Author's Note: This is an outtake from the novel Civil War. It picks up immediately where the chapter "Brevis Tui Tempus Est" leaves off and, while it makes a nice piece of smut on its own, it contains several details pertaining directly to the main novel (several of which will make certain points of the story clearer), and the exact situation makes absolutely no sense on its own.
Disclaimer: Sorry, Jo. I’ll give them back when I’m finished.
Harry found a tiny, sharp stylus buried on the desk. With unusually steady hands he scratched his own scant legacy: Harry James Potter. His parents would have to forgive him for tacking their name to the Snape family roster. “Is that okay?”
Severus inspected his work. He grunted. Never taking his eyes off the watch he asked softly, “Do you understand the consequence of what you’ve done?”
Harry raised an eyebrow; a flash of annoyance burned his chest. “Of course I do, you git. Someone has to make sure you don’t blow up the school.” He swallowed – what had he just done? A floppy, jumpy feeling replaced the annoyance. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it certainly was novel. The watch trembled. It took a minute to realize it was due to his hand. Hell, his entire body. With a few scrapes of steel on bronze he’d gone from Harry Potter shagging his teacher to…
Sev stood up. He looked blank, waiting. The invisible upset beneath his skin was more prominent than usual. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck and dragged him down. There was nothing tentative or unsure about that kiss. Harry felt long fingers press into the middle of his back. They kept him close to that long, slender body he’d bound himself to. When the kiss broke they took the sides of his face. Sev looked down at him, solemn and stoic and a little bit pale, and his low, deep voice felt like the softest leather on skin.
“Mei maritus es.” Harry must have looked puzzled – he didn’t know that particular word. A sharp thumb stroked the corner of his mouth. “Husband.” The jumpy feeling started in his diaphragm again. It made breathing tricky. Blood rushed haphazardly, now to his head, now his extremities, now pooling and filling his heart to bursting, now pooling and trying to burst something else. Lips parted and eyes bugged he pulled himself up for another kiss. His sleeve had fallen back and Harry saw that his forearm was pale as pearls. His short, shaky fingers clutched at the neck of Sev’s robe. It took quite a lot of effort not to shred the thing.
Harry climbed Sev’s long body and fixed his legs around that narrow waist. Severus groaned slightly and staggered back into his chair. It rolled backwards into the wall. Sev’s teeth came down on Harry’s tongue on impact. A burst of mild pain taunted his nerves and his eyes fluttered. He moaned softly. Sev’s heart fluttered beneath his breastbone hard enough for Harry to feel through layers of fabric. The man kissed his way down Harry’s chin, nudging his head back with his beaky nose. A warm, wet, tapered tongue slid into the joint of his clavicle and ran up the front of his throat, inciting a small cry. With every long, slow lick a little more of his body tingled. They started in the middle and spread outward, first one side, then the other, far enough around to catch the charged line from his shoulder to just behind his earlobe. Harry panted heavily. He wrapped a hand tightly in wiry black hair and hung onto Sev’s back with the other. The top two buttons running down the nape of his neck loosened under sallow fingers. Harry tilted his eyes down enough to see the haughty black embers edged with a midnight rainbow of lash. They flicked to his and narrowed in a wicked smirk. He whimpered, nails digging into Sev’s back, when the man tugged down the cloth around his neck with his teeth. Sharp suction made it a gasp. Oh, god, the things that man could do with his mouth. Harry was going to have quite the mark under his collar.
The strength in his legs began to ebb and Harry found himself firmly straddling Sev’s lap. His feet were planted either side of thin hips; his legs folded tight, pressing them chest to chest, belly to belly. A wash of nerves prickled up Harry’s body again. Oh, god, I’m married to the Potions monster! A shiver raced out from his solar plexus. The teasing at his neck stopped. Sharp blackness caught him. “It’s not terribly like you to be reluctant. Or do you only respond to being debauched out of wedlock?”
Harry’s mouth tightened. A flicker of terror, of the seeds of crippling sadness, surfaced in the subtle weave of muscles under skin like a haggard moon. His heart lurched. Quickly he plucked off his glasses and dropped them on a nearby shelf. Flat palms worked between them and Harry could feel the violent iamb trapped in Severus’ ribcage. “I want you out of these robes, on the desk, right now.”
He’d barely completed the sentence when the pointed tongue that had so thoroughly studied his neck did the same to his mouth. Harry mirrored it eagerly. A wicked moan waxed in his throat with every touch against his tingling palate. The tingle was matched by most of his body; his moan was underlain by Sev’s steady, building growl. Unconsciously, Harry flexed the muscles in his thighs and gasped at his own squeak. The tongue-tip tracing a thorough spiral around his own shuddered to a halt. The groan that followed tasted metallic, feral, of pheromones and cherries. Harry barely had time to ready himself before he was swooped up and pinned on the desk.
Sev leaned close. His weight on Harry’s breastbone tickled with promise. Hot, moist breath danced about the ridges of a sensitive ear. “Semper, mei maritus.” Harry whimpered. The rich sound resonated through his bones, firing out through nerves and culminating in a spark between his hipbones.
“Semper… oh, god.” Harry’s breaths were ragged as Severus lay his parted teeth over the cartilage of his larynx. He felt the jagged sharpness graze his skin, and the trusting stroke of a tongue. His fingers dug into prominent shoulder blades and he bucked. The hands he didn’t even realize were clutching his hips squeezed in response. All he could see was a broken strip of uneven light through the cage of his lashes. “Please, please, please, please, please do something!” Harry felt as though his skin was going to pop.
And just like that he was gone.
A small keen rose up from Harry’s gut. Weakly, he lifted his head to see Severus standing a foot or so back, smirking. He had to squint to see much detail. Slowly, obviously teasing, Sev shook his birthday-clean, wiry hair off the back of his neck so it hung in an ebony curtain around his bowed face. Harry could only stare dumbly, lip slack, panting, as those long, graceful fingers stained by years of caustic ingredients trailed to the tiny hooks holding closed the stiff collar of Severus’ robes. It slipped gradually, a little more with each painfully slow motion, revealing smooth, bone-pale skin that looked like it had never seen the sun. At sight of the dip of Sev’s collarbone Harry hissed. The distortion in Harry’s own robe was quite, erm, prominent.
Sev’s eyes found it. A slow, ominous smile spread over his face. “Naughty, naughty, Mister Potter. One might almost think you were njoying yourself.” Harry shot him a scathing look. He yowled when a sharp hand pressed against him. He could feel his mouth working, his lips trying desperately to form some sort of request, but nothing came out save thin squeaks. “What’s that? You want me to… call you a guinea pig?”
“You fucking tease,” he managed. It was followed by a yelp and something like, “Ahhh… ahhh… ahhh…” when the hand squeezed and abruptly let go.
“Tease, yes. Fucking… only if you ask nicely.”
“Please.” Sev seemed to think for a minute. Absently, he fingered his loose collar, bringing more pale flesh into view. For once he didn’t have his shirt underneath. He’d planned this. The greasy, sodding, horrible, vicious bastard had planned it and, for the love of god, Harry loved every second. “Please!”
Sev’s mouth opened with a wet smack of lips. “Perhaps.” Harry’s head thumped the desk. Dry sobs built in his chest. His toes within their worn sneaker confines scraped the floor. He nearly screamed when the mouth closed over him through too many layers of cloth.
“Oh, my god. Oh, my god…” he clutched that long, smooth hair. It was really rather difficult to keep hold of when it was clean: slick and stubborn and insistent on its freedom. As Harry’s eyes rolled back at the moist dispersion of air through his clothes and a long whine started in his throat at the vertical pressure of lips it struck him how strange it was that something would be easier to grip when it was greased. That thought snapped and he nearly shrieked at the clench low in his hips when cool air was sucked hard around his tip and the straining flesh was almost allowed to join it. Sev pulled back again and smoothed his hair, looking quite pleased with himself through Harry’s endorphin fog.
“You’ve gone a bit flushed. Perhaps you ought to rest tonight? All that Quidditch is sure to have tired you out.”
“P’r’aps you ought to do something besides talk!” Harry wheezed. The sizzle in his cheeks felt crimson. One hand crept up his hip and he whined when Sev picked it up and kissed it.
“Something besides talk,” he mulled, cradling Harry’s hand against his cheek. His breath pierced Harry’s robe and tickled an already sharp nipple. Harry groaned and wrapped his legs around Severus’ thin hips. Wantonly, he tried to grind himself against them; Sev never let him come within an inch. “You know, Mister Potter, someone might actually think you find me arousing.”
“Just shut up and fuck me already.” Harry’s teeth clenched until he thought one would crack.
Severus raised a languid eyebrow. “You need to learn patience.” Harry whined. He looked up with the most pleading expression he could muster. Given the circumstances, that was saying quite a lot. Sev pulled himself straight. The sinister curl on his lips sent a shiver over Harry’s skin. Slowly, oh, so slowly, he tugged the robe off his left arm and tucked it inside. A moment later his right wriggled in. Harry giggled. Sev shot him a disapproving look. Instead of a flaying verbal retort, though, he moved a hand inside his robe. Harry’s eyes widened the same moment Sev’s closed. “Oh… my,” he panted, painfully slow fist coming within a quarter inch of Harry’s clothed but plainly offered groin. His head tipped back, revealing the red-ripe-peach flush running quickly up his neck to his narrow face.
Harry choked on a sob. “You greasy bastard,” he rasped. Sev lifted his head and beamed.
“Is there something you’d rather I do?” Harry pushed himself up on his elbows.
“A slow, hard screw on the desk comes to mind!” Severus looked thoughtful for a moment. His teasing strokes never stopped; he shuddered mightily at one particularly deliberate one. Growling, Harry leaned forward and yanked up Sev’s robe. In a minute he’d wrestled it over the man’s head and threw it hard on the floor. He bit his lip at the sight of his lover’s long, lean body, traced with ribs and obscenely clad in gaping violet boxers. Carefully, he pried those long fingers loose one by one and stroked the puce protrusion himself. Sev moaned softly. Harry pulled him down for a slow kiss. “Disagreeable prick,” he muttered against thin lips.
“Lecherous brat.” The rest of the buttons at Harry’s neck quickly came undone and he found himself standing just long enough for his baggy student robe to be pulled over his head along with his scarlet Gryffindor Forever T-shirt. In a moment he’d been pushed back against the desk. Sev smirked. “Now I understand why your Incendius Solution always comes out orange. Really, Harry.” He pulled the safety orange Cannons pants down Harry’s dangling legs and carefully manoevred them over his ancient green tennis shoes. Sev picked up the shirt, held them up to compare. “Honestly. I don’t expect that much from you, but there is such thing as common decency!”
“Oh, yeah, this from the man who wears Bott’s Beans shorts with a Slytherin Quidditch Cup shirt.”
“Bloody good combination, that.” Before Harry could protest he found himself in a long, agonizing, whimpering and groping kiss. Sev’s exposed member rubbed his in not-quite-accidental strokes. He wrapped his arms around that narrow back, eyes squeezed shut, not quite capable of speech. When sound did escape, it was in a long, low, shuddering moan that made the teasing prick against him twitch. Sev’s cock jumped as well.
“Please…” Harry finally groaned into Severus’ mouth. When he opened his eyes he saw a pulsing blend of lust and adoration in those eloquent obsidian eyes he never grew tired of. A shimmer of sweat had broken out on sallow skin; it looked more like a glaze of gold. “Please, now, please.”
Sev said nothing, only cupped Harry’s face lightly in his palms and kissed him. He rest their foreheads together for a moment before skinning out of his shorts and running a long finger along the shelves behind the desk. In a moment he plucked a vial of saffron yellow liquid from beside its blood red twin. Harry’s eyes widened.
Sev looked at him. “Is there a problem?”
“Erm, is that what I think it is?”
“What do you think it is?”
The tiniest of smirks crossed Sev’s face. His eyes glistened with something like pride. “It seems you learned something from me after all.”
Harry’s vicious not on my arse, mate was stilted by the genuine joy in Severus’ voice. In fact, if he wasn’t very much mistaken, the tiny smirk had widened into a sweet, vivid, beautiful smile, shining with devotion and utter happiness. Harry was dumbstruck. God, if he’d known he’d be treated to a smile like that – his heart was quite fluttering through his breastbone – for identifying a potion on sight he would have studied a lot harder. He swallowed. “Are… you sure it’s, y’know, safe?”
A sharp eyebrow went up but amused traces of that perfect smile lingered. “As long as you’re not planning to do unspeakable things to my Incendius Solution later tonight, then yes.” Severus set the bottle on the desk next to Harry and pulled him to a sitting position. The softest of kisses brushed against Harry’s lips and lingered. It drove out what little dungeon chill broke through his flush. He nestled into that thin chest, arms lazily swung around to tease the bumps of Sev’s spine. The watch ticked softly on the desk next to him.
“Thank you,” he murmured. Sev tilted his chin up and kissed him once again.
“On your stomach.” Harry didn’t waste time chatting. As he stretched out, toes barely pressing the floor, he saw the mess of books, papers, assorted bits and bobs scattered on the floor. He smiled. Hagrid’s logic puzzle was under what looked like a picture of a horse. Harry squinted. He only wondered a moment where Sev got it before weight on his back urged a soft moan from his lips. Slow kisses trailed down his neck, his spine, pooled at the small of his back. Warm breaths rushed over the tingling curve of his arse. A sharp cheekbone pressed into his sacrum and he let a soft sigh of contentment when the first slender finger slipped inside him.
“I love you,” he whispered before he could catch himself. The gentle finger stopped. Harry held his breath; last time he said that he’d spent the night in Gryffindor Tower too terrified to cry.
“I know.” Sev quickly went back to his attentions. Harry thought he felt warm wetness just below the long lashes tickling his back. He unhooked one set of fingers from the edge of the desk and found the hand rubbing his side. He grasped it; it grasped back. Harry closed his eyes, and gasped when a second long finger slid deep and delicious. He purred. For longer than he wanted to track he lay there, pressed between the desk and Severus’ cheek, soft, teasing waves of bristling nerve endings drawing low moans and mewls. He pulled the slender hand to his lips and left them on Sev’s knuckles. Suddenly, utter pleasure detonated deep inside him. It echoed through his organs and broke through his mouth in a gasping scream. A moment later it hit again and just in time he remembered to bite his own hand, not Severus’. Ever since the Death Eaters sent him back he’d hated to be bitten. Harry learned that one the hard way.
A third wave broke his jaws open. “PLEASE!” Blood pounded in his vessels. He could feel it course into his brain, feel every clear surface of the great artery on each side of his neck. He grasped that hand harder, pulling it to his chest, breath tremulous and his free hand clutching the desk for dear life. “Oh, god, Severus, please please please fuck me, please…” Harry choked when the fingers went away.
Sev’s cheek lifted. He gently shook Harry’s hand away and clutched his shoulder from beneath instead. Harry squirmed. One sneakered foot tried to hook behind Sev’s ankle, to draw him closer, but he trembled so much he couldn’t keep hold. Severus leaned over Harry’s prone body and kissed his cheek. “Mei maritus, semper fie et semper tui sum.” Harry didn’t understand all of it, but the deep, buttery sound, slightly gravely with need, sent a ripple down his back.
“Tui sum…” he echoed, and tried to spread his legs even wider. One foot wouldn’t even touch the floor anymore. Gently, Sev readjusted him. His forehead pressed between Harry’s shoulder blades and Harry cried out when the spark of pleasure fringed with a catalyst of pain radiated outwards. Severus slid his other hand under Harry’s chest, brushing a nipple deliberately as he passed, and tucked it around a smooth shoulder like the other had. He pulled himself in. Harry could feel his slim muscles working, trembling, arms trying urgently not to go too fast. When Sev finally collapsed across Harry’s back, the hard rise and fall of his chest and the harsh, short moans with every breath nearly pushed Harry over.
Harry lifted his head to turn it slightly and found that his neck wouldn’t completely obey. Sev moved just enough for his cheek to rest on Harry’s temple. Those eleven inches he had on Harry could come in so handy. Harry nuzzled his fingers, and felt the lines around Sev’s mouth lift and vanish in a warm smile. When he finally started to shift his hips forward and backwards it was gentle, entire, and almost painfully slow.
“Did you ever think you’d have James Potter’s son pinned under you on the desk?” Harry giggled when Severus made a noise of revulsion.
“No, and I can make sure I don’t if you don’t shut your mouth!” Sev blew hard on the back of Harry’s neck; Harry keened. “Insolent, obnoxious little brat.”
“Greasy, big-nosed bast—oh, god, do that again.” Sev obeyed, and Harry cried out. Severus twisted his hips a third time and Harry’s fingers tried to dig into the wood. “Oh, my god.” Harry’s breathing quickened. His member thudded the edge of the desk as the tempo increased. Where on Earth did Sev learn to do this? The tiniest change in angle or depth sent a new shock wave through his nervous system. Faster, harder, shallower but never staying the same depth for long – one moment he would be deep, deep inside, the next nearly pulling out and treating Harry to the moan-yanking swell of penetration over and over and over and over and…
Fingers tightened on his shoulders. Hot, hoarse breaths ran down and around his neck, kissing his chin, his collarbone, his throat and ear. Harry started to cry out with every push, every pull. The desk had nearly rubbed his front raw, nipples puckered and pink against the cool, sweat-slicked wood. Severus matched his cries soon enough. He shifted once more and focused on that spot that drove Harry so, so perpetually insane—
Harry screamed. It echoed, loud and long and heady, Severus’ name magnified a thousand times. The sparks that had been filling his gut burst forth in a fireball of rebounding sensations. Everything, the light, the weight on his back, the gorgeous pressure inside him faded to white. Searing liquid dribbled down his leg.
When he came back god-only-knows how much later, Sev was kissing the back of his neck, moving slowly in and out. Ripples of warmth and comfort surged through Harry as he did. A tired smile to match his droopy eyes covered his lips. He relaxed, simply enjoying the warm, loved sensation of sex after sex. Severus’ sharp breathing picked up with his speed as Harry regained consciousness. It started another chain reaction deep within him, but this time in his head and the middle of his chest rather than between his hips. The butterfly feeling grew to great birds flapping and soaring and a surprising moan escaped his throat when Sev started to murmur, “Mei maritus… oh, god, my Harry…” The sound grew, the pace grew, the force and the need inside Harry’s chest grew.
Suddenly, Sev threw his head back and stiffened. An oddly stifled cry filled Harry’s ears just as wild jerking and bouts of warmth triggered a burst of immense heat flowing out from his brain, his heart, his lungs, his Severus, his maritus and his whole world…
It was some time later that Harry was cuddled in Sev’s lap with his head resting in the crook of that long neck. It occurred to him that Sev was getting a bit thin. He smiled softly – all things told, his activity level of late was rather more than it had been, say, in March. A bit more to eat and he’d be right as rain. Harry yawned. Sev lifted his chin with a sharp finger and kissed him. “Go to sleep.”
“M’not,” yawn, “tired.” Harry snuggled closer. It had certainly been the most memorable birthday he’d ever had. A sleepy smirk crossed his face as he wondered what next year would bring.
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