Harry Potter and the Dungeon Master
Chapter 2 - Snape's Shame
Harry wasn't the only one who lay awake in bed. While Harry was high in the Gryffindor Tower, Severus Snape was on his huge four-poster bed in his dimly lit bedroom in the lower dungeons.
Snape chose to have his apartments there because he loved the darkness and the quiet that was not available at the higher reaches of Hogwarts. Severus Snape was a quiet, solitary man, who loved living alone in the vast, slightly damp apartments under the bulk of Hogwarts.
But tonight he took no joy in his surroundings. He stared at the ceiling without seeing the dark, sloping curves that he so loved. Instead he saw in his mind, the image of Harry Potter.
How much the boy had changed over the summer! Not only had he become more drawn and sad, much like the Potions Master himself. He had also grown. He had reached manhood. His shoulders had broadened, his face had lost its child-like quality. He had grown in height, although he'd never be quite tall. His voice had become a deep baritone. But most importantly, his eyes had changed. They now possessed such depth and such sadness that they had moved the Potions Master.
He had found Harry Potter absolutely beautiful. He hadn't been able to muster his normal, contemptuous voice when he had addressed the boy (no, the wretched man that he now had become, Snape corrected in his mind).
As he had been walking towards the Great Hall to the Welcoming Feast, he'd had to turn and look back to make sure that his eyes hadn't been deceiving him.
Snape now silently cursed himself for this gesture. Not only had Potter seen him look back, but also he'd seen his Potions Master blush. This was a huge humiliation to Snape.
The reason why he had blushed was because he'd for a moment had indecent thoughts about Potter. He'd imagined what it would be like to run a hand through that tussled black mane, what it would be like to feel those lips against his own. What it would be like to feel Potter's erection brush against his own. But mostly Snape had wondered what it would be like to stare into those now fathomless eyes of his while they lay side by side on soft sheets.
Snape had to shake himself in order to surface from those thoughts again. And he cursed himself for the thousandth time. You are weak. He is just a boy. A student. You could be his father. You are his professor. He is most likely straight for fuck's sake!
Professor Snape managed to work himself into such a fury cursing himself, and the former Death Eater did hate himself most of the time, that he had to take a calming potion in order to sleep.
His last thought before gaining blissful oblivion was this is going to be one hell of a long year.
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