Archive of Our Own ^beta

In all his years at Hogwarts, Harry had never managed to start the term like others did, without complications. Things always tended to take a detour for him, but perhaps because the start of the seventh term was also his first since coming of age, that one turned out truly extraordinary. Because it just so happened that Harry woke up the next morning without his dick.

Truthfully, the whole thing might have gone unnoticed until he went to take a leak, but Harry always started his day with a quick morning wank. He also wanked every night before sleep and often after lunch, too, but what could he say; he was at the age when the wishes of his dick governed much of his life. That day though, warm and horny after sleep, he slid his hand into his pants only to notice there was nothing to grab. For whatever reason, he wasn't terribly alarmed. Weird ass shit happened in the wizarding world all the time, that much he'd learned over the six years since his letter to Hogwarts, and now that he thought about it, his dream had probably been something of a warning.

Dreams were just dreams, of course, the only thing weirder than the wizarding world. In his dreams, mushrooms could be kings, stars could be breadcrumbs, and Harry was anything and everything his mind decided. That night, his dick had spoken to him.

"I'm off," it had said, rather cheerfully too, while wriggling itself out of Harry's slacks.

Dream-Harry had taken this quite calmly. Wherever his willy was going, it would surely come back sooner or later. After all, life couldn't be easy being a prick without an owner.

"Where are you going?" Dream-Harry had asked, pondering if he should get new trousers since the current ones had turned awfully loose.

"To find us a husband."

And with that, his willy had flown away.

Yes, flown. Quite the sight, that one, even in a dream.

Sitting in his bed, Harry figured these things were somehow connected. The logic eluded him, though, because honestly, how was his dick going to get him a husband? It couldn't even speak. Or maybe it could, how would Harry know? He'd never really talked to it, just gave it frequent and thorough rubbing. But if it actually did approach some poor bloke, the man would run screaming the other way seeing a detached penis hovering mid-air.

After a shower and a pee – not that difficult as there was still a small hole to get the job done – Harry decided he should probably skip breakfast and go straight to Poppy for some advice. At least Harry believed the problem was a medical one. It could be something else too, something to do with dark magic or maybe some transformation mishap, but Poppy seemed like a good place to start. He grabbed a handful of Fudge Flies from Ron's stash to serve as breakfast, muttered something about an urgent appointment, and headed to the hospital wing.

"No, I don't think I've ever heard of anything like this before, Harry," the woman said after listening to his story and taking a look at his smooth crotch, appearing neither surprised nor concerned. Guess she'd seen enough weird ass shit in her life too. "I'll do some research and send some letters. Come back after classes and we'll see what we can do."

The plan sounded reasonable. Although Harry was missing an organ, it wasn't the most essential organ to survive a school day, and Poppy surely knew best how to proceed. But the weirdness of the day didn't end there.

As soon as Harry had closed the door behind him, a light emerged in the air in front of him. A light emanating from his groin.

For a few seconds, the light floated a few steps away from him like a beacon of some kind, but then, as if it had somewhere more important to be, it dashed along the corridor and disappeared from sight, leaving behind a faint, shimmering trail to follow. Not that Harry had any intention of following some strange light, but since it seemed harmless and since he was heading in the same direction anyway, he decided to ignore it for the time being and ask Poppy about it later. He was already late from Potions.

In the dungeons, Harry found students gathered in front of a closed door.

"Cancelled?" he heard Hermione ask in the middle of the crowd. "How can the class be cancelled? Snape's never ill."

Others around her muttered in agreement, confused at such an unexpected and unlikely event, but Ron immediately focused on what mattered the most.

"Who cares why?" he grinned. "We got the morning off!"

With cheers, whistles, and general excitement, the corridor emptied in seconds, leaving Harry alone by the door. No one had even noticed his new light.

Third weirdness that day. Coincidence? Hardly. Harry just had no clue where and how to start solving the puzzle. Given the nature of the problem, he didn't feel like brainstorming with his friends, either.

But as he turned to leave and join his classmates outside, the light shifted. Instead of staying in front of him, it was now on his back, and after taking a few steps, the light stretched, forming a glowing strand between him and the door.

Harry didn't need Hermione to explain this one. The light was definitely trying to tell him where he should go.

He shrugged. Three hours until lunch. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to check out where the light was leading him.

The moment he opened the dungeon door, however, the light sorta… went wild. Like a snitch let loose, it dashed across the room without sense or order, crisscrossing from one point to another like it was chasing something or escaping from something, and after a good two minutes of flying around, it darted straight back out the door.

And Harry followed. Ran, to be exact. Ran until he was out of breath, the light gone from his sight but the trail it left clear to follow. He caught up with the light again at the Headmaster's door where it floated in the air, like it was waiting for him.

Harry leaned on the wall to catch his breath.

Seemed he was supposed to go inside next. But what was he going to say? That he was there because he followed his brand new crotch-light? Not that he had much time to consider. As if Dumbledore already knew he was outside, the door opened and welcomed him in.

The light snuck inside first.

"Good to see you, Harry," the old man said, raising a half-interested eyebrow at the light hovering in the middle of the room.

"Sorry to bother you, Headmaster," Harry began, as an apology felt necessary. "That thing just appeared about half an hour ago and it's been leading me ever since."

Dumbledore looked at the light more closely. "Did it now? And where has it been leading you?"

"Well, at first, the Potion's classroom, though the class was cancelled, and then here."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair again. "Professor Snape was here earlier. He wasn't feeling well and informed me of the cancellation. He didn't mention anything about a light, though."

"I don't think it has anything to do with Professor Snape," Harry said, a bit too fast apparently, as Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "I mean, I doubt it, but maybe I should speak with him anyway. In case he knows something."

If he was honest, the mere thought that the day's events might be connected to Snape made him more than a little uncomfortable. The man may be hot but he was also terrifying, and Harry didn't want his dick anywhere near him. Then again, going by instinct seemed to be the style of the day, so maybe he needed to simply go with the flow.

For no obvious reason, Dumbledore seemed amused. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait until Monday for that. Professor Snape said he would be spending the weekend away. Perhaps I could help you instead. Anything else unusual about this day other than the light?"

Realising that any answer would inevitably lead to the matter of Harry's missing penis, something he wasn't ready to discuss with his old Headmaster, he thanked the man and left.

Head hurting and stomach growling, Harry went back to bed where everything had started, grabbed another handful of Fudge Flies, and decided to rest for a while. Sad that he didn't have his favourite plaything to cheer him up, he settled for a nap, waking up some time later to an insistent owl tapping against the window.

A message from Poppy. Finally, some answers.

Ignoring the direction the light wanted him to take, Harry sprinted to the hospital wing.

"Your condition isn't unique, nor is it dangerous, Harry," the woman announced, which was a relief but also somewhat odd. Other people had experienced this too? "Reports are rare because the young men involved are usually too embarrassed to seek help, but also because the condition tends to solve on its own."

"I don't understand."

So often, Harry didn't, but this time, he was truly at a loss.

"Powerful wizards who have recently come of age sometimes experience what is called a 'penis-beacon'. It appears to be associated with a strong libido that isn't satisfied with the current sexual activity but also with a deep desire to have a partner. Would you say these characteristics apply to you?"

Harry thought for a moment. While jerking off three times a day – okay four or five was probably closer to the truth – was certainly nice and he really enjoyed orgasms, coming like that wasn't actually much of a relief. More like a brief venting of a steam engine perpetually about to burst with too much pressure. And even though Harry was still very much a virgin both in practice and theory, he thought about sex a lot and had often suspected that sex with another person might be satisfying on a whole other level. Might even be nice to cuddle after.

He nodded, and Poppy continued.

"Because of the spike in sexual drive and the lack of a partner, the magic turns inward, detaching the penis so it can find a compatible mate with whom to find physical and emotional fulfilment. Preferably for life."

"That's what it said in the dream too," Harry muttered.

"Come again?"

"Oh, nevermind. But how… How can a detached dick find me a mate?"

The woman gave him an encouraging smile. "The details aren't clear, again, because those who have experienced it have been reluctant to give detailed descriptions. But I was assured it all progresses quite naturally. All you have to do is follow the beacon."

She pointed to the light waiting patiently – or was it stubbornly? – by the closed door.

Truth be told, nothing about the experience so far felt 'natural' and Harry doubted it would develop into anything natural either, but he didn't want to argue with the only person who had been able to help him. Good manners and all that. On the bright side, he had new information: the light was part of the mystery and would lead him to a solution. If everything went well, he would have his dick back before evening and would get to spend some quality time in bed to cover all the orgasms he'd missed since last night. The part about finding a partner seemed far-fetched, but he wasn't going to say no to some snogging if that was how things evolved.

Like before, as soon as Harry opened the door, the light flew ahead of him, leaving behind a familiar trail. Accepting his role as the blind but eager seeker, Harry walked along the corridors and stairs to where he was led. Which was, oddly enough, Snape's chamber.

A quick glance both ways down the corridor and an Alohomora which surprisingly worked (perhaps the man had left in a hurry?), and Harry was inside, feeling guilty like the trespasser he was. Before he could delve too deep into the consequences of entering a professor's private quarters without permission, the light went crazy again.

After spurting around the living room for a while, it continued to the bathroom where it hopped up and down then spun wildly around, ending up on the floor so still and small that Harry wondered if it had maybe died. Then, it shot up and darted to the bedroom and wardrobe and soon enough, out the door again. As if chased by dementors.

Harry sighed. If only he could understand why the light kept going to places Snape had visited. Did the man know something about this beacon thing? Or had he seen where Harry's dick had gone? The thought was too embarrassing to consider.

Snape knew far too much about Harry as it was. During their Occlumency lessons last year, Snape had dived deep into Harry's most private thoughts and dug up desires he'd barely been aware of himself. After witnessing some rather spicy fantasies taking place right there in the dungeon under the pretext of detention, Snape had been quick to end the lessons, and judging by the way he'd avoided all contact for weeks after, Harry doubted the man would want anything to do with Harry's current situation either.

And yet, once Harry had followed the light down to Hogsmeade and into the Three Broomsticks where the beacon settled into the fireplace as if waiting for Harry to travel, speaking with Snape was starting to look unavoidable. A chat with Rosmerta over a bite to eat verified his suspicion. The floo had been used only once that day – to Spinner's End, by Professor Snape.

Arriving at an abandoned house and walking down an empty cobblestone road lined with identical houses in a bleak, forlorn town, following a light that seemed to know exactly where it was going, Harry was nervous for the first time that day.

He had no idea what to say to Snape and no idea how the man would be able to help. Thinking back at everything that had happened, Harry wasn't even convinced he was awake, or if he was, in fact, still dreaming. Either way, he was certain that both dream-Snape and the real Snape were capable of making him suffer terribly for bothering them with awkward questions about runaway penises.

Harry had to knock four times to get Snape to answer the door. When he finally did, he didn't look happy. Not that he ever did.

"What?" the man snapped, his usually tidy appearance somehow dishevelled, like he'd just woken up from a nap.

"Err... Hi."

When Snape didn't respond or invite Harry in, only stared blankly as if his mind had drifted elsewhere, Harry continued.

"I… I have a problem and I was advised to come to speak with you."

Snape blinked, then frowned. "And this problem couldn't wait until Monday?"

"No. You see…" Harry glanced over his shoulder. The street was empty, the houses nearby practically deserted, but the question he wanted to ask was pretty personal. "Could I come in for a sec?"

"I cannot imagine why you would have to do that. Whatever you have to say, you can say it here."

Man, he was rude.

"Fine. My penis is missing."

Snape's eyes widened. In a heartbeat, Harry was grabbed by the arm and hauled inside, the door slammed shut behind him. Apparently, discussing missing penises was a private matter even by Snape's standards.

Inside, the light that had led Harry there landed happily around Snape's groin and vanished. Snape glared at the light, then at Harry, a deep furrow between his brows.

"Sorry, that's… Hard to explain."

All of it was, but Harry had to try because it didn't look like the man was going to help him without a good reason. If at all.

"So, umm, the funniest thing happened this morning."

Snape didn't look the least bit amused. Instead, his eyes were glassy and his cheeks flushed, feverish somehow. Maybe he actually was ill? All the more reason to keep the visit short.

"I woke up without my penis and got this light that's been leading me ever since." Snape folded his arms but didn't speak. "Madam Pomfrey explained it's a thing that sometimes happens to help a wizard find a compatible mate."

Harry deliberately left out the part about young wizards with an insatiable sexual appetite, wizards who jerked off several times a day and were still starved for more. It didn't seem important.

"The light brought me here, so I was wondering if you might have seen it."

"Seen what?"

"My dick."

Snape stood still, his face blank, completely ignoring the common courtesy of answering a direct question. After what felt like an eternity, he responded.

"Yes."

"Great!" As rude as the man was, the news was a relief. Now Snape could point him in the right direction, and Harry could go on his merry way. "Did you see where it went?"

Another silence, then, "Yes."

Harry frowned. Was Snape being difficult on purpose?

"Okay, so… Can you show me?"

Snape's eyebrows hit his hairline. "No, I most certainly can not."

Something was definitely wrong. Harry had never seen the man so uncomfortable, blinking and blushing, evading every question. Even his breathing was fast and uneven, like he was struggling with something.

"Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off but if you could just show me where it went, then I would be–"

"It's in my rectum."

After several seconds, Harry still had a hard time understanding.

"I'm sorry, but you mean like… in your arse?"

Only the corner of Snape's left eye twitched. "Yes."

Well, this was certainly a twist. One Harry wasn't at all sure how to handle.

"And, umm… Why is my cock in your… arse?"

"You would have to ask your cock. It didn't exactly ask for my permission."

Any other day, Harry would have felt quite awkward discussing his cock or Snape's arse, let alone both in the same sentence but, somehow, two wrongs made it right and discussing the matter wasn't that bad.

"What do you mean? Like, it just floated to you, slid inside your trousers and into your butt?"

"More or less. This morning, when I was in the Potions classroom, preparing for class."

So that was why he'd cancelled. Which would mean Harry's dick had found that perfect mate for Harry in no time at all. Right there at Hogwarts. Could it even be that his dick had known all along where it was going?

"So, could you like… give it back?"

"I'd be delighted to, but it keeps sneaking back in."

Harry refused to think how many times Snape had tried to get rid of Harry's cock. And how many times it had proven as stubborn and misbehaving as its owner, ignoring orders and common sense and doing whatever it wanted. Somehow, Harry suspected he would end up paying for his dick's disobedience.

"Sounds painful. Sorry."

"It's not. It… fits."

Unsure how he felt about that detail either, Harry went on.

"Maybe if you handed it directly to me so it won't have a chance to escape?"

Snape considered, then gave him a curt nod. "Sounds reasonable. We will try this."

He headed to the stairs but Harry, not knowing the etiquette of penis retrievals, stayed where he was.

Being inside Snape's house was strange enough. Everything was so clean and orderly, if not also a bit antiquated. Like the man himself. And the books. So many books. Somewhere in there, he had to have some naughty ones too.

"Well, are you coming?" Snape called from upstairs, startling Harry from his thoughts.

Harry hurried after him. Maybe they would have a chance to discuss literature later. Unlikely, but possible. Much like the whole day was.

"Kindly wait," Snape said as he shut himself into the bathroom.

For a while, Harry didn't hear much. Only the ruffle of clothes and the soft groans of someone moving about, working on something that wasn't entirely easy. Harry tried not to picture how badly his cock was being mutilated. Snape was probably grabbing Harry's balls to pull it out.

When the door opened, a familiar and highly welcome sight greeted Harry, and he couldn't help but smile. His cock, finally. It looked pink and healthy, even happy. Fully erect and ready for action.

But as Harry was about to reach for it, he stopped and glanced at Snape.

"Did you wash it?"

"Did I wash your cock? No."

"But it's been in your arse. For hours."

Snape grunted. "It's your cock. Wash it yourself if you want."

Harry considered, then shrugged. He would wash it later. All that mattered now was putting his dick back to where it belonged. Undoing his belt, however, the bugger slipped from his grip, immediately darting back to where it had been removed from mere minutes before.

Snape cried out loud, his whole body jerking at the intrusion.

"Sorry!" Harry said and touched the man's arm as if that was somehow helpful. "It slipped."

But Snape didn't seem to listen. Taking support from the wall, he focused on deep and slow breaths, his face a curious mix of pleasure and pain.

"Potter, I swear if you can't control your penis…" he huffed, but whatever threat he had in mind, he was too distracted to finish.

Harry decided it wisest to keep his mouth shut.

After some gasping, flushing, and general squirming, Snape was calm enough to curse under his breath. "Persistent little prick."

Harry was slightly offended. It wasn't that little. Average, at least.

Then a thought came to him. "You know, Madam Pomfrey said this thing happens so that a wizard would find a compatible mate. If that's true, then do you think–"

"We are not compatible in any shape or form, Potter."

"Except my dick in your arse," Harry couldn't help but point out. Snape had said so himself as well. That they were a fit.

The man's glare was venomous. "Obviously."

Despite his agreement, it didn't look like Snape was willing to entertain the thought any further, and Harry let the matter be. Perhaps these things didn't have to be settled right away.

"Maybe we should try again," Harry offered, "but now I could grab it right after you pull it out, okay? Promise I won't let it escape again."

Snape gritted his teeth but didn't object. "As I see no alternative, fine."

He led Harry to his bedroom, a shockingly bright and vast space with a wide bed and white linens. Nothing like the dark and gloomy chamber he'd expected from his Potions professor. If Harry was honest, the bed looked comfy. Firm enough to play around, yet soft enough to sleep long and well after. Somehow, Harry doubted Snape did much of either. Such a waste.

Without ceremony or shame, Snape dropped his trousers and leaned against a sturdy desk, baring his arse and fumbling for the object buried there. As Harry had suspected, he grabbed the balls and started pulling. Harry winced, but although he wanted to ask the man to be careful, he wanted his dick back more.

"Trousers… off… Potter," Snape hissed and, seconds later, the misbehaving organ was wiggling in his hands again.

Trousers around his ankles, Harry grabbed his cock, pressed it firmly to his groin, and hoped for the best. He wasn't sure what he expected to happen, probably some magical attachment now that the stray penis had found its rightful owner, but the magic turned out slightly different.

His cock did plant itself on his body, but instead of resting after its many adventures, it immediately started to pull toward Snape, dragging Harry along. And when Harry resisted, it writhed harder and with more force, the momentum crashing Harry against Snape.

"Sorry, it's not me, it's my–"

Another sharp yank and this time Harry cried out loud.

"Snape, help!"

The sound from Snape was a curious one. Part frustration, part fury, and part delight, the man groaned and turned, then bent over the desk and bared his behind again.

"Stop screaming, Potter, and just do it."

Not that Harry needed to do anything. With a single-minded determination, his cock darted straight into the hole awaiting, sinking in as if it was its home. Snape moaned, quite loudly too, and Harry… well, he howled.

The pleasure surging through him was unlike anything he'd experienced in his life and in one moment of clarity, Harry was in perfect agreement with his cock. This was where he belonged. Buried balls deep inside Snape's arse, wrapped in an incredible tightness and warmth.

Some kind of compliment seemed appropriate.

"I…" he tried, but instead of words, his lips formed a long, needy moan.

What was he about to say anyway? How amazing it felt to be inside him? How he would die if Snape asked him to pull out? How he was going to explode at this strange, overwhelming urge to fuck the man senseless even though he didn't even know if he liked Snape?

"Potter… move."

Harry tensed.

Move? As in leave? Or fuck him?

Feeling bolder than usual with the man, Harry decided the order was about fucking. After all, Snape had mentioned he'd enjoyed the feel of Harry's cock and now that it was attached to its owner again, perhaps the experience was as good for him as it was for Harry. That, or then Harry would soon face an excruciating death at the hands of his enraged Potions professor.

He gave it a tentative thrust, his cock sliding easily in and out, the friction and pressure rushing through his veins and setting every muscle and bone ablaze.

Harry whined. Snape moaned.

Way, way better than wanking alone in bed.

A few more thrusts and Harry was seeing stars, Snape's hole clenching around him like it wanted to suck him even deeper. And since Snape wasn't objecting, Harry continued. One slow thrust at a time, each glide sending more blood to his swollen, throbbing cock. To actually see himself sink into Snape's arse was almost his undoing.

"This means nothing, Potter…" Snape groaned.

"Yeah?"

"...but kindly fuck me harder. This is insufficient."

Harry's brain was slow to register the words, but he did understand the general message. There were times for slow and times for fast and, clearly, this was the latter. And although Harry was still quite inexperienced, he refused to let that stand in the way.

Deeming too much thinking would only complicate the mission, Harry grabbed Snape's hips and slammed into him. And when Snape seemed to approve of that, his moan somewhere between shock and delight, Harry slammed again harder, and after a few louder moans that sounded like they were ripped from Snape's very soul, Harry went harder and faster still. And pretty soon, Harry was fucking Snape like an Erumpent in heat, giving all he got to the man grunting and groaning and whimpering like Harry's cock was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"P– Potter…" Snape eventually stuttered.

"Yeah?" Harry panted between thrusts.

"You have precisely thi– thirty seconds."

"To what?"

He could almost hear Snape grit his teeth.

"To come, you brat, if you intend to do that inside me."

"Ah."

For once, Harry was grateful Snape was both commanding and concise. And Snape was no doubt equally pleased with how obedient Harry could be when properly motivated. Because, as it turned out, the only thing better than fucking Snape was coming inside him at the end, and Harry would have been very sorry indeed to have missed that delight.

Savouring the last delirious thrusts into an explosive orgasm, feeling the man beneath him shoot and shudder with him, Harry was certain he'd died and gone to heaven. Vaguely, he wondered if it was normal to feel so weak, like he was about to cry or something, but then he glanced at Snape trembling under him and decided he didn't look too composed either. Apparently, good sex was enough to wreck even the strongest of men.

Harry was in no hurry to pull out. In his post-orgasm haze, he was even bold enough to snuggle a little, leaning over Snape's back and resting there, listening to their breaths find a calmer rhythm. Which, to his surprise, Snape allowed. To a point.

"Potter, get off me."

Harry was sad to move. "Sure. Sorry."

"Kindly also hold onto your cock so we won't have to do this again."

The problem was, Snape didn't sound particularly sorry if that were to happen. Which – along with the sight of Harry's cum dripping from Snape's arse – gave Harry a miraculous boost of courage.

All or nothing. After all, this was the man Harry's cock had chosen and judging by the first test drive, Snape and he were indeed a match. Even if Snape refused to acknowledge that yet.

"Okay. Although… Would it be such a bad thing if we did do this again? After dinner, maybe?"

Snape's eyes flashed, and the next thing Harry knew, he was lying on his back on Snape's bed, Snape's tongue in his mouth, Snape's hands all over his body.

"Just to explore this alleged compatibility," the man grunted as he licked his way down Harry's neck – probably, hopefully, heading down to Harry's misbehaving cock.

"Compatibility. Yes," Harry moaned, then screamed as Snape took his cock into his mouth and twirled his tongue around the tip. "Fuck, yes!"

And Snape did. Fuck him with his mouth, sucking him with a force that made his toes curl, swallowing every drop of cum as Harry shot like a garden hose mere minutes later. Lost in the intensity of his first-ever blowjob, Harry wasn't exactly coherent, the declarations of eternal love and devotion dropping from his lips perhaps a bit impulsive in retrospect, but Harry couldn't begin to regret them. Snape was… perfect.

As blissfully sated as Harry was, content on staying right there, his cock seemed to have other ideas. Coming twice hadn't weakened his erection one bit, instead, it stood hard and proud, fully ready to go on for another round without pause. Determined to get them together – and keep them that way too. They both stared at his crotch in disbelief.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Snape groaned and got up, then took Harry's hand to pull him up, too.

All pretence of being a reluctant participant gone, Snape chucked the last of his clothes, grunted in approval as Harry mimicked the excellent idea, then got on his hands and knees on the bed like serving his arse for Harry was his sole purpose in life.

Harry had to bite his lip not to moan at the sight. In another life, in another reality, this man was his professor. Wherever they were now, though, he was Harry's… lover? Which meant Harry would have to get better at this sex thing soon because there was no chance in hell that a man like Snape would tolerate anything less than an outstanding performance for long.

The challenge made his whole body hum with energy.

He settled behind Snape and eased himself inside, taking Snape's moans as a yes and proceeding with the merry task of pounding the man again. Even if Harry said so himself, that second time was already much better coordinated, the peak even more intense than the first. And by midnight, fucking Severus to yet another beautifully built and well-timed orgasm that sent them both flying high in the land of the blessed, Harry had made three profound revelations.

One, Harry was a natural top, Severus a born bottom, and together, they made magic.

Two, Harry possessed the ability to reduce his surly Potions professor into a weeping, wailing pile of quivering flesh begging for more the moment Harry's cum flooded his arse.

And three, sex was a valid substitute for food and sleep. And for pretty much all the things Harry had been told people couldn't live without, which was obviously false. All he needed was Severus.

They arrived back at Hogwarts on Monday. Late for class, both looking exactly as they were – well fucked, thoroughly happy, and too giddy to hide any of it – they headed straight to the Headmaster's office, requesting permission for Harry to move in with Severus.

The request was granted. Along with permission to marry.

A year later, much to his husband's horror, Harry wrote a book about the experience. But although he intended it as an educational book, to lessen the mystery and shame around the penis-beacon phenomenon, for some reason, it became the top erotica bestseller of the year. Severus said, 'I told you so', but Harry just kissed him and laughed and ordered Severus to take him to bed because it had been almost six hours since they last fucked, and his cock was getting restless. And they both knew what that could mean.