Snape's Home Remedies

Chapter Five

A part of Harry had known it was coming. The rational part berated him for entering the bedroom at all. The irrational element was glad he had. Snape's kiss contained an almost painful desperation and Harry responded to the black hole of solitude Snape had revealed; he felt the dark echo of it in his own soul.

Snape pulled back, obviously surprised at Harry's lack of resistance. Harry's lips curved sardonically.

"You don't want it unless I struggle?" he asked harshly. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"On the contrary. I merely expected you to... defy me to the last in your typical Gryffindor fashion. It would be a nice surprise to have you willing. I've wanted you for a very long time, you know."

Harry's face twisted in distaste and Snape laughed.

"No, not in school. Boys are not to my taste. It was when you fought Voldemort for the last time. I was there that day, Polyjuiced as a minor Ministry official. You stood on that hilltop like a young god finally grown into his power. It was a magnificent sight."

Snape pressed another kiss on his lips, not brutally this time, but gently, enticing, seeking a response. Harry tentatively touched his tongue to Snape's and felt a heady warmth spread through his body as they intertwined. Snape had a strangely pleasant taste; like peppermint and merlot.

"You taste so good," Snape murmured against Harry's mouth, echoing Harry's thoughts. "Let me touch you, Harry." His hand slowly caressed the length of Harry's bare chest and eased beneath the waistband of his pants. Harry's mind was screaming, but his body did not care--it trembled, reacting to the touch with eager anticipation. Snape wasn't waiting for permission anyway. Harry grew rock hard under the long fingers, before they even started to move. He whimpered under Snape's next stimulating kiss.

Severus slid sideways and Harry's suspicions were confirmed--he had slept unclothed. Snape's rigid cock brushed against Harry's thigh as Snape levered himself over Harry. The feel of it was surprisingly erotic and Harry's breath hitched in his throat.

"It gets so much better than this, Potter," Snape murmured and Harry felt something warm and wet touch his anus. He jerked in surprised reaction and tensed when Snape's hard rod pressed against the opening. "Relax... I want to be inside you..."

Harry couldn't quite relax, but he couldn't quite resist either, since Snape's hand was still pulling, caressing, and stroking with maddening efficiency between their bodies. Harry cried out when Snape entered him with a single, almost painful, thrust. He nearly panicked and clawed his way out from under the Slytherin, but Severus held him tightly and thrust again, sending shockwaves of pleasure rocketing through Harry. He arched his back unconsciously and his fists clenched into the sheets, nearly tearing them from the bed.

Snape drove into him mercilessly and chanted, "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" Harry felt the pressure build to an indescribable level and he could make no sound other than animal gasps of horrified delight. Snape's kiss muffled Harry's scream when the crescendo exploded. He spasmed in Snape's hand and fluid cascaded between them, adding lubricant to Snape's continued movements until a moaning gasp and stiffening of his entire frame signaled Snape's release.

Severus collapsed against him and they both lay bonelessly panting in the aftermath. Harry felt bizarrely conflicted; an admixture of contentment and shame. Snape sighed deeply and Harry felt a thumb trace across his forehead, brushing his untamable hair aside.

"Go to sleep, Potter," Snape whispered. Incredibly, Harry did.

ooOoo

A raucous noise woke Harry and he blinked against the unexpected bright light. For a moment, his surroundings were completely disorienting--nothing looked familiar. An arm clenched across his midsection, adding to the unreality until his memory returned with a terrifying rush. He nearly whimpered aloud when he looked down to see Severus Snape's sleeping head nestled against his shoulder.

His blood pressure skyrocketed and he forced himself to remain calm and not give in to the need to hyperventilate. He counted to twenty and would have gone higher, probably into triple digits, if the sound of footsteps on the stairs hadn't jarred him from his task.

"Kreacher?" he whispered hopefully through a haze of panic, praying that one of his friends hadn't picked today to drop in for a surprise visit. He nearly fainted away in relief when the house-elf appeared in the doorway. His relief was short-lived.

"Nasty, hideous Master has a guest," Kreacher announced merrily and stepped aside to reveal an unwelcome sight at the best of times. At this particular moment, Harry thought it might have been a toss-up between seeing her or the Grim Reaper.

"Harry Potter!" Rita Skeeter purred. "I'm so sorry to... interrupt! Your house-elf told me to come upstairs." She didn't look one iota sorry. In fact, she looked like a starving cat that had just been dropped into a barrel full of slow mice. To Harry's horror, a photographer behind her began snapping photo after photo. Harry found himself trying to cover Snape and leap out of bed at the same instant, which merely resulted in Snape sitting up in surprise and Harry hauling half the blankets off the bed when he remembered he was naked. Rita smirked in glee. "Did you forget we had an interview this morning?"

"What interview?" Harry choked, sinking back into the bed weakly.

"Kreacher must have forgotten to put it on Master's calendar," Kreacher said with a wicked gleam in his evil eyes. "Kreacher will go punish himself right now!" The house-elf disappeared and Harry nearly gnashed his teeth in frustration. The house-elf would likely punish himself by cracking open a bottle of Harry's finest scotch and toasting himself to death.

"I say, damned rude to barge into a man's bedchamber," Snape huffed, sounding so un-Snapelike that Harry turned to stare at him in amazement.

"Rodney Snyder-Smythe," Rita purred, slamming the persona back into Harry's nonfunctional brain. "I didn't realize you and Harry were involved."

"Well, I would appreciate it not becoming common knowledge, if it's all the same to you, Miss Skeeter," Snape suggested mildly.

Rita snapped her fingers and waved the photographer out.

"Of course, Rodney, dear," she purred. "I wouldn't dream of invading your privacy. Harry, I'll just reschedule our little interview and leave you two lovebirds alone. Ta, now!"

She scurried out and Harry could hear the excited clacking of her heels on the stairs before the front door slammed. He collapsed back against the pillows in an agony of dread. He could fairly hear the wheels screeching to a halt on the presses as she fled with the scoop of the year.

"I'm bloody ruined," Harry moaned. Snape slid out of bed and Accioed a dressing gown from the wardrobe.

"Surely it's not that bad," he said.

Harry scowled. "Not bad for you! You're not even Rodney Snyder-Smythe! Next week you could pop up somewhere else as Augustus St. Germaine or William O'Rourke! I can't stop being Harry Potter!"

Snape levitated a second dressing gown to Harry, who snatched at it before getting up and sliding modestly into it. He blushed furiously, noting that Snape watched him attentively the while, but the Slytherin said nothing. Harry scowled in puzzlement as he noticed something.

"The Bavarian Flu! It's completely gone. Not just lessened, but absolutely, utterly gone. I feel fine. No congestion, no headache, nothing!"

"You never had the Bavarian Flu, Potter. I lied. You had a bad cold and I dumped a Pepperup Potion into your wine last night. You're cured."

Harry stared blankly at the hated Slytherin for a moment, clearly aware that if one more nasty shock hit him he would have to be strapped to a broom and shipped straight to the psyche ward at St. Mungo's.

"Where is my wand?" he asked calmly. Snape seemed to sense the volumes of unspoken rage hidden beneath the quiet words, for he sidled toward the door.

"I think I'll go conjure up some breakfast," Snape said brightly and bolted.

"I think I'll go conjure up something to crack your skull with," Harry snarled to himself and stalked away to hunt for his wand. The Boy Who Lived had had enough.