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Men in the Moon

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“Oh my God,” Harry said, staring up at the night sky.

“Should probably take your kit off, first,” Snape said.

Harry stood a moment longer, head thrown back, the light of the full moon illuminating his face perfectly. He looked like he very much wanted to die.

“I want to die,” he said. “Right now. A nice Avada Kedavra, that’s all I ask. Wouldn’t object to a Hippogriff trampling, really. Nasty way to go, but—“

Severus sighed and started stripping. Harry’s chin snapped down and he stared for a long, disbelieving moment. “You’re serious!” he spluttered finally.

Severus paused, his robe half-off. “There was doubt?”

“Well,” Harry said, obviously flustered. “I mean, I didn’t think you actually meant it, I mean what if someone comes out here?”

“What if?” Severus repeated, with obvious relish.

Harry flinched and took a defensive step backwards. “Look,” he said a little desperately as Severus began working on his shirt buttons, “I can make it up to you in other ways. Anything you like. I’ll rub your shoulders and blow you every night for, for a year, I swear to—“

“If you try to undress while we’re up there you may never recover your clothes,” Severus observed mildly. “And then how would you get back to the castle?”

Harry’s mouth snapped shut. He stood a moment, forlorn in the middle of the empty Quidditch pitch, then began disrobing with quick, furtive movements. Severus slowed in his own undressing both to enjoy the show and to make Harry wait for him in the end. Harry did, hunched and naked and glaring, his hands half-cupped protectively before his crotch, as if Severus wasn’t intimately acquainted with anything he might be trying to hide.

“Right then,” Severus said, finally discarding his pants.

“I hate you,” Harry said. “Hate, hate, hate. And Hermione, I hate her, too.”

“Mmm,” Severus said, reaching for his wand, “that’s not what you were saying yesterday when you were swooping about like a drunken seagull. In fact, as I recall, you were speaking most highly of the very resourceful Miss Granger.”

“Never sleeping with you again,” Harry said, bending to retrieve his own wand.

“Well,” Severus said, “in that case, we’ll just have to make this last time worthwhile, won’t we?” He tilted an eyebrow and cast the spell.

He still wasn’t entirely sure of himself under the zero-gravity charm Hermione had only last month perfected. It didn’t make him queasy anymore, at least as long as he wasn’t watching Harry zipping about the high-arched ceilings of the castle like Peeves with worse hair. Severus had finally been forced to make severe threats should Harry continue to do so in the presence of students, for they were having enough trouble keeping everyone safely earthbound as it was.

“If you want to fly about so much where everyone can see you, that’s just what we’re going to do,” he’d said just that afternoon, upon discovering a not very repentant Harry turning somersaults literally in the middle of the Entrance Hall. Harry hadn’t believed him. Until now.

Severus kicked off with the slightest tap of his foot. Every movement provoked a response out of all proportion, and he had to be careful not to accidentally rocket himself up past the Astronomy Tower. Behind him, Harry rose with maddening ease and poise. Severus glanced down at him and caught his breath. Harry’s body had loosened a little in the beloved rhythms of flight. His limbs were uncurling, his back straightening, the smooth lines of him fitting themselves naturally to the air. He himself looked nothing like that, Severus knew, which was part of the problem. If it were anyone else flitting about so much the novelty would wear off. But it was Harry, and with Harry every flight was a revelation, visible to anyone who saw him.

Severus stopped his upward glide with a careful downward tilt of his body, and then had to compensate for that, and then for his compensation. By the time he was as close to hovering as he was going to get, Harry had joined him, a slight smirk replacing his pout.

“Having problems?” Harry asked cheekily, spelling his wand to his forearm to free his hands.

“No,” Severus said. “This’ll do quite nicely. Just high enough, but not too high.”

Harry glanced down, a line appearing between his brows. “D’you think someone could recognize us from down there?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Severus said noncommittally. “They’ll certainly be able to tell what we’re doing at any rate.”

“You can’t honestly think I’m going to be in the mood up here,” Harry said, glancing worriedly down at his prick.

“I think you should rather hurry up and find the mood,” Severus said, and reached for him.

Kissing was new and different up here. He couldn’t press too close because then he’d be pushing away. He had to settle for just resting their lips together, for presence instead of pressure. Harry was pliant if not cooperative, and Severus could feel the flush of his skin from where he held Harry’s face.

“Severus,” Harry murmured as they parted, “I really don’t think—“

“Hush,” Severus said, touching his cheek. He’d been half hard all evening waiting for this, a quiet, seldom consulted center of his lizard brain firing madly with the idea of it.

“Someone might see,” Harry said. His eyes were large, a little frightened.

“It doesn’t matter,” Severus said, kissing him again carefully. “The bloke in the moon is the only one watching.”

Harry looked up reflexively, and Severus kissed his throat.

“You like this,” Harry said, meeting his eyes again. “I mean, you really like this. The idea that someone might come along.”

Severus felt an unaccustomed heat prickle his cheeks. “We all have strange tastes,” he said, glancing pointedly at Harry’s hand on his arm.

Harry laughed a little, but some of the lines in his face relaxed. “Just the bloke in the moon,” he repeated. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

It was trial and error and silly and crazy and mind-blowing. They rolled about in the air, reveling in the extra dimension added to their lovemaking. Their touches were by necessity careful as they learned how to play off each other, how to balance the forces of their bodies and the nothing from the rest of the world. They couldn’t let go of each other, and they were a tangled clench in the sky as the moon rose higher.

Somehow, Harry turned himself around under or over or beside Severus (directions had ceased to matter, with up and down flipping and everything else spinning, and wasn’t that just fitting, Severus thought) and they held each other’s thighs and kissed each other’s pricks until they were both twitching and moaning, the gentle thrusts of their hips sending them drifting across the sky. Harry had a sudden vision of them as he sucked Severus’ prick in and cupped his balls, of the bodies against the moon, looking like cut-outs from the ground. Interstellar pornography, he thought, and sucked with deliberate ruthlessness, his tongue working just below the head until Severus’ writhing sent them rolling over and over each other.

They kept right on tumbling, and somehow they were facing each other again and it was the simplest thing in the world to slide together with the ease of long practice, long knowing. They clasped hands between them, leaning back from the crux where their bodies joined, using the grip to press and release at each other, play their movements off each other. They were a lot higher up now, Severus noticed in passing. The moon seemed bigger up here, brighter. Harry was flying in his arms, every sinew of his body made for this, knowing this, born for this. Severus watched him and breathed and shifted his hips to press Harry’s prick more firmly between them.

He upset the symmetry of them towards the end. Harry’s nipples were dark and hard, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for them, taking them delicately between his fingertips. Harry gasped, his mouth falling wide and amazed and his whole body arching. Severus went with the movement, reversing it in his own body. He was getting the hang of this, he thought as Harry came and called his name. It was taking forever, but he was learning how to do this with his Harry.

He cried out, pulling Harry tight to his chest and coming in the same moment.

“Oh.” Harry said after a long silence. “Oh, my God.”

“Still hate me?” Severus asked.

“Absolutely,” Harry said lazily. “Loathe you.”

They drifted. The night was somehow more silent up here. Severus could see the castle below, clearly visible but somehow distant, of another world. He didn’t really want to come down, to collect their clothes from the pitch and walk back inside to their quarters. He was finally getting the hang of this flying without a broom business, and he had decided he rather liked it.

“Let’s stay up here for a while,” Harry said into his shoulder. “I mean, my dangly bits will get cold eventually, but—“

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to see us?”

Harry smiled dopily up at him. “Bloke in the moon won’t tell,” he said, and burrowed back into Severus’ shoulder.

Severus rolled his eyes and touched Harry’s hair. “For a while,” he said. “We can stay for a while.”

They wouldn’t be moving until Harry wanted to, he knew, and that might be all night.