partners to be quite submissive, he liked to dress them in silks and satin, and he liked them to be male, definitely male. For the last few months Harry Potter had haunted Severus’ dreams. But the Saviour-of-the-wizarding-world was not for a used up Death Eater such as himself, a man who was selfish and demanding and very possessive about his lovers. If Severus’ wildest dreams were realised and Harry ever become his, he would keep him close and never let him go.
Strangely though, there had been times in the past few months when Severus had wondered if Harry might be interested in him, if he might be able to take things further. Sometimes Severus would look up to see the boy watching him. At other times the boy would seek him out, stand closer than he needed to when they were practicing spells, and would persist in asking Severus to accompany him to a variety of places whenever they were not training. Once or twice, after a lesson, he had even suggested that Severus accompany him to the nearest pub for refreshments. Severus always declined, of course. He could not face the idea of joining in with a crowd of Gryffindors, especially if Weasley and Longbottom were likely to be part of any such group.
So, in order to solve the mystery that was Harry Potter, he had decided to watch the boy from a safe distance. Harry interacted with everyone who approached him. It all seemed so easy for Albus’ golden child. He liked people and they seemed to like him, which was one reason amongst many that Severus knew he did not have a chance with the boy.
In the end, after secretly nursing a hope that Harry was interested in more than just friendship, Severus had come to the decision that Harry had only been trying to be friendly. Besides, he suspected Harry was just asking out of politeness. Why else would a young, handsome man, in the prime of his life, want a curmudgeonly old grump like himself as part of his life?
So instead of pursuing the Gryffindor, Severus had determined to forget the green eyed hero and had come back home to bury himself once again in his dungeons and teach Potions to dunderheaded Hogwarts students. It was not as if anyone were likely to fete ugly, greasy Severus Snape or celebrate him as a hero. It would definitely be much safer back at Hogwarts.
It was autumn already, it came early in Scotland. The leaves had begun to turn and the robe that Severus was wearing, a deep forest green, contrasted with the orange and red and gold. Not that Severus noticed, he was smiling secretly to himself as the scenery grew more familiar and wouldn’t that have surprised anyone who knew him?
He had shrugged off his dark clothing with the last of his duties as a spy and found himself blushing when Hermione told him, a gentle smile on her face, that he looked like the prince in a fairy tale. Her smile had widened when Severus blushed a deep scarlet and she had kissed him gently on his cheek.
That had been in London, in Grimmauld Place, when she had come to say goodbye and wish him well. The only one of all those involved in the war who had bothered to do so. It seemed like a different world, one that Severus had no wish to be a part of any longer, now that the war had ended. He liked the emptiness of the Highlands, the lack of people – another thing, he thought morosely, that would not suit Harry at all.
It had taken him nearly all of the two weeks since the end of the battle to get this far, travelling by day, stopping at magical inns by night. It was a holiday of sorts, the first holiday Severus had had in more than twenty years. As he had ridden North he felt the stresses and strains fall away leaving him feeling younger and more alive than he had felt for a very long time. And if he felt a little lonely? Well, he was used to that. After all, over the years he had learned to like his own company best of all.
The afternoon wore on and Severus relaxed into the motion of the horse, enjoying the temperate warmth of the sun, the breeze rustling the leaves, the birds singing, and the wildlife stirring all around him.
He entered a clearing in a part of the forest that he had never seen before and Perseus, the shining grey horse that he was riding, stopped dead, snorted and pawed the ground. He had proved an easy and comfortable horse to ride, a willing mount, and Severus had become quite fond of him on the journey.
All at once though, loyal Perseus refused to go on. Severus squeezed his legs, urging the horse forward. But he would not be moved. Again he squeezed his legs, again the horse refused to budge.
Huffing to himself impatiently, Severus dismounted.
Once on the ground he spotted a sparkling glimmer of sunlight in-amongst the bracken - a phenomenon that had not been apparent when he had been on horse-back. He tethered Perseus to a low branch and moved slowly forward to investigate further.
Ahead of him in the clearing was a large glass case, which had reflected the sunlight. Even from here he could see there was something inside it. From this distance Severus could not see what it was, but something encouraged him to creep closer.
It was a clear glass coffin, beautifully crafted, wrapped in ivy and decorated with flowers.
Inside the coffin was a girl lying on a green silken cushion. Her dress pooled around her, a dark satin cut low to the waist in a V-shape, exposing the palest yellow silk. Shiny, ebony curls framed a beautiful face. Her skin was pale, almost as white as snow, her hair was tousled and as soft as swansdown and her cheeks had a delicate blush of rosy pink.
She was beautiful. By far the most perfect creature Severus had ever seen. She was also fast asleep. Dark lashes curled on those dusky cheeks and her sweet crimson lips were parted slightly, forming the shape of a perfect bow.
Severus reached out and touched the glass and it vanished away as if it had never been. He reached out again and gently touched the girl’s forehead with the back of his hand. She was warm and her skin was soft.
He stood for a moment watching her bosom rise and fall, feeling like a voyeur. She would have embodied all of Severus’ fantasies, if only she had been a boy.
But girl or not, Severus could not help himself, he had to taste those lips and see if they were as sweet as they looked. He leaned forward and placed his lips on that tempting, delicious mouth.
It was like Heaven on Earth! Her lips were warm and moist and tasted like strawberries, no, like vanilla and strawberries. They yielded to him without any resistance at all. The girl took a deep breath, her lips curved into a smile and she opened her eyes.
Green eyes.
Eyes that Severus would know anywhere, eyes that were engraved on his memory, etched in his soul. Eyes that without the round wire glasses that habitually hid them from view were so bright they were almost luminous in the dappled shade of the forest.
“Harry!” It was Harry. Not a girl, but Harry, his Harry, dressed as a girl. Severus stumbled backwards in shock. Somehow, inexplicably, Harry had become the embodiment of his dreams, had walked right out of his most intimate fantasy.
“Oh Merlin!” Severus whispered, surely he was dreaming. He must have wandered into a strange Confundment spell, one which brought the dreamer’s deepest, darkest secrets to life.
“Hello, Severus,” Harry replied, softly, seductively. Severus had asked the boy to call him by his first name when they had been working together, near the end of the war. He loved the way the boy said his name, almost as if he could not believe the privilege that he had been given. But never had his name sounded as wonderful to him as it did just then on Harry’s lips.
Dream it might be, but Severus was determined to enjoy whatever happened next. His breath hitched and he spoke to the beautiful apparition. “Why are you dressed like that? What are you doing?”
Harry smiled somewhat shyly and Severus’ breath hitched again. The boy could not be more perfect.
“Do you like it?” Harry smiled hesitantly, sitting up. His hands were caressing the rich satin of his dress and he was biting his lower lip, white teeth sinking into crimson flesh. He looked a little lost and uncertain.
“Oh, yes!” Severus hissed. “Oh, Circe, yes I do!”
Harry’s uncertain smile grew wide and rather self-satisfied.
“Oh, good,” he said. “I hoped you might.”
Then Harry was in his arms and then Severus’ hands were stroking the silky fabric of Harry’s dress and Severus’ mouth was on Harry’s, plundering it. His tongue was easing its way between unresisting lips. Harry was yielding one moment and matching kiss for kiss in the next. He gasped, he shivered and then he relaxed totally into Severus’ embrace, lifting his hands to bury them in Severus’ hair.
Severus slipped one arm behind Harry’s back and one under his knees; tenderly he lifted the boy from his viridian bier and lowered him gently on to the moss covered forest floor. Harry squirmed and wriggled, desperate to kiss Severus again, passionately wrapping himself more firmly about Severus, tangling them together.
Severus became more demanding. He had Harry beneath him at last, as the boy continued writhing and wriggling. “Be still!” Severus growled against Harry’s hot silken skin.
Harry growled back, baring his teeth like a wild animal, burying his fingers in Severus’ hair and twisting it almost painfully. He was desperate for release.
“Please,” Harry pleaded, “Oh please. Want you! Need you. Now! You look so fucking sexy. Want you. In me.”
“Shhhh,” he murmured into the delicate shell of Harry’s ear. “You have given me yourself as a gift, Harry. “Now just lie back and let me unwrap you.”
Gasping in turn, Harry threw back his head exposing his neck in a gesture of total submission. The throat arched beautifully, exposing unmarked skin, his Adam’s apple moving as he made a keening noise, throbbing with need and want.
Severus kept touching the boy, he couldn’t stop himself. He could not believe that this was happening to him, surely it was not true? All his senses told him that this was real, that this was not a dream, but how could it have happened?
Harry’s breath hitched again and he shivered involuntarily as Severus’ thumb brushed against one of his nipples which were hardening rapidly beneath the tight, restricted bodice of his dress.
Next he lifted Harry’s skirts, the silk rustling as they were raised so Severus could touch the soft skin that was hidden beneath the frothy layers. He ran his hand along Harry’s thigh, causing the boy to start mewling softly. He had reached the top of Harry’s legs at last, his fingers stroking and caressing, until his hands found more silk. Silk that was bulging and wet with Harry’s desire.
Severus squeezed the bulge gently and Harry groaned.
“Please.” He breathed.
“Please what, Harry?” Severus whispered against Harry’s cheek. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” Harry whined, “you inside me, oh please, get on with it!”
Severus chuckled, low in his throat.
“Oh, I think that I can oblige you,” he said.
It was the work of only a moment to tug away the silken scrap that Harry was wearing as an undergarment. It was such a flimsy thing that Harry wore, palest cream and tied around Harry’s slim boyish hips with soft pink ribbons.
Harry parted his legs, inviting Severus to continue, offering him everything, his most private places to plunder as he wished.
“Are you sure, Harry?” he asked. “Be very sure.”
Gazing into Harry’s eyes, Severus saw him nodding. He did not need to be an Occlumens to be able to read the raw need in those eyes, the pleading, the acquiescence.
Severus had spent his whole adult life as a Potions Master. He never travelled anywhere without a vial of oil. It came in handy at times as a preservative and as a base for a number of potions. But now it would serve as a lubricant. For Harry.
Harry, the most precious gift he had ever been given; though it be but a dream, it was a most wonderful and precious dream.
He reached into his pocket for the vial with one hand, whilst the other held Harry’s skirt in place, pinning the boy down. Not that Harry seemed to be going anywhere. He had become limp and pliant under Severus ministrations. He was whimpering softly, his head turned to one side, his eyes closed, his fists clenched.
Severus pushed the cork stopper out of the vial and dribbled it liberally over his fingers until they were slick with thick, green, olive oil.
Gently he inserted one finger into Harry’s rosebud anus, the boy was so tight, so hot. He pushed in and the muscles around the entrance tightened around him. Slowly but firmly he moved his finger around inside in a gentle circular motion, spreading the oil inside the boy, liberally coating the velvet channel.
Harry was panting, hard.
“Harry?” Severus said. “Are you all right?” Harry’s sphincter muscle had tightened as the boy stiffened.
“Yes,” he hissed tightly, “but if you don’t get on with it I am going to burst.”
Severus couldn’t help himself, this was surely a one time thing and he was not going to waste a moment, a second of it. He licked his lips. His mouth had gone dry and his cock was harder than he had ever known it to be.
Harry lay beneath him on the forest floor, his hair was tangled with leaves and tiny bits of fern. The bodice of the dress was fitted close around Harry’s torso, the nipples on his flat boyish chest had pebbled beneath the fine fabric and the skirts billowed out exposing long slim legs, which were dusted with fine dark hairs. The skirts had been pushed back and frothed over a stomach that was practically concave, exposing dark curls and an excited cock, which was hard and weeping.
He looked fantastic, ready to be debauched, and Severus was not going to make him wait any longer.
He rolled the boy over so the pale globes of his arse were exposed, his cock buried in the soft, spongy moss. Harry groaned and humped the ground involuntarily. Severus slapped him gently. “Be still,” he hissed as he carefully inserted another finger and then just one more. He could not believe how tight Harry was, if he was not a virgin then he very nearly was.
He moved so that his pelvis was against the boy’s arse and unzipped himself. His cock sprang to attention ready to breach the sweet hole and he slicked it thoroughly. Just for the beat of a heart he waited, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, hardly daring to look in case the vision below him faded away. But he could feel Harry; he could feel the silk of the marvellous dress against the skin of his prick, making it even harder.
The boy wailed. “Please, please, please,” he was chanting desperately, eyes screwed shut, fists blindly seeking purchase in the bracken. But still Severus paused, he held his breath. Could he do this? Could he indulge in this magical fantasy?
What if this was some spell, what if Harry really was here and it wasn’t a dream. What if the boy was Imperioed, or had been forced somehow? Severus would never forgive himself and Harry would never forgive him either.
He pulled away from the boy, sitting back on his heels.
“I can’t take…I can’t….Harry!”
Harry grasped Severus’ wrist. “Please, Severus, for fuck’s sake will you just get on with it? Please.”
Severus was astonished. Harry Potter was begging him to fuck him, insisting that he fuck him. Was this real? Was it truly happening?
“Is this real?” he asked, deeply confused.
Harry looked up at him with a glazed expression in his eyes. He was panting, flushed with arousal.
“What?”
“This is a dream isn’t it? Or a trick? You aren’t real, you can’t be real.”
Harry huffed. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and then sat in a flurry of satin and lace, glaring at Severus.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded. He looked quite adorable to Severus, with his cheeks flushed and his hair in even more disarray than usual. Somehow in their tumbling embrace the dress had slipped off one shoulder and was exposing a delectable nipple.
Severus ached to nibble it, to lick it. But Harry had not finished with him, it seemed.
“Of course I’m fucking real!” he spat, sounding absolutely furious. “What the bloody hell do I have to do to get you to fuck me? I have tried everything: leaning against you when you taught me spells, batting my eyelashes when I asked you questions, asking you to the pub, to go for a meal. Then finally, finally I go and get myself fucking gift wrapped, I think that I’ve cracked it and then you ask if I am bloody real! What more do I have to fucking do?”
Severus’ jaw dropped.
“You set this up? Why would you do that?”
“Are you not listening to me?” Harry fumed. “I am trying to get you to fuck me!”
Harry spoke slowly and carefully as if talking to an idiot. Severus thought that the boy might just possibly have a point.
“You have been trying to get me to ‘fuck you’?” Severus asked.
Harry didn’t have to answer him, his look said it all.
Severus sat on the ground beside the boy, feeling the puffy satin gathered beneath his hand.
“How did you decide to come up with this particular scenario?”
“I asked Lucius Malfoy.”
“What!”
Harry looked a bit sheepish his gaze dropped to the silky lap of his dress.
“You asked Lucius Malfoy?” Severus suspected that he was screeching.
“Well he owed me,” the boy said sullenly. “I promised that I would lie to the Wizengamot for him and Draco and Narcissa, tell the court that they had been spying for us. So he told me what he thought you would like.”
He peeked up at Severus through long silky eyelashes.
Severus couldn’t speak, he was completely stunned. Harry had gone to all that effort for him?
“But why?”
Harry sighed. His hands which had fallen to his lap started to pick at the smooth fabric of the dress that he was wearing.
“At first I just fancied you,” he said. “You are gorgeous, you know?”
Severus scoffed. “Are you trying to be facetious, Mr Potter?”
“Don’t be such an arse!” Harry muttered through gritted teeth. “I do think you’re gorgeous. Well not all of you, obviously. I mean your teeth are a bit yellow and you always look so bloody grumpy. But your eyes? They are just so dark. I could get lost in them. Your hands? I would just love to feel them on me again, stroking me, like you did earlier. God! That felt so bloody fantastic, I’ve been dreaming about that. And your voice? Your voice…well, it’s just so fucking sexy, I love your voice. Your arse looks so bloody hot as well. I saw it once, by accident, when you were in the shower. It was so smooth and white and fucking perfect. I like your legs, too, and I’d love to feel them wrapped around me and your cock inside me, fucking me.”
Severus couldn’t speak. He had no idea what to say.
But Harry was still telling his story, so Severus didn’t have to say anything anyway. “I made plans. You talked to Hermione; you were friends with her so I asked her what to do. She said I should seduce you, but to go carefully, because she thought you’d been hurt before.”
Severus was stunned. Harry wanted to seduce him? Hermione worried about him. A warm, unfamiliar feeling crept into his bones. He had grown quite fond of them, but he’d assumed that they just tolerated him. He had been wrong it seemed.
Harry looked so small sitting beside him; he appeared to have collapsed in upon himself. He looked lost and lonely abandoned in a sea of silk and satin and velvet ribbons and Severus felt a pang of guilt at ruining the boy’s surprise.
“So I talked to Lucius Malfoy,” Harry said. “Then I made some plans. Hermione helped, she found a dress that would fit me, transfigured the case into a glass coffin and put me into a deep sleep. The hard part was getting you here while I was asleep, making sure that you’d find me and that we would be alone together. So I asked Neville to help.”
Up till now Severus had listened in silence to all that Harry had to say, too stunned to be able to speak; but at the mention of Longbottom, he could not keep quiet.
“Longbottom?” Severus spluttered, with a touch of panic entering his voice. “What did he do? Please don’t tell me he’s here!”
“Yeah, he is” Harry said, jerking his head in the direction of Perseus. The horse had wandered away, somehow managing to untie himself. He was just far enough away that they had some privacy. He was determinedly not looking at them and swishing his tail in their direction. “Neville’s an Animagus.”
“Longbottom is the horse?” Severus was uncomfortably aware that his voice had become somewhat squeaky with shock.
“Well, I trust Neville,” Harry grumbled, sulkily. “He knows how I feel about you, and he won’t tell anyone.”
“I rode Neville Longbottom all the way from London?” Severus bellowed.
"Yeah, seems like Neville is the only one getting any action from you today, huh, Professor Snape?” Severus felt stung by Harry’s scathing comment, he opened his mouth to reply, to tell Harry that he would never sleep with Longbottom, but perhaps Harry had not meant it like that? Perhaps he was just hurt and frustrated. Harry’s next words seemed to confirm Severus’ conclusion.
“Oh, fuck it!” the boy shouted. Using the back of his hand, he swiped furiously at his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I tried to make it right for you, make it special. But it looks like I fucked up. Again! I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I’ll just go and leave you in peace.”
The boy stood up awkwardly, shakily. The lovely silk dress was wrinkled now and torn in places; there were fragments of moss in his hair and green stains from the foliage on which he had been laying was smudged into the once pristine fabric.
“I have made such a fucking fool out of myself.”
“No, you haven’t!” Severus cried, desperately wanting to make things better, “You did everything right, Harry.”
“Oh right! And that’s why you’re fucking me right now,” sarcasm dripped from Harry’s lips. “Everything was so perfect, you didn’t even think I was real!”
Harry turned away, tears starting to run down his face. Reaching out to grab him, Severus’ hand encircled Harry’s wrist. He could feel the boy’s pulse against his palm. It was wild and erratic, pounding away beneath the skin.
“I think I am the fool, Harry, not you. I could not believe that something that I had wished for so fervently and for so very long had come true. I have wanted you for such a long to time, and to have you here, like this, as if you had walked out of my most secret fantasy? It just seemed to be too good to be true.
“Thank you, Harry.”
The boy stilled as Severus continued to hold his wrist tightly to prevent his getting away. Harry’s head was down, his eyes fixed on the ground. He was trembling.
Severus pulled him into his arms and held him close. He breathed in the scent of the boy and felt Harry’s breath harsh against his chest.
“It was okay then?” came a muffled whisper. Harry looked up at him, his face betraying bewilderment and a hint of hope.
“You are not pissed off with me?”
Severus gently shook his head, “I am not angry, Harry. I am more flattered, more touched than I have ever been. That you went to such lengths for me?” He could not continue speaking; he was, quite simply, overwhelmed.
Severus still towered over the boy and as he gazed down into those beautiful green eyes he felt a rush of emotion greater than he’d ever felt; before he knew what he was doing, he was kissing Harry again.
It was less fierce this time, but more confident. And more tender, careful, and loving.
He let himself taste the boy and he tasted so sweet.
Harry moaned and arched up, lifted his free hand to stroke Severus’ hair. Severus wrapped his arms around Harry; he could not stop kissing him.
Somehow they found themselves on the ground again and Harry was kissing Severus as passionately, as needfully, as Severus was kissing him.
Harry could not stop touching him either, his hands danced over Severus’ exposed skin, his face, his neck, his hands. This time Harry was on his back, with his legs wrapped around Severus’ lower back. Severus was overcome with desire. The sight of Harry’s slim dark legs with their dusting of dark hairs, surrounded by billowing satin and lace, was almost his undoing.
Harry wiggled his hips against Severus and writhed beneath him. Moaning his arousal, Severus’ was sure his still well-slicked cock had never felt as hard as it did right at that moment. Suddenly, without his ever being able to recall how it had happened, Severus found he was inside Harry. He nearly wept with the sheer pleasure of it. Harry’s velvety passage was clenched around his cock. It was so hot, so tight, so fucking wonderful.
Harry was whimpering. Their coupling was rough, explosive and more passionate than Severus had ever known. When his climax finally came he nearly passed out from the force of the orgasm. He roared his completion as Harry echoed him with an explosive orgasm of his own.
Afterwards, lying beside Harry on the soft springy moss, Severus once again was tempted to believe that what had just happened to him was a dream as he had first supposed. But Harry’s warm body was lying beside him, his messy hair soft against Severus cheek, his head a solid, sweet weight against Severus’ shoulder.
“That was brilliant!” Harry grinned. “That was just bloody amazing!”
“It was.” Severus agreed.
Harry shivered, making Severus react by wrapping the boy in his arms. He placed a tiny kiss on Harry’s head. “Are you cold?” he asked.
Harry nodded. “A bit.”
Severus cast a warming charm and Harry snuggled closer. Severus would never have believed, even an hour ago, that he would be cuddling with Harry Potter, having just had the most incredible sex of his life. He wondered for a moment how foolish he looked, draped in a silky dress, with his arms full of tousled, well fucked boy. But then he decided that he didn’t care how he looked, he felt wonderful, and that was what mattered in the end.
“It is a very lovely dress you’re wearing, Harry.” He whispered, placing another kiss on Harry’s head.
“It’s a bit spoiled now.” Harry said, patting sadly at the puffy fabric.
“I’ll have to buy you a new one.”
There was a silence that stretched for a long moment.
“Does that mean you want to do this again?” Harry asked tentatively.
Severus almost couldn’t speak the next two words, his voice cracked and husky. “Do you?”
“Fuck, yeah!” Harry sat up, grinning down at Severus. His grin widened. “Can I get a red dress next time?”
“Why, Mr Potter, I do believe that you are a pervert!” Severus replied, smirking.
Harry’s grin was luminous. “You owe the Weasley twins a big thank you for that. I was very straight laced, at one time, they took me in hand.”
“I think I owe quite few people a thank you for this little escapade,” Severus said with the hint of a laugh. “I should treat Lucius to a bottle of a whisky at the very least, and I should get something special for Hermione.”
“And Neville. Don’t forget Neville,” Harry insisted.
“Ah yes,” Severus commented, standing up and helping Harry to his feet. Feet which were bare, and slightly grubby, outlined by the light green ferny moss.
“You can’t walk back to the school like that. I’ll have to carry you.”
Harry’s grin was back, he fairly leapt into Severus’ arms.
“Okay then,” he breathed against Severus’ neck. “Do you think you are strong enough?”
“Don’t worry, brat, I can handle you.”
“You always have been able to, haven’t you?” Harry said, happily. He wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck and kissed him full on the lips.
“I think that I have.”
“Good, I like being handled, especially by you. But what about Neville?”
“Let’s take him up to Hogwarts. We’ll see if Hagrid is around; he can give your little friend a bag of hay or something.”
“You are such a sarcastic bastard! I think that’s why I like you so much.” Harry said, desperately trying to contain his laughter.
Severus smirked, it was nice to be liked for himself at long last, and he revelled in Harry’s helpless giggles as he tenderly carried his prize back home.
End
