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Of Potions and Promises

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"You evil miserable wretch."

The accusation received little reaction from its recipient, as Severus Snape casually marked his place in his book, and glanced over at the young man standing in his bedroom doorway. Still wearing his Quidditch uniform as a member of England's foremost professional team, Harry Potter looked sweaty, disheveled, and irate. And adorable. "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"I said you're an evil miserable wretch." Harry stepped into the room and kicked the door shut. "That was a wicked thing to do."

"I only made a suggestion," Severus said mildly, though he was well pleased with the results of that suggestion, a fact of which he was sure Harry knew.

"An evil suggestion." Harry loosened the tie to his Quidditch robe, pushing it off his shoulder and to the floor. "A wicked glorious tempting suggestion. Did you really expect me to stay at the celebration after that?"

"No," gloated Severus, letting a smirk finally disturb his too-innocent expression. He tossed his book to the nightstand and blatantly snuggled deeper into the bed, shoving the covers down to his waist. That tiny part of him that still distrusted his fortune - that he, Severus Snape, the most despised teacher at Hogwart's, had managed to wind up with Harry Potter, the most famous individual in the wizarding world, as his lover - leapt and shot sparks from his wand in joy at the success of his plan.

Though their relationship had been well established for three years, Harry's friends still didn't quite understand or accept the odd pairing, and regarded Severus with a fair measure of distrust and suspicion. For once, Snape happily took advantage of that reaction, knowing that they would move aside uncomfortably when he swooped down on the jubilant Harry, who was waving the golden snitch above his head as he accepted hugs and congratulations. The well-wishers cleared a path for Severus, letting him reach Harry without having to resort to an undignified elbowing of people out of his way. Severus' kiss on Harry's lips was a light brush, and no one heard his words whispered in Harry's ear, "Tonight. I want you in me tonight. Don't make me wait for my first time."

The wild blaze in Harry's eyes was immensely satisfying, like liquid sapphires set aflame, but Harry was too constrained by the crowd and his innate sense of privacy to respond in public. But he'd apparated back to the dungeons at Hogwart's a mere hour after the match, a major miracle when the celebrations for the team's success usually lasted the rest of the day and most of the night.

"No," Harry imitated Severus with a snort, stripping off the dark blue tunic of his Quidditch uniform. "Typical Slytherin manipulation."

"I *am* a Slytherin." Severus enjoyed the banter, the mock insults and rivalry that lingered from their belonging to different houses at Hogwart's and complicated past as teacher and student. Occasionally yes, they spoke sincerely and honestly, words of intense love and passion escaping unbidden, both of them surprised by the moments of sincerity. But mostly a casual observer might have assumed the two disliked each other, a style of interaction that worked for them better than artificial sweetness.

"So why now? Why tonight?" Propping one booted foot on the bed, Harry worked on the buckles, missing the flash of alarm in Severus' eyes that he quickly concealed.

"Perhaps Sybil Trelawney told me that the new moon makes the night an auspicious one for new beginnings."

Harry snorted again, aware of Severus' disdain for divinations. "Maybe you're jealous of all my admirers," he gloated back as he kicked off the second boot, his voice both gleeful and very, very pleased.

"Perhaps I wished you to return from a match in a relatively sober state for once."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry removed the white breeches and his underclothes. "As if I'm ever *very* drunk," he retorted indignantly, yanking the covers down to the bottom of the bed and admiring Severus' naked body. "I'm never too drunk to appreciate this."

Severus rolled his eyes but from the slight curling of his lips, Harry knew that the compliment pleased him. The older man had been hesitant to believe Harry's appreciation of his face and figure, but the younger man's dogged insistence and flattery finally made him accept the attraction was sincere. And then they were lying together, exchanging burning kisses and stroking each other's bodies, rousing each other with the comfort of familiarity and the passion of an abiding love.

Harry separated his lips from Severus before he came merely from rubbing against the older man. He wasn't sure what had provoked the suggestion, but he planned on taking advantage of a long cherished dream that he had never expected to be fulfilled. "So… how do you want to do this?"

"I want to see your eyes," was Severus' reply, and Harry had to bite fiercely at his bottom lip to keep from coming then and there. Severus' teeth joined his, nipping at the small break in the skin, sharing the trace of blood welling from the abused lips. That deserved another long kiss as Severus bent his knees, bringing his legs up to rest on Harry's slim shoulders. Harry obligingly shifted, following Severus' actions, resettling his body, his prick coming to rest against Severus' bum.

"Lotion?" Harry asked, and felt a bottle slipped into his hands. He uncorked the cap and raised it to his nose, sniffing the potion appreciatively. Experimenting with lubricants seemed to have become Severus' favorite hobby since they became lovers, each new potion slicker and better smelling than the last. This one - this was the most potent and complex yet, reminding Harry of Quidditch and potions at the same time, the earthy smell of grass and air mixed with the darkness of the dungeons, the leather and metal of Quidditch balls blended with the pewter of cauldrons, the thrill of winning soaked into the mysterious promise of a potion's ingredients. "What is it?"

"What does it smell like?"

"Like you and me. Together."

"Then perhaps it is." Severus tilted his hips, brushing his skin against Harry, urging action, and Harry dropped the subject, accepting his lover's tendency to be cryptic.

Preparing Severus might have been easier if the other man had laid peacefully, but Severus was always an active participant, even when not the leader. Harry shivered as Severus' hands moved unceasingly over his body, stroking his sides, caressing his back, and rubbing his nipples, while Harry completely covered his prick with the lotion and began the new and exciting experience of stretching Severus for his entry. Though he had often fondled and played with the sensitive skin, he had never sunk his fingers inside, never felt the muscles closing around him, the tightness squeezing his fingers but gradually loosening under his dedicated ministrations. He knew the sensations well from being on the receiving end, and had to wonder now if his face always reflected the same bliss that showed in Severus' dark sparkling eyes and open panting mouth.

The older man tugged at Harry's hips, drawing him closer, and judging from that urgency and the look on Severus' face, Harry withdrew his fingers and pushed the head of his prick against the relaxed entrance. Despite his stated desire to see Harry's eyes, Severus' lids fluttered shut at that touch, and Harry demanded, "Look at me."

The dark eyes opened slowly as Harry waited patiently. Locking Severus' eyes with his own, Harry thrust in carefully, a groan wrenched from his chest at the feel of Severus closing around him. Tight, hot, holding him close and snug… Severus absorbed all of him and Harry halted, unable to do anything but breathe hoarsely and stare at Severus in wonder. Why had Severus made him wait so long?

Severus dug his hands into Harry's waist. "Keep going."

"Can't," Harry gasped. "Should be slow."

"You must." To force the issue, Severus lifted and lowered his hips, rocking on the bed, and Harry rocked with him, his prick withdrawing only a scant measure before seeking entry again. "I want it hard."

Accepting that Severus could pick the worst times to be insistent - not surprising, since he could pick even worse times to be agonizingly slow - Harry leaned further forward, rising higher on his knees, his forearms on the pillow on each side of Severus' face, and began a hard pounding rhythm. Years of Quidditch had developed his leg muscles, and he used all that strength, giving Severus everything he could and more. He worried that he was being too rough, but Severus caressed the length of Harry's spine, his hands stopping on Harry's bum, squeezing the well-shaped cheeks in tune to the thrusts, persuasively convincing Harry that he was fine. More than fine - hot and needy.

Harry moaned and bent forward more, bringing Severus with him, bending the older man in half before capturing his lips in a fierce if somewhat sloppy kiss. His hips slapped against Severus, lunging and retreating, as the men gasped and groaned in an uneven melody. The smell of Quidditch and potions filled the air, even more potent as the friction of their bodies heated the lotion. The scent drove Harry on, and he pounded harder and deeper, not stopping until both men were yelling from their orgasm, Severus' hot seed splashing on their chests, Harry's flowing into Severus, their fury of the final release more explosive and exhausting then grabbing the golden snitch and tumbling to the ground after a long dive.

"Wow," was the only coherent word Harry could utter as their bodies stayed curled together, Harry still on top. They disengaged in stages, exchanging satisfyingly long kisses as they nestled together under the covers, Harry's head on Severus' chest.

"Most articulate, Mr. Potter."

In retribution, Harry licked the nipple closest to his face, generating a pleasing gasp from the other man. "You were saying?"

"Wow would seem to be an appropriate reaction."

"Thought so." A comfortable silence fell for a while and Harry felt himself slipping into a light doze, but roused himself to ask, "So we can do that again?"

"Perhaps." The tone of Severus' rich voice promised what the word didn't. Physically worn-out from the match and the lovemaking, Harry slept, the last sensation of Severus' toying with his disheveled hair causing him to smile as his thoughts drifted into dreams.

~ the end ~