nový př 9
Thursday, October 21, 1998 ---- 2:48 p.m.
"Watch the class for me, Potter," said Bryerson under his breath as he passed by Harry, who was walking up and down the aisles, supervising as students scratched out answers to a pop quiz on Voldemort's rise, fall, and return.
Truth to tell, Harry was more than a little uncomfortable with the topic, since he was included as an important figure in the narrative at times. On the other hand, he really respected Bryerson for covering this material at all, let alone in a such a matter-of-fact way. Better than Umbridge, who had taught outright lies about the danger the wizarding world was in, or Harry's Defence teachers during sixth and seventh year, who had basically ignored the entire issue of Voldemort's return.
Some people might say that this was history and ought to be taught in Binns' class, Harry supposed. But the ghost never even got up to the rise of Grindelwald, let alone Voldemort. Not that Bryerson said "Voldemort." Even in the readings the teacher had assigned, it was always "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-etc." The whole thing grated on Harry's nerves, though it was better than hearing him called "the Dark Lord," certainly. On the other hand, it was somewhat convenient that Bryerson didn't expect Harry to use the term "Voldemort," seeing as Severus didn't like him to say it. Harry had been going out to the pitch on his free periods to test his flying speed, which so far seemed not to have increased further over what he'd done on Tuesday. But who knew--it might decrease if Harry started ignoring what he knew Severus wanted from him.
Well, even if the "You-Know-Who" bit was silly in Harry's opinion, he was heartily glad to see the Defence class finally being taught properly. The students needed to know what they were up against. Particularly these students, thought Harry, frowning as he stared at the left half of the room, where the Slytherins first-years tended to sit. He wondered how many of them had Death Eater relatives. How many of them admired those relatives.
How many were just like nasty little Charles Bole, slouching in his usual seat in the corner?
Bryerson had mentioned on Tuesday--again--that Harry hardly ever gave the left side of the room its fair share of his attention, at least in this particular class. Harry would rather keep ignoring Bole's half of the room, but he also wanted to do a good job, and he felt more than a little uncomfortable about the fact that Bryerson had actually used the word "negligent." Harry inwardly sighed as he paced the aisles. He didn't really like any of his options.
Well, he'd just been told to watch the class. The whole class, he knew Bryerson had meant. They were taking a test, after all. It was pretty negligent to not keep an eye on all of them, Harry decided. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look at the back row of Slytherins, then slid his gaze farther and farther to the left, until it rested on Bole.
Oh, God. Harry had forgotten what a spitting image of his brother the child was. It was like the older Bole was right there in the room with him. Only then did Harry realise just how little attention he must have been paying the Slytherins in this class, to forget a thing like that. He usually did no more than give them fleeting glances. He saw Bole out of the corner of his eye, and looked away. It had been enough for him to register the sneering expression often on the boy's face, but not enough for him to really see that face, if that made sense.
Now he was seeing it, though.
And he couldn't seem to look away.
Something in his gut seemed to twist as his fists clenched and his vision actually blurred, he was so angry. It felt like nothing so much as a snake inside him, coiled to attack. Needing to attack. All his memories of London, the things he tried so hard never to think about, swam before his eyes, urging him on.
Harry suddenly felt like he'd lost a span of time, because it came to him in a rush of knowledge that Bole was already dead, and Talmadge too. Severus' doing.
Knowing that didn't stop the waves of anger rushing through him, but it did help him drop his wand back into his pocket. This Bole hadn't done anything to die for.
Yet, thought Harry caustically. It was probably just a matter of time, what with the sneering attitude he'd seen the child demonstrate time and again in class.
Death Eater in training, the words flashed through his mind. Death Eater wannabe.
Even now, Bole's lip was curled slightly as he glanced up, looking around the room. His gaze seemed to come to rest on a Gryffindor girl sitting near the central aisle. A Muggleborn girl, but unlike Hermione, Diana Stebbins had to struggle to learn.
As Harry watched, Bole's gaze filled with contempt, his nostrils flaring as he stared at the girl.
Harry's anger, barely restrained all term, abruptly boiled over into rage. "Mr Bole," he snapped, striding purposely forward to tower over the small child, "in case you had yet to notice, this is a test! Five points from Slytherin for trying to look at a classmate's parchment. Don't let it happen again!"
Bole looked up at him, eyes so sullen they were almost closed. "I wasn't--"
Harry felt a rush of something else flashing through him. Satisfaction, that was it. Because this was so easy. Bole was asking for it, he really was. "Five points for being off-task," he said, barely aware that he was smirking by then. "You're supposed to be working, Bole, not arguing with me."
The first five points had caused only a minor stir in the classroom--students surreptitiously glancing at the back row to see what was going on. The second five points made quite a few students draw in their breath.
Hmm, well Harry had never taken points twice in a row like that, before, but Bole had deserved it, so Harry gave the nosy students a look that had them hastily turning back to their own test papers.
Suddenly, instead of wanting to avoid Bole, Harry was glad he hadn't told Bryerson that he'd rather not help with the first-years' class.
Thursday, October 21, 1998 ---- 3:50 p.m.
Harry didn't know where Bryerson had gone, but he still wasn't back when it was time to dismiss the class. That wasn't typical of him, but it had happened before, a couple of times.
Harry took it as an indication that the man considered him competent to handle things in his absence, though it wasn't lost on him that Bryerson most often absented himself during test sessions. It was a way of shrugging off the less desirable work, Harry felt. Kind of like how Bryerson still made Harry mark way more than his fair share of essays.
Today, however, he was just as glad that Bryerson wasn't back yet.
He waited until Bole was packed up and almost out the door, then called, "Oh, stay behind, would you? Yes, you."
The boy slunk back and threw himself into a chair at the front of the room.
"Five points for disrespect," said Harry, feeling almost giddy by then. He could tell that the point losses really bothered Bole, as well they should. First-years who wrecked their house standing were generally given a hard time over it even in Gryffindor. Harry could easily imagine that the Slytherins would be even more hard-nosed about it. "You're to stand when a teacher asks you to stay after. Don't you know that much?"
Bole mumbled something as he pushed to his feet, reluctance in every line of his body. Harry didn't really catch what he'd said, but he thought it was some kind of reference to Harry not being a "real teacher."
Apparently the point losses didn't bother him enough to make him watch his mouth, Harry thought. He probably thought he shouldn't have to show respect to anybody with a Muggleborn mother. His fucking Death Eater relatives would have made sure that he thought that way. Not to mention making sure that he hated Harry Potter personally.
Not for the first time, Harry wondered how Severus could stand his Slytherins.
"Ten points for stupidity," Harry drawled, watching as the boy's face screwed up into a grimace. But at least he didn't mutter anything else.
No, he spoke directly. "What did you need?"
"What did you need, sir," he corrected the boy, that dark snake inside him twisting again at the thought of forcing Bole to address him properly.
"Sir," said Bole, almost sneering the word. But he'd said it, thought Harry, who found himself satisfied by that, but wanting more.
"You turned in a test parchment that was nearly blank."
"Didn't have a lot to say. Sir."
"You don't say anything on a test; you write things," said Harry, scorn dripping from his voice. It got to Bole. Harry could tell. He liked it. "Now, let's take a look at what little you wrote, shall we?"
Harry took his time flipping through the stack of parchments, though he knew all along that Bole's was in the bottom third of the pile. "Ah, here we are." He began reading out loud, starting at the first question Bole had completely neglected to answer. " 'List at least three criminal acts committed by You-Know-Who or his followers in the last three years.' Well?"
Bole merely shrugged.
Harry looked down his nose at him. "Can't you think of two, if not three? Or failing that, one? What have you been doing instead of your readings, Bole? Five points for laziness."
The boy looked up, eyes blazing. "I do my readings, sir. I just don't much--" He broke off and simply scowled.
Harry didn't have any trouble following his line of thought. "You just don't much like them, is that it, Bole?"
The boy remained mute, his expression stone-like, by then.
"You idolize them, don't you?" hissed Harry, leaning down. "You admire Death Eaters and all they do. You don't much like the critical tone of Professor Bryerson's assigned readings. You don't think that Hogwarts should show up You-Know-Who for the cruel, cowardly, arsehole he is--"
"You can't call him that!"
Harry curled his lips back to show his teeth. "I can call him what I like, Bole. You're the one who has to watch his p's and q's, unless you want to lose even more points. Which reminds me, that's five for forgetting to address me properly, yet again. Now, get to your next class and don't be late. I've no intention of writing a tardy pass for the likes of you."
He'd have liked to keep Bole longer, but Bryerson's next class was due in five minutes. Huh, and Bryerson still wasn't back. That had never happened before. Harry could handle it, though, even if it was a session of seventh years and Ginny would be present. He didn't feel uncomfortable about seeing her, not now. Their talk during the walk into Hogsmeade had been a good thing, he decided. And as for the rest, well, Bryerson's plans were up at the front, weren't they? Harry didn't exactly feel like he could step into Bryerson's shoes, but he'd been working with the man long enough to feel like he could follow his lesson plans.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched Bole scurry from the room, but then deliberately forced his expression into pleasant lines when the seventh years began arriving.
Thursday, October 21, 1998 ---- 6:32 p.m.
"Harry, my boy," said Albus softly, from behind Harry's shoulder as he sat at the head table for dinner that night.
Harry turned around and smiled. For the first time in a long time, seeing the headmaster didn't fill him with a gnawing sense of resentment over how things had turned out.
Albus pulled out the chair Severus usually occupied and sat down in it. "I understand you had a busy day."
"Oh, Bryerson, you mean?" Harry waved a hand, then realised he probably should have put his chicken leg down, first. "It wasn't a problem. When he never came back, I had the students finish their test and then helped the next class practice flash-freezing charms to kill a curse in mid-air. Tricky bit of magic, that." Something about the look on Dumbledore's face had Harry asking the obvious. "Er . . . everything all right with the professor?"
Dumbledore sighed, the creases in his face deepening. "David's fiancée has taken ill. He had to floo to Hungary. He firecalled me just a short while ago to tell me that he wouldn't be back for at least a week. It seems quite likely that Eloise may lose the baby."
"Oh, that's awful," breathed Harry, mildly surprised. He hadn't even known the fiancée was pregnant. "Really awful. I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Am I interrupting something?" asked another voice, a deep one that made pleasant shivers race all up and down Harry's legs and spine.
The headmaster stood up and waved a gnarled hand toward the chair he'd vacated. "Not at all, Severus. Please do be seated. I was just telling Harry that David Bryerson's been called away and is likely to be absent for some days. Harry . . . I know it's a great deal to ask, but do you think you could cover his classes during that time?"
"Oh, sure," said Harry, nodding. "He's always got his plans written out several days in advance. Yeah, no problem."
Beside him, Severus seemed to stiffen.
Harry turned to him. "What? That's hardly a life-altering decision, you know."
"No, it's just a full teaching schedule plus four nights a week of coaching."
"For a few days, is all--"
"No, no, Severus is right," said Dumbledore, his blue eyes looking bemused as he surveyed the pair of them. "Well, right and wrong, I should say. I meant only to ask if Harry would feel comfortable covering the classes he already works with. I'll take charge of the other levels until Bryerson returns."
Harry had to admit, that did sound a lot better. "That'll work. Right, Severus?"
The man's hair swayed a little as he replied. "I think you'll find that handling a class by yourself is far more exhausting than assisting a professor."
"Hey, I did it today. Twice."
"So you did, Harry, so you did." Albus' voice was very soft, then. "And you gave up your free period. Very commendable. Why don't you take the evening off in recompense?"
"Yes, why don't you?" echoed Severus, his voice holding a depth of meaning Harry couldn't fail to miss. More free time in the evenings meant more time for sex, after all.
Besides, if Severus wanted him to take the time off, Harry should do it. It was another opportunity to obey, right? He nodded, even agreeing when the headmaster said he'd take care of informing the team captain. After Dumbledore left his side, Harry vaguely wondered how he knew which team Harry worked with on Thursdays. But then again, the headmaster was reputed to know everything that went on in Hogwarts.
Harry somehow doubted that extended to what went on in Severus' private quarters, though.
He turned to Severus, who was neatly using a knife and fork to eat his chicken leg. "Um, have you had a chance to tell him, yet?"
"About?"
Harry couldn't believe he was asking. Instead of mentioning sex, he went with, "Uh . . . the Quidditch pitch the other night, what I told you?"
Severus' glance at him was cool. "I'd have heard of that even if you'd never mentioned it, Potter. The Slytherins were quite impressed. No doubt word reached the headmaster as well. Probably, that same night."
Potter. That sort of stung. Harry wasn't calling Severus 'Snape' at meals, not any longer, and somehow, it bothered him that the other man hadn't picked up on that. Harry frowned, wanting to say something, but not sure what.
Over dessert--well, Harry's dessert as Severus was only having tea--Severus quietly told him to meet him upstairs. Seventh floor, he said, just before leaving the table.
Room of Requirement, then. Frankly, Harry thought they could have walked there together. So what if the students saw? It wasn't like he and Severus were going to be holding hands, or anything.
When Harry walked into the room, he found it set up much as it had been when he was training Dumbledore's Army. Severus was already there, pacing back and forth before a large fireplace. Harry didn't really remember that from before, actually.
"Just as well you have some time before nine o'clock for once," said Severus as soon as Harry had shut the door. To Harry's ear, his tone sounded a little critical. "We should determine what our crossed powers can do."
Harry ignored the remark about his schedule. The fall term would be over soon enough, after all, and it would be ridiculous in the winter to practice so late. He'd be switching all the teams to earlier times, then.
"Why come here, though?"
"We are experimenting, which means we should be prepared for anything. This room will assist. Moreover, it is the only place besides my quarters where privacy is easily assured."
Right, Harry thought. So maybe it was just as well they'd arrived here separately. Slytherins like Charles Bole would be only too delighted to tell tales to their parents, if they thought Severus Snape was training Harry Potter in defence. On the other hand, Voldemort could probably guess that something like that might be going on. He was pretty sure to have noticed Severus missing at every meeting for a while now. Or . . . had Severus even been called, lately? Harry felt awful that he'd never much wondered about it, not even during the times when they'd made love and he'd seen the awful skull-and-snake on Severus' forearm.
"Um . . . how's your mark?"
Severus turned on a booted heel to stare at him, his robes flaring at the hem.
"I meant, does it hurt a lot, does it--" Harry cleared his throat. "Are you getting called often?"
"No more than has been usual during the last few years."
Harry bit his lip. Severus was just a regular fountain of information, sometimes. He put that thought aside, though. "How do you bear it? Special potions?"
"The Dark Lord's call is an occasional twinge, nothing as severe as you obviously envision," said Severus dryly. "Even if I could repress it, I wouldn't, as it's quite useful to know when his followers are being summoned."
"It didn't look like a twinge the time I saw you get called!"
Severus shrugged. "It was a shock to have that happen so soon after the invocation, let alone while we were actively investigating the nature of our bond. Now, if we could proceed to the matter at hand?" He extended his wand, grip facing Harry, who hesitated a little before taking it. He'd never forgotten how ill-behaved some wands could be for him.
Remembering Ollivander's advice, he gave it a little wave, but nothing dire happened. Snape's wand didn't feel quite the same as his own, he quickly realised. The weight was different. And the balance. And the grip. And of course, magically, it didn't quite speak to him the same way. Snape's wand felt . . . heavy to him, he decided, but this time he wasn't thinking of ounces. It was more like it made him feel sort of weighed-down.
"What's it made of?"
"Ebony with dragon heartstring. Well? Go on."
Harry noticed a chair nearby, though he could have sworn it wasn't there the moment before. "Er . . . maybe you should sit down for this, you think?"
"I think not."
"What if you faint?"
"Cast something. Now."
Severus sounded so determined that Harry decided not to press it. This time, at least. He waved the wand for another moment or two, getting used to it as he wondered what spell to start with. The empty hearth gave him an idea. "Incendio," he incanted.
He felt magic flowing, a little more methodically when he used his own wand, but the spell worked well enough. A spark shot from the end of the wand and ignited a small fire amidst the already-charred wood sitting in the hearth.
"Impressive," drawled Severus, voice sardonic. "Perhaps I will faint at such a sight, after all."
Harry slanted him a glance. "Very funny. I wasn't really trying, I'll have you know. I mean, I was just making sure your wand would work, to start with. This time I'll do what I did out on the pitch, and push myself some. Don't blame me if you get dizzy."
Not much chance of blame, one way or another. When Harry cast the spell again, all that resulted was another spark exactly like the first. Less impressive, actually, since by then the fire was already burning.
"Huh," said Harry, a little surprised. He'd just assumed that what had happened on the Quidditch pitch would translate into stronger spells, as well. He tried again, this time really pushing his power to the limit, the same way he'd tried harder to fly faster, but again, his Incendio seemed to be nothing but a standard spell.
"Perhaps your own wand," said Severus, frowning.
Harry's own wand, though, didn't make any difference.
Severus finally did sit down, his brow furrowed. "Well. It seems my earlier instinct was correct, and it will simply take more time to cross our powers."
Harry sank into another chair, frowning. "Then what was that out on the pitch?"
"You've a strong natural affinity for flying, I think. It only stands to reason that enhanced access to magic would show itself there, first. In time I'm sure that your spell power will improve as well."
"Maybe I need to obey you more," said Harry, leaning his chin on a hand as he stared into the meagre flames in the hearth. "I have really been trying since Tuesday, but even after I asked, you didn't start bossing me around very much. Just during that backrub, mostly."
"I doubt obedience is really the key," said Snape slowly. "Podentes is built on your satisfying me, as you know. And Harry? I never did want a slave, per se."
"Well, I still think we should give it a decent try--"
Snape leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers, his mouth taking on a slant that Harry could only think of as wicked and exciting all at once. "Perhaps we can concentrate on that during our weekend in Cologne."
"Huh?"
The man's voice went silky smooth. "Surely you haven't forgotten. We agreed to go abroad this weekend. To a place of my choosing."
Oh yeah, they had. With everything that had happened since, Harry actually had forgotten. "That was back when we weren't getting on and I thought some time alone might help, though."
Even deeper, that voice. So much so that it instantly stirred Harry's cock to life. "Oh, so now that we're getting on fairly well, you don't want us to enjoy more time alone? Time completely alone, without the prospect of so much as a house-elf disturbing us? Without even a Floo? Time just for us, to explore one another at length, Harry?"
It was probably the Harry that did it. Harry gasped, his cock throbbing, his mind instantly overflowing with ideas about what they could do with privacy like that. "Oh, yeah. That sounds brilliant, all right."
Severus' eyes glittered like obsidian catching the light. "And since you insist, I'll be sure to provide plenty of opportunity for obedience. In fact, I have an idea already about what I'd like to command of you."
Once, words like that from Severus would have petrified Harry. Now they just made him all the more desperate. He shifted in his chair, aware that he was practically panting with desire. "What?"
"Oh, I think it can wait until we're alone in Cologne with an entire weekend to work on it. We'll stay there instead of flooing home each evening, I believe. I want you all to myself."
Harry couldn't seem to stop wriggling his hips, because whatever Severus had planned was sure to be good. Really good, even if Harry wasn't even sure where this Cologne was. Not that he cared. The way Severus was looking at him, they might not even leave their room. "No, tell me now--"
"You're not to inquire again," said Severus, a slight smirk playing about his lips. "How's that for a command?"
Tricky, thought Harry, grinning. "Bit high-handed, but I don't guess I can really object, seeing as I've been asking for it."
"Oh, you're asking for it, all right," said Severus, his dark gaze flicking down to Harry's crotch. Harry felt seared by that glance, even though with robes on, Severus couldn't have seen the bulge in Harry's trousers. But then, he didn't need to see. He knew. He knew Harry.
And Harry was starting to know him. This wasn't just about obedience, it was also about pleasing Severus, and what had Severus said he would like? "Hey, want another backrub? I'm offering. Or would you rather lay back and enjoy a nice long blowjob?"
A four-poster draped with black velvet bedcovers flickered into existence in the middle of the room, squarely in front of the flames, which abruptly leapt higher as the lights in the room dimmed.
"This really is the best room ever," said Harry, standing up to go to Severus. That sense of confidence washed over him again as the obvious occurred to him. "Since our powers aren't crossed very far yet, I guess we just haven't been having enough sex, right? We'd best get to it, then. Just how much does it take to satisfy that large cock of yours, anyway?"
Harry reached down to grab it through the layers of cloth Severus always wore when he was out of his private rooms. So much cloth. So many buttons. Huh . . . all these clothes made Harry want to peel the garments off him, one by one.
"You're the insatiable one," Severus murmured, pulling Harry off his feet in one smooth motion that made him tumble onto the man's lap. Harry hurriedly shifted backwards, so it was his thighs and not his bum sitting on top of Severus' erection.
Severus didn't comment on Harry's sudden movement. He merely brought his head down for a long kiss, his hand lazily freeing the clasp of Harry's robe before reaching inside to unbutton Harry's shirt. Before he was halfway through, though, he broke off the kiss and pushed Harry from his lap. "No . . . you undress for me. Just the shirt, to start."
Severus always had liked him bare-chested, Harry remembered, flexing his muscles a little after he'd dropped his shirt to the floor.
"Come here," Severus groaned. When Harry was close enough, Severus reached out to tug a little at the nipple ring. "This suits you."
It wasn't lost on Harry that the other man truly did find that ring erotic. He never would have guessed . . . Severus had spent a lot of their time together basically ignoring the small metal half-disk, after all. But not lately. Now it was a part of their lovemaking, every time, and Severus couldn't seem to get enough of touching it, or gently sucking on the nipple that bore it. The sensations were like to drive Harry mad. More and more, attention paid to that part of his body sent waves of need jolting straight down to his cock.
"Suits me?" gasped Harry, a little confused by the sound of that, even through the pleasure coursing into his cock. "How can it-- I thought you didn't want a slave--"
"I don't. But I want you. I want you mine," growled Severus, shoving Harry over towards the bed. "All mine. Nobody else's."
Harry gasped, the sound of that reaching deep down inside him, tugging on something.
There wasn't a blowjob, after all, let alone a massage. Snape pushed them both onto the bed, then rolled over onto his back and dragged Harry atop him, kissing him fiercely as his hands roamed over shoulders and hips and thighs. Harry started grinding by instinct alone, his hips thrusting.
"Trousers off," rasped Snape, his voice so rough it almost had a physical presence. "Everything off."
"You too," said Harry, and for a moment there was no sound in the room except the crackling of the fire and the rustling of clothing being hastily yanked off and discarded.
Naked, they reached for each other, side by side on the bed that time, a small clay pot of thick oil appearing from nowhere as they thrust against each other. Severus reached for the pot first, and smeared lube all over both their cocks. Then, arms wrapped securely around Harry, he began thrusting against him, his rhythm firm and steady. Controlled.
Each stroke exactly like the last.
It drove Harry wild. He bucked, trying to increase the tempo, silently demanding more, faster, I need you, but Severus just kept on with his slow, methodical rhythm, until Harry's cock was weeping with need, and his eyes were watering with the force of wanting something so fiercely, and for so long.
Desperate, Harry arched his jaws and bit Severus at the base of his throat .
Severus only chuckled, darkly, and kept up the same maddening thrusting, but when Harry yelped with frustration and bit him again, he moved one hand to wrap his thumb and forefingers around Harry's chin, and pushed his face back a few inches. "No more of that," he said, his voice rasping. "You'll come when I please."
With that, he turned Harry's face to the side, forcibly pressing Harry's cheek against the taut, lean muscles padding his chest.
Severus had never been quite this demanding in bed, this controlling, this dominant. Not since before the invocation, and even then, Harry had almost always been in charge when they'd made love. He wasn't in charge now, but everything was so good, so heated and slick and aching, that he couldn't possibly object. He didn't even want to bite Severus, again. He just wanted to come.
"God," Harry gasped out, grabbing handfuls of Severus' hair, thrusting frantically, his hips rolling forward and back twice to Severus' every once. He felt like electrical jolts were running through his lower body, making it impossible to stop. "Now, Severus, gimme, I need--"
Arching his body, then yanking Harry's face back toward his own, Severus crushed their mouths together in a kiss so fierce that it actually hurt Harry's lips, and finally, gave him what he wanted. Hot, hard thrusts that sent him tumbling over the edge into an abyss. Harry fell hard and fast. He fell like he'd never stop.
He screamed with the force of his orgasm, actually screamed, but Severus devoured the sound with his mouth, and came too, holding Harry tightly against him.
"Wow," said Harry when it was all over. "Oh, my God. That's it, you know. It can't possibly get any better than that."
Beside him on the bed, Severus chuckled. "Oh, but it will. It will only get better and better the more often we make love."
"Practice makes perfect?"
"Something like that."
Harry snuggled into Severus' arms and watched the fire, his hands stroking the bedcovers. "These are really nice. And no wet spot. Great room, this is. We have to come here more often."
"I didn't actually bring you here for sex. I thought we'd need the evening to work on your magic."
The reminder that their powers had some ways to go yet might have depressed Harry, except for the fact that the sex was so good. So how could he object to more of it, if that was what it took? "We were working on my magic," he said, snuggling down. "Sex magic. Mmm. Brilliant."
Harry yawned, starting to drop off, but the sizzle of a spell around him jolted him awake. Oh, just cleaning charms. As Severus lowered his wand, Harry relaxed into the bed again.
"No, none of that," said Severus. "Come along. Home, I think."
"Yeah, home. All right." Harry started dragging on his clothes, making a right mess of it, he was so boneless and exhausted. Being in charge when they had sex, that was always better than good, but Severus in charge was even better, he was thinking. He'd never come quite like that, feeling like his heart would stop, feeling like he'd die on the spot and die happy.
Severus did little more than gather his own clothes into a bundle. "Just come through the Floo as you are."
"Floo?"
"Albus arranged a connection for us. Just for us." Frowning slightly, Severus closed his eyes and appeared to concentrate on something. The bed flickered out of existence. "Best not to be distracted the next time we come, I think."
"Oh, the room'll return to its previous state if you floo up instead of pacing the hall outside? Er . . . what if someone's already in here?"
"I should think the Floo would decline to let us in. We'd probably remain in my own hearth."
"Either that or we'd end up in the headmaster's office," said Harry, laughing a little as he realised he was wearing shoes without socks. "Seems like kind of thing the Floo would do to me."
"Best to be fully dressed when we come up, then."
Severus said that in a sardonic tone, but the comment still bothered Harry a little. "You . . . you don't want him to know how we're doing? When I asked if he knew about the pitch, I really meant if you'd told him about--" He waved a hand. "Us."
No smile in evidence, not now. "If you want to tell him, by all means do so."
"I can't tell him anything!" exclaimed Harry. "The contract would have my head!"
A raised eyebrow was the only change in Severus' expression. "Just what did you want to tell him? Not intimate details, I would think."
Harry felt himself flushing, just slightly, as he imagined telling Dumbledore any of those. "Er . . . no, but I was pretty angry with him for a long time, you know. Over how he didn't help me get out of Podentes. Not that he could have, but I was angry anyway. And he knew it, I'm sure. I just thought he ought to know that it's working out. That I'm happy."
"In other words, you'd like to assure him in general terms that all is well," said Severus dryly. "I can't imagine why the contract would concern you."
Harry spotted a sock and scooped it up, then sat down to take off his shoe. It gave him a moment to think. Severus was right about the contract, so why did Harry still feel that same hesitation about talking to the headmaster. "Um, I guess I just wished you would be the one to tell him anything to do with sex, you know?"
Severus knelt down on the floor, just in front of Harry, and held up another sock. He smoothed it onto Harry's foot as he talked. "Albus knows we're having sex, I'm certain. He won't fail to mistake what that burst of speed on the Quidditch pitch means. And he saw you at the invocation, feeling pleasure at my hand. He knows we're . . . compatible."
"I know, I just wanted to make sure he knows that it's all right with me, now."
Severus' voice was very gentle. "Then tell him that."
Harry made a half-gasping noise. He knew he was being stupid, but he couldn't help it. "But then he'll know for sure that we're having sex. I can't tell him a thing like that!"
"Harry, the man has sex himself, you realise."
Harry glanced up, startled. "You think?"
"Of course!"
Oh, God, Harry could hardly imagine it. Even trying made him feel sort of squirmy. "But he's old enough to be a grandfather! Or in his case, I mean, a great-great--"
"So?" Severus leered at him, actually leered. Which broke the tension and made Harry laugh, actually. "I plan to be having sex with you long past my dotage. Come on, let's go home. You can figure out what to tell Albus in your own good time."
Good thinking, Harry decided as he slipped his shoes back on. He didn't bother fastening them. "Er . . . so if Albus has sex, who do you think . . . er, Minerva?" He tried to imagine McGonagall naked and failed completely. It just couldn't be done.
"I think that's his business."
Harry swallowed, nodding, and looked doubtfully at the Floo. "Er . . . I really do hate that thing. Do you mind if I walk down?"
"Lace your shoes," was all Severus said. A moment later, he vanished in a flash of green fire.
Harry stepped into the corridor, turning in the direction of the headmaster's office, but then decided against it. He really should figure out first how to put things. He didn't want to use the blurt method in front of the headmaster.
Just as well he'd headed back toward Severus' upstairs rooms, Harry decided a few moments later. For whom should he meet, sneaking from the kitchens, his hands stuffed with pastries, but Charles Bole?
"A week's detention with Mr Filch," said Harry, waving his wand to banish the food. "It's past curfew, Bole. What a poor Slytherin you make. No stealth at all."
That got to him, Harry saw. Perhaps worse than anything that had gone before. The boy's face went red, his whole body tensing.
"And five more points from Slytherin," added Harry. "Though you hardly qualify as one, getting caught so easily. I wasn't even looking for students out breaking rules."
"You--" Bole flushed redder still, his anger boiling over into his eyes. "I--"
He was too cagey to say the rest, but Harry read the truth in his eyes. "You what, Bole? You hate me?"
Laughing darkly, Harry leaned down closer to the boy, and spoke in tones low enough that the portraits couldn't hear. "That's fine, Bole. Just fine. I'm not very fond of you, either." The longer he vented his anger, the more it seemed to grow. "Now go.Now." Harry waited until the child was halfway down the corridor before calling out the rest. "And that's an additional week of detention for failing to call me sir."
Composition of Snape's wand: I don't think we have been told this in canon. Perhaps we'll find out for certain in Book 7. The idea I used here came from courtesy of her article located at http://www.half-bloodprince.org/snape_wand.php