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sua_layAuthor: Rimau Sua Lay
Rating: overall NC-17, Angst, Drama, Action/Adventure, First Time
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco, (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - ?
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Sherbet Lemon?
Summary for Book Three: -Does being a good guy mean you also have to be a nice guy? Draco is about to find out. Companionable silences and fist fights are a good way to hide deeper emotions.
Warning: This part contains mild violence, explicit sex between men, confusion about sex (not non-con really!) and as you can guess, angst.
The earlier parts of the fic can be found here.
Ron loved the way there was time to laze around after lunch.
It was never like this at school. Usually they spent all the lunch hour babbling or snooping around for whatever reason, and then had to hurry to class. Here, he could simply climb the stairs and then flop on his bed when it wasn't his turn to wash the dishes.
That brought a satisfied smirk to his lips. At least that was one thing Malfoy couldn't evade.
Sometimes, Ron spent the afternoon reading or practicing moves with the chess board. This time he didn't bother with either. It was enough to just lie here on his bed and stare at the ceiling. Especially when Harry was lying there on his own bed, imitating his pose.
They hadn't really spent much time like this lately. Every time they spoke, there seemed to be something weird happening; revelations about the Order or insanity about Snape. They never just were, like they used to be back at Hogwarts.
He missed it more than he could really say. Growing up was one thing. Growing apart was something he wasn't really prepared to do. No matter what happened after leaving school, he'd hoped things would be the same between him and his friends, especially Harry.
The way things had been going lately really pissed him off. He'd hoped their stay here would give him and Harry a chance to spend more time together. At first it had seemed as if he'd get his wish, but then everything had gone slightly insane and he wasn't sure what to think anymore. With a guilty feeling, he remembered how bored he'd been after a few days of the blessed relaxation, and now wished he'd never agreed to studying for the Potions exam here.
Hadn't that been Malfoy's idea? Ron let out a muffled snort at that. Of course it had been. Who else would have such stupid ideas but Malfoy?
"Is everything okay?" There was definitely a hint of a yawn in Harry's voice as he sat up to ask that.
Ron nodded, not bothering to even lift his head from the pillow. "Sure. Just thinking." That was the downside of all this free time. Too many chances to think.
"Yeah, it's too quiet here to do anything else," Harry said, stretching a little. "It would be really easy to fall asleep right now." He sounded like he didn't really like the idea.
"I know." It wouldn't be all that good to take a nap, Ron knew that from the experience. He'd just spend half the night awake then, feeling like he was all alone in the cottage.
He listened to Harry yawn again, and wondered what to say next. It was sad somehow; he'd never needed to worry about that before. Whatever came out of his mouth was good enough. Now he felt like he had to weigh everything carefully or else he'd plunge them into the world of weird silences and pain again.
When had that happened anyway? He had no idea. He really wanted to blame it on their time here and especially on Snape, but knew it was too simple an answer.
It was the one thing he really didn't want to think about right now.
Harry was making all kinds of sounds familiar from back home. That made Ron smile a little. Those scratching sounds, and half muttered words were always the same, his friend trying to get out of bed. In addition of not being a morning person, Harry didn't seem to be all that happy of getting up after a brief afternoon rest either.
"I should get up." It didn't sound that convincing, accompanied by another yawn.
Ron didn't even try to muffle his snort this time. "Yeah, right." He'd heard that one before.
For just a brief moment everything felt all right; the companionable bantering and the comfortable silence like the old times. Then Harry got up, not sitting on the bed for a while making more weird noises, but actually got to his feet.
It drove the mellow mood away, leaving behind an anxious silence that was full of anticipation.
"I guess you'll be going to see Snape then." Ron was definitely not looking at Harry as he said that. He'd seen the way his friend was looking at their professor earlier and was certain he'd be sneaking downstairs any minute now.
The only thing surprising him was that Harry hadn't simply gone to him right after lunch. It was an angry and bitter thought, but he reveled in it anyway. Then he felt slightly ashamed by it, glad he hadn't said it out loud.
Harry was relieved he didn't have to lie about it anymore. "Yeah. I think I will."
Even though he had kind of brought the whole thing up, Ron couldn't help shuddering with disgust at that. How on earth could Harry be so happy about going to Snape? He would never understand that. "Oh. Okay then." That meant he was going to stay upstairs. He'd already spent enough time avoiding Malfoy's smirks for one day.
Pretending to be intrigued by the rafters, he lay still and didn't watch Harry walk to the door. The less he thought about that the better.
As the door slammed shut, he shivered. Nope. He was definitely not going to think about anything right now.
Harry sighed as he padded to the stairs. It had been nice to rest for a while and spend time with Ron, but he couldn't help noticing that it was easier to breathe now. Sometimes it felt like there were so many unsaid things swirling around them that it was impossible to find any air in the room.
One of these days, he was going to sit down with him and talk things through. But not now. He had other things in mind.
A grin flickered on his lips, the kind of expression that would undoubtedly make Ron splutter again.
This was the second time he was on his way to Snape's room today. Strange, but it felt like this morning had been ages ago. Harry wondered if this was how most people spent their vacations and if time seemed frozen to them as well.
It was almost a magical feeling, trapped in a bubble of suspended time, his mind already adjusted to the slow rhythm of life. Everything came down to basics. Eating, sleeping, lazing around and shagging Snape. He was definitely not complaining. Compared to the usual ways he spent the early June -- usually either battling against Death Eaters or recuperating from such a fight at the infirmary -- this was complete bliss.
A quick glance at the living room revealed that Malfoy hadn't even bothered to climb upstairs. He was lying on the couch, looking exhausted. Harry didn't wonder. Handling potions ingredients under Snape's supervision was hard work, and Malfoy probably found the chores even worse.
Since the Slytherin didn't even lift his head to look at him, Harry didn't bother to say anything. He simply went on to Snape's door.
Harry rapped on the hard wood. "It's me!" The words made him almost groan with disgust. Repeating himself like this was really stupid. No wonder Snape didn't hold his intelligent in high regard.
"Potter. What a surprise."
Smiling at the sarcasm in Snape's voice, Harry slammed the door shut behind him. It wasn't as if the man expected him to act formally. "Hello." Or say anything that wasn't completely inane.
Snape lowered the book he'd been reading. "Yes?" He sounded completely calm.
"I... Are you still busy or can we... Talk or something?" Harry knew he didn't have to stammer or circle the subject, but somehow he wasn't comfortable with just telling Snape he wanted to shag him.
There never seemed to be any need for small talk between them. At least Snape didn't expect any. It should have unnerved Harry, but it didn't, especially now that they had kind of circled around this the whole morning.
"In case you're actually interested in a real conversation, yes, we can talk." The glint in Snape's eyes said that he didn't believe that for a moment. "And if that was a very clumsy way of suggesting a sexual encounter, you really need to practice your seduction skills more, Potter." Placing the book down, he waited for the inevitable.
Why was it so hard not to blush even now that he had already shared the bed with Snape more than once or twice? Harry sighed. "All right, I'll practice." Dropping all pretense, he walked to Snape and reached out his hand. It was accepted without the word and it was so easy to pull Snape up into his arms.
Hugging Snape never lost its appeal. He simply wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. One of these days he was going to come here and just do this for hours, rest his cheek on Snape's shoulder and feel his arms circle his waist.
"Would it be possible for me to undress you now?" The words came out quietly, accompanied by a kiss to Snape's chin.
He never really knew what to ask. Snape's bluntness certainly suggested he could say anything to describe shagging. The most crass words would be frowned upon, but straightforward questions were always met with a serious nod.
"I must say that's slightly better." Snape nodded. "And yes. You may undress me if that's what you wish." There was no real question of that. Nimble fingers were already moving to his collar.
Snape was familiar with this by now, and didn't need to even think as he slowly started to undress Harry as well. As always, the young man seemed to enjoy unbuttoning both his robe and his shirt, his breathing sounding harsher as he finally pushed the shirt off his shoulders. It was still a source of silent amusement, to see him so lost in desire.
The simplicity of the kisses and touches never ceased to amaze Snape. When he pushed Harry on the bed, every caress was accepted with a sigh.
It was slightly unnerving, but Snape was willing to ignore the feeling.
Knowing they had no reason to rush, he simply lay there. Harry seemed to enjoy slow langurous kisses, so they spent long minutes kissing. It was a good way to slowly build the anticipation. Quite frankly, Snape was awed that Harry had the patience for such a thing.
Kisses were followed by more touches. Harry seemed to be eager to explore more, so Snape allowed him to roll him on his back and then crawl all over him. The kisses and caresses Harry bestowed on his skin were always a mystery to him, for they never went where he expected.
A soft nip on his collarbone. Then fingers tracing his ribs, the touch so light it was almost tickling. Without any sign of the grace evident in him as he soared in pursuit of the Snitch, Harry squirmed around the bed, trying to reach every part of his body.
Snape's hands returned the caresses whenever Harry was in reach, but otherwise he simply lay there. Eyes closed, he let the hunger grow slowly inside. There was no trace of the frantic need that sometimes burned in Harry's eyes, even when he slithered back up his body to kiss him and then roll them both over.
Rocking against him, Harry was building a rhythm that would inevitably lead them both into completion. Snape felt strong arms curl around his neck and obliginly lowered his head to kiss Harry's lips.
Then Harry managed to shock him again.
The movement was slight, but unmistakable. Harry was holding onto him, canting his hips. It made Snape want to bury himself in the warmth inviting him in.
Instead of taking what was so clearly offered, he pulled back a little and looked into Harry's eyes. The green gaze was so impossibly wide and full of trust it made absolutely no sense. How could this young idiot trust him like this? He didn't know whether to rejoice in the look or show him that such trust was almost always misplaced. It wouldn't be difficult. He knew dozens of ways to break a man, and was well aware that he could destroy Harry without ever even touching him.
Snape knew he could do nothing like that.
Harry let out a soft gasp, the sound audible only because of the strange silence in the room. There were no words, no exclamations of passion and pleasure. Only the sound of their bodies moving against each other and heavy breathing.
"Potter." The name came out surprisingly calmly. "What do you want?" Snape's hand was slowly caressing Harry's belly, but he would go no further without Harry's consent. Gasps and moans and movements were not enough. He needed to hear this was really what he wanted.
Harry stared at Snape, his pupils dilated with desire. "Anything." It didn't really matter as long as Snape kept touching him.
"You have to be a bit more specific than that." There was the familiar annoyance again.
"Whatever you want," Harry gasped. He wondered what it would take to make Snape lose his control and what the results would be like. It would probably be something spectacular.
Stilling his hand and moving away, Snape glared at Harry. "I refuse to take responsibility for your actions. Do you have any idea of what..." He cut his sentence, knowing he couldn't say that. Not now. "Never give such power to others, Potter. You never know what people are capable of."
It finally dawned on Harry that Snape was serious about this. It wasn't simple teasing or verbal foreplay.
He swallowed, trying frantically to figure out what to say. Damn the man! Why was everything always a test with him? "I mean it. I want whatever you want to do with me. Touching, tasting, shagging... I want it." There was a small pause before he added, "I trust you."
"Then you're an idiot." Such confidence in his benevolence chilled Snape. He could be a monster. Had indeed done many monstrous things in his life, and here Harry was offering him his body to use. Even abuse.
It was amazing how even that could sound like a caress. Harry nodded. "So you've told me. But I do trust you. And I want you." Rolling to his side, he reached out for Snape. "All right. You want specific?" Mischief shone in his eyes, as he said, "I want you to shag me. Be inside me. Specific enough?"
Snape stared at him for a moment. He couldn't believe the words and the expression on Harry's face were actually amusing. There had to be something wrong with him. "Quite."
Things were definitely not going the way he'd thought they would, but they rarely did.
It seemed like Harry'd had enough of talking. With a twist, he rolled over, accidentally jabbing Snape with his elbow. "Yes. Quite. So how about it then?" Still moving, he brought them back to the position they'd been in, cradling Snape between his legs.
Snape's fingers slid through Harry's hair to hold his head in place. He looked straight into the green eyes, wondering what Harry saw when he looked at him. How could he ask this with nothing but mellow lust in his eyes? How could he trust him with this?
Slowly, Harry lifted his hand to touch Snape's cheek. "I really do know what I'm asking." He sounded almost too serious.
"Yes, I'm sure you do." There was a world of sarcasm in Snape's words. It broke the somber mood.
"I do!" Harry had the strange urge to stick his tongue out. Moving closer to Snape, he gave into the urge, and then let his tongue sweep against Snape's neck. "Of course if you don't want it..."
He knew the response even before Snape snorted. It was almost like a shared joke by now, the half disgusted half amused sound following every wheedling comment he ever made in bed. "I mean it. If you don't want to do that..."
"Do shut up, Potter." Snape could feel the lips pressed against his throat curl into a smile. He let Harry enjoy that little victory for a moment before pushing him back against the pillows.
He kept looking into Harry's eyes, waiting for him to hesitate or have second thoughts. There didn't seem to be any. Only the relaxed silly look and the hint of a smile saying he found this endearing but didn't want to show it. The expression always brought out an exasperated sigh from Snape.
Without more protests, he grabbed his wand and muttered a few words, summoning one of his potions. He'd wondered if they would need it, but had brewed a small amount anyway. Just in case.
He should have known it would be needed. Harry's actions were always rash, so why would it be any different in bed?
The jar was full of clear salve. With a practiced twist, Snape had the jar open, covering his fingers. His gaze was firmly fixed on Harry, waiting for a reaction.
Realizing what the potion was, Harry spread his legs wider, hardening even more at the thought of Snape brewing lubricant. Always so proper, prepared for anything. He'd stood by a cauldron and brewed this potion for them to use. The thought made Harry smile warmly as the questing touch was back.
Even though he had done this before, there was something new and odd in Snape's touch. Harry tried to figure out what it was, unable to grasp it. Then he couldn't think of anything as he convulsed on the bed, arching his back. Oh, this was good.
No fumbling, no hesitation. Panting, Harry realized that most of the things he'd got used to were definitely absent here. Snape knew exactly what he was doing.
His own harsh breathing sounded very loud in his ears.
He curled his hand into a fist. This was good. And bad! There was no way he was going to last till they got to the actual shagging. Reaching out, he grabbed Snape's shoulder, hoping he'd get the hint and knowing he'd say anything to make sure he did.
Satisfied with the smooth slide of his touch, Snape moved the way Harry so obviously wanted him to, bringing his lips back onto his. The preparations didn't seem to be enough. It was clear from the way Harry pulled him close.
Harry kissed him hungrily, sloppy open mouthed kisses devouring his mouth. Feeling Harry's tongue trail over his lips, Snape wanted to say something scathing about slobbering teenagers with no patience or self control, but the small sounds Harry was making were too needy, too nakedly honest. He didn't find them ridiculous after all.
It was actually simpler this way. He didn't have to wonder if his touches were pleasurable. The hitched breathing and the gasps made that quite obvious.
As he watched Harry close his eyes and move to the steady thrust of his fingers, words came to his mind. Old phrases he had whispered to others years and years ago. Always said either with an almost mocking tone or with practiced passion. Never sincere.
They would not be a lie if he let the words out now. How remarkable. Harry was indeed extremely pleasing to his eyes. He did want to do this. Touching him did make him tingle with anticipation of things to come.
He felt no need for the words. They would sound false even if this once they were the absolute truth. Snape didn't want to act as if he needed a script. If they both wanted this, it was enough. The soft sounds Harry was making were definitely better than calculated obscenities or groans of false passion.
Realizing that there was nothing false in this moment, he shifted to the side, removing his touch. A disappointed moan escaped Harry, followed by something very close to a glare.
Snape sighed, seeing Harry was just lying there. "Turn around, Potter." Sometimes he wondered about his intelligence. On occasions like this, he had no doubts. Calling him an idiot was actually a compliment.
There was a firm shake of head as Harry stared at him. Those green eyes were full of hazy need as he reached out for Snape, trying to pull him back against him.
"I see that your libido has destroyed your higher brain functions." No matter how sarcastic and cynical, Harry was still a teenager. Snape was convinced he was too lost in his hormones to actually do anything without guidance. "It would be prudent for you to lie on your belly."
"No." Harry held onto Snape's shoulders, refusing to budge. "Now!" He emphasized his raspy command by wrapping his legs around Snape's waist.
Gaze burning, Snape complied, adjusting Harry's position slightly. If this was indeed what he wanted, he wasn't going to say no. He watched Harry carefully as he started sinking slowly inside him. Ignoring the way Harry tried to thrust against him, he held tight onto his hips. He was going to set the pace here and would make damn sure he was not injuring the overly eager idiot.
It was almost agonizingly slow. Inch by inch he pushed deeper into Harry, breathing steadily in and out, only the small vein throbbing on his temple revealing the strain he was under. The heat and tightness were intoxicating, making him want to bury himself completely with one thrust and then keep moving until he spent.
Gritting his teeth together, he continued the steady movement until he was completely inside.
Snape couldn't move. The grip Harry had on him was too hard, too tense. He didn't know which was worse, Harry's obvious delusions about his own sexual prowess or his own lack of control right now. It had been so long since he'd done this that he'd forgotten how thrilling the simple thought of letting go could be.
This might be slightly harder than he'd thought. Taking deep breaths through his nose, he lay there still, waiting for Harry to either relax or tell him to stop.
He didn't have to wait for long.
Letting out a soft sigh, Harry let the tension ooze out of him. He didn't let go, holding Snape close. It was easy to lift his head a little and plant a kiss on Snape's neck. "You..." His voice had never sounded this thick before. "You might want to move. Like now!" There went his plan of staying in control.
"Are you certain?" Snape asked. The question was only half serious.
"Snape!" It was not a whine but it was definitely far from the angry growl Harry had intended it to be. "Come on!"
Snape's lips quirked slightly as he flexed his hips. The breathless whimper that escaped Harry was highly amusing. With his air of experience, he was still a teenager, overwhelmed by the sensations. He would probably want this to be hot and fast. Like most of the times they shared the bed.
Not this time. Rushing into an orgasm was like using frozen potions ingredients to save time. They'd make the potion all right, but it would not be the same, not as good as one made out of fresh ingerdients.
Besides, he rather enjoyed watching Harry squirm and pant like this.
Not in pain and agony. Pleasure. Want. It was something pure, unadulterated; not a game or torture but a simple drive towards mutual gratification. The gasps escaping Harry and the dazed expression were genuine. Nothing calculated there.
It was a rush Snape had never even thought about. Such things had been utterly meaningless in his life, nothing more than foolish dreams that had died ages ago in the harsh light of the reality.
Control without even a hint of terror. No flinching away from his partner's gaze, knowing that this one time there was no scorn there. Again, this was almost ludicrous in its simplicity.
He kept the steady pace, sliding almost effortlessly inside the heat and not even bothering to control the slight smirk as Harry moaned out his name.
People who had wanted this simply because of Harry's fame were obviously idiots. Youngsters should still be dreaming about romantic impossibilities and not see the pleasure in the green eyes and exalt in conquest only. Was debauchary so usual in their world that they didn't even know when sex was not simply about someone's name? About his scar and the legend about him.
Snape thrust in again, letting that smirk blossom fully on his lips as Harry threw his head back. Coupling with a legend? A very stunned and perspiring young man who was quietly calling out his name and making this somehow even more enjoyable with his obvious rapture.
Teenagers were indeed brainless cretins.
Harry clutched onto Snape, letting out a throaty groan as the man undulated against him. This was pure agony, the slow motions driving him out of his mind. The pressure inside him was building just as slow as the thrusts, little by little taking over his whole body. Too slow. A teasing rhythm that would keep him lost in the need, never really driving him to the edge.
Body flushed with need, he tried to urge Snape on. To move faster, deeper, anything please!
When his wordless urging didn't seem to work, he let out the pleas, panting them out between intakes of breath. "Faster! Oh damn it, Snape! Move!" He swallowed the rest, not wanting to make a complete fool out of himself.
Snape didn't seem to pay any attention to his words.
Slow, controlled thrusts. The flex of his hips almost measured, obviously meant to drive him utterly insane. He could feel it now, his mind already hazy.
"You..." The growl died in Harry's throat. He couldn't even find a word to describe the utter sadism in Snape. He needed him to stop torturing him with this and just move! "You want me to beg?" He was desperate.
He quite believed he'd say anything to have Snape stop this slow torment.
Snape stilled completely. His dark gaze bore into Harry's. "No. I never want you to beg in bed." There was determination in his eyes. "Understand?"
The very serious tone made Harry stare open mouthedly before he could nod. He was certain this was somehow profound, but the fluid thrust a moment later made everything else disappear. Letting out a definite squeak, he held onto Snape as he finally gave him what he wanted.
Deep, hard thrusts. Snape's expression never wavered as he slammed into him. Burying his fingernails into Snape's skin, Harry met every thrust with fervor, groaning out, "Yes!" It became his mantra like Snape's name had been just a moment ago.
His control starting to slip after he let go of that slow pace, Snape closed his eyes, unable to watch the completely wanton young man squirm underneath him. He couldn't just let go. That was not in his nature. Not now.
This wasn't simply about satisfying his own needs. He would make sure of that.
The soft gasps of need were muffled when Harry pulled Snape down to kissed him with fervor. He needed to feel him as close as possible, hold him tight as he convulsed helplessly in the grip of exquisite pleasure.
Snape was glad of the tight embrace, burying his face on Harry's neck as his hips continued to move erratically. Whatever control he had left was melting in this heat, driving him towards completion. It was suddenly too intimate, too personal to share, and he couldn't look into Harry's face until this was all over.
Everything became just a little hazy right then, the arms still holding him, the body that felt almost boneless underneath him. His own breathing sounded awfully loud in his ears.
He lay there for a moment before gently disentangling from Harry. The movement made Harry let out a disappointed sound that died a moment later as he curled against him. Snape wished the idiot wouldn't say anything, for he couldn't process any words right now.
This strange mellow feeling was simply too much for him. The orgasm rushing over him had not been an agonizing remedy for hours of suffering nor had it been a dark and chilling rush like a forbidden curse coursing through his whole body. It had been nothing spectacular.
And yet he was completely undone by it.
After a moment, Harry sighed, "Wow." He sounded completely satisfied.
Snape wondered if 'wow' was the next step from 'nice'. He would have to agree. For a sexual encounter, this had indeed been most satisfying. He didn't say anything, but let out an agreeing grunt.
From the sound of another happy sigh, he could tell that no words were needed.
Feeling Harry squirm closer again, Snape had to wonder if he wanted to lie here for long. He didn't really mind resting for a while after such a vigorous exercise, but every time they moved, he could feel the sticky moisture spread between them.
He waited for some time, simply holding the sweaty young man close to him. He'd come to realize that Harry expected such behavior, and since it wasn't taxing in any way, he might as well indulge him. This way Harry wouldn't make irrational comments about things he wanted to share.
"That was really great!" Grin evident in his voice, Harry muttered the words out. "Thank you."
Hearing the coherent words that went beyond monosyllables, Snape nodded. "No need to thank me." After all, it was not an act of pure altruism; he'd enjoyed it as well. He stayed still for a moment longer and then disentangled himself from Harry, knowing that it was time to go.
He ignored the murmured protests and got up, stretching a little.
"I do believe bathing is in order right now." Casting a disdainful look at the crumpled sheets, Snape pulled a robe on. No cleaning charm would make him completely refreshed after that. The sheets would need some washing as well.
Harry nodded lazily. He didn't really want to move, but knew that lying here for the next week or so wasn't possible. "All right." Of course bathing with Snape didn't sound that bad either.
"Get up, Potter!" Finishing with dressing, Snape went to get clean clothes from the wardrobe.
Stretching, Harry sat up. It took him a moment to get out of bed, but eventually he managed to put his clothes on.
"I'll go and get a clean robe." And some clean underwear. Definitely the clean underwear. "Wait for me."
Snape cast a glare at him, but nodded anyway. "Do hurry up. I don't want to wait here while you and Mr. Weasley engage in pointless chatter." He could see that happen, considering that Harry looked like he'd just had very good time in bed.
He didn't let the smug thought linger.
"I will!" Trying to sound as solemn as possible, Harry padded to Snape to plant a kiss on his cheek. Then he walked out of the room, whistling a happy tune.
It made Snape roll his eyes in exasperation. Gryffindors! You never knew what they would do in a given situation, except that it would be rash and foolish. He didn't exactly mind the soft caress, but it did puzzle him. It hadn't felt condescending, or a demonstration of ownership.
He would probably never understand Harry Potter and his motives.
Harry hurried upstairs, glad that Ron wasn't in their room after all. He could smell sweat and semen on his skin and there was no way his friend wouldn't know he'd been shagging Snape.
Of course he already knew, but seeing him like this would be worse somehow.
Grabbing what he needed, he rushed down the stairs. Snape was standing at his doorway, looking as impatient as ever. Looking deliciously mussed. It looked good on him.
Harry grinned. He'd done that! And now he was going to bathe with the man. This was indeed a good day.
The door leading to the dining area opened, and Harry caught a glimpse of Ron's shocked face just as he stepped out of the cottage. It made him groan. He'd hoped they'd get out before anyone saw them. Too late now.
"Aren't you going to tell Weasley where you're going?" The timbre of contentment in Snape's voice was laden with malice. "I'm certain he would like to know."
Seeing the redhead stare at him and Harry looking like he'd just eaten Longbottom's pet toad alive was still a source of amusement. Sometimes he wondered if Weasley had been born with that expression.
Harry cast an exasperated look at Snape. "Are you daft?" Heading towards the stream, he muttered, "You're having way too much fun with this!"
Deciding not to confirm the surprisingly accurate words, Snape simply followed him. He was amazed by the amusement the situation provided him every day. Maybe this contentment was one of the 'things' Harry had mentioned. It did feel slightly foolish, hence the association with Gryffindor values.
There had been no sightings of either other wizards or Muggles, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be any. As they reached the stream, Snape kept his attention on their surroundings, even as they finished undressing and waded into the water.
He was pleased to see that Harry didn't go too far from his wand either.
Snape relaxed slightly, allowing the warmed water to wash away the sticky moisture from his skin. He didn't reach out for his potions yet, not needing to get rid ofthe scent of Harry that still lingered. Peculiar. Usually he couldn't wait to wash any such scents and bodily fluids off his skin as quickly as possible, scrubbing until there was nothing but the clean tang of his showering gel.
"Can you wash my back?" Harry asked, offering Snape a bottle -- his own brew, he realized.
Silently, Snape grabbed the bottle and then scrubbed some of the potion on Harry's skin. He suspected the idiot would want to return the favor, and only raised an eyebrow when it became obvious that he did indeed. It was all right. As long as Harry wasn't going to do anything else in an open place like this, he could indulge in this foolishness.
The quiet companionship brought back the thoughts Snape had entertained earlier, as he had worked on the potions. This was too easy to get used to; the peace and quiet, Harry's presence that was surprisingly tolerable. He was certain that it was even more so to the teenagers. They didn't spend any time doing anything useful.
Such relaxation was not a completely bad thing. Snape remembered the way Harry had looked when he'd first come to his rooms in the dungeons, and was slightly surprised when he could notice a difference in the young man. He looked healthier these days. Stress and worrying did definitely nothing good for him.
But neither did lulling oneself into a false sense of security. If they spent the whole time here thinking about nothing but this moment, they were as foolish as Fudge was with his delusions.
He was certain they would manage talking about the war here. With Weasley's hot headedness and Malfoy's ignorance, it wouldn't be as easy as the Order meetings he'd attended to, but it would have to do.
He waited until they were both finished with the bathing. There was still a very soft happy look in Harry's eyes, and he didn't want to chase that away before it was absolutely necessary.
"Potter?"
Rubbing his hair dry, Harry cast a worried look at Snape. That tone was distressingly familiar. "What?" It usually meant that he wasn't going to like what came next.
Snape waited until Harry lowered the towel before saying quietly, "I believe we should start talking about the future. Malfoy will need to know the basics about our work and I don't think Weasley is aware of most of the things that have happened either."
He was well aware of how soon they would be returning to Hogwarts. No matter how peaceful it was here, they would have to do something to prepare themselves for what would be waiting for them. Who knew what had happened during their absence.
To Harry, the words were like a kick in the stomach. He stood there for a long time, blinking; hating the fact that they would have to do this now when everything felt so wonderful and yet knowing that Snape was absolutely right.
"All right." He couldn't help sounding reluctant. "When?"
Snape wasn't surprised by the tone, nor the question. He was already used to this side of Harry. No matter how much he would hate talking about the war, he never whined when he had a job to do. "Today. After dinner." They would all gather together to eat anyway.
"All right." Harry looked down on the ground at his dirty clothes. "I wish..." He wanted to say that he wished they could just forget about the damn war, but he couldn't. No matter how he hated this, he couldn't afford hiding from the fact that as soon as they returned to Hogwarts, he would also return to the Order.
He shrugged and then looked up again. "After dinner, then."
They gathered their things in silence and walked back to the cottage.
Closing the front door behind them, Harry tried to shrug the gloom off. He didn't want to spend the few hours before dinner brooding about something that was inevitable anyway. "So... You said something about laundering yesterday."
He would rather keep busy with doing laundry than moping around. It would just make Ron worry.
Snape nodded, opening his mouth to say that it was an excellent idea, and then abrubtly closing it again as he saw Draco Malfoy step out of the living room.
This was too good an opportunity to pass. "Yes. Do you think that you and Mr. Malfoy could manage to deal with the laundry without incidents?" His raised eyebrow was almost a challenge.
Casting a glance at Malfoy, Harry said, "I think we can manage." He'd wondered when this would happen. He hadn't really been avoiding the Slytherin, but hadn't done anything to actually spend any time with him.
Maybe this wasn't a bad idea. At least there was nothing Malfoy could really say to make him lose his temper, unlike with some people he could name.
"Are you certain?" Snape wanted to make absolutely sure that he didn't tolerate any foolishness from them. His words were aimed mostly at Malfoy, even though he was still staring at Harry.
Harry knew that he really didn't want Ron washing his -- well, Snape's -- dirty sheets. "Sure. We won't do anything stupid." Like drown each other or go harassing any local animals. It would be all right.
Casting him a highly suspicious look, Snape nodded and then went to his room, leaving the two standing in the hallway.
Draco was still trying to catch up with what had just happened. He'd just tried to find his book and now he was recruited to yet another ghastly cleaning operation.
With Potter no less.
"Malfoy." Harry nodded. It was weird. He couldn't remember when he'd last said anything to him.
Not turning his gaze away, Draco replied, "Potter." He was slightly anxious, not knowing exactly what to say. To his rival Gryffindork, he could say whatever he pleased, but now that Potter was shagging Snape, things weren't as simple as that.
He decided to act as normally as he could, knowing that no games were tolerated here. Not that he would want to play any games with Potter.
"So, we're going to do laundry." Wincing at his clumsy words, Harry shook his head. "This will be fun."
To his surprise, Malfoy grinned at that. It wasn't a smirk or a leer.
"All right then. Go and get your laundry. I'll go and get ours." Harry walked to the stairs, not waiting for Malfoy to follow. Half way up, he turned to glance over his shoulder. "I should probably get Snape's as well."
"Probably, yes." This time the amusement was tinted with wickedness. A suggestive leer that still held no real malice. "Try not to spend hours there, Potter. It's already getting late."
It left Harry speechless. He'd never thought Malfoy would make such a comment to him, even with all the knowing looks. Blushing, he continued to his room.
Draco followed him to gather his dirty clothes, extremely pleased with himself.
He wasn't still completely sure how to act with Potter. There had never been anything but anger between them. Somehow that would have to change. If he was to survive the upcoming months, he couldn't afford to continue being Harry Potter's enemy.
The time spent here had shown him that there was a distant chance the hero of the wizarding world might be willing to let the past be. He would be fine with that.
Determined not to make things worse, he collected his things and then went back downstairs. He didn't say anything at Potter's slightly angry expression as he joined him a few minutes later. It wasn't difficult to guess what he'd been talking about with Weasley.
He didn't make another comment about Snape either, content to just stand there as Potter went to get more laundry. Seeing the way Potter had rolled the dirty sheets into a ball made his lips twist, but he didn't say a word.
Harry did his best to keep his thoughts away from anything but laundering as they walked to the stream in a slightly uncomfortable silence. He didn't want to think about how he'd been here less than half an hour ago, feeling insanely happy. Nor did he want to contemplate the following evening.
It was better to just work and not think about anything.
Working with Malfoy wasn't as difficult as he'd feared. He didn't mind his presence, and Malfoy didn't seem to have the urge to act like a total bastard either.
For the first time he wondered if he could actually learn to like Malfoy. It sounded ridiculous, but stranger things had happened. At least now he knew he could tolerate him, and that was more than he'd ever thought possible.
Draco was slightly surprised by how easily they managed to deal with the laundry.
It wasn't as uncomfortable as before with Weasley. They didn't have much laundry with them, and Potter did seem to know what he was doing. In no time, they had the sheets cleaned. The few robes they'd brought were slowly swirling in the charmed whirlpool of warm water and soap.
Looking up at the cloudless sky Draco sighed. He still didn't like the hard work, but right this moment this place didn't look too bad.
Harry glanced at Malfoy, a bit surprised at the wistful expression on his face.
It wasn't something he was used to seeing. The usual look on Malfoy was a either a blank mask, or then when he was stalking Ron, a pleased smirk.
No, it was definitely not something Harry wanted to get involved with. He'd decided long ago not to interfere with anyone's privacy. As long as Ron was not getting hurt -- and confused wasn't the same thing -- he wouldn't do anything about it. Unless Ron brought the whole thing up.
"It's nice here." Draco watched the sun drop lower in the horizon. The air was clear, crisp. It wasn't really warm anymore, the wind blowing cool across the moors. "I wish I had my broom with me." It would be wonderful to soar through the air.
Harry blinked. Looking closer, he realized Malfoy meant it. What a strange thing it was, to stand here and share a sentiment with someone he'd always loathed. "I know. Me too." He'd always thought Malfoy's position in the Slytherin Quidditch team was because of his need to feel important. He'd never thought Malfoy might actually love flying as much as he did. "I miss Quidditch."
It was a tentative offering, a sentiment he was certain they both shared.
The smirk flashed to Draco's lips before he could censore his expression. "At least our teams will both be in trouble now." He doubted the Slytherins suffered as much from his absence as the Gryffindors did from Potter's. They did train their reserve Seeker well, unlike the other team that had the tendency to rely solely on their great star.
It suddenly chilled him. For the resemblance between the game and the reality of war was uncanny.
He had no idea of the war strategies the Order of the Phoenix might -- should -- have, but he could bet most of them revolved around Potter.
In some deranged way it did make sense. Then again, if you had even an ounce of logic, it most certainly did not.
Draco had always known their world viewed Potter as their great savior, just like his father saw him as a threat. He'd never really thought what it meant until now; that the boy standing next to him would indeed determine their future.
"We're doomed," he muttered under his breath.
"Huh?" Harry frowned. He was sure Malfoy had said something, but all he could now see was an innocent expression. Shaking his head slightly, he returned his attention to the laundry.
Pretending to be stirring the sheets, Draco was still contemplating the war. He didn't really want to. It was easier to ignore the whole thing and concentrate on something he could play on a smaller scale. But there was a war, and he would have to decide what to do about the whole thing very soon.
He needed more time to think about that. It had been such a long time since he'd been convinced of his future as a Death Eater, but he wasn't going to embrace another path that took him to the Order. Not yet anyway. However, whatever he would do, his life would be determined by the outcome of this war. It would depend on Potter.
It was time to take a good look at his life, and then let go of whatever was left of the old enmity between them. He couldn't afford fighting with him anymore.
Life truly was insane. After all these years of resenting Potter, he was now going to have to see him as a hero like the rest of their world. It made him a bit light headed.
He would probably have to get used to the feeling.
Thank Merlin Potter didn't resent Snape anymore. The thought made Draco leer. No, he didn't sense any resentment whatsoever. But it was wonderful that the harebrained Gryffindor listened to the Head of his House.
Snape had managed to spy on Voldemort for years. He might be able to teach Potter how to win the war as well.
That thought made him feel better already.
Rinsing the laundry was hard work, leaving no time to dwell on deep thoughts. Harry noted that Malfoy didn't even try to stand back and let him do all the work. Even if that was probably because of Snape, he approved.
"Okay, let's try to roll them into a... yeah, like that." Nodding at the way Malfoy was already flipping the sheets around, Harry moved to help him. At least it was easy to wash the sheets and robes. They didn't try to escape into the stream like the socks and underwear seemed to do. In no time, they had a bundle of dripping but clean laundry that Malfoy levitated to the clothes lines.
Harry followed the Slytherin silently. He was still amazed of how naturally he used the magic on everything he was still used to doing by hand. There were so many things he wanted to ask Malfoy, but decided to wait until later. There would be plenty of time to ask him questions, just like there would be time to tell Ron about plans and battles he still didn't know about.
Grabbing the bag of clothespins, he sighed. This rather nice silence with Malfoy wouldn't last. Not beyond this moment, just like the calm safety had left him the moment Snape had mentioned the war.
It would be pure hell. Everything they would talk about would be painful, and not only to him. They had all suffered already.
Undoubtedly, it would only get worse.
