Havoc of the Opera
Chapter 21 - Just One Night
Snape kept the door open while Harry had an absentminded look around, stepping aside when Harry turned to face him. Beside him, the door gaped open. The office beyond it was witheringly dark.
'If you're entertaining any thoughts of leaving, this is your chance to do it. You won't be given another one.'
Harry fastened his gaze on Snape's calmly, drew his wand and pointed it at the door, which closed with a resounding slam. He flung the wand to the bedside table, waited for silence to set in again, and only then did he sit on the edge of the bed, observing as Snape turned to ward the entrance.
Harry waited patiently, wondering if he would know what he was expected to do. He wasn't exactly knowledgeable in this area, after all. Perhaps he should tell Snape? Did people say this sort of thing in these situations?
He ultimately decided against it. He was a Gryffindor. If everybody else survived this, so would he. The clatter of Snape's wand as it was carefully set on the sideboard snapped him out of his reverie.
'Any reference to my status in this school, any word that even remotely reminisces of it, and you will be back in your own dormitory, in such pain that physical activity will put you off for a long time,' Snape informed him plainly, his back turned to Harry.
'Very well,' Harry agreed, a bold smile creeping onto his lips. 'Are you just going to stand there... Severus?'
The word felt foreign on his lips, but there was nothing else Harry could call him, nothing else he wanted to call him. Hardly anybody called him Severus. Harry wanted to be part of that select group.
And even so, time seemed to have come to an unbearable stop as he waited for Snape's, Severus', reaction. It took him such a long time to move than when the teaching robes slowly slid from his shoulders, Harry's first thought was that it had been a trick of the mind, provoked by his fixed gaze.
When the man finally turned to look at him, Harry was momentarily reminded of the fact that he was a Death Eater, that they were in a warded, secluded room, and that there were decades of hatred between them. Perhaps it had been unwise to surrender his wand so soon.
Severus gestured subtly and Harry forgot about these concerns. He lied down, somewhat rigidly, kicking off his shoes as quietly as he could on the way. Snape approached. Harry rolled over instinctively, resting his head on his arms, and silence followed. The only sound reaching Harry's ears was that of his own breath echoing in the hollow space between his arms. Then there were footsteps. Snape was pacing around the bed, taking in the sight.
Harry breathed in deeply, impatiently. A touch finally came, a light, negligent running of fingertips across the back of his legs, running up his thighs, reaching the small of his back in a flutter so slight that it was almost nonexistant. Harry shut his eyes, focusing on it. But then it was gone, and fingers wrapped firmly around his heels, sliding him down the bed, stopping only when his legs and knees sat on the floor.
Harry gripped the bed linen, which, too, had slid down, wrinkling uncomfortably under him. A leg had insinuated itself between his, and he half-expected some sort of brutal turn of events, but it was out of his hands, now. It was a surprise to feel his jumper being lifted gently, his shirt untucked neatly. A warm, moist breath met the exposed sliver of skin, rippling under his clothes, all through Harry's body. The breath slithered upwards, followed by hands that crinkled the fabric, slipping under his collar and pulling his head back.
The feeling of a solid, heavy body descending onto him told Harry that he wasn't about to sit there waiting for stuff to happen, even if that was what was expected of him. He hoisted himself back onto the bed with some difficulty, rolling over to face... an unmistakeably pleased expression on Severus' face. The temptation was irresistible. He tangled his fingers in the mass of buttons on the front of Severus' coat, unbuttoning them nimbly just as he levelled his face with Severus' for a deep, wanton kiss.
The last button was finally pried open, and Harry pushed at Severus's coat, letting it pool around the other's arms unconcernedly, kissing him more fiercely still. Barely a second had elapsed before Snape broke the kiss to rid himself of the coat, simply, unpretentiously. He was torturingly slow in removing Harry's jumper, though. Finally, they faced each other, in their shirts. The two rows of buttons on Severus' shirt were disheartening to Harry, who kneeled on the bed to kiss him again, his hands running over the barrage of buttons casually, snaking between their bodies to unfasten Severus' belt.
The very moment he touched the buckle, Severus tore his mouth away from Harry's and shoved him down with a disapproving look. Harry groaned inwardly, the linen under him much too cold after the bodily contact. A knee hovered just above his crotch to prevent him from sitting up again. Harry's hips jerked upwards of their own volition, while he closed his eyes and attempted to control the anticipation.
When he stopped fidgeting, Severus' knee left its precarious position and he lied down beside Harry, leaning heavily on him, taking in his fiercely shut eyes, the fists closed on the rumpled linen, the thighs, aquiver with Harry's effort to keep his body still. He ran his fingertips through Harry's hairline, let them skim the countours of his face before gliding his hand across Harry's neck, sliding it down Harry's chest. When his hand grazed the waistband of Harry's trousers, he lowered his mouth to Harry's, silencing him with a kiss, knowing, from the pressure of the parted lips, that Harry's breath had caught. Still, his hand travelled downwards, tracing the fly of Harry's jeans, dipping deeper still to drag across the cleft concealed by the fabric. Harry's hips thrust up again and Severus' hand immediately resumed their position on Harry's chest, undoing the top button of his shirt and hooking under the second.
The jerk that sent the button flying off the bed was so sudden that Harry broke the kiss to ascertain what had happened. A ticklish sensation made him look down at his chest, where he glimpsed Severus' hand, middle finger hooked under the next button, but all others spreading, curling, brushing the exposed skin tantalisingly. The sensation was suddenly not ticklish at all. Severus tugged lightly on his hair to remind him there was still a kiss going on. Pop. Another button followed the first. Pop. Another. Severus' hand slid inside the shirt, probing and teasing, and Harry knew that an undignified sound had left his lips.
Again, he tried his chances with the belt, but his move stilled Severus entirely. He broke the kiss to shake his head almost imperceptibly at Harry. Against his will, he replaced his hands tensely on the bed. They were sweaty. But the hand under his shirt was just as cool and collected as its master.
Harry was momentarily reminded of Severus' words about not being a gentle lover. If he had told the truth, he was clearly controlling himself. Was he doing it for Harry's sake? Did that mean that he cared of that he didn't? He knew it was too late for such considerations, but had he really goaded Snape into doing something he didn't want to do?
That uncomfortable thought was Harry's last for the moment, for the last button had just reeled to the feet of the bed and there were fingertips creeping under the waistband of his trousers.
Severus' mouth dragged down his neck, the hand behind Harry's head sliding down his back, and his side, and one of Severus' legs pressed itself between Harry's, and then fingers grazed the small of Harry's back in a way that nobody had ever done, Harry had never done it, and Harry found himself arching up against Severus' body, whether to escape the tantalising touch or to seek a deeper one, he did not know. Severus raised his head from Harry's neck to observe the reactions his hands had provoked. He looked at Harry with an innocent expression that didn't match his actions at all, and grazed the small of Harry's back in the same fashion as before, making him arch up with a hiss escaping his gritted teeth.
Swearing inwardly in frustration, Harry hooked his legs around the one between them, placed his hands on either side of Severus' face, and pulled him in for a searing kiss, rolling them over to made sure that the man's hips were still while he wriggled out of his shirt. Then he grinned wickedly at the body spread out under him, wondering where to start. Severus stretched, crossing his arms loosely over his chest, and looking defiantly at Harry.
Harry decided that a little teasing of his own was in order. He unbuckled his trousers, rose to his knees and slid them down his hips, leaning in to ghost his lips over Severus'. He pulled away to squirm out of the trousers just as Severus started to kiss him back. Severus glowered at him, to which Harry responded with a wink. He slid down from Severus' hips to straddle his knees and finally rid himself of the blasted belt. Having unbuckled it at last, Harry slid it slowly, so slowly, out of the trousers, making sure every movement could be felt through the fabric.
He smiled victoriously when they were finally unbuttoned, and his attention returned to Severus' shirt. He slid up again, carefully avoiding contact with the hips below his, and started unbuttoning it, button by painfully slow button, attaching his mouth to the nape of Severus' neck as soon as it became visible.
Severus uncrossed his arms and pressed them against the linen, as Harry's lips brushed a soft downwards path. When they reached the waist, Severus went absolutely still, as Harry, very, very lightly, replaced his lips with his teeth, grazing a short trail along the fabric, before raising his head with a final blow of moist air. Severus couldn't avoid the instant bucking of his hips. Harry looked up at him in mock interrogation. The gaze that met him was simply predatory. Severus tangled his fingers on Harry's hair, pulling him up. Just as Harry's lips brushed his, he grinned devilishly, whispering 'Nox.'
They were immediately engulfed by the thickest darkness. Harry found himself lying on his back, a strong pair of hands holding him firmly in place.
And then, lips. On his stomach. And his shoulders. And his wrists. Nibbling on his muscles, teasing the skin, moistening his underwear, closing upon it... Harry tried to move his arms, but the grip on them tightened. He tried to move his legs, but Severus lowered his whole weight on them. He tried to make a sound, but Severus' mouth was up there again, drawing the very breath out of Harry's lungs. For a moment, Harry had to let himself be kissed, touched, repositioned. Every time he twisted and squirmed, the pressure increased, to the point, it seemed, that only his mouth was allowed to move. And even it was taken. His lips negotiated some room to manoeuver that allowed him to play with Severus' mouth, pecking its corner, nibbling it playfully, capturing it wetly only to pull away before Severus could respond. It was exciting. It was fun.
Until Severus grew impatient and ground his hips against Harry's without warning. Just once. One... paralysing... time. Harry fell back onto the sheets with his lips parted in a gasp and Severus plundered him with a bruising kiss.
But suddenly... nothingness. Severus pulled away without warning, and Harry blinked in the darkness. Silence and quietude. He sat up and looked warily around. The flimsiest clarity of the night outside filtered through the high window, but it was so faint in the December weather that it just reflected weakly on random glass objects. Harry blinked self-consciously in the dark, not quite willing to leave the bed and go looking for Severus. His legs felt a bit like jelly.
Then, all at once, the bed sagged behind him, warm skin pressed against him, and a long, moist kiss landed behind his ear. There were arms around Harry's waist. Harry bravely fought the urge to press backwards, as it seemed that words were also being spoken.
'Where were we before I had to tend to the logistical details?' Severus purred in his ear, tracing small patterns across Harry's stomach.
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but nothing more than a hitched breath came out as Severus' hands traced a pattern slightly below his stomach. They peeked teasingly inside his underwear. They slid entirely inside it, their movements matching the playful nibbles on Harry's neck. Harry's hands grasped Severus' thighs, his hips dancing forwards, and Severus chose that moment to close his legs around Harry's and grind against him. Harry gripped him in a way that was surely painful. Fingers hooked under his underwear and pulled it down, careful to avoid all friction like that which Harry craved. When it reached his knees, Harry kicked it away and pressed back, drawing a very sharp breath from Severus, whose hands tightened around him again. Severus whispered and a small flicker of light appeared on the wall opposite the bed, just enough for them to see each other's contours, shadows dancing on and around them.
Suddenly, though, something occurred to him. 'Wait! Stop...!'
The body against his froze, but the grip did not ease. If anything, it tightened. Harry, not quite ready to meet the cold gaze that surely awaited behind his back, racked his brains for a way of speaking his mind without embarrassing himself further. 'I-- there's-- hmm. In the other room. Erm...'
Severus didn't budge. Harry took a deep breath, gathered his wits and craned his neck to whisper in Severus' ear. Severus frowned at him, blinked, and Harry turned away again, his cheeks burning. A second after that, the body behind his trembled convulsively, and Harry noted with amazement that Severus was smothering sniggers on his shoulder.
'So that's the reason for that absurd tray. There are more practical ways, you know?' Severus snorted.
'No,' Harry scowled. 'I don't. Remember?'
'Oh, dear,' Severus pressed Harry tightly against him, still fighting his own mirth. His hands slid down Harry's lower back and slipped around the sides abruptly. 'We can't waste all that effort. But later. I have other plans for you, now.' He flicked Harry's wand dismissively towards the door, which unbolted to let in the tray. Once it had landed with a small thud, the door bolted itself again, but Harry no longer recognised the sounds, for Severus' mouth, and his hands, had resumed their journey. It had never occurred to Harry that December was such a hot month, the mere touch of Severus' fingertips, tracing his body negligently, seemed to scorch him, he was melting, he had to be melting...
Severus' mouth pressed feverishly against his again, his arms hooked firmly under Harry's shoulders, and Harry instinctively tried to roll over, but Severus didn't let him, his legs prying Harry's apart, his breath in Harry's ear, 'Look at me.'
But Harry couldn't quite open his eyes, for Severus' hands had descended to his hips again, and Severus' lips were smashing his, and once the hands were back on this shoulders, Harry could hardly breathe, because it burned... it burned, something would surely break inside of him if he moved, so Harry lied very still, his hands gripping Severus' back tightly.
'It'll help if you breathe,' Severus instructed, quite breathless himself. Harry took a tentative breath, and, yes, it helped, but then the world blacked out of his mind, because Severus had moved. And he was kissing him. Under his tense hands, he could feel the muscles of Severus' thin back dancing beneath the skin, in synch with their movements. Another second and Harry's hands dropped onto the bed, taut to the fingertips. Severus' hands travelled down his arms, holding his wrists, closing painfully upon them, they would be sore in the morning. Harry didn't mind. He was glad that something was holding him steady.
They held each other in that trembling, bruising embrace for a long time, oblivious to the castle that slept around them, shutting everything out of their secret, rocking each other passionately, tenderly, briskly, the headboard creaking beside them, pounding the wall, on occasion. Protected by the dark, Snape could smile into his kiss, and Harry could pour into his the words that he daren't say aloud.
Propped up on his elbow, Harry surveyed Severus' thin body, half hidden by the sheet. Angular, bony and unnaturally pale. Nobody had ever looked better in Harry's eyes. He sighed contentedly, pulling softly at the sheet and watching, mesmerised, as the hipbone emerged.
'You're not about to sleep, are you?'
Severus quirked an eyebrow at him. 'Yes, I am. And so are you. Lie down.'
He pulled at Harry's arm and Harry dropped onto him, pouting hugely.
'I'm not sleepy...!'
'And I'm not sixteen. Be quiet,' Severus grumbled, his voice muffled by the arm across his face.
Harry looked him up and down thoughtfully and then he grinned, reaching enthusiastically for the bowl of cream on the tray.
Severus opened his eyes to look at Harry, who now sat on his knees beside him.
'What are you doing?'
'Entertaining myself.” Harry smiled sweetly.
'Not for long,' Harry promised. 'I'm curious.'
'About what?' Severus grumbled, glaring down at the mess Harry was making.
'The elves made this specially for me. And I haven't tasted it yet.'
'Potter, I'm tired. And you shou-- oh. Oh. Don't do that.'
'Yes!' Severus hissed. 'Are you trying to kill me?'
Harry paid him no attention whatsoever.
'You insufferable whelp.'
Harry licked his lips and looked at him. 'Yes?'
'Entertain yourself in a way that doesn't require my active participation.'
'All right,' Harry obeyed, stretching to place the bowl back on the tray.
A moment later, Severus cleared his throat. 'That requires my participation.'
'Not necessarily,' Harry whispered from under the sheet.
'Whelp,' Severus murmured.
At the early hours of the morning, the few ghosts venturing down to the deeper parts of the castle remarked that the dungeons had undergone a peculiarly agitated night.
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