Recollection

By Taleya

Chapter Six

He was having a conversation he’d had four years ago, wrapped in the comforting haze of a dream.

Severus was much better than a pillow, he’d decided.  Pillows weren’t warm to the touch. Pillows weren’t so comfortably firm, pillows didn’t smell so good, or resound with the soft beat of a living heart.  You couldn’t rest your head on a pillow and wrap your legs around it at the same time.  You couldn’t bathe with a pillow – well you could, but they weren’t good for much afterwards.  A pillow couldn’t make you whimper.  A pillow couldn’t make you scream. You couldn’t nibble on a pillow’s ear, or taste the fine sheen of sweat on a pillow’s nipple. Or…

Oops. He was doing it again.

“Merlin’s balls,” the voice from above rumbled through the chest under his head. “Don’t you ever bloody stop, you little hedonist?”

“mm…” Harry lazily rubbed himself against the other mans leg. “I’m a teenaged male. We’re famed for it.”

“You don’t have to tell me..” Snape groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes. “Why oh why did you tell me that when I have to teach a room full of the little bastards first thing this morning?  The idea of Neville Longbottom engaged in carnal activities is enough to turn my stomach.”

Harry chuckled.  “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Sev.  You’re safe, he’s a girl-only kind of man.”

“It gets worse and worse!” Snape groaned. “*Procreating* Longbottoms. And the little bugger will probably have one of those families that is fruitful and multiplies.  Thousands upon thousands of little Longbottoms wreaking havoc across the globe, losing their wretched toads and dressing me in lace-trimmed dresses and revolting vulture hats.”

“And crimson handbags, don’t forget the crimson handbag.” Harry chipped in

“Oh, I don’t mind the handbag. It goes well with my robes.”  Harry rolled onto his back, howling with laughter.  “What, you don’t think I can pull off crimson?” the careful affrontry was completely fake, and they both knew it.

“Oh no, I like the handbag. I think you should go with the handbag,” Harry sniggered. “But I think you should seriously consider that vulture hat – it matches your nose – AAAAAK!”

Snape had grabbed Harry and rolled them over on the decadently large bed, sheets sliding obscenely under their naked bodies until he was on top, the younger man’s hands pinned above his head, faces bare inches apart.

“Are you showing cheek, boy?” He hissed in his most masterful voice at the delightfully shivering form beneath him. “Are you daring to talk back to me?”

“You know I am.” Harry arched up and bit the potions master’s collarbone, delighting in the low growl that resulted.

“Ohh no. no no no no no.” With great difficulty, Snape prised himself free.  “Enough of that for now. You may be a teenaged male, but I’m not.  And I have to sit through a seminar on potions this afternoon.”

Harry pouted, but relented, waiting until the other man had sprawled on his back before resuming his favourite Sev-pillow cuddling position. “You could blow it off.”

“No I can’t, I’m one of the speakers.  And given this schools predilection for letting things lapse in the areas of transfiguration and dark arts, at least one subject has to stay on the cutting edge of magic.”

“mmm…” he drew lazy patterns on the chest underneath him.  “You know, you never did tell me why you want the DADA position so badly.”

There was silence for a long while, and looking up he saw the question had surprised the older man.  “I would have thought that you of all people would have seen why, Mr. Potter.  Defense against the Dark Arts is taught by optimists and fools. Grindylows and HinkyPunks – they’re nothing more than idiot fears! What good does teaching about them do to protect the children against a true dark mage?  It’s the same idiot thinking that left us wide open to Voldemort in the first place. Now get off me, I need to find at least three articles of clothing you haven’t ripped, chewed, or ejaculated over for the seminar.”

Harry grumbled, but moved, sprawling lazily on the bed and happily watching an extremely naked Severus Snape stalk across the stone floor and bend over, burrowing in a trunk for clothes.  The sight of that backside brought about a whole new set of thoughts that he put hastily to one side to enjoy later, staring up at the ceiling instead.

Few people saw the side of Severus Snape that he’d come to know so well.  The man wrapped himself in a cloak deeper than the robes he wore, content with people seeing simply what they wanted to see instead of what was truly there.  But there was a darkness in Snape that unnerved him.  It repelled and drew him in for the same reasons.  A reflection of the darkness inside himself. A potentiality, a knowledge of what you could do, what you never dared to do but were sometimes forced to.  A huge swelling darkness, deep inside, knowing that that only a thin veneer of control held it back, and every time you were forced to use it, the terror that you would never be able to close that door again…

And it excited him too.

“Lazing about again, Potter?”  That voice wasn’t helping either.  A fully clad Snape appeared in his vision, looking positively predatory in his customary black robes.  Harry crossed his eyes and lazily twisted his hips, waving his semi-erection at the other man, poking out his tongue tauntingly.

And nearly bit it clean off as a warm mouth engulfed his cock.

“Gnear!” he encouraged, hands reaching down to tangle in black hair.  Long-fingered hands entangled with his and pinned them down at his sides, the other man’s weight shifting to pin him further, leaving him helpless to that masterful tongue.

Snape teased him mercilessly, moist lips suckling oh-so-gently, his tongue tickling the very tip as he took more and more down his throat with maddening slowness, shifting tactics, the entire length of his tongue undulating against him, then darting back for quick, flicking touches as he drew his head back before taking him deeper.  Harry hit the edge again and again, and finally was pinned there, every muscle in his body clenched in delight….

And then Snape withdrew him completely.

Harry mewled helplessly, hips jerking, teetering on the edge but unable to fall.

He could hear Severus’ soft laughter in the background.

“You bastard!” he choked out and clawed blindly, hooking his fingers around a handful of black robes and yanking Snape down on top of him, thrusting blindly, humping against the other man’s groin, the feeling of soft velvet delightfully obscene against his hypersensitive cock

And then he did fall.  Screaming happily all the way.  Boneless, he collapsed back onto the bed, hand still entangled in black robes.

“You..” he panted. “Are an evil, sadistic….”

“Buggerfuck,” Snape swore. “That was my last clean robe.”

“Dobby is here! Dobby has clean robes and breakfast for Mister Harry Potter!”

Harry twitched in his sleep.  House elves? In his erotic dreams?  Not bloody likely.  He reached out for Snape but the other man was already fading, melting back into the realm of dreams and memories, as he awoke and his hands closed over nothing but a handful of rumpled duvet.
 

Chapter Seven -->

All Content Copyright © 2001 Taleya Joinson
Last modified: November 12, 2010