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Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived to Defeat Voldemort at Long Last perched uncomfortably on his stool. He shifted to try and ease his aching erection. Ten more minutes until lunch and then maybe, finally he could get some relief. He'd been having trouble all morning, even a fevered wet dream the night before had done nothing to ease his raging libido.

He'd tried masturbating in the shower that morning, but with four other boys in the other cubicles, it wasn't particularly private and Dean's shouts of, "Oi, Potter, what's taking you so long?" amidst giggles from the rest of them didn't help either.

It didn't help that the star of his dreams and fantasies for the past few weeks was stalking around the classroom with a swirl of black robes that made Harry's throat constrict and hardened him even further. He just hoped the professor did not know what effect he was having on this particular student.

Things might have been different if Harry had paid more attention to the class rather than its instructor. Before Voldemort's demise, he would have kept a wary eye on Malfoy and his cronies, suspecting them of being one step away from Death Eaters. But since nearly all the Slytherins had fought on the side of Light during that final battle, tensions had eased up somewhat and Harry didn't think he needed to worry. He'd forgotten that Malfoy's dislike of him went further than what side of the battlefield they were on.

Harry was too distracted, he didn't even see Malfoy extract his wand, didn't hear the hex until it reached him, the force of it knocking him from his stool. But Snape had seen and in a blink of an eye, Malfoy was disarmed and glared hard at his professor and head of house. The Slytherins were in uproar, never had Snape ever punished one of his own house before.

"Mr. Malfoy, detention tonight with Mr. Filch. It might remind you not to throw hexes in my class where I can see you! Not very Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry struggled to get to his feet just as the bell rang for the end of class. The students waited anxiously for Snape's dismissal. No-one ever left his classroom without permission. It was a few moments before he did.

Harry gathered up his books, sitting back at his desk as he did so, trying to hide his arousal. He'd been hard even before Malfoy had cast the hex, but now he was so hard that it hurt to move. He burned and all he could think of was getting to a bathroom and getting some much needed relief. His world came crashing down round his ears when Snape spoke next. "Potter, stay behind."

He looked desperately at Ron and Hermione who shrugged their shoulders, but he knew they couldn't really do anything to help him. Harry was aching to get some time alone with his hands, but there was no chance of that when he was about to be lectured in Snape's classroom. He just knew he was about to get a lecture on paying attention. He hoped the man didn't expect him to stand up anytime soon.

When the last of the stragglers had left for lunch, Snape locked and warded the door. "Come with me, Potter."

Snape headed towards his office.

Harry wondered if he banged his head hard enough on the desk if he would be able to knock himself out. Being unconscious was preferable to the Potions master finding out about his body's condition.

But Snape wasn't looking at him, was assuming that Harry would follow him. Harry swallowed around the fluttering snitch that had decided to take up residence in his throat and stood up on legs that resembled something rubbery, rather than flesh and bone. He draped his robe around the front of his body, grateful that all his robes were just that little bit too large for him and hid a multitude of sins.

Snape walked straight through his office and paused at the doorway to his private chambers. He whispered the password and waved his wand, dismantling the wards, before glancing back at Harry and holding his hand out, waiting for Harry to precede him through the door.

"You may use my bathroom, Potter," said Snape in the softest tone of voice Harry had ever heard him use, and never with him.

"Sir?" squeaked Harry, mortified beyond endurance. The man knew about Harry's predicament. This day could not get any worse. Except it could.

"The hex Malfoy cast was an ancient lust spell, used in duels to break the concentration of your opponent. It is not as potent as an aphrodisiac potion, but debilitating all the same. I thought my bathroom would be a bit more private for you than the dorms or one of the school bathrooms. You will not feel relief until you've... er..."

Snape blushed, two splotches of red high on his cheekbones. Harry thought it was endearing and exciting.

"Um, thank you sir," said Harry, flushing and glancing round at three closed doors. "Er, sir, the bathroom?"

Snape waved a hand and the bathroom door opened. Harry dived in, slamming the door behind him but not bothering to lock it. He sank down, his back resting against the door, his knees drawn up. He quickly unzipped his trousers, but didn't bother with pulling them down. There was no time for leisurely explorations to see what felt good. He was all about need and he needed to come. Right now if possible.

He fumbled through the slit in his boxers, grasping his length firmly in his fist and tugging frantically, trying to get some much needed friction. Normally a few good tugs and thrusts of his hips and he would be there, spilling himself on his hands, but it wasn't working. He pulled harder and harder on his cock, but he wasn't coming, just getting sore.

Tears of frustration stung his eyes as he pulled himself harder and harder, rubbing his cock raw. He spat on his hands and tried again, thrusting his hips into his hand, but nothing was helping. He moaned in agony. Oh, God! He needed to come so badly, but something wasn't right. It was as though there was something blocking his orgasm, but not diminishing the need for it. Was it the spell Malfoy cast?

His wrist was sore and his fingers were cramping as he squeezed as hard as he could against his cock, but it still wasn't enough to make him come.

"Potter? Are you all right?" came Snape's voice through the door. No, he wasn't all right. He was far from all right. Harry rubbed at his face, wiping away the tears and snot. His chest and cock hurt and he just so wanted it to be over.

"No - sir - I - I can't," sobbed Harry.

"I'm coming in," said Snape. Harry tucked his throbbing erection back in his trousers and zipped up, moving away from the door and resting his back against the side of the bath. He hung his head on his knees, not wanting the man to see him crying like a baby over this.

"Talk to me, Potter," commanded Snape and Harry was so used to obeying that voice that he did.

"It hurts," he sobbed to his knees. "I can't - I can't come and it aches."

There was a rustle of cloth as Snape knelt down beside him. He took Harry's face in his hands and tilted Harry's head up so that Harry had no option but to look at the man. Snape's eyebrow rose a fraction.

"It seems Mr. Malfoy has added another element to the hex. Someone else needs to bring you to orgasm. Do you have a girlfriend who could help?"

Harry shook his head, tears still trickling down his cheek.

"A boyfriend?" asked Snape, his voice a tad shaky.

"No," sighed Harry and glanced up at that face that haunted his dreams. He felt as though he was drowning in two deep black pools.

"Will you let me help you, Harry?" Snape asked softly.

Harry's breath hitched on hearing his name from the man's lips.

"I shouldn't be doing this, you're a student," said Snape as though trying to talk himself out of it.

"Please, sir, please," begged Harry.

"Are you sure?" asked Snape, tracing a finger along Harry's tear stained cheek.

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Very well. You need to come quickly, Harry, so forgive me that this will be rushed."

Snape unzipped Harry's trousers and delved inside his underwear, tugging Harry's cock out into the air. Precome was already leaking from the tip and Snape pressed a fingertip to the slit and spread the lubrication around Harry's length and began stroking to a steady rhythm. He was a lot firmer than Harry had been, his hands a lot bigger and it felt so different to the way Harry touched himself.

Soon Harry was gasping and bucking his hips into the warmth of those hands. Hands that he'd only ever dreamed of touching him before. But this wasn't a dream. He could feel the edge of the bath digging into his back, the cool tiles beneath his hands and Snape's ragged breathing in his ear. He was close, so close.

"Don't stop!" he pleaded, even as he thrust his hips again. Harry felt his whole body tense, a tightness coiling in his belly and balls and knew he was nearly there. He screamed and arched his back, his release gushing over Snape's hands and onto the floor, onto his trousers and Snape's robes. Pulse after pulse of semen, Harry had never shot so much before in his life. The orgasm seemed to go on forever and he was panting hard and didn't want Snape to stop touching him.

Snape milked him of every last drop, going beyond the point where Harry would normally have stopped touching himself. A few more spurts dribbled out, but Snape didn't remove his hand even when Harry had stopped coming.

Harry felt like soggy spaghetti and he leaned against the bath once more, looking down at Snape's hand still curled around his wilting cock. Snape saw him looking and hastily removed his hand.

"I'm sorry, I should not have done that. It must be a bit embarrassing, having the greasy Potions master touch you." Snape stood up and was about to wipe his hand on his robes when Harry reached out and grabbed his arm.

"No," said Harry, pulling Snape's hand towards his mouth. He'd never done this before, but he wanted to taste himself. Taste himself on Snape's fingers. He sucked each of the man's fingers one by one, suckling like a baby nursing.

Snape gasped and Harry released his fingers with a loud pop. Snape's eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily. He took a step backwards, out of Harry's reach.

"Nervous, excited, elated, but not embarrassed," said Harry. "And maybe a little bit aroused."

Snape's eyes snapped open and flickered to Harry's groin, where Harry's cock was stirring again. It felt more like a natural arousal now and he wondered what it would feel like if they could take their time.

"It's the hex," protested Snape. "You were under the influence of a powerful aphrodisiac spell!"

"Yes," agreed Harry. "You."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean I was hard even before Malfoy cast that hex at me. That's why I was so distracted that I didn't see him. I was thinking about you."

"Is this some sort of foolish Gryffindor prank? It's not very funny, Potter."

"No, professor. It's not a joke. I - lo - I like you." Harry hoped the truth shone in his eyes, for he didn't know how else to convince the man if he did not believe his words.

"You're a student, Potter. I should never have touched you like that," repeated Snape, looking aghast at what he'd allowed to transpire in the bathroom. "I'll understand if you want to report this to the headmaster."

"I'm not going to the headmaster," said Harry, standing up on shaky legs and putting himself to rights again. "I was under a curse, you helped me. You did nothing wrong, professor. Would you have helped me if the curse wasn't sexual in nature?"

"Yes, if I could be of help."

"This was no different. It wasn't like you abused me or forced me to do anything."

"But I wanted - I wanted to touch you. I've thought of touching you before."

Harry sank down on the edge of the bath before he fell down. Snape wanted to touch him? Snape was interested in him? That was unexpected news.

"But you are a student and it's wrong."

"You're right professor," said Harry. "I am a student. For three more weeks."

"What are you saying, Potter?"

"I'm saying that if I come back after graduation, would you be interested in me?"

"What, a goodbye fuck from the famous Harry Potter? I don't do one night stands," said Snape coldly.

"Neither do I," hissed Harry. "Despite the rumours you may have heard to the contrary."

It shouldn't hurt this much, should it? That Snape had believed the rumours, that Harry was in a different bed every night, boy girl, it didn't matter whose?

"Think what you like," he said angrily, trying to push past Snape to the door. And dammit all to hell, he was going to burst out crying again like a girl. He wanted to yank his eyes out of his head. "I was waiting, all right? I was waiting for you! But if you're not interested..." Harry tried to navigate his way to the door through the shimmery haze of his tears, but something was preventing his escape.

Something black and solid. Snape's chest and suddenly Snape's arms wrapped around him and Harry was sobbing hard against that bulk. He wondered if tear stains showed up on black clothes and what detergent Snape used or if he used house elves and Hermione would be angry at that or if he used cleaning spells or if...

"Harry, I can feel you thinking," said Snape and Harry's thoughts stopped. "I'm sorry, Harry," whispered Snape and pressed a soft kiss on Harry's untidy hair. The kiss felt more intimate than Snape's hands on his cock had done.

"I didn't know how you felt," said Snape. "I thought you hated me."

"I thought you hated me," Harry mumbled against Snape's chest.

Snape cupped Harry's chin in his hand and tilted Harry's head up to face him. "Not for a long time." Snape wiped Harry's tears away with the back of his hands. "So is it true, Harry? That you were waiting?"

"Yes, the terrible truth is out. Harry Potter is the world's only seventeen year old virgin. Pitiful, huh?"

"No, Harry. There is nothing pitiful about waiting for the right time or the right person," said Snape, rubbing soothing circle's on Harry's back. If he'd been a cat, Harry would have purred. As it was, he contented himself with soft murmurs, being held firmly in Snape's arms. He felt safe there, the first time he'd ever really felt safe since Voldemort's defeat.

"Harry, I think that if you were to seek me out after graduation, I would not be averse to starting something with you. But it would be difficult. Your friends probably would not approve and the Order..."



"Can you be quiet and kiss me?"

Snape blinked, obviously shocked at the request, but he didn't deny it. He pressed his mouth firmly against Harry's, his tongue tracing along Harry's lips. Harry moaned happily into the man's mouth, his toes curling. He rocked forwards, his erection pressing into Snape's hips and felt and echoing hardness against his own and all the while Snape was kissing him as though he needed Harry's breath rather than oxygen to live. Harry ground himself shamelessly against Snape's leg, groaning as each touch sent shockwaves through his groin.

Snape pulled his mouth away, "Harry, we've got to stop," he said breathlessly, but Snape wasn't moving away from him, in fact his grip was even firmer as he pulled Harry towards him and rubbed against Harry with equal fervour. "Oh, professor!" moaned Harry in ecstasy, but it was the wrong thing to say.

Snape caressed his cheek. "We can't do this, Harry. Not until you graduate. It wouldn't be right."

Harry pouted and Snape groaned. "You would tempt a saint, Harry and I am no saint. But I want to do this properly. Where you are not my student and you don't have to rush to class. Lunch is almost over."

As Snape said it, Harry's stomach growled. He'd forgotten all about lunch, too intent on Snape.

Snape cast a cleaning spell on both of them and Harry felt a little sad that the evidence of what had happened between them was so easily removed.

Harry reluctantly disentangled himself from Snape's embrace but Snape pulled him back for a quick kiss, a feather light touch of lips against lips.

"Until graduation," sighed Snape against his lips.

"Until graduation," agreed Harry.

It was going to be a long three weeks.

The End