A Wizard Song

Chapter 5 - A Game Of Chess

By Telanu

       

Harry stared down at the board in defeat.

Four games. Four. All of them lost, and two of them in less than thirty moves. He'd thought he'd learned something in all those years playing with Ron, but apparently not. He was trying to learn from his mistakes in playing with Severus as well -- and judging from the expert precision of the older man's moves, there was a lot he could pick up -- but he was too distracted. Why had Severus wanted to do this? He had to know how much better he was than Harry -- it couldn't be much of a challenge, or even very much fun, for that matter, unless trouncing Harry repeatedly counted as "fun." And that idea didn't sit well at all.

Did Severus just want to prove he could beat Harry at something, in their private time as well as in the classroom? Was that what this was all about?

What other games were going on here tonight besides chess?

"Fancy another?" Severus inquired lazily from his chair, toying with Harry's captured White King in a way that probably wasn't meant to be so suggestive as it was.

"No," Harry growled. "I'm sure you've got your jollies just fine by now."

Severus raised one dark eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean? Don't tell me," he added in an insufferably smug voice, "that Harry Potter is a sore loser?"

"No, I'm not, actually," Harry retorted, surprising both his lover and himself with the sharpness in his voice. "And if this was all about you beating me at something when we could have been doing something else a lot more fun then I don't think much of it."

There was silence for a few moments while they glared at each other across the table.

"No," Severus finally said in a clipped voice. "It will surprise you, I'm sure, to discover that this was actually about finding something we might both enjoy besides rolling around like animals in heat. I understood that you enjoyed playing chess with Mr. Weasley, but evidently I -- "

"Why would we try to do that?" Harry asked incredulously.

Oops. That hadn't come out right. Judging by the thunderous scowl suddenly gathering on Severus' face, that really hadn't come out right. "No, what I mean is," Harry added quickly, "why would you try? You're right, but I mean," he gestured helplessly, "finding things you both like, doesn't that just sort of...happen?"

Disaster appeared to have been narrowly averted as the fire left Severus' eyes. But the professor's steely expression did not change. "If you could kindly refrain," he said icily, "from reminding me how painfully naive you are at every turn, I would greatly appreciate it." Harry bristled, but before he could voice his outrage, Severus continued, "No, these things do not just 'happen.' It is true that I do not have a...tremendous amount of experience in these matters, but any time two people decide to...keep company, it takes a certain amount of effort."

Harry was about to burst in with an indignant I-know-that when Severus continued impatiently, "And in a...situation such as ours, it will require much more effort than usual. You must be prepared to plan ahead. This is going to require a great deal of, not only work, but also strategy. In this respect it is very much like..." he paused, "a game of chess."

There was another pause. Harry stared at his lover until Severus snapped, "Well, what?"

"Nothing," Harry said dryly. "I was just wondering if you were awake all night thinking of that metaphor."

That got him Severus' very best glare, which would have instantly sent Neville Longbottom into tears. "You impertinent brat, if you think this is some kind of joke or game -- "

"Game of chess, apparently," Harry interrupted, not much in the mood for lessons right now. He was glad that Severus hadn't had any nasty ulterior motives for wanting to play chess -- in fact, Harry felt kind of guilty for suspecting it now, even though, given some of his lover's past behavior, he supposed he'd had reason. But honestly, Severus sometimes acted as if Harry had no sense at all.

He shifted in his chair as something nudged against his thigh, and suddenly remembered the bottle of searoot he'd tucked in his trouser pocket. In the irritation of losing four straight games of chess he'd forgotten all about it.

In the meantime, Severus was turning an alarming shade of red, not unlike Molly Weasley's best. "I should have known," he hissed while Harry fished around in his pocket, "that you wouldn't take this as seriously as you -- what the devil are you rooting around in there for, I am trying to speak to you -- "

"Here," Harry said flatly, extending the bottle of Asiatic searoot across the table. "I got this for you today."

"What? If you think you can -- " but he took the bottle, and then frowned at the label, falling silent.

"I got that for you today," Harry repeated quietly. "I did lots of things today. Want to hear them? I could tell you about how Ron and Hermione made the usual jokes about you and I played along just like I was supposed to, even though I hated it, how does that sound? Or I could tell you about how Ginny Weasley has this crush on me that's worrying me half to death 'cos I won't know how to turn her down if she ever comes round to telling me about it. Or I could mention that I've worked out four different ways to sneak down to the dungeons even without my cloak in case a couple of 'em are blocked. Or," his voice rose, "I could even tell you how I spent hours every single DAY this summer reading and taking notes on that damn Potions book you sent me so I'll do well this term and won't put you in some awkward position. You know. Just in case you don't think I'm taking this 'seriously.'" He fell silent for a beat. "Is that the kind of searoot you wanted?" he added.

Severus was staring at him, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

"...Yes," he said finally, with dignity.

"That's nice," Harry snapped, and stood up, aware that this was a big risk to take but willing to try. It seemed necessary to try, though he wasn't sure why that was. "So should I go now or what?"

Severus shot him another deadly glare. "If you wish." Every word was etched out in ice.

"No, I don't wish, actually," Harry replied. "I want to stay. But I don't like playing 'games.' I think they stink and I'm no good at them. Do you want me to go?"

Severus' face went rigid as he seemed to wrestle with himself, and Harry held his breath. They regarded each other for a long moment.

"Sit down, idiot," Severus finally snapped, picking up a black knight and then putting it back down on a random square, gaze never leaving Harry's. It was good enough -- for now. Harry sat, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

If Severus hadn't even been able to admit that he wanted Harry around...God, he hoped there wouldn't be many more tests like this. He hadn't been lying when he said he didn't like games -- although he did seem to be getting better at them.

There was awkward silence for a few minutes, which Harry had no idea how to break -- or mend, maybe. Then Snape asked sharply, "How many hours a day did you say you spent studying?"

Harry had to bite his lip at that, and just shook his head. That would do. "I didn't say. Enough." Then he couldn't help smiling at Severus, just a little. "Hey..."

"What?"

"Did we just have our first fight?"

His lover looked scornful at that. "How sentimental, Potter. Have you contracted amnesia, or just conveniently forgotten the many -- "

"You know what I mean," Harry said, standing up again and moving to stand hesitantly in front of Severus' chair, much the way he had that first night. The expression in the flinty black eyes did not soften, but it didn't harden either. That might be all right. Never taking his eyes from that sallow face, Harry slowly lowered himself until he was straddling Severus' lap. When he wasn't pushed away, he decided they'd got past the moment and it was safe to proceed. God, it was like dealing with a hippogriff. "I think we should stop playing chess for now," he said seriously.

"Do you?" Severus asked, his voice still cool, though he made no move to evict Harry from his lap. Okay, this was going to take a bit more cozening. Not an entirely unpleasant prospect, although he hoped Severus wasn't this intractable all the...

Who was he kidding? Of course Severus was intractable. "Yeah, I do. If you don't mind." He tentatively fiddled with the top collar button -- oh dammit, Severus was wearing that whole stupid suit again tonight -- hoping that would get his point across, but not wanting to seem too bold or demanding. He was learning that Severus could be coaxed, but it was a very fine line. If he asked for too much...

"And what," Severus asked, still with the distant voice, "would you rather do?"

Harry fought the blush like a man. "Kiss you," he said honestly.

Severus' lips twitched. Harry decided that his goal was to see a full-fledged smile one day, but he wasn't holding his breath for it. "You Gryffindors," he murmured. "So blunt."

"Yeah," Harry said, and squirmed in the thin lap, starting to get affected by their closeness. "You know, I read in this...er, book one time, that after people fight, they can have really good make-up...um..."

The lips twitched again.

"Anyway, I think we should," Harry said, defiant in the face of his own blush.

"Not until you can actually say it," Severus said dryly. "You're so awfully frank with everything else, after all."

"Make-up sex then," Harry said boldly. "And I think we should have some."

Severus was actually biting his lip now. Really, Harry thought crankily, would it kill him to give one outright smile? Maybe it would, on reflection. Then the Potions master appeared to get himself under control, and said solemnly, "I suppose that could be arranged. If you insist."

Harry bent down, but to both their surprise he didn't go for a deep kiss -- just brushed his lips lightly across the other man's forehead, nudging his nose through the fine strands of hair. "I don't insist," he said, hearing the bashful quality rising up in his own voice despite his best efforts to prevent it. "I'd just...like."

Thin, warm hands found their way underneath his shirt and began to stroke languidly up and down his spine, causing him to shiver. Oh God, he loved how that felt, and after the lengthy explorations of last night Severus knew it too. "I believe we could find something you'd like, then." A very soft kiss to the side of his neck, and then they were working to get the shirt over his head. "Now...about that kiss."

Harry sighed into his lover's mouth and closed his eyes in familiar bliss.

"By the way," Severus said much later, when Harry lay sprawled and panting over his chest, pressing his mouth randomly against the long throat, "it was a simile."

"Whatever," Harry mumbled against the warm skin. He was perfectly happy again, and the contentment only increased when the sheets drew up to cover them both. "Oh," he added sleepily, "tomorrow night...I'll bring Exploding Snap."

       

The rest of the week passed in much the same vein. Get up, stumble up from the dungeons, sleep some more, have breakfast, study, lunch, work with Professor Sprout, dinner, shower, and down to the dungeons again. No prizes for guessing which part was his favourite. Especially when it turned out that Professor Snape was indeed a sore loser, and refused to play Exploding Snap any more after losing to Harry three games in a row.

"Idiotic waste-of-time childish activity!" were his exact words.

"Like to play chess instead?" were Harry's as he took out the board, where Severus gleefully decimated him for two matches. Harry watched every move like a hawk, determined to learn this time around instead of wasting the match in sulky suspicion.

They didn't play chess every night that week; on Thursday evening, Severus was busy brewing up a sleeping draught for Professor Dumbledore. "He's had too much on his mind," he gruffly explained to Harry, who stood to the side of the cauldron looking worried. "You of all people should understand that, hmm?"

"Can I help?" Harry asked quietly. Severus stared at him for a long moment.

"Chop up the valerian," was his clipped response. As it turned out, that was all Harry was allowed to do, in spite of his protestations that he'd been studying. "Prove it on the first day of class," Severus said to that, "and then we'll see about your so-called expertise." The gleam in his eye was decidedly unpleasant, and Harry willed himself not to swallow visibly.

He had studied. Hard. As hard as Hermione, even. If only his mind didn't go blank when he got asked a question -- as Severus was sure to do, just like he had that first day. Harry could tell already, and he was trying really hard not to let the memory of that day -- or the many other days just like it -- bother him. They were in the past, weren't they? It wouldn't be fair to resent Severus for things that were over and done with, would it? Of course not. Surely.

And frankly, when they lay together in bed it was hard to resent him for anything at all.

Although as far as that went, Harry was starting to notice certain patterns. Every night, Severus took his time exploring Harry's body, apparently delighted with the opportunity to taste and touch wherever and whatever he wanted, wearing away Harry's natural shyness extremely quickly. Sometimes Harry would climax often, until he had no more to give, and could only lie limp and moaning in his lover's arms while those dark eyes watched his every move; other times Severus would make him beg for it, and Harry found himself saying (or screaming) things that he would have blushed to even think in broad daylight. Invariably, Harry wouldn't get too much of a chance to explore Severus in his turn until the very end, and he got the feeling his partner wasn't too comfortable with having his body mapped, even by fingers as enthusiastic and happy as Harry's.

"Why you should want to see me without my clothes on is beyond me..."

Well, obviously Severus had what the Manual called a "self-esteem issue." Not that he'd admit it unless Harry applied red-hot pokers. Well...hopefully that would get better with time. Once Severus knew he could trust Harry, or knew that Harry didn't really think he was an ugly git. Erm, in spite of past evidence to the contrary.

He just wished he were allowed to touch a little more...

In time, he told himself. In time.

Inevitably August thirty-first arrived. The students would arrive the next evening on the Express. Harry was afraid Severus would be too busy to see him, and this would be their last chance before they really had to watch their step around hordes of his fellow students who would be all over the place at all hours. Not to mention all the work they'd both have. But apparently the Potions master was thinking along the same lines, and murmured to Harry, as they passed in the hallway after lunch, to come down to the dungeons as usual.

No chess that night; there was an odd tension in the air, as if they were about to embark on a particularly dangerous mission. In a way they were, Harry supposed. They sat silently at the table after Harry entered, gazing into the flames for a few moments, but with nothing to occupy hands or minds.

Then Severus looked at Harry with a surprising amount of irritation. "Do you always have to take a damned shower before you come down here?"

Harry's jaw dropped.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the effort," Severus continued acerbically, "but it rather defeats the point of making love in a bathtub, don't you think?"

Harry's jaw snapped shut again.

"Mind you, your landed-fish impression is spot-on tonight. Maybe the bathtub isn't such a bad idea."

Somehow, Harry's voice found itself. "You want to -- ?" he squeaked.

"It's something different," Severus said, and added, a little too casually, "and you might enjoy it, after all. Never groped anyone in a bath, eh?"

Harry's face turned red. "You know I haven -- "

Those dark eyes glittered with the first emotion besides annoyance they'd shown all night. "Yes. I know."

Harry shivered. Snape rose from his chair. "And you're no prefect, are you? Come along, then. I think you'll like this."

Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying he knew just fine what a prefects' bath looked like -- that would involve more explanations than he was willing to give, and besides, he was awfully curious. He followed Severus through the sitting room and the bedroom to the bath, which he'd never seen before. His lover opened the door.

It wasn't quite as nice as the prefects' bath, actually, but Harry didn't have the heart to say anything. Nevertheless, it was certainly a step above the showers. And the white enamel tub was...big. Yes. Big was definitely the word. It took up almost all of the room.

But not quite all. Stacked to the side were several surprisingly fluffy-looking towels -- Harry had to suppose their bright colours and textures were the work of the house elves, or he'd start laughing. Judging by the way Severus was glaring at them, he was right. But...there were an awful lot of towels. More than you needed for one person. And a lot of bottles too, by the tub, more than you'd need for shampoo and soap. What could they possibly be...?

Harry choked. He'd never be able to listen to a joke about Snape's personal hygiene again without blushing to the roots of his hair. Even "greasy git" might be too much to bear for a little while.

Slow hands moving around his shoulders from the back, moving to pluck at his shirt buttons, distracted him. So did the sudden hiss of water flowing into the tub from magical faucets. It wasn't funny-coloured or perfumed, but then he really shouldn't expect it to be. But it looked...warm. Very warm. And it did have bubbles.

Snape in a bubble bath? Harry would die of shock before Voldemort could ever get to him.

Mind still blank with surprise, though he was beginning to get his equilibrium back, Harry let Severus tug his shirt off, then turn him around and kiss him slowly, pulling his smaller, half-naked body against the taller, robed one. At least he wasn't wearing that suit tonight. His arms went up around the thin shoulders in a now-familiar gesture; Severus' hand cupped the back of his head. They stood there for a long moment, playing tag in each others' mouths and beginning to make soft, murmuring noises.

Severus wasn't naked under the robe, but he was close; as for Harry, he had to be careful not to let his shoes slide on the floor, already getting slippery from steam. That meant Severus was undressed first and gracefully lowering himself, into the tub and out of sight, while Harry was still tugging down his underpants. The dark eyes never left him as he struggled out of his clothing, for once without Severus' help.

But it was worth it to lower himself into that heavenly warm water, and slide without pausing to think towards Severus, who accepted him against his chest with equanimity. "Mm." A soft, lazy brush of lips against Harry's throat. "Slippery, aren't you?" A bite at his ear, and hands leisurely stroking one protruding hipbone. Harry tried not to wiggle, struggling valiantly to keep his wits about him. Skin-on-skin felt different underwater, and right now "different" meant "exciting" -- there was so much he still had to learn. He bent to kiss and then bite at Severus' shoulder, and, to his delight, when he began to move his hands around on the skinny body under the water, his lover did not object. Maybe it was because Harry couldn't really see him?

Harry pressed as flush against the Potions master as he could, sighing in bliss as his hardening cock settled against a warm, slick stomach. "So nice," he moaned, leaning in for another kiss. "What did you...I mean, how do you...want to, erm, do this?"

"I thought we might try improvising," Severus said dryly. "I left the syllabus in my office."

It was funny, flushing and rolling your eyes at the same time. "I did say I'd never done this befommph." Kisses really were the best way to shut him up, Harry thought. Good thing Severus couldn't do it during class.

"Umm," Severus murmured in satisfaction, pulling away from the kiss and gazing down into Harry's glazed eyes -- Harry had left his glasses on this time, and they were starting to fog up from the steam. "Let's take these off, shall we?" he murmured, removing the flimsy spectacles and setting them on the floor somewhere to the side of the tub. "Much better. Now..." A warm, wet hand slowly trailed down Harry's spine, making the younger man wriggle. Harry loved that, and by now he was sure Severus knew it well.

The hand paused to trace delicate fingertips over the slick small of the back, which made Harry's hips shift and writhe. That always felt...so good...just that delicate touch right there that made his body react no matter what. Harry flattered himself that he'd learned to control some of his responses, but the right touch at certain places always made him crazy. Severus, of course, thrived on those places. Harry nuzzled into the pale neck, moaning softly as two fingers stroked, so slowly, just...right...there...

...and then they moved lower. Harry blinked. Severus had, on occasion, cupped his arse, it was true. But he'd never run his fingertips over it like this, like little spiders' legs over each smooth cheek, raising goosebumps all over Harry's body and making his breath catch and his cock fill. Just another reminder of how good it really did feel to be touched down there...an idea that still made him a little uncomfortable. Even though the Manual had said that the "bottom" wasn't necessarily the "girl," Harry still couldn't help thinking he didn't want to be a bottom awfully much. And he certainly hoped Severus wasn't automatically expecting that or anything, because...um, lost the train of thought...because...

Except, except it felt so good when...oh. Severus' fingertips were sort of beginning to...dip down between.

Before Harry could say "Erm," or something equally eloquent, Severus bent and licked at the shell of his ear, causing him to gasp. Then the dark voice was whispering, making his vision go all swimmy. "I would like to show you something."

"Oh. Er..." Harry squirmed a little, though whether from reluctance or pleasure he couldn't quite tell. "I don't know. I mean...it...will it hurt?"

A soft chuckle reverberated through him and made the water ripple. "No. I won't go inside." A soft nip on his shoulder. "I think you've got a bit of growing left to do for that, hmmm?"

Harry tried to think of some kind of outraged remark, but Severus merely clasped his hip in one lazy hand, moving Harry so that his arousal slowly brushed against that flat stomach, preventing a faster pace. With his other hand, the Potions master reached over the tub to bring up one of the mysterious bottles. "Open it for me, will you?" he murmured.

Harry tried not to let his hands tremble. "What is it?"

"Awfully inquisitive, aren't you? You'll see."

Harry popped the cork on the jar, mildly regretful when it didn't hit Severus in the face. The older man dipped one long yellow finger into the neck of the bottle, and withdrew it dripping some kind of greenish-purplish salve. Harry winced at the colour. "Am I going to get some weird stain on my bum?" he demanded.

Again with the lip-biting. Harry swore inwardly that he would make Severus laugh out loud some day. "No. It comes off nicely. Now I told you to be patient." The hand on Harry's hip dipped back under the sudsy water and resumed its lazy stroking of his arse. "Of course," Severus drawled, "if you're uncomfortable...?"

"I'll...I'll try it," Harry said. "I mean, sure. I'll...yes. But not inside yet," he added firmly.

A soft kiss to his forehead that landed a little to the right of his scar. "Not inside." The voice was gentler than usual. Then the salve-covered finger dipped under the water and began stroking his arse as well, and then back down between, and...oh.

Oh.

Harry felt his hips, quite involuntarily, lifting up and back, raising his bum slightly. His cheeks flamed, but he honestly couldn't help it; Severus was touching him there, just like he'd read about, and it felt -- so good. Whatever that salve was, it was cool and tingly on contact, and Severus was stroking so lightly...he could feel the slickened finger tracing, almost not even touching, every little wrinkle and fold, and it didn't feel nearly as nasty as he'd thought it would --

Severus' other hand slipped beneath his balls and began rubbing at a spot that made him scream softly and clutch at the older man's slippery shoulders. Perineum, his well-read mind supplied helpfully, before fizzing out again. OH...those hands, right there... "Sev...Sever..." he panted, mouth open and huffing against the slim cord of throat. By now the other man's arousal was as hard and pulsing as his own, and he could feel it, so close...

"Do you like it, then?" Severus whispered softly, and Harry's vision began to sparkle again just from that voice. He could remember a time when he'd hated the very sound of it. Now he'd be lucky if he got through a single Potions class without a hard-on that could pound nails.

"Y-yes," he whimpered, writhing against both the busy hands that seemed to enjoy playing with him so much.

"Do elaborate," the voice murmured, and Harry, closing his eyes on another moan, felt his left earlobe being sucked into a soft, hot mouth. "Tell me," Severus murmured around mouthfuls of ear, "how it feels." The salve-covered finger began to brush slightly more firmly against Harry's opening, and he could feel it beginning to...twitch, to loosen, like it wanted more, which was just weird...

"Oh. I can't," he half-sobbed, writhing against the hands again. "It's -- it's good -- "

"Good?"

"Yes, damn it, good," Harry gasped, lowering his head to rest against Severus' chest as he wriggled and panted, managing to plant a few soft kisses here and there but unable to unclench his hands from the thin shoulders that anchored him to reality. "Oh. Yes!"

He was deliberately arching back from Severus' body now, back into that hand, aware that if they stayed pressed flush together the temptation to rub himself to climax would be too much. And he wanted this to last. "More," he demanded.

To his utter frustration, the finger stilled. "More?" Severus repeated, but to Harry's surprise, he didn't sound teasing. He sounded...unsure. Harry took a deep breath.

"Just a little," he whispered. "If...if you want to, I mean," he added hastily. "I mean, if you don't -- "

A faint pressing against his hole, and then the tip of the finger slid in. Harry froze, eyes going wide. Severus stopped. "All right?" he whispered.

Harry nodded. "That's...weird," he managed. The finger began to slowly slide in and out, never going deeper, making him tremble. It still felt weird, but in a...good sort of way. "Oh...erm..."

"Still 'weird?'"

"A bit," Harry admitted, not quite comfortable with how much he was enjoying the whole thing.

"Shall I stop? I'm afraid," Severus added, "that it only gets really good further in. And as I said..."

"Well, I'm not a midget," Harry snapped, and then, because he was starting to feel extremely undignified, "but I think that's enough for right now." The fingertip gently slid out. "Um," Harry added, feeling slightly young, "why do some blokes like that sort of thing?"

Another soft rub at his perineum that made his back arch upwards. "Feel that?" Severus whispered.

" 'Course I do," Harry gasped, and kissed Severus' neck. "Oh."

"That's the prostate. Imagine what it feels like when touched...directly."

Harry's mind swam for a moment and he moaned at the thought. "Hmmm," Severus replied, and bestowed one last stroke on the tender, quivering muscle. "Turn around."

"Turn arou -- " Then he felt strong (if wet) hands gripping his hips again and pivoting him about so that he sat on Severus' lap, facing away from him. He could feel the thick erection pressing prominently against his arse, and shivered. If he couldn't even take a fingertip, no way -- although it had felt a bit nice -- but no. Not yet.

Severus reached for the bottle again. This time his whole hand returned dripping, and he wrapped it around Harry's cock. Harry's mouth opened on a scream, though it came out as a breathless whining sound. This was the first time Severus had ever touched him with any really...exotic lubricant; before, Harry had always been so aroused by the time they got their clothes off that his own precome sufficed in plenty, or saliva would work in a pinch -- there was just no time to be wasted in hunting down ointment. But this. If it had felt good on his arse, it felt incredible up front -- alternately warm and cool, and always tingling, and making him almost impossibly hard. He wriggled helplessly, thrusting up into the too-light grip and beginning to pant harshly, and then back down into the lap, feeling the heat of Severus' cock pressing into the small of his back. Now that was new too -- mmm, something so hot and hard rubbing against that sensitive spot on his back, and that tingling hand on his cock -- Harry sobbed and began a slow, steady writhe, pushing back and forth against both sensations, causing the frothy water to slosh up and down the walls of the tub.

Snape moaned softly against the nape of Harry's neck, creating another spot of pleasure on his already-overloaded body. Harry bent his head down encouragingly, and sighed with delight when teeth gently began to bite him, followed by little kisses and quick, hot swipes of tongue. If Severus wanted feedback... "I like that," he whispered.

"I can tell," Severus whispered back, and nibbled again. Harry rewarded him with another wriggle of his backside against that hard erection, and his lover's hips jerked. Harry felt his stomach shiver. This was a lot more...mutual than anything else they'd done so far; usually it was like they took turns making love to each other, with Severus getting the lion's share of exploration-time. But this -- was new. Exciting. Severus' hand was moving at a languid, tortuously slow pace, keeping time with the shifting of Harry's cheeks against his own erection, warm lips roaming over neck and shoulders. His other hand slid up from Harry's hip to pluck and twist at a nipple.

Harry whimpered and bucked, and quite suddenly everything seemed to speed up; Severus gasped and then tightened his grip on Harry's cock, beginning to pump it at the same time as he started to suck at Harry's nape. Another, harder pinch on the nipple. Harry didn't stand a chance then; his hips jumped and he was crying out with blessed release, long and slow and pulsing and good. He heard his lover grunt and stiffen behind him, before a flood of stickiness hit his back, warmer even than the water surrounding them.

Harry could feel his muscles relaxing, and he and Severus sank together against the side of the tub, almost going under the water before Severus made an "mmph" sound and braced them both up.

"That was nice," Harry said weakly, still panting and slumped shamelessly against his lover's body, making no effort at all to support himself. "Oh."

Severus, gasping, made no comment, but reached for his wand, and Harry heard the familiar "Abstersi" that wiped them both clean, not only of semen but of the oddly-coloured lubricant. He blushed, relieved that Severus wouldn't have to...er, wash it off him.

"Useful spell," his lover said dryly. "You might want to consider using it on your clothes. I've noticed you've been wearing the same ones all week."

"The house elves clean them," Harry pointed out, too sated to get indignant.

"You use the house-elves?" Severus asked, mock-surprise bleeding through his voice. "You, Harry, subject them to such unspeakable slavery and torment?"

"That was Hermione's thing," Harry said warily. "Not mine." No, please not now, don't pick on my friends now. Not tonight. Just us, just let it be us in here.

Thankfully Severus didn't say anything else, and they sat together in the tub until the water began to cool. Rather than add more warm, Severus rose and pulled up Harry too, whose muscles still didn't want to cooperate completely. "Lazy little wretch, aren't you?"

"S'all your fault," Harry said cheerfully, letting himself be wrapped in one of the large fluffy towels before taking hold of it himself and beginning to rub dry. "Thank you," he added shyly. "I, um, liked the tub."

Severus, in the middle of towelling off himself, paused and pursed his lips, glancing at Harry and not quite smiling. "You're welcome, I suppose."

"You suppose," Harry snorted, and surprised them both by kissing his lover's cheek. It was a pretty soppy thing to do, on reflection.

An awkward instant passed before Severus said acerbically, "Yes. And I also suppose you'll want to follow your usual routine of collapsing in my bed and hogging all the blankets?"

Harry opened his mouth to object, and yawned instead. "Yeah," he confessed sleepily, and added, "I don't hog."

"Oh no? To bed with you, then." Severus really was much more agreeable after sex, Harry reflected as he hurried into the bedroom, hopped into bed and snuggled down into the cool blankets, shivering and waiting for his body heat to warm them up. A moment later Severus emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his robe (something Harry hadn't bothered with) and accompanied by the sound of draining water from within. Harry, who had left his spectacles in the bathroom along with his clothes, squinted at the dark outline of his lover in the firelight as Severus slowly approached the bed, snuffing a candle on his desk, and then shedding the robe and climbing in beside Harry, who laid his head on the thin chest.

They were silent for a few moments.

"Tomorrow," Harry began, and to his surprise Severus laid a gentle finger on his lips.

"Yes," he said solemnly. "Tomorrow." He took a deep breath, and Harry's head rose and fell with his chest. "I don't suppose there's too much I can say. Nothing must seem out of the ordinary."

Harry swallowed hard. Back to the scowls and general evilness, then. Back to the sniping. It would be nice, knowing it wasn't real any more, but it would be a strain all the same.

It was also their first and best defence against getting caught. Again, that is.

"Remember Mr. Malfoy saw us once," Severus murmured, echoing Harry's thoughts. "And he will assuredly know by now that I am not, in fact, dead. Or if he doesn't," a very unpleasant chuckle, "he will receive a great shock tomorrow night."

Harry couldn't help a small smile at this. It didn't sound like Draco would be the star Potions pupil this year, and now there was definitely a warm satisfied glow in his stomach that didn't come from sex.

"We must be careful," Severus continued quietly. "That is all. Willing to change plans at the last minute; willing to hide and willing to lie." A snort. "Be good Slytherins, in fact."

Harry thought about telling Severus that the Sorting Hat had nearly placed him in Slytherin. No doubt his lover would be interested in that. But even now the idea stuck in his throat and he kept silent on it. Instead he asked, "How will I know when I can visit you? Or let you know if I can't?"

Severus shrugged. "If we happen to run into each other, let me know. If not -- simply don't show up. I assure you I will understand. For my part, I will find ways to contact you."

Remembering the note on his bed, Harry supposed Severus could, at that.

"And I think," Severus mused, "that we might arrange for you to have some few detentions -- "

"No!" Harry sat up then and frowned into his lover's surprised face. "I worked hard. I want to make good marks in your class -- I don't want to mess up on purpose. Or lose Gryffindor points just so I can do what I want."

Severus made a face. "Definitely not Slytherin enough," he muttered, and Harry felt a guilty knot in his stomach again. "All right. Assuming you never make a mistake in my class, which I doubt, then you have a free hand to mouth off to me on predetermined days, and I will give you a detention without taking points from Gryffindor. We should be able to get away with that once or twice. All right?"

Harry subsided, grinning suddenly at the idea of mouthing off to Professor Snape and then being rewarded with sex. "Yeah. Very all right. But what days -- "

Severus yawned. "We'll work that out later. For now, suffice to say you won't be able to come down tomorrow night, or maybe even the next."

Harry nodded gloomily. Nobody went to bed early the first night back at Hogwarts; they were all up late in the Common Room, chatting excitedly and catching up on news until curfew, and then sat in the dormitory rooms and whispered all night long. Normally he loved it. This year he'd be wishing he was somewhere else entirely. Weird.

"Get some sleep," Severus advised him quietly, almost gently. "You'll have to leave even earlier tomorrow...the house elves will be up and about at insane hours with preparations."

"Yeah," Harry said, and couldn't help wriggling in a little closer to Severus. His lover didn't object.

His life, never simple, was about to get very complicated indeed. Suddenly the chess metaphor ("simile," his brain reminded him in the Snape-voice) didn't seem so silly after all. Best to get a good night's sleep before everything got spun into a whirl tomorrow.

He closed his eyes dutifully, but couldn't fall asleep for a while. He could tell Severus was awake as well, and, by the time Harry finally dropped off, still was.

Complicated.

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