Aug. 20th, 2007 @ 07:38 pm Not The Same At All -- 1/2

Title:  Not The Same At All - Part 1/2
Author:  Nehalenia
Rating:  NC-17
Pairing: Severus/Sirius, with a side of Harry; mention of JP/SS
Disclaimer: Crossbones is mine. Everything and everybody else belongs to JKR. No profit is being made from this.
Warnings/Kinks:  voyeurism, masturbation, wall sex, half-clothed sex, oral, anal.  Severus & Sirius are 16, Harry is 15.
Word Count: 11,000 and change
Author’s Notes:  This is a sequel to Childish Things, an exchange piece originally posted on [info]bottomsnape.  I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary for you to read CH first, but it would definitely help.  Also, while it is not necessary for you to have read On the Taming of Wild Creatures, the events that take place in both this and CH occur after Wild Creatures.  (Remember me talking about that Big Ass Snack Story-arc?  Well, this is it.  And you're in the middle of it.)  Beta-read by the wonderful and long-suffering [info]nishizono[info]r_grayjoy and [info]imkalena; why they put up with me I don’t know, but I’m glad they do.  My stories are always better for their involvement. 
Note to my F-list:  I'll be cross-posting this later, but for right now you, my dears, are the only ones who get this.
Final Note:  This ended up being too large to fit in one post, so I've had to split it in two.  Both parts will be posted almost simultaneously, so there should be no wait.

 


It was his last night at No. 12 Grimmauld Place, and Harry was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and still thinking about Snape.  The Christmas holiday had finally struggled to its end and they were returning to Hogwarts in the morning.

“Hey, Ron?” he asked the redhead stretched out on the other bed.

“Yeah?”  Ron didn’t look up from the Quidditch magazine he was idly flipping through.

“Do you think Snape and Sirius might ever have been friends?”

Ron’s head came up at that.  He stared at Harry as if he’d just watched him eat a live flobberworm.

“Those two?  Are you mental?”

“Yeah,” Harry said.  “That’s what I figured, too.”

“Don’t know why you’re even thinking about Snape,” Ron muttered, frowning.  “I think about him too much as it is.  Double Potions on our first day back!  And now you’ve got extra lessons with the greasy git, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.  Snape had come by that day to tell Harry that Dumbledore wanted him to study something called Occlumency.  Once a week.  Starting tomorrow.  With Snape.  

Whom he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Snape and Sirius had nearly attacked each other in the kitchen earlier that day. Harry felt certain they would have come to hexes, if not physical blows, had the Weasley clan not made their entrance when they did.  Harry had watched their confrontation unfold with a sort of horrified fascination.  The air seemed to prickle when the two wizards were in the same room.  From the very start, their conversation had been nothing but goads and threats, and when Harry had tried to push them apart, their hatred and contempt had been almost palpable.

“Just a chat between two old school friends,” Sirius had told Mr. Weasley.

Right.

There was no way those two had ever done anything but hate each other.

Except… there was the memory.

Harry thought about his father’s Bachelor Box, hidden under his bed.  It had looked innocent enough – a pirate’s chest filled with joke gifts and gewgaws and tokens from James Potter’s wild bachelor days – but the secrets Harry found inside were anything but innocent.

Harry wondered if he should take the box with him back to Hogwarts.  He wondered if he’d ever have the privacy to open it, if he did.  And if he did, if he could, would he have the courage?  Three bottles of memories lay inside the chest – green, brown, and blue.  Harry had opened the green bottle to see what it held, and soon enough had been wishing he hadn’t.

The worst part was, as much as Harry hated seeing what his father had done to Snape, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  He’d always thought James Potter was good; a hero, even.  That’s what everyone had told him, at least.  Well, everyone but Snape, of course.

Harry sighed and rolled over, pushing his glasses onto his head and burying his face in his pillow.  It didn’t make any sense.  None of it did.  Why would his father do that?  Why would he have wanted to?  And why had he said those things about Sirius?  About Sirius and Snape.

Sirius, the memory of Snape had whispered in the aftermath.  Not “Black”.  Not harsh and grating, as if Snape could barely stand to have the word in his mouth.  But soft.  Sad.  Sirius.

Harry punched his pillow viciously and flopped over to stare again at the ceiling.  None of it made any sense.

Those same questions troubled him until long after he and Ron had changed into their pajamas, said their goodnights and put out the lamps; until long after Ron’s breathing had slowed and he was snoring softly.

“Ron?” Harry whispered after listening to him for a little while.  “Ron?”  There was no answer. 

Satisfied, Harry pushed off the covers, slid into his trainers and stepped carefully to the door.  Cracking it open, he peered out into the dark, deserted hallway.

“Right,” he sighed to himself.  Creeping back to his bed, he knelt and pulled out the Bachelor Box, freezing and darting a glance at Ron when it scraped the wood floor, but Ron didn’t stir.  Scarcely daring to breathe, Harry tucked the chest under one arm, took up his wand, cast a dim Lumos, and made his way out of the bedroom.  The sound of Ron’s snores cut off as he softly clicked the door shut behind him.

He paused in the hallway, suddenly aware that he had formed no plan past getting himself and the chest out of his bedroom.  He first thought of the attic, where they had unearthed the chest in the first place, but to reach it he would have pass Sirius’ third-floor bedroom, and he suspected his godfather kept later hours than the rest of the house.  There was too much chance he might hear.

Harry considered one of the other bedrooms, but not all of them had been cleaned out yet, and he didn’t fancy being attacked by doxies, boggarts or whatever else might be lurking in cupboards or under ancient counterpanes.  The kitchen was out – too much chance of Sirius, or anyone else, coming in for a midnight snack – and the library was where Sirius kept his liquor, so that wouldn’t do either.

He briefly – but only briefly -- considered chucking the whole idea and going back to bed when he remembered the basement.  While it had been cleared of any Dark artifacts and troublesome biting creatures, it had not been put to any particular purpose.  He had to pass though the kitchen to reach it, but as long as no one was there at the time….

“That’ll do,” Harry nodded to himself and headed downstairs.  He remembered to skip the creaky second step down, and the other one five steps below it, and was especially careful not to make any sound anywhere near Mrs. Black’s portrait.  Harry actually sighed with relief when he found the kitchen dark and unoccupied.  The basement door was through the butler’s pantry.  He gained it without further incident and made his way down the dank wooden steps.

“Lumos maximus.”  Harry’s wand flared, illuminating bare stone walls, a couple of ratty chairs and a scarred wooden work table.  There were mildewed stacks of once-glossy magazines, with names like “Moat & Manor” and “Pureblood Quarterly”, in the corners, a box of kindling and old rags beside the defunct furnace, and an odd, broken lamp that resembled a woman’s leg in a short, fringed skirt, but nothing, Harry decided, that looked like it might leap out and attack.  Good enough.

Setting the chest on the table and laying his still-glowing wand beside it, Harry leaned on the table and stared at the chest.  The skull and crossbones painted on the lid stared back at him blankly.  After a moment’s hesitation, Harry rapped his knuckles against the top of the skull.

“Crossbones.  Wake up, Crossbones.  I want to talk to you.”  The skull clicked its grinning teeth and rattled its loose eyeballs in their sockets.

“B’damned!” it growled hoarsely.  “Who’s disturbin’ me slumbers?”

“It’s me,” Harry hissed, trying to keep his voice down just in case anyone might be able to hear from the kitchen.  “Harry Potter.  James Potter’s son.”

“Arrrrrrr,” the painted skull actually yawned. “Back again, are ye?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Harry said a bit impatiently.  “Who else would be waking you up?”

“Twas one a them scurvy Blacks not so long ago,” Crossbones grumbled, looking as indisposed as a Jolly Roger could.  “Oughter be marooned on an isle full a cannibals, ever last one a them.”

“Yeah, well, there’s only one of them left,” Harry said a bit glumly.

“Wouldn’t make much of a meal then, I suppose,” the skull said thoughtfully, rolling its eyes as if to scan the room.  “Down in the holds, are we, lad?”  The eyes flicked back to stare straight at Harry.  “Needin’ a bit a privacy, I take it?”

“Actually, we’re in the basement,” Harry told it.  “And… yeah.  Privacy.”

“Yer wantin’ that mem’ry again, aren’t ye?” the skull guessed. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout it much?”

“A bit, yeah,” Harry lied, considering that he’d been thinking of little else.

Crossbones eyed Harry, then let out a strange, clicking sound that Harry realized was a chuckle.

“Thinkin’ hard enough to reckon as maybe what ye saw weren’t really what ye thought ye saw?”

“Huh?” said Harry, momentarily confused.  “Right.  No.  I….”  Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses.  “Look, I’m not sure now, all right?   I just…  I need to see it again.  I need to know…”

Harry’s face felt flushed and warm, though he wasn’t sure why that should be.

“Look, just open up, all right? I can’t stay down here all night. Ron might wake up, and…”

“Easy on,” Crossbones interrupted with a weary eye roll, and the lock snapped open.

“Thanks,” Harry said, removing the lock and flipping the latch.

“Not so hard this time, eh?” Crossbones admonished as Harry pushed up the lid.

“Right. Sorry.” He tipped the curved lid back, careful not to let it bang on the back of the box. He paid scant attention to the odds and ends in the chest, pulling them out by the handful and putting them aside. Some of the photographs grumbled or squawked at their mishandling, but Harry didn’t pause until he reached the bottom of the chest.  Retrieving his wand, he aimed it at an empty corner.

“Alohamora Prongs!” he whispered.  Once again, the floor of the chest shimmered away to reveal a small silver Pensieve and three glass vials. 

Cautiously withdrawing the Pensieve, he set it beside the wooden chest, then peered back inside.  Even with his wand lit, it was hard to tell the bottles apart.  The colors were all dark, and looked similar in the shadows.  He chose what he thought was the green bottle and held it up.

Even before he saw the color, he knew it wasn’t the right vial.  The green bottle had been carefully stoppered and sealed with wax.  This bottle – the blue one – had only a plain cork in it, and looked a bit smudged besides.  He started to put it back when he heard Crossbones chuckle.

“Luck o’ the draw, young Potter. Luck o’ the draw.”

Harry tipped the lid back so he could see the skull.

“What are you saying?” asked Harry. Crossbones pointed his eyeballs at the blue bottle.

“I’m sayin’ take the hand Dame Fortune’s dealt ye, is all.”

“You think I should see what’s in this bottle?” Harry narrowed his eyes at the box.

“Yer lookin’ fer answers, ain’t ye?  First bottle gave ye nothin’ but questions.”

Truth be told, Harry’s stomach was in knots at the thought of seeing the memory again – his young father, callous and mean; Snape, seething and humiliated.  The only thing he dreaded more than seeing that memory again was finding one that was worse. He glanced down at Crossbones again.

“Fine,” said Harry. “But if you’ve steered me wrong, I’ll….” He struggled for an appropriate threat. “I’ll paint your mouth shut!”

Crossbones eyes rattled, and he sounded like he might be stifling a chuckle, but Harry ignored him and turned to the Pensieve.  Just as before, a silvery mist was swirling and glittering in the bowl.  Harry uncorked the bottle and, with one last warning look at Crossbones, poured out the contents.

Or he tried to. The other memory had spilled out fast as you please, but this one seemed reluctant, and he had to shake the bottle a few times before the silver streams slid out and pooled in the silver bowl.

Harry set the bottle aside, stirred the mist with his wand and peered inside. He was staring straight down into Hogwarts again, but into a corridor this time. A corridor filled with streams of black robed students flowing back and forth to classes. He bent closer, dipping his face into the cool whisper of the past, pushing down to get a better look until he felt that sudden lurch, the rushing darkness, then he landed with a start inside the memory.

He had not fallen into the river of students, but instead found himself in an alcove behind the statute of a goblin standing triumphantly on a very large toad. He peered out around the statue’s base, looked up the corridor, then back down and gasped.

Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs were headed right towards him. The four of them took up most of the corridor, and unlike everyone else around them, seemed to be in no particular hurry. Instead, they strolled together like a small party of tourists taking in the local sights as everyone else hurried by: James on the outside, hair mussed, tie loosened, whistling as he walked; Remus beside him, his light brown hair combed, his slightly faded robes neat, looking pale and a bit drawn; Peter, shorter and pudgier than the other three, lagging a bit behind and puffing to keep up; and Sirius.

Harry’s jaw dropped.  Sirius was...beautiful.  He groped for another word, a manlier word, but ‘handsome’ wasn’t right, and ‘good-looking’ didn’t do him justice. 

Harry had been on a few school field trips before coming to Hogwarts.  He’d seen Greek statues in Muggle museums; statues of perfectly proportioned, sleekly-muscled young men, with broad chests and narrow hips, straight noses, strong jaws and perfectly curved lips.  Sirius Black looked like one of those statues come to life and striding down the hall toward him, shaking back the dark shining hair that fell into his bright, gray eyes.

Harry couldn’t look away from him.  A passing Ravenclaw boy was similarly fixated until he went sprawling headlong; tripped by the foot James stuck out and withdrew with what was obviously the grace of long practice.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, mate!” James called back to him.  He turned back with a grin to find Remus frowning at him.

“James,” said Remus in a Mature Responsible Voice that Harry remembered well from his third year.

“What?” James protested, even though he colored a little.  “He tripped!  He was too busy ogling Sirius to see where he was going, right?”

“Right!” Peter agreed, finally catching up with them as they slowed.

“Right, Padfoot?” James prodded.

“Bloody Hell!”  Sirius had been digging through his satchel as he walked and finally stopped so he could search more thoroughly.  He dumped a Charms textbook and two Quidditch magazines onto the floor, then some loose parchments and a handful of quills.

“Fuck!” he added, louder than he meant to perhaps, as several passing students gave him sharp looks.  “I left my stupid Potions text back in class.”

“Better hurry then,” Peter told him.  “Last class of the day, and you know how fast Sluggy locks up.  He doesn’t….”

“Doesn’t like to miss his tea,” Sirius mimicked.  “Yeah, I know.  We all know, what with the way he goes on about it.”

“C’mon,” James said impatiently.  “You can get it later.”

“I can’t,” Sirius said, stooping to gather his books and parchment and shove them haphazardly into his bag.  “It’s Friday, and we’ve got twelve inches of parchment due on Monday.”

“Since when do you care?” James scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Sirius.  Peter was looking from James to Sirius then back.  Remus had stood back a bit and was giving James an assessing look.

“Since McGonagall told me she’d flay me alive if I skived off on Potions any longer,” he said grimly.

“Oh, she’s having you on,” James scoffed.

“Yeah?  Well, considering she had some fairly detailed plans about using my hide to reupholster her great-grandmother’s sidesaddle, I don’t think I’ll take that chance.”

“Fine,” James huffed, relenting.  He still looked put out, and shoved a hand through his hair to try and hide it.  “Want me to come with, then?”

“Nah, I’ll just nip back and get it,” Sirius said, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he straightened.  “See you lot at dinner, all right?”

“Yeah, fine,” said James as Sirius flashed his mates a grin and went loping down the corridor.  Harry thought his father had a funny look as he stared after Sirius; like something didn’t sit quite right with him.  After a moment, James shook his head and glanced at Remus.  Remus gave a brief shrug, as if in answer to an unspoken question.

“What?” Peter asked, looking from one of them to the other.

“Nothing, Wormtail,” James shook his head.

“I have a Prefects meeting,” Remus said, turning to go.

“I’ve got study hall,” Peter announced dolefully.  “With McGonagall.  You too, right, James?”  That thought seemed to cheer Peter.

“Yeah,” James said.  “But  I might be a little late, eh?”  He grinned down at Peter.  “You’ll think up something clever to tell Professor Tabby, won’t you, Wormtail?  You’re good at that.” 

“Course I will!” Peter grinned, glowing at James’ acknowledgment.  “Takes a rat to trick a cat, eh?” he winked, then ducked his head and scurried off. 

Remus watched him go, then glanced back at James, who was now gazing speculatively down the corridor after Sirius.

“James.”  Remus’ voice was low, and there was a slightly warning tone to it.  James turned to him, frowning.

“Something’s up, Moony.  The way he’s been acting….”

“Spring fever,” suggested Remus.

“He’s been weird as a three-headed goat since well before Christmas, and you know it.”

“James,” Remus sighed, and Harry could hear the exasperation in it.  “Just leave it, won’t you?”

“Aren’t you late for a meeting, Remus?” James reminded him pointedly.

Remus pursed his lips, shook his head, then shouldered his bag and went his way.

James Potter watched until his friend was out of sight, then ducked right into the alcove Harry was standing in.  And right into Harry, in fact.

Harry leapt back, a bit unnerved by that, and watched as his father rummaged in his book bag and pulled out a very familiar cloak.  James Potter shoved the satchel behind the statue with his foot, hid it with a quick Disillusionment spell, then swept the cloak around him.

“Wait!” Harry yelled, as his father vanished from his view.  He scrambled out into the corridor, which was now much more thinly populated since the last class had let out, and looked about.  Apparently Invisibility Cloaks worked in memories as well as they did in real life.  Still, it wasn’t difficult to figure out which way James Potter was going, and Harry headed down the corridor in the direction Sirius had gone.

Harry knew where they were going before he was halfway there.  The memory may have happened over 20 years before, but this was still Hogwarts and Harry knew the way to the dungeons by heart.  There were the same dank walls, the same paintings and statues; and the same sinking feeling of dread he got every time he walked to Potions class.  It felt strange not to have Ron and Hermione beside him.

While Harry couldn’t see his father, he guessed that James would be wherever Sirius was.  Fortunately, Sirius wasn’t hard to find.  The corridor ended, joining another passageway that led through the dungeons, and there at the corner was Sirius.

 He was leaning against the wall in the shadows and peering around the corner down the other hallway.  Harry could hear voices that way and guessed Sirius was listening to whoever was talking.  Harry paused there beside Sirius to try and hear what was being said, then remembered he couldn’t be seen.

“Stupid berk,” Harry admonished himself, then stepped into the corridor.

The heavy wooden door to the Potions classroom was standing open, and before it was a wizard Harry had never seen.  He was well-fed – almost Dursley-like about the middle –with neatly combed, thinning hair and a mustache that made him resemble a walrus.  He had strangely small hands and feet for a man of his size, which made him look more rotund than he was, and he wore a splendid set of teaching robes over a rather stylish suit.  He seemed to be talking to somebody just inside the doorway.  Harry moved closer, trying to see.

“Friday tea with Dumbledore.  Exceptional, really.  The man has educated tastes, I tell you.  Cosmopolitan and educated.  The faculty are expected to attend, of course.”

“Of course,” repeated a low, smooth voice.

“I can trust you to put things aright and lock up properly, can’t I, Mr. Snape?”

“Certainly, Professor.” 

Harry crept closer until he could see into the classroom, and there was Snape, settling one of the school issue cauldrons onto a shelf.

“Excellent, Mr. Snape,” the round man said brightly, clapping his hands together.  “Excellent.  You’re a gentleman as well as a scholar!”

“…Thank you, sir,” Snape said, frowning a bit in consternation.  He turned back to the door as if to say something, but the professor had already pattered off.  With a bit of a shrug, Snape turned back to finish shelving cauldrons.

Following his instincts, Harry slipped into the Potions classroom and looked around.  It had changed very little over the years, Harry noticed.  Unlike Snape.

Harry studied the young man clearing the work table, again struck by the difference between this memory of Snape and the current Hogwarts Potions Master.  The same black hair hung in curtains around his face, but longer, falling past his shoulders.  It still had an oily sheen, but it wasn’t stringy and it rippled when he shook it over his back.  Flushed with the effort of moving cauldrons, his face didn’t look as sallow, and his slim fingers weren’t discolored.  His face… well, it wasn’t pretty, and never would be, but while this Snape looked wary, suspicious and more apt to frown than smile, it wasn’t the cold, bitter mask that Harry knew too well.

“Oh, Mr. Snape!” came a mocking voice from the doorway, and Harry jerked his head around to find Sirius lounging against the doorframe.  “You’re a scholar and a gentleman,” he mimicked the professor’s tone and accent.  “Scholar and gentleman, indeed.”  This last was huffed in his normal tone

Snape had frozen at the sound of Sirius’ voice, fingers gripping the edge of a shelf.  His spine stiffened, and Harry saw him purse his lips, but he didn’t turn around.

“You might try being either one for a change, Black,” Snape replied archly.  “Just for the sake of novelty.”

“Was that a joke, Snape?” Sirius demanded with a cross look.  “Did you just taunt me?”  Sirius shoved off from the doorway and charged into the room, throwing down his book bag and slamming the door behind him with a wave of his wand.  Harry felt the air prickle around him, just like in the kitchen when the two of them had been fighting, and gasped as Snape turned to face Sirius at the last minute, glaring and lifting up his chin so that he could still look down his long, hooked nose.

“I’ll teach that smart mouth of yours a lesson, Snape!” Sirius growled as he grabbed the slighter boy by the shoulders, dragged him away from the shelves and shoved him up against the stone wall.

And kissed him.

Harry’s jaw dropped for the second time as he gaped at Sirius – his godfather, Sirius Black – snogging Snape.  Pressing his mouth against Snape’s mouth and kissing him.

With tongue.

“Eww!” Harry grimaced, even as he moved closer, compelled by the sheer horror if nothing else.

Snape was stiff as a board and his arms were straight at his sides, but his eyes were closed and if this was some bizarre form of attack, he certainly wasn’t trying to get away.  Sirius still had a death-grip on Snape’s shoulders, but as forcefully as he was kissing the other boy, it seemed more urgent than angry.  As Harry watched, Snape’s long, slim hands came up to hold Sirius’s waist.  The movement was hesitant at first – almost as if Snape didn’t quite believe that Sirius was real – but as their kiss deepened, his hands became surer, clutching at Sirius’ robes, stroking his sides.

“Merlin!” Sirius breathed, pulling his mouth away to gaze at Snape and lick his reddened lips. “I’ve missed this.”

Snape’s eyes were still closed, but they flickered open at Sirius’ words.  His lips were moist and parted – Soft, Harry thought as he stared at him, they look soft – and there was a kind of wonder in his face that Harry had never seen before; never thought Snape capable of.  The boy looked almost stunned.

“Been too long,” Sirius husked at him, now dipping his head to kiss the corner of Snape’s mouth, his cheek, his chin, the tip of his nose.

“Five days?” Snape tried to smirk and actually failed.

“Too bloody long,” Sirius insisted, kissing away the abortive smirk and wrapping his arms around Snape to pull him closer.  Snape gave a small, soft moan as Sirius ground their hips together and it made Harry’s chest pound to hear it.

Snape had made a sound of pleasure.  Harry had never imagined Snape could make a sound like that.  He’d never imagined Snape could feel pleasure that wasn’t based on taking House points or catching out Harry doing something wrong.  But there he was, moaning as Sirius kissed him, and the sound of it was…the way they kissed and touched each other was….

Harry didn’t know what it was, but it was something.  Something powerful.  Something that made his heart race and his cheeks feel hot.

Something that was altogether different from what he had seen James Potter do to Severus Snape.

“Want you,” Sirius murmured into Snape’s throat. 

Snape moaned his agreement and the next thing Harry knew, the two boys were pulling frantically at each other’s clothes.  Both of them got their arms caught in their school robes at nearly the same moment – they looked so momentarily confounded that Harry almost laughed – but then Sirius was shrugging out of his robe as Snape dragged it off him.  Sirius got one of Snape’s arms free, then surprised Harry by simply dropping to his knees, shoving Snape’s shirt and jumper up under the other boy’s arms and then burying his face in Snape’s naked stomach.

“God!” Snape gasped, falling back against the wall, his tie half undone and his robe still hanging from one arm.  “Black!” he panted.  “Stop that!  You know tha…Ahh!”

Snape’s face contorted in either pleasure or pain; Harry wasn’t sure which, but by the way he was squirming against the wall, he guessed pleasure.  Sirius was holding Snape’s narrow hips and drilling his tongue into his navel, pausing only to nip and kiss the flesh around it.

“Stop!” Snape hissed at him, one slender hand clutching in Sirius’ hair.  “Oh God, please stop!”

“Hard for me yet?” Sirius was grinning up at him, resting his chin just above Snape’s belt.  His eyes were brilliant.

“Hard?” Snape snarled back at him.  “I’m about to come if you don’t stop right now!”   If Snape thought that would deter Sirius, he was apparently quite mistaken. 

“Fuck, I want to see that!” Sirius panted, tearing open Snape’s trousers and yanking both trousers and underpants down in one jerk.  Snape’s cock sprang free and tightened against his stomach.  Sirius stared at it in nothing less than awe.

Fuck! Harry echoed his godfather as he gawked at the two young wizards.  Snape’s cock was big and hard and yearning and Sirius’ mouth was right there, and oh God! Sirius was licking his lips, he was going to…going to…. Harry was going to see….

“Merlin, that’s beautiful!” Sirius whispered, and then leaned forward and licked the underside of Snape’s cock slowly, from bollocks to tip.

Snape whimpered shamelessly, head tipped back, eyes squeezed closed, and thumped one fist against the stone wall.  His other hand was still clutching Sirius’ hair.  Harry saw Snape shudder as Sirius reached up to touch the shaft, taking it gently between fingers and thumb and slowly pulling the foreskin down to reveal the moist, swollen head.  Curling his fist around the base of Snape’s cock, Sirius took just the tip in his mouth and sucked.

“Ahh!”  Snape’s entire body jerked as the sharp cry burst out of him.  He buried his other hand in Sirius’ hair, just as his hips seemed to break free from some restraint and thrust helplessly into the other boy’s fist and mouth.  Sirius reached his other hand up to fondle and squeeze Snape’s sac, and the boy seized up with a sharp gasp.  Harry heard Sirius groan, saw his throat working to swallow, saw milky semen overflow and run from the corner of his mouth.

Harry felt like his head had exploded, and like other parts of him wanted to follow suit.  He’d never seen anything like this.  He’d never imagined anything like this.

Sirius was spitting into his palm, filling it with Snape’s seed, and when he tipped his head to meet Snape’s eyes, the look that passed between them burned the air, electrified it.  Harry hadn’t moved, and yet he was as breathless as Snape, collapsed against the wall and gazing at Sirius.  Snape’s lips were parted, his dark eyes were full of both wonder and desire, and there was such openness in his expression that in that moment, he looked almost beautiful.

Sirius was gazing back at Snape with equal intensity, but Harry thought there was something more there; a sense of possession and delight.  Harry thought the way Sirius was looking at Snape was probably the way he had looked at his Firebolt the first time he saw it.

He thought it might be what love looked like.

“I want inside you,” Sirius whispered as his come-filled hand slid under Snape’s bollocks and between his legs.

Snape just bit his lip and nodded silently, spreading his legs as wide as his trousers would allow.  Sirius never took his eyes off Snape’s as his hand did something between his legs, but then he stood and moved closer, capturing Snape’s mouth for another kiss as Snape’s trembling fingers worked to open his trousers.

Harry caught his breath as Sirius’ trousers and pants slid down, revealing tanned, muscular thighs, a flash of rounded buttock, and a firm, swollen penis standing up from a nest of dark curls.  Harry closed his eyes – My godfather.  That’s my godfather.  I’m looking at my godfather’s bits. – then opened them when he heard both young men groan.  He gave up and just stared at Sirius’ cock.  It was shorter than Snape’s but still substantial; paler than his tanned stomach, but flushed a dark pink with arousal.  It was just as perfect as Sirius was.

“Merlin!” Snape whispered, gazing down on Sirius’ obvious arousal with the same sort of reverence Sirius had shown his.  He started to sink to his knees before Sirius, his hands sliding down to his hips – thin fingers pale against tawny thighs – but Sirius took him by the shoulders and pulled him back up.  Snape made a protesting sound which Sirius silenced with another kiss.  He held Snape by the hips and rocked into him, slowly rubbing their cocks together. 

Snapes’ penis should have been slack from his orgasm but it was still hard and glistening with come and saliva.  Both young men canted their hips toward each other, each gazing down as if amazed at the sight of their erections sliding against each other, head nudging head, balls pressed against balls.  Sirius brought up his come-sticky hand and grasped both shafts at once, pressing them together and slowly pumping against both his grip and the other boy’s length.

“Fuck!” Snape gasped.  “Black…please….”

“Get out of those,” Sirius husked, stepping on Snape’s trousers so he could pull his feet free.  Snape started to toe off his boots, but Sirius whispered “Don’t”.  Obviously too aroused to argue, Snape pulled back and started to turn to face the wall.

“No,” Sirius told him, turning him back around to face him.  “I want to see you,” he whispered, cupping Snape’s jaw and tipping his head up.  “I want to watch you come on my cock.”

Snape made a sound at that; a low growl twined with a breathless moan that was the darkest, richest, most seductive sound Harry had ever heard.  Snape’s eyes had gone heavy-lidded so that glittering black irises were all that could be seen through his lashes. 

“Then make me,” he demanded in that same velvet voice, and Harry saw the way it made Sirius shiver.  With a deep growl, Sirius grabbed Snape’s arse in both hands and lifted him up.  Snape wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck and his long, lean legs around his hips, and Sirius pressed Snape’s back against the wall for support.

“Yes,” Snape hissed as Sirius sank tanned fingers into his pale cheeks, pulled his hips up, and pressed the head of his cock against Snape’s come-slicked hole.  “Yes, oh please—fuck! Yes!”

“God, yes!” Sirius echoed as he sank into him.  Both of them seemed to pause in that moment, just looking at each other and breathing hard, until Sirius moved his hips – a gentle, searching thrust – and Snape closed his eyes with a groan.

“You feel so good,” Sirius whispered, rocking his hips, thrusting so slowly it was almost hypnotic.  Snape’s eyes stayed closed but his mouth curled in an ironic smile.  “You do,” Sirius insisted, punctuating the thought with a harder, deeper thrust that caused Snape’s breath to catch.  “Nothing else feels like you.”  Another hard thrust, another hitch in Snape’s breath.

“There?” Sirius asked.

“Almost.”  Snape’s eyes were still closed, his brows drawn together as if in concentration.  Sirius studied his partner’s face as he shifted his angle then snapped his hips up.  Snape stiffened, eyes flying open as he sucked in a sudden breath.

“That’s got it,” Sirius grinned and repeated the move precisely, over and over until the sweat started to slick his face and chest, and Snape was whimpering and writhing in his hands. 

The sounds Snape was making as Sirius fucked him – the sharp gasps, soft moans, delicious murmurs of words like fuck, need, yes, God, there – were like nothing Harry had ever heard.  He wondered at them – wondered at Snape actually saying them – and at the way they made his heart pound as if he were in the middle of a Quidditch match and had just sighted the Snitch.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the two wizards before him.  It wasn’t just the sight of Sirius’ tanned fingers against Snape’s white flesh, or the way his hips were rolling and surging, or the way Snape’s cock lay hard and leaking against his belly.  It wasn’t the fucking, because he’d seen it before.  He’d watched his father do the very same thing to Snape.

Except it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t the same at all.

“Sirius.”  Breathless as it was, Snape’s voice still plucked a chord inside Harry.  He’d never heard Snape call Sirius anything other than “Black”, unless it was an insult.  “Oh!  Si--Sirius!”  There was such need in his voice it was almost painful to hear.

“What, baby?” Sirius whispered back, equally breathless.  His hips never broke their rhythm and his eyes never left his partner’s face.  “What do you need?  Tell me.”

Baby.  Sirius had called Snape “baby”, and more amazingly, Snape had let him.  If he hadn’t been so caught up in their action, Harry could have laughed.

“Touch me,” Snape begged, the silk of his voice going ragged.  With a soft grunt Sirius wrapped an arm around Snape’s waist and boosted him up closer with a powerful push of his hips.  Snape gave a deep groan of approval and tightened his legs around his partner as Sirius wrapped his hand around Snape’s rigid cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. 

“Yesss!” he hissed as Sirius’ hand and hips both speeded up. Harry could see the way Snape’s fingers dug into Sirius’ shoulders as he arched back against the wall, taut with need and expectation.  “Oh, fuck, yes Sirius yes!”

Sirius’ hair and skin were drenched with sweat, and his teeth were bared with effort, but he didn’t stop thrusting and his hand was almost a blur on Snape’s cock.  Snape’s whole body was trembling on the verge of release and he tipped his head back with what was nearly a sob.

“Severus,” Sirius husked at him, and it was the first time Harry had ever heard his godfather call Snape by his name.  “Severus, look at me.”   Snape obeyed him instantly and wild black eyes locked with fervent gray.

“Come with me.”  Sirius’ whisper was throaty and strained.  “Want you to…want to see you….”

Snape opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out except a shuddering breath that turned into a sob as his slim body tensed.  Every visible muscle in Snape’s lean form clenched tight as a fist, the force of it nearly doubling him over as he shattered. 

“Oh fuck yes!” Sirius hissed, his fist still pumping Snape’s cock even as it spurted, splattering both of them.  “Beautiful… so fucking beautiful…coming for me.”  Sirius kept stroking until the last of Snape’s ejaculation had pulsed out of him, and while Snape was still gasping caught his mouth with a growl, pressed him hard against the wall and drove his hips into him, thrusting wildly, urgently, desperate for release. 

Sirius moaned into Snape’s mouth as his hips slammed home a final time and he froze, buttocks clenching, thighs trembling, until he threw back his beautiful head with a soul-deep groan as a powerful shudder of release ran through his whole body.

For a few moments the only sound in the room was the labored breathing of the two young wizards.  Snape was pressed into the wall, still wrapped around Sirius who was leaning heavily into him.  Both of them were drenched with sweat, and they bent their heads together, eyes closed, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. 

“Merlin!” Sirius heaved, then pulled his head back to sling the sweat from his hair.  Pulling Snape even closer, he turned them so that he was the one leaning back into the wall, supporting them both.  He leaned his forehead back against Snape’s brow and sighed.  “That was incredible.”

Snape’s face was stunningly flushed, his black hair was tangled where it had rubbed against the wall, and his lips red and swollen.  When his eyes flickered open, for an instant they looked confused – not as if he didn’t know where he was, but as if he had never expected to be there – and in that moment they were so open, so unquestioning – just black pools waiting to be filled – that Harry thought he looked almost…innocent.

Snape blinked the confusion away, then his dark brows knit together in a frown.

“What’s wrong?”  Sirius didn’t sound irritated, just curious.

“You called me ‘baby’ again.”

Sirius tried to fight off a smile.

“I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I noticed.”

“Sorry,” Sirius grinned a bit sheepishly.  “I won’t do it again.”

Snape snorted and rolled his eyes.  He wriggled a little in Sirius’ grip.

“You can let me down now, you know.”

“I don’t think so,” Sirius smiled, holding him tighter with one arm and reaching down to fondle Snape’s arse with his other hand.

“Imbecile.”  Harry had never heard Snape say that word with such affection.  “You’ll break your back.”

“Will not,” Sirius protested.  “You’re light as a feather.  You need to eat more.”

“Then you should let me down so I can go to dinner, shouldn’t you?”

“Nice try,” Sirius chuckled, then leaned in to press his lips against Snape’s.  Snape hesitated for half a heartbeat before giving in and returning the kiss, melding his mouth to Sirius’.

“God,” Sirius breathed when Snape pulled back.  “I want more.”

“Black…”  Snape unlocked his legs from Sirius’ waist and stood, but didn’t move away.  Sirius’ kept his hands on Snape’s hips.

“I don’t mean now, like this,” Sirius said in a soft rush.  “I mean more time, more…everything.”  When Snape just looked at him speculatively, Sirius continued, sinking his fingers a little more firmly into Snape’s hips and leaning close. 

“I want more of you,” Sirius told him, his voice a loud, throaty whisper.  “I’m tired of fucking with my pants still on; tired of fucking in empty classrooms; tired of worrying that Sluggy or McGonagall or Merlin-help-us Dumbledore will walk in and find us like this.”

“What do you think you want, then, Black?”  Snape’s voice had gone silky again, and there was almost a teasing tone behind it.

“I want,” Sirius answered with a soft growl, pulling Snape closer so that their groins met with a warm, slick sound, “to spend an hour doing nothing but teasing your nipples.”  He licked his lips and smiled at Snape’s soft intake of breath.  “I want to find every place on your body that makes you gasp just like that.  I want to fuck til we both pass out from the pleasure of it and wake up with you still in my arms.  I want to see how many times and how many ways we can make each other come before we go mad with it or die.”

“What do you suggest?” Snape asked in barely more than a whisper.  Their eyes were locked, their gaze kindling the air again.

“That room I showed you; the one on the seventh floor,” Sirius said, his hands slipping around and down to knead Snape’s arse.  “It’s been ages since we went there, and I want…  I want a whole night with you.”

Snape didn’t answer for a moment, but Harry saw his hands drift up Sirius’ sides until his thumbs grazed the other boy’s nipples.  He heard the hitch in his godfather’s breath, and noticed the slight shift in Snape’s stance; the way he oh so slowly pressed his hip into Sirius’ groin and insinuated a thigh between his legs.

“A whole night,” Snape repeated in that lazy, sinuous drawl that Harry had learned to associate with impending doom.  The sound of it raised goose-bumps on Harry’s flesh as usual, but this time he didn’t think it had anything to do with fear. “You realize what that would mean, of course.”

“Do tell?” Sirius urged.  He tried to sound casual, but Harry saw the way his cheeks were reddening.

“It would mean,” Snape continued, fisting the edges of Sirius’ open shirt and going up on his toes until their eyes were level, “that once you have had your wicked way with me -- as you are always so impatient to do -- there would be ample time for me to have my wicked way with you.”

“Really,” Sirius remarked a bit breathlessly.

“Oh yes,” Snape said silkily, adding a slow twist of his hips for emphasis.  “Considering all the times you have reduced me to utter wantonness, for all the times you have made me writhe and moan and claw like a cat in heat until I am shamelessly begging for your cock….”

“…Merlin!” Sirius whimpered softly.

“…a repayment in like kind is, I think,” Snape whispered, bending so close that their lips were almost touching, “long overdue.  With interest.”

“You certainly have my interest,” Sirius said weakly.  Harry could see that his chest was starting to rise and fall more rapidly and sweat was once again standing out on his brow.

“Do I?” Snape smirked.  “Would you let me do that, then, if I agree?”

“God, yes!”

“Would you beg me?” Snape whispered, his voice going so low that Harry could barely hear him and he found himself inching even closer.  “You know how long I can tease you, don’t you?  You know what my mouth can do to you; how long I can keep you teetering on the edge without letting you come.”

“Fuck!” Sirius hissed.  His fingers were tightening around Snape’s waist and he was starting to squirm against the thigh between his legs.

“Would you beg me then?”  Snape’s voice was barely above a whisper; just consonants on a breath.  “For your release?  For my cock?”

“Yes!” Sirius hissed at him.  He was already panting and his eyes were almost wild.  “Oh fuck yes!”

Snape paused and licked his lips, then leaned even closer, husking directly into Sirius’ ear.

“Do you think you could you take it, Black?” Snape murmured.  “All of it?  Would you spread your legs and let me push every inch of my cock into your tight hole?”

Sirius made an unintelligible whimper of need and started to push helplessly against Snape’s thigh.

“I’d do it slowly, you know,” Snape purred.  “I’d want you to feel it stretching you, filling you, until you think you can’t take any more; until you think you’re going to split in two and break apart.”

Harry couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t breathe because he was caught in the sound of Snape’s voice, in the sweat running down Sirius’ brow, in the helpless whimpers coming from his throat, in the tangle of their legs and the increasing undulation of their hips.

“God, yes!” Sirius practically sobbed, sliding down the wall a little to shove his pelvis more forcefully into Snape’s.  “Do it!” he gasped.  “Here.  Now.”

Snape, smiling a wicked smile, opened his mouth to reply, but froze at the sound of the Hogwarts bells tolling the hour.  Sirius too went still at the sound, hands gripping Snape’s arse, eyes burning with frustrated desire.

“Fuck!” both boys said at once.  Snape continued to swear under his breath as he abruptly pulled away from Sirius and began grabbing their clothes from the floor.  “Hurry!” he admonished Sirius, who was still pressed against the wall, eyes closed and jaw set in a desperate attempt to master himself.  “Slughorn always comes back here before dinner.  We need to be gone by then!” 

Snape tossed Sirius’s robe to him, and rolled his eyes when it caught on Sirius’ erection.

“Most impressive, Black.  Pull your pants up.”

“Bloody hell!” Sirius swore, glaring at Snape as he yanked his robe off his upstanding prick and shoved his arms into it.  “We can’t just leave it like this!”

“Haven’t much choice, do we?” Snape grunted, grimacing as he wrestled his own erection into his trousers. “Shouldn’t have forgot the time.”  He patted his robe, found his wand and muttered a couple of fast cleaning spells.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Sirius snarled, stuffing his shirt tails into his trousers. 

“Do I look like I did this on purpose?” Snape asked dryly, indicating the impressive bulge in the front of his trousers. 

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now?” Sirius demanded.

“Leave the sodding Potions classroom, you dolt!”

“You know what I mean!”

“Take care of it yourself, or save it for later,” Snape said, arching an eyebrow at Sirius as he straightened his tie.  “Fortunately you’re familiar with the mechanics of the former, since I doubt you’re capable of the latter.”  He added the smirk at the last minute.

“Oh?”  Sirius strode toward Snape, who widened his eyes at the look on Sirius’ face and retreated a step.  Sirius backed him right into the classroom door and took Snape’s jaw in his hand.  “Let’s say I am capable of the latter, Snape,” he said.  “Exactly when might “later” be?”

Snape opened his mouth, shut it, then swallowed.  “Tomorrow night,” he offered quietly.  “Where you said.”

“The whole night?”

“Dangerous,” Snape reminded him, brows knitting together.  “If they find out we’re not in our beds…”

“The whole night?” Sirius repeated.

Snape bit his lip then nodded.  “All right.”

A satisfied smile started to spread over Sirius’ face, then he frowned and cursed.

“Fucking hell…  Tomorrow’s not the full moon, is it?”

“No,” Snape said slowly, narrowing his eyes.  “Sunday is. But why would that matter?”

“It doesn’t,” Sirius said quickly, his cheeks flushing suddenly.  “It’s just…  It’s nothing.”  He shook his head sharply as if to clear it.  “Tomorrow then.  An hour after curfew.”

“All right,” Snape nodded.  He turned and pushed the door open, and peered out to check the hallway.  “No one’s out there.  Go.”

Sirius scooped his discarded satchel off the floor and made to slide out the door.

“Black.”  Snape grabbed him by the jumper as he went out.   Their eyes met once more and even from where he stood Harry could almost feel the heat of that gaze. “Remember what I told you,” Snape said softly with a small, wicked smile.

“Oh, I’ll remember,” Sirius leered at him.  “You’d best remember yourself, because I’m going to hold you to every word you said.”

“Prat.”

“Git.”

“Go!”

Sirius looked both ways down the corridor, then turned back suddenly, leaned down, bit the end of Snape’s nose and then went loping down the hallway, snickering to himself.

“Bastard!” Snape hissed, holding the tip of his nose.  “Stupid insane Gryffindor,” he grumbled, and after tapping out ten seconds with his fingers on the door, he took out his wand, slipped out the door, closed it and warded it behind him.

As the door shut, Harry let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Bloody fucking HELL!”

Harry jerked around at the unexpected voice to see his father – or most of him – wrestling the Invisibility Cloak off and hurling it to the floor.  James Potter was red in the face and breathing hard, but Harry doubted it was for the same reason that he was hot and breathless.   What he didn’t doubt was that his father had seen just as much as he had, and from just as clear a vantage point.

“FUCK!” James Potter shouted again, and then turned and punched the wall.

“Fuck!” he hissed much more softly, cradling his now-injured fist.

Harry winced, feeling some sympathy for his father.  He’d been mad enough to punch walls before, himself.

“I don’t believe this,” James Potter said to himself after a moment.  “I just bloody don’t believe this.  No.”  Harry’s father shook his head.  “No, no, no, no, NO!  Not Snivellus.  Fuck no.”

If the air had felt electric before, it fairly boiled now.  James Potter’s anger was so intense that Harry actually took a step back, staring at the memory of his father gone livid with rage. 

“This is not going to happen,” James Potter was muttering to himself.  “It’s not.  It can’t.  I’m not going to let it.”  And then he froze.  Harry followed his father’s gaze and saw, on the floor beneath one of the desks in the back row, a Potions textbook.

Sirius Black’s Potions textbook.

James Potter just stood there, looking at the book, but as he did so his breathing slowed and his face returned to a normal color.

“Right,” he said.  “I can fix this.”

Without another word, Harry’s father pulled out his wand and summoned the Potions book from the floor.  He caught it in one hand, tucked it under his arm, then swept up his cloak and swirled it around him. 

As soon as his father vanished, Harry felt as if he was rising in the air, the Potions classroom evaporating around him, and then he was falling, falling through the cold and dark.
~~



Link to the rest of the fic: http://nehalenia.insanejournal.com/6566.html#cutid1
About this Entry
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From:[info]akatnamedeaster
Date: February 27th, 2010 - 02:47 am
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I realize this posting is as old as dirt and I'd read this story long ago but since I've come back to it to save it on my HD I just wanted to tell you how much I love this one. It remains one of my favorites of this pairing, I only wish there were more of it! :)
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From:[info]nehalenia
Date: February 27th, 2010 - 04:50 am
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Aw, hon, thank you so much! I keep meaning to write the last bottle scene. Honestly, when I quit work to go back to school, I thought I was going to have SO much more time to write. HAH! Little did I know. Take heart, though. Several people have told me that grad school is actually easier that getting your BA, so there's still hope. :)