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Chapter Text

It started on Harry's sixteenth birthday, as it always did with witches and wizards with creature inheritance. But he didn't notice it then, because it was subtle, and because no one had told him what to expect. No, as far as Harry was concerned, there were no creatures of any sort in his family. No one had thought fit to warn him whatsoever. In his room at the Dursleys, he stayed up until midnight to wish himself a happy birthday as he'd always done, and he'd smiled a bit when the next day a few owls arrived with presents and cards for him. Everything was as normal as it ever was.

He couldn't say when he first noticed something was amiss. He was a teenaged boy, and so it wasn't unusual for him to become aroused at odd times or with frequency. It was several days after his birthday when he decided to take himself in hand and take care of the problem. It was the middle of the night, everyone was asleep, Harry was locked in and unlikely to be disturbed. Mentally he skimmed through his usual vague material -- a body, completely nondescript of features or even gender. Maybe the showers after Quidditch. Or in his four poster bed in the Hogwarts dormitories. It had always been enough for him before. But not tonight. It was nearly an hour later when Harry fairly sobbed with frustration and yanked his hand away from his rock hard cock with frustration. He was beginning to chafe.

What was wrong with him? Something was clearly the matter, but who was Harry even going to ask about it? If his arm fell off or something he would feel comfortable trying to owl for help, but there was no way in hell he was going to owl anybody about something like this. He only hoped that it went away by morning. With hands clenched in the sheets, he rolled onto his side and tried fitfully to sleep.

~~~

More days came and passed and Harry was in a right panic about what to do about his physical condition. He was hard at odd hours now, sometimes for long periods of time, and he couldn't remember when he'd last been able to properly masturbate. Definitely earlier in the summer, he could remember that much, but it wasn't like he really kept track of that sort of thing. All he knew now was that the problem hadn't remedied himself, and he was seriously concerned that something was truly wrong. When finally, finally some answers came.

Harry looked up from his idle doodling when an owl tapped at the window. Checking that his door was shut, he let the thing in and handed it an owl treat as he took the battered package from it. There was a thick envelope tied to the package with all sorts of official looking stamps and seals. Frowning, Harry opened the envelope first.

To Harry James Potter
Heir to one James Potter
From the Ministry of Magical Creature Inheritances

It is our duty to inform you ... [and so on and so forth...]

Harry skimmed over the legal jargon until he could figure out what on earth the thick packet of papers was on about.

... official instatement of your creature inheritance on the sixteenth year of your birth...

What? But that couldn't be right. Already Harry's mind went to his embarrassing physical problem of late, because how could he fail to connect some weird health problem with a potential change in genetics? He scowled with growing concern. There was no way he had a creature inheritance. He didn't have silver eyes or scales or wings or anything even remotely creature-like about him as far as he could tell.

“Come on, come on...” he muttered to himself, continuing to skim the damned papers for what he supposedly was.

Enclosed is a book which should explain all pertinent facts of your inheritance.

Sincerely --

Harry tore open the brown paper packaging to reveal the small dusty blue book within. The edges were worn, the cover was fabric and the title was in black ink so faded he could barely make it out on the navy background. The title, when he finally saw it, said a single word: Incubus.

Harry blinked. An Incubus? Surely not. He skimmed through the paperwork again, this time taking a bit more care to actually read it. Apparently, the entire Potter lineage had the potential for it, but it could skip several generations. He wondered briefly if his father had been an Incubus as well, but surely someone would have known and informed him of the possibility. No, according to his paperwork, something like the trace used for under-age magic kept track of potential creature inheritances as well, and when he'd undergone his change a department in the Ministry had been informed immediately and had sent out the necessary paperwork and registered him somewhere. There was still so much legal jargon that he didn't understand, and he was a bit worried about that. He'd have to confide in someone for help with all of this, but he wasn't really inclined to do so any time soon. Who would he ask? Who did he even want to know?

Harry tried to search his mind for anything he knew about Incubi, but all he could remember was that it had something to do with sex stuff. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing that they'd cover in either Care of Magical Creatures or Defence Against the Dark Arts. Well, it wasn't as if he were doing anything with his time anyway. He picked up the old book.

~~~

The book was headache inducing. It was written in some sort of archaic English like some of the dustier books in the library. No doubt Hermione would be in heaven inspecting it but there was no way in hell Harry was about to let her see it, not after what he'd actually managed to eke out of the thing. As far as he was concerned, there were several important facts that he'd managed to outline for himself.

1. The sexual problems he'd been having? They were absolutely due to this Incubus inheritance. An Incubus, it turned out, was unable to satisfy himself sexually at all. That was apparently the job of one's mate.

2. As far as understood, his subconscious would be driven to hone in on someone as a potential mate sooner rather than later, and while there was no official pre-destination involved, potential mates were rare. It would have to be someone that the Incubus felt he could trust, someone who could meet his sexual needs, and someone who he saw as capable of protecting him. Harry snorted derisively. A quick mental scan left him with exactly zero contenders. So what, he was supposed to be sexually frustrated the rest of his life? Merlin....

3. When he did meet said mate, he'd know from certain physiological symptoms, which he understood to mean extreme arousal, though the book certainly used flowery language to say as much.

4. His nature would drive him to want to please his mate, serve his mate, and discourage him from ever lying. It would compel him to obey all direct orders given. In short -- Incubi were natural submissives. This went against everything Harry thought he'd known about the creatures from pop culture, which was admittedly very little. He had images of sex demons having their way with people in their sleep, feeding off of sexual energy like some sort of vampires. That all certainly seemed very dominating to him, but apparently not.

5. His notion of an Incubus being a sexual vampire was somewhat correct. He needed regular sexual contact with his mate or he'd become tired, have difficulty concentrating, become more prone to illness, and his magic would be low or unpredictable. He could suffer muscle fatigue or dizziness or any number of other symptoms that the book went on about. Brilliant. He wondered how long until all of those symptoms would manifest, considering that he was locked in with the Dursleys and unlikely to encounter any sort of potential mate whatsoever. Just how long could he hold out?

These demands his body made of his mate were made up for by his mate's control over him, in a way. Really, Harry thought that his mate would be the one lucking out of the whole deal. His mate, who did not have to have any sort of inheritance. at all, could have unlimited sex as well as a great degree of control over him. Harry, by contrast, would feel innate submissive urges and be physically dependent upon his mate to survive, or at least to thrive. And what if he found someone who didn't want him? How long would it be until he found another potential partner? And how would he even begin to explain his physiology and needs to whoever this person was?

What a nightmare. Harry fell back onto his bed and stared up at his ceiling. He was again half hard just at the notion of sex, and he was getting a headache from trying to muddle his way through the old book. He might not want to tell anybody about his condition, but he was beginning to think he may have to.

Chapter Text

“Harry!” Ron smiled when he found his friend in the train compartment of the Hogwarts Express. His smile dwindled a bit as Harry looked up with half a smile. He was pale and a bit dishevelled looking, with dark circles under his eyes. Half a summer of near constant arousal would do that to a man. “You look terrible, mate.” Ron said as Hermione gave him a shove.

“Cheers.” Harry answered half sarcastically.

“Ron!” Hermione stamped her foot. “Get in a seat, I'm taking up the corridor.”

Ron moved in and sat down across from his friend, Hermione scooting him behind him and shutting the door. When she turned to look at Harry she was instantly concerned as well. “Oh, Harry, what happened?” she asked with a frown.

Harry took a deep breath and looked at both of his friends. He hadn't dared try to explain any of it through the post. Not only did he not want it falling into the wrong hands, but he wasn't even sure how to begin. But he'd had enough time to decide he definitely couldn't keep this to himself forever. He needed help, and he didn't know who else to turn to. “There's something I need to tell you.” he began, and handed over the thick sheaf of Ministry papers to Hermione, along with the book, as she began to read. By the time they were nearing Hogwarts, Hermione had grasped all of the pertinent facts without Harry having to say much, thank Merlin, and she'd explained it all well enough to Ron.

“Harry you've got to find someone to help you... well...” Hermione flushed and looked flustered, “alleviate things.” she said delicately. “It must be why you look so pale and tired.” Hermione avoided looking at his eyes at all, or really any other part of him for the moment, and Harry had to give a small laugh.

“Relax, Hermione, I'm not contagious.” he joked. “And I'll be alright. I don't think anyone's died from it yet, and the book didn't seem to think it was a concern.”

“Maybe you could get with Lavender.” Ron suggested unhelpfully, and Harry gagged a bit at the mere idea. “What?” he answered Harry's gag and Hermione's dark scowl. “Word has it she's easy, that's all.” he said defensively. “If the bloke needs to go to someone else for it....” he shrugged.

“Haven't you been paying any attention, Ron?” Hermione asked with a shake of her head. “Harry can't just get help from whoever he wants. His nature has to identify someone he can trust, and who is capable of protecting him. Lavender Brown isn't capable of protecting a crup.” she sniffed.

“Well!” Ron answered in surprise, his brows shooting up a bit. Apparently Hermione didn't think much of Lavender. Who knew? He turned his attention back to Harry. “It's a big school, Harry.” he reassured. “Surely there's someone there for you. And if not, there's always Hogsmeade. Or we could try to find an excuse to visit Diagon Alley over the holiday.”

“Thanks.” Harry said with a smile. “Both of you. Really, I don't know what I was looking for in telling you about it -- it's not like either of you can help.” At Hermione's sudden alarm he raised his hands to reassure her. “Really, there's nothing you can do. I would have noticed. But I just had to tell someone about it. I'm bloody exhausted.”

“Perhaps Madame Pomfrey....” Hermione started hesitantly, though she very much doubted the medi-witch could do anything, from what she understood of the book.

“No.” Harry said flatly. “Absolutely not. As if this isn't humiliating enough, I'm not going to go asking her if there's a potion or something for it. It's not like I've never been aroused in class, Hermione.” he rolled his eyes at her blush again. “I'm fairly certain every bloke in the school has done at this point. I'll manage. Anyway, let's not talk about it any more. We're almost there.”

~~~

Severus frowned as soon as he saw Potter in the Great Hall for the opening feast. The boy looked ill. What could possibly be wrong with him? He sneered. Not that he cared, of course. He'd always cared too much, against his better judgement. The boy was an insufferable brat, and last year he'd paid the ultimate price for his actions in the death of his dogfather. Severus wasn't sad to see the mutt go, but he knew that it must have impacted the boy, with the amount of times he'd come up in Potter's abysmal Occlumency lessons. Lessons which Potter had as good as refused to participate in, leading to the ultimate betrayal of his trust when Potter peeked into his penseive. He wouldn't allow himself to care too much this time, but he knew he needed to keep at least half an eye on that boy if they were going to survive the Dark Lord.

The headmaster was going on about Slughorn and Snape did everything his power not to roll his eyes at the portly man. He wasn't exactly a bad professor but it almost made Snape regret his new DADA post. And now his Slytherins were applauding for his new appointment. He allowed his lips to quirk up slightly in response, but couldn't rouse an actual smile. After the string of failed professors he knew he had his work cut out for him with everyone but the first years, though there wasn't much positive he could say about the empty-headed eleven-year-olds.

Finally, the feast was set and they began to tuck in. Snape noticed that Potter didn't have much of an appetite and tried not to let it concern him.

Chapter Text

Snape for DADA. Harry had thought he'd hated the man plenty in Potions but at least as a consequence he'd never really developed a liking for the subject. DADA was his favourite class, and he didn't relish having a man who hated him ruin the subject for him. Then again, maybe he at least had half a chance in the class since it was his best topic. Was it even possible to impress the man?

Snape was his usual imposing self in the front of the classroom, all black robes and hard eyes. And then... he spoke. Harry's eyes glazed over slightly and he felt his heart beating in his chest before he even registered properly that something was... unusual. That voice.

“Mister Potter, do you plan on joining the rest of us?” Snape demanded, and Harry realized that everyone else had taken out their notes to copy down the board.

He hurried to do likewise, not sure what had gotten in to him, but he knew in half a second. He was aroused. Again. Not now, he thought desperately. Now, of all times, was really not a good time for the distraction. But try as he might, he really couldn't take his eyes off of the man. His cock throbbed with new need between his legs and he was achingly aware of how long it'd been since he'd got off. It wasn't the first time since his birthday that he'd had one of these random bouts of arousal, but it was the first time it was quite this sharp, and this focused.

Harry felt a sort of dawning horror as he realized what it must mean, but just when he thought he might feel a sense of dread or nausea at the very idea of Snape as a potential mate for him... the thought evaporated. He knew he had a dreadful past with the man. He knew it down to his bones. He hadn't forgotten anything, and certainly nothing about the man had changed. But that wasn't entirely true, was it? He'd been thinking of Snape a bit differently since the previous year when he'd seen the man's memories in his penseive. There was a bit more to Snape than a nasty, bitter man.

Harry tuned out whatever it was that Snape was going on about in favour of reviewing the facts. Firstly, did he trust Snape? He supposed he did. He didn't like him exactly, and he sometimes didn't trust the man's motives, but he thought that in the end Snape was on the right side of this war and he trusted the man with his life. Snape had, after all, saved him multiple times.

That answered the second question as well. When Harry had first entertained the notion that his mate had to be someone who he saw as capable of protecting him, he'd thought the idea laughable. After all, he was supposed to personally save the Wizarding World, and perhaps the rest of the world while he was at it as well. Who could protect him in the slightest? But when he'd asked himself the question, he'd really mostly been thinking of classmates, and he'd been thinking of girls at that, just out of assumption.

Which brought him to number three. Could he think of Snape sexually? His cock throbbed at the very notion of it. Well then. Today was a day for a number of startling revelations, but at the moment Harry only knew he was being scolded for something again and that his mouth was dry and his palms sweaty and he very much wanted Snape to touch him in any manner. But he'd pissed the man off, and that actually did fill his belly with dread and nausea.

“Sorry, Sir.” he mumbled and did his best to focus for the duration of class.

~~~

Harry had been out of it since the start of school, and since Ron and Hermione both knew the reason for it, they didn't notice right away that Harry was particularly scatter-brained in DADA. After all, Snape had always yelled at Harry and Harry had always had difficulty in dealing with Snape, and Harry certainly had plenty of reason to be distracted. They felt for him, but they knew there was little they could do for their friend, though Hermione continued to encourage Harry to tell Madame Pomfrey or Professor Dumbledore, which he resolutely refused.

However, it was three weeks into class when Snape had apparently had enough. “Mister Potter!” he snapped. “If you cannot or will not pay attention in this classroom there is very little reason for you to be here in the first place for me to teach. Furthermore, when we do practical spellwork as we are today, your distraction is a danger to the entire class. You will wait in my office now.” he glowered, and just dared Harry to speak back to him, which he was clearly about to do.

Harry closed his mouth and sighed with defeat, but honestly he was grateful for the chance to get away and sit. He was practically shaking from unfulfilled need and he hadn't figured out in the slightest how or even whether to approach the man about his new-found problem. He certainly hadn't mentioned it to either of his friends.

Ron gave him a sympathetic look while Hermione scrutinized the situation with narrowed eyes, as if deciding whether Harry was actually physically all right from visual inspection alone. Harry simply gathered his things in one arm and trudged through the adjoining door to Snape's new office, closing the door behind him.

It wasn't like the dungeons, he noticed, but it wasn't like any of the previous DADA instructors' offices either. Perhaps a bit like fake-Moody's office as far as the austerity, but not that unlike Snape's regular dungeon office either. It was lacking in the abundance of Potions ingredients, but it was dark, masculine, and with lots of books and jars lining the shelves. There was the usual large desk with a chair on either side, the one meant for the student made obvious. Harry sat and sighed, trying to get his bearings. Out of close proximity to the man his arousal waned slightly, but only just. He could still hear the man's muffled voice through the closed door.

It seemed an eternity until class was over. Harry could hear the class shuffling out, and at long last the door creaked open to admit Snape in all his towering severity. He stalked over to his chair and sat, sitting for a few moments with his fingers steeped and his eyes on Harry, causing him to squirm.

“Now. Do you mind telling me why you've been so utterly distracted in my classroom of late?”

Did he mind? Harry squirmed. “Er... I'd rather not.” he answered honestly.

Snape's eyes narrowed. “Potter.” he hissed dangerous. “That was not a suggestion, nor was it rhetorical. I demand an explanation!”

Harry swallowed thickly and looked up at the man. His eyes were glassy and his pupils already slightly dilated. He wiped his sweaty palms on his robe and was glad that the loose fabric hid his erection so well. “Er... well you see, funny story....” he began nervously. “I'm...” he wanted to say it. His mate had ordered him to explain himself. But the words stuck in his throat even as he felt a sort of pain both emotional and almost physical lance through him, urging him to please the irate man before him.

“Spit it out!” Snape demanded.

“I'm just so bloody horny.” he said, losing his grip on reality by the second. He froze as he realized what'd left his mouth but he couldn't take it back, and it was true.

“Is this some sort of a joke?” Snape asked, deadly still.

“No, Sir.”

“I assure you, I care little for your teenaged hormones, Potter. And if that is the entirety of what is taking your attention from my class I'll thank you to take care of your problem in the usual manner or seek medical attention.”

“But --”

“Thirty points from Gryffindor for your insolence in even bringing it up. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you at sixteen years of age what is and is not appropriate behaviour nor topic for discussion.”

“But, Sir --” Harry tried to protest. There were so many things he had yet to explain, and he was quickly losing his grip on the conversation. No, he'd never had a grip on it.

“One more word and you'll make it fifty. Get out.” he said with a tone of finality.

It was a direct order. Harry grabbed his things and rushed out.

Chapter Text

Getting through a meeting with Dumbledore about Slughorn had him sweating bullets not to let on about his predicament. And no, he did not have anything he wanted to share with the man. Certainly not after being thoroughly abandoned last year. He agreed to help get Slughorn's memories anyway, begrudgingly. He already wanted to vomit in his mouth a little when around the man, and he knew all about the professor's little “collection” of students. It was weird and creepy and gross, as far as Harry was concerned. He already had “fans” who seemed to think they owned him. He didn't want to be collected like a trinket. But he'd do his best for the war, as always.

It was at one of Slughorn's little parties at Halloween that Harry finally got his first relief at all from his constant state of arousal and frustration. And it was with none other than Luna Lovegood.

Harry'd been required to bring a date to dinner and Hermione had already gone with Ron, which left Harry with precisely no one until he spotted Luna and figured she'd go along with it. As luck would have it, Luna had always been weirdly perceptive and whether she knew about his inheritance. or not he couldn't say but he did notice that she held his arm when they walked. And his hand when they sat. She leaned on him, and kissed him on the cheek, and threaded her hands through his hair once -- almost causing him to want to butt his head against her like a cat seeking affection.

Merlin, it was so wonderful it was nearly obscene. “You're looking awfully pale these days Harry.” Luna remarked, caressing his cheek, then his forehead. “You poor dear, you're touch starved.”

“I'm what?” Harry asked with an affectionate, amused smile.

“Touch starved. Don't any of your friends ever hug you? Or hold your hands?”

“I'm pretty sure most friends don't hold hands, Luna.”

“Hmm.” she said speculatively, and didn't comment further.

Harry sighed as he leaned up against Luna where they sat watching the others mingle, and twined his fingers in hers. It was nice, so nice. It wasn't at all sexual, but somehow it seemed to help. It took the edge off somehow.

He wondered, could Luna do more for him? She was nice enough, and certainly didn't hate him. She wasn't seeing anyone that he knew of. Firstly, he supposed he trusted her. She was his friend, though not as close as Ron and Hermione, but a friend nonetheless, and she'd been part of the D.A. and right in the thick of things at the Ministry last year. He felt his throat tighten and pushed on to other memories. Point number two, could Luna protect him? She'd held her own at the Ministry, he supposed, but how did that make her any different from Ron, or Hermione, or Ginny, or anyone else who'd been there? And the final point -- sex.

For the first time ever, Harry wondered whether he were gay. After all, what was it Snape had that seemed to perk him up that Luna didn't have? Perhaps he should have suspected a few weeks ago when first sitting aroused in Snape's classroom, but he'd chalked it up to one of those weird Incubus things. But now, in the midst of real physical affection from the girl beside him, he realized he wasn't even half hard. His palms were dry. Whereas even the mere thought of Snape had him zoning out a little.

Well, he would take what he could get. That night, Harry slept better than he had in weeks.

Chapter Text

Harry had improved slightly in paying attention in DADA, through sheer willpower and a deep seated need to please his mate. Which he still hadn't gotten around to telling was his mate. Or even telling his friends about it, for that matter. After all, the man still seemed to loathe him and he just couldn't fathom how that conversation would go. But he would have to tell him, wouldn't he? He didn't want to stay aroused for the rest of his bloody life. Maybe over the holidays when he had some more time to think.

Now, he was having a bit of trouble concentrating as the man in question swooped past him again as Harry traded hexes with Malfoy, and fired off the appropriate protective shields and counters. Everyone had been paired up to practice some of what they'd learned in a very structured, simulated sort of duel. It wasn't even duelling really, because they were to stick to a prescribed set of hexes and counters.

Harry's attention waned again as he heard Snape say something sharply to another student, it didn't even matter what. That voice was crawling along his skin and into his veins. He missed the counter and fell to the ground as a stunner hit him, with a shout. Merlin, he was tired.

“Potter, get up.” Snape snapped at him and Harry tried to gather his wits enough to get back to his feet, but he felt so weak all of a sudden. Well, perhaps it had been building. He hadn't slept well and had been sluggish all day. Perhaps he was coming down with something? The world tilted and he fell sideways again in his stumble to get to his feet.

“What did you do to him?” Snape demanded of Malfoy sharply. It sounded as if his voice was coming from the end of a distant tunnel. Even further away, the ferret's screeching that he hadn't done anything. Sharp words.

“Potter!”

A hand on his arm, wrenching him to his feet and Harry took a deep breath in as hands steadied his shoulders. More words in the distance as Harry closed his eyes against vertigo and a throbbing headache.

Snape's hand came up to his forehead, no doubt to check if he had a fever to match his other symptoms. But it was the first he'd felt Snape's skin on his skin since his transformation. And bloody hell it was amazing.

Harry gasped and felt simultaneously dizzier and lighter than a feather. He nearly moaned with the sensation of it and wanted to press into the hand, but it was snatched away. Harry was being passed on to Ron and they were leaving the classroom as his friend supported him, an arm under his shoulders.

“Mate, do you think you could maybe go to the hospital wing before getting sick next time?” Ron asked with slight irritation.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Ron sighed in exasperation. “Merlin, Harry, really? How can you even be distracted like that when you're near dead on your feet?”

“It's him, Ron.” Harry breathed, admitting it very quietly.

“What's who?” Ron asked in utter confusion. “You're not making any sense.” he dragged Harry along the halls.

“Snape.”

“What about -- oh no.” Ron stopped dead in the hall. “You can't be serious, Harry.” he said in a voice full of dread.

Harry managed to lift his head up and open his eyes enough to meet Ron's horrified gaze. He swallowed thickly and Ron could see the desperation and doom there.

“It's never the easy way for you, is it?” Ron asked resignedly.

“Not so far, no.” Harry half laughed as they got under way again, but his words rang hollow.

“But really Harry, him? Ugh.” Ron made a gagging sound. “It's going to take me a bit to wrap my head around it.”

“Don't injure yourself.” Harry joked.

“Watch it or I'll let you in the middle of the corridor. at class change.” Ron threatened half heartedly, dragging him along. After a moment. “You don't have the flu do you?” he asked.

“I doubt it.” Harry admitted quietly.

Ron sighed, then swore. “Bugger. Do you even want to keep going to the hospital wing or just blow Snape off on it? I doubt he'll check up.” Ron bit his lip nervously.

“I don't suppose you want to sit and hold my hand for a while?” Harry asked, and laughed at Ron's horrified look. “Kidding. I think. Look maybe I'll just go back to the tower and sleep it off.” Harry suggested, and Ron was more than amenable to walking him back to Gryffindor instead of the hospital wing. After all, neither of them particularly wanted to try explaining to Madame Pomfrey that what Harry really needed was to shag Snape.

“Mind if I tell Hermione?” Ron asked after a minute.

“No, I guess not.”

“Why'd you keep it to yourself if you knew?” Ron asked.

“Would you want to try explaining it if you were me?”

“No, I guess not.” Ron made a face. They made it back to their dorms and Harry crawled into his bed to sleep off the worst of the dizziness and the arousal. He was bone tired. He laid down with his clothes on and everything, and that was the last he knew.

~~~

“ --arry! ...” Someone was yelling. Why were they yelling at him? Harry moaned as someone shook him harshly.

“Tired.” he mumbled, though he only sort of made a faint “ti--” sound and a sigh.

“Shit.” Ron was in a panic. Harry had slept all through the rest of the previous day, and the night, and he wouldn't get up in the morning. Maybe they should have gone to the hospital wing after all.

“What's wrong with him?” Neville was asking, and Ron wasn't in the mood to try and explain it to his dorm mates. It wasn't any of their business, really.

Harry was growing more coherent by the moment, though it felt like an elephant was sitting on him, and as if he'd been hit by the Hogwarts Express. He took a deep breath and tried to push himself into a sitting position by sheer force of will. He was still in his clothes from yesterday and everything ached. He righted his glasses which had dug into his face.

“Time 's it?” he asked tiredly.

“We're already late to breakfast.” Ron said, and Harry tried to make sense of the words. He'd slept that long? Today was tomorrow?

He stood up shakily. He could do this. He'd done it before, and this sort of thing was certainly not fatal. “I'll be all right, Neville.” he reassured the third boy still in their room this late in the morning. “I got the flu yesterday in DADA remember?”

This apparently satisfied the boy as he left to catch some breakfast before it was too late. “We may as well get something while we have the chance.” Harry said, making a token attempt at combing his unruly hair flat. “I'm already dressed after all.”

Ron wrinkled his nose a bit. “You're not even going to shower and change?”

Harry shrugged and sighed. “Why bother?” he asked and grabbed his bag from where he'd thrown it the day before, already leaving the dorm.

~~~

In the Great Hall, Severus had keenly noticed the absence of Potter. He was a man who lived by rules and he had in fact checked in with Poppy after class to see whether Potter had made it to the hospital wing in one piece. He knew the boy hadn't gone, but Poppy had been adamant that it was probably just a stomach bug and that the boy had probably just gone to his dorm to sleep it off. Children did it all the time, she'd said. Well, that may be, but Snape did not appreciate being deliberately disobeyed. And now the brat was apparently sick enough to miss breakfast as well.

Then he saw said boy staggering in with Weasley and looking like utter hell. Had he slept in those clothes? Outrageous. He stalked down to where Harry had just collapsed on the bench, no appetite whatsoever once again.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for disobeying my direct orders yesterday, Potter.” Snape admonished.

Harry's head swam fuzzily. Snape's nearness was making him hard all over again, and his mate had just accused him of disobeying an order. Had he been ordered to the hospital wing? He didn't really remember.

“And a further ten points for negligence in hygiene and uniform. You are actually required to bathe regularly and wear clean clothes at this school, Potter.” he said with a sneer.

Harry sighed and held his head in his hands, elbows on table. He was just so bloody exhausted.

Ron glowered in his place. “Leave him alone.” Ron defended, against his better judgement.

“I don't recall asking for your opinion in this matter, Mister Weasley.” Snape said dangerously.

“He's sick. You saw it yourself yesterday. Why not give him a break?”

“Do you want that to be a further ten, Mister Weasley?” he threatened.

Just then Luna slid up to the bench, and Snape narrowed his eyes. There was no explicit rule that students stick to their House tables but it was their tendency to do so, and he didn't see her here all that regularly. “Oh, good morning Professor Snape.” she said brightly to his scowl.

“Good morning, Harry.” she said with a sunny smile, laying a hand on Harry's and giving it a squeeze.

Harry sighed and some of the tension went out of his shoulders. He quirked half a smile for the girl.

“Luna.” he acknowledged.

Snape knew something was going on here, but he wasn't going to solve it now.

“I want you back in your quarters after you eat breakfast, Potter, for a shower and a change of clothes, and then you will visit the hospital wing. I will be checking.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry acknowledged. The direct order was heard loud and clear this time, and he was too tired to fight the urge to blindly obey.

Once Snape had stalked off in a flourish of billowing robes, Luna asked Harry quietly, “Are you going to tell Professor Snape how you really feel about him?”

Not for the first time, Harry wondered how Luna was so perceptive. “I think I'm going to have to.” he mumbled, and Luna hummed contemplatively.

~~~

Harry took his time in his dorm showering and dressing, partially to delay the inevitable, partially to regain his mental equilibrium, and partially because he was dead tired and just wasn't moving too quickly. He'd even taken a few moments to skim through his Incubus book once again, but he already knew there were no answers. There was nothing wrong with him, except for an unconsummated bond. Incubi could live without their bondmates, but they didn't like it, and didn't do so well. He'd just have to suck it up, because surely there was no way in hell Snape would be willing to help him out.

He snorted. “Help him out” meant fuck him, if he were honest about it. He'd never even rounded second base with Cho, and he'd never even considered doing anything with a man. Now, however, his prick perked up just thinking about the potential.

He hastily threw his Incubus book and his sheaf of Ministry papers into his school bag and made his way to the hospital ward to explain himself. Really, it would almost save time to just confront Snape directly at this point, but the man had ordered him to the hospital wing and Harry felt sick at the notion of directly disobeying the order.

“Mister Potter, what can I do for you?” Madame Pomfrey asked as she bustled around the ward, flicking her wand at this or that to straighten up. “I heard you were feeling a bit under the weather yesterday.”

“Er... sort of.” Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Look, could I speak to you privately?”

Madame Pomfrey looked at him more closely now and saw how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes, and became more concerned immediately. “Why certainly, young man. Let's step into my office.” She ushered him into a little room off to the side, and he stepped into the medi-witch's office for the first time.

It was sterile and white like the rest of the hospital ward. Clean and minimal. He sat uncomfortably on an old wooden chair.

“Now, what is it that I can do for you?”

“Not anything, really.” he said awkwardly. “I'm only here because Professor Snape ordered me to come.” he smiled apologetically.

Madame Pomfrey frowned. “Well there certainly seems to be something wrong with you.” She took out her wand and started waving it about diagnostically. “Have you been sleeping properly? Nausea? Dizziness?”

“Er, really, I'm all right.” he said, trying to dodge her spells without seeming to. He rifled in his bag and set the sheaf of papers in front of her. “It's all right here, really.” He slid the book toward her as well. “It came over the summer, and it says that all of my symptoms are to be expected. I just haven't gotten the hang of it yet but I'm sure there's nothing you can do about it.”

Distractedly, Madame Pomfrey put away her wand and began to rifle through the paperwork, immediately recognizing the style of it for what it was. So Potter had a creature inheritance., did he? Her eyes flicked to the book. Ah, well that explained it. She was well educated in the needs and habits of magical creatures of all sorts and wasn't the least bit phased by this new revelation.

“Yes, yes, I see now.” she said hurriedly. She waved her wand and summoned Harry's medical records. “We'll have to add your inheritance. to your medical records of course. I'm assuming you're unbonded?”

“Right.” he confirmed.

Madame Pomfrey was nodding to herself. “Of course. Your symptoms are perfectly understandable then, considering.” She sighed a bit. “I don't suppose you've met a potential mate? I must stress to you, Mister Potter, that your quality of life will improve significantly if you can bond yourself to someone who can meet your needs. It's like going without the proper nutrients. You wouldn't expect someone to be healthy in attempting to do so, and while it won't necessarily kill them you'd certainly urge anyone to correct their diet. Similarly, you have a new sort of diet to take into consideration, and the sexual energy you could receive from your mate would go a long way to set you to rights.”

“Well, er... that is, I'm pretty sure I've identified a potential mate, but I can't imagine he'd be even remotely interested.” he answered awkwardly. This wasn't the sort of conversation he wanted to have with anyone, let alone the school nurse.

“Well, be that as it may, Mister Potter, as a medical professional and as staff at this school I must highly advise you to at least approach this person and explain your situation. Having the attention that your body craves could make a significant improvement in your health. Now, I must warn you that I'll need to inform the headmaster of your change in status.” She shook her head. “Why the Ministry doesn't automatically inform the school of these things I'll never understand. We're responsible for the students' welfare.

“But I suppose that's neither here nor there. The reason it is most important that the headmaster be informed is of course the fact that should you find a willing mate, you may petition for private quarters to be provided for your use. This is not the normal way of things at this school as you well know, but health and leisure are two entirely different things.”

She handed him back his book and sheaf of papers, which Harry distractedly put back into his bag. Did the school nurse seriously just advise him to get laid and assure him the school would provide the room? His life was entirely too surreal sometimes.

“I take it you have no further questions, given your text?”

“No, I think I'm all set, thanks.” he said with a blush, desperate to get out of there.

“Very well then. I'll write you a note to get back to class.” she said, and hurriedly scribbled on a scrap of parchment. Harry could not leave the room fast enough, even with his fatigue.

Chapter Text

“Potter, stay after.” Snape said simply at the end of Harry's next DADA class. He sighed. It seemed too good to be true that Snape had left him mostly alone for the duration of class for once. That voice drove him to distraction and sent pleasant shivers over his skin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself.

As the class emptied out, Snape gestured that Harry should accompany him to the adjoined office, and they seated themselves in the customary seats across from one another at the large desk.

“Potter,” Snape said, cutting right to the point, “It is my understanding that you did in fact go to the hospital ward two days ago as you were instructed to do. However, I would like to know why it is then that you look worse now than you did then. Madame Pomfrey was sparse with answers when I inquired after your health and frankly believes that the students' medical conditions are none of my business. But you and I both know that you're not a regular student. Is it to do with your scar? With the Dark Lord?” he asked seriously.

Harry blinked in surprise, caught entirely off guard. Now that Snape put the idea out there, he could see where the man might come up with the idea. After all, just last year Harry had lost sleep over his visions, been with constant pain and headaches. The symptoms were similar in a superficial sort of way. “Oh. No, Sir. Nothing like that.” he answered honestly.

“Then forgive me for being so blunt but what in Merlin's name is wrong with you of late?”

This was it, Harry realized. This was the man actually asking for answers, and Harry had avoided the inevitable for long enough. May as well get the sharp rejection over with so he could carry on as he had been. “Well you see, Sir....” he licked his lips nervously, trying to decide where to begin. “It began this summer. On my sixteenth birthday.”

Snape's brow wrinkled in confusion. “What began?”

“My inheritance.”

At first, Snape thought that perhaps Harry was referring to something to do with his godfather, Sirius, and inheriting his estate. But no, that couldn't be right. Then comprehension dawned in his widened eyes. “Creature inheritance.” he stated, and Harry nodded in confirmation. Well, that was unforeseen. As far as Snape knew, neither James nor Lily had any such thing, and he raked through his memories for any sign. “Might I ask...” he began hesitantly, because now that he knew Potter's condition was of such a personal nature, it really wasn't any of his business what it was.

“Incubus.” Harry stated simply, and the word rang in the quiet room.

Severus Snape knew full well what it meant to be an Incubus. Potter may not have covered the subject matter at his early age but Snape had quite a few years more in the world. He sat back, totally blank-faced, as he took this new information in. “I see.” he said at length. “And I take it by your general distraction and malaise that you've not found a suitable mate?” he questioned, connecting the dots together.

Harry squirmed, and hedged, glancing to the side. “Well, not exactly.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Then you have found someone?” What was it the boy was hiding now?

“I'm certain I've identified a potential mate, but I don't think he'd be interested.” Harry hazarded a quick glance up, and knew immediately it was a mistake. That glance communicated far too much. His expression had always been too open, and he could tell Snape was putting the pieces together now as he looked absolutely stunned.

“His name?” Snape demanded.

Harry pleaded with his eyes, not to have to say it aloud. He swallowed thickly, but Snape's words rang in his head. Snape wanted a name, and Harry wanted to give it. “It's you, Sir.” he said softly, looking down at his hands in his lap.

“And you thought not to inform me of this, why?”

“I didn't think you'd be interested to know.” Harry answered honestly. “Why would you be? You've never made any secret of how you feel about me.” He dared to look up at this point and see Snape's level of irritation. But the man was as stoic and unreadable as ever.

“Do you not think that is for me to decide?”

Harry wasn't certain what the correct answer was to that question, but he got the implication that he'd done the wrong thing, and he was sick to his stomach with always displeasing this man that his biology had decided was a suitable mate. His discomfort must have shown on his face because Snape's rigid countenance finally softened ever so slightly as the man sighed with exasperation.

“I take this to mean that you're aroused presently?” he asked neutrally and Harry nodded, not trusting his voice. “And your inappropriate comment at the start of term now takes on a different light.” he mused.

“When was your last orgasm?” he asked simply.

Harry blinked in confusion. Where was Snape going with that sort of question? “Some time before my sixteenth birthday.” he answered.

Snape nodded to himself. “As far as I am concerned, Potter, this is just another thing in a long line of things I'm required to do for your well-being, and it need not be made any more awkward than it already is. If you're amenable, I am willing to relieve you of your discomfort -- now or at any point in the future, as often as you require.”

“You mean you'd....”

“Yes. And as we've time now, I see no time like the present to take care of your present discomfort.”

“Oh. Oh!” Harry's eyes widened. “What exactly....” he fidgeted, his mind reeling. Was this seriously going to be his first sexual encounter? It was utter madness.

“Come here.” Snape held out one arm, gesturing for Harry to come round the desk. Harry made his way over nervously, uncertain what Snape was going to do as he was still seated in his large chair. When he was within grabbing distance, Snape pulled him onto his lap, Harry's back flush against Snape's front as he wrapped one arm around him to hold him in place and his other hand quickly went to work on his robe's buttons. Then his trousers, his achingly hard cock springing free of his pants within moments.

Harry panted for air and all but melted into the man's touch, his eyes already well glazed over as his blood sang in his veins. He moaned breathily as Snape's nimble fingers went quickly to work on his cock, and it was over almost disappointingly quickly as Harry's body went rigid with an almost painful release that went on and on. His hands gripped the arms of the chair fiercely as he emptied himself for the first time in months, his head swimming.

The strangest sensation came over him at the same time, something that'd never come from an orgasm before, and that was a profound sense of well-being. The fatigue lifted and he felt as if he could think a little more clearly now, as if his head had been full of cotton wool for ages and only now was clearing away. He waited for the inevitable panic to kick in, because this was Snape, and he'd just... he'd actually....

But no, his body felt languid, and good, and refreshed.

Snape murmured a cleaning spell and the mess disappeared as he tucked Harry back away and righted his clothes. “How do you feel now?”

“Better.” Harry answered wonderingly.

“Come to my quarters Friday evening at seven. You'll stay the weekend.” Snape informed him. “I'll inform the headmaster and your Head of House.”

Awkwardly, Harry stood on his own again, moving around the desk to collect his things. “Er... all right.” he answered. Because a direct order was a direct order, and it simply sat comfortably inside of him to obey. Normally he knew he might argue it, or wonder what his say in all of this was, but for the moment it simply felt like a tremendous burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

Harry hovered at the door just a moment longer. “Er... thank you, Sir.” he said hesitantly.

Snape simply nodded, already moving his attention to some papers that needed tending to, in clear dismissal. “Friday night, seven o'clock.” he reiterated, as Harry let himself out.

Chapter Text

“You look better.” Hermione remarked with some surprise over lunch. “What did Snape want to ta--” Her eyes widened comically as she put two and two together.

“What?” Ron asked distractedly, looking between the two of them, from where Hermione sat frozen and Harry avoided eye contact, blushing. “Eugh!” he made a face. “Not over lunch, honestly.” he scolded, though it wasn't clear which of his friends he held responsible.

“I didn't say anything!” Harry said defensively.

“No, I'm sure you didn't need to.” Ron said sarcastically, and at Harry's glower he back pedalled. “Joking, joking.” he said placatingly. “And anyway, you do look better, mate. Does that mean... the greasy git is actually on?” he asked, as if not really wanting to know the answer. He winced and chewed slowly, so put off his food by this conversation. He wanted to be a good friend, but there had to be limits.

“Look, let's not talk about it.” Harry said quickly.

“Fine by me.” Ron agreed readily, though Hermione made a slight peep of annoyance before finally going back to her own meal. Harry could tell she was bursting with questions but he didn't feel up to divulging just now, not when things were so new and strange.

“Also-I-won't-be-around-this-weekend.” Harry mumbled out all in a rush.

Ron fairly choked on his food and Hermione had wide eyes again, but Harry just ducked his head and continued to eat, his appetite finally present again.

~~~

The handjob in Snape's office was enough to make him feel better than he had all school year so far, but not enough to set him back to normal feeling, exactly. He was still unbonded, and he was still a young Incubus with a large appetite. It did, however, give him enough strength to make it through to Friday evening, though the anticipation was killing him. He'd packed his school bag full of clothes and things for his overnight trip to the dungeons, and he was terribly nervous about it. Snape had said he'd clear it all with Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey had all but said this sort of thing was sanctioned in his case, but it still felt as if he were getting away with something terribly naughty. And of course, he was. His mind whirled with thoughts of what they were going to do this weekend. Would Snape fuck him? He had only the most rudimentary knowledge of what that might entail, and to be honest he wasn't even sure where he'd picked up that much in the world. It certainly wasn't something he could remember actually hearing about in a real conversation.

Nervously, he knocked on the door to Snape's chambers, not far down the hall from the Slytherin dormitories. He was just glad none of the Slytherins had caught him down here.

The door clicked open softly to reveal Snape looking slightly less imposing than usual. “You're early.” he said simply, though there was no censure in his voice as he beckoned Harry in. “I was just finishing my supper. I take it you've had yours in the Great Hall?”

“Yes.” Harry answered dumbly, taking in his surroundings as Snape made his way back to a worn couch in the sitting room where his plate was still full of the same sorts of things Harry had eaten in the Great Hall minutes before. He'd noticed Snape's absence from the head table -- apparently he was eating here.

Arrayed around Snape on the couch were various parchments that Harry recognized as students' work, though he couldn't say what year the essays were from by glancing. Snape wanded them into order and they flew across the room to sit on a little rickety wooden desk that had to be as ancient as Hogwarts itself. The quill and ink pot joined them.

Snape gestured to one of the cushy armchairs facing the fire as he finished eating his meal, taking his time. “I suppose we should set some ground rules. Firstly, is there anything you object to sexually?”

“Er, not really.” Harry answered as he sat down gingerly on the chair, his eyes darting everywhere to take in the personal chambers of this very private man. There were books lining the walls around the fireplace. There were no windows this deep underground but it was warm and cheery nonetheless. Everything was tasteful and a bit darker than Harry would have chosen but it did give the room a cosy feel, welcome this late in November. “I haven't exactly tried much.” he admitted with some embarrassment.

“I'd thought as much. In which case, if I do anything you're even the least bit uncomfortable with I order you to tell me at once. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” Snape set his empty plate aside and banished it with a tap of his wand, probably to the kitchens. “Now, are you familiar with how a blowjob works?”

Harry couldn't believe how surreal this was. Had he walked into a parallel universe? “Erm, in theory....” He was hard as a rock and sweating just thinking about it.

“Come kneel here.” Snape pointed to the rug between his legs as he began unfastening his robes, then trousers, and Harry's mind went fairly blank as he felt his body moving to obey.

“The most important thing to remember is probably no teeth. Other than that, take as much as you can, use tongue, and do remember to swallow when I ejaculate.” Snape instructed and leaned back in a relaxed posture, his hand stroking what seemed to Harry to be a massive cock. At least it seemed quite daunting in the moment.

“You...” Harry swallowed and glanced up at his professor. “You want me to...”

“To fellate me, yes.” Snape said with a sort of amused half-smile. “Proceed.” he said, releasing his own cock and gesturing at Harry.

Harry scooted forward and felt the air seem to thicken around him. His vision narrowed and suddenly, there was really only Snape's cock, and it was absolutely lovely. Long, and thick, without being obscene. Weighty, just every so slightly curved. Pale, and mostly smooth but with a hint of texture to it, a suggestion of the veins underneath. Snape might have been considered by some to be ugly, but his cock was just lovely.

Harry found himself reaching out to grasp it. It was weighty and warm, and as he leaned forward he could detect a faint, musky aroma that had to be natural to Snape himself. He breathed in the heady scent and felt magic positively pulsing around them. It felt safe here, comfortable. And he had need. And he had permission. His mouth opened all its own as he leaned forward and took an inch of Snape into his mouth.

Salty, but subtle. He took more, filling his mouth on all sides. Full, warm, heavy. He felt the weight of it, his hand still wrapped around the base of the shaft as so much of it didn't fit, but that didn't discourage him. Harry let his tongue move around, testing the texture and tasting Snape's skin. The flesh was so soft and yielding while the cock was like iron underneath. He must have done something right because he heard Snape release a soft sigh as one of the man's hands came to rest on the crown of Harry's head, the long dexterous fingers threading through his unruly hair.

Harry practically purred himself, giving a slight moan of encouragement at the gentle touch. He pressed back into the caress as he began to pull off of the cock to lick around the top, and to dive back down. There was no real rhythm, no finesse, but to Snape it was a lovely effort. He would have never imagined the boy could be so yielding and submissive in anything, and certainly he'd never pictured one of his students in the bedroom. Certainly not at the tender age of sixteen. But Harry wasn't just any student, and his Incubus nature fairly demanded this to survive and thrive.

And it was beyond lovely to have such a malleable novice worshipping him so prettily. Snape felt the stresses of his own day falling away, giving way to the sensation of that sinful mouth. His hand came to tangle in Harry's wild locks as he gently guided the head to a steadier rhythm. The magic fairly swirled and tingled around them, and Severus knew at that moment he was hooked on the sensation. This was why a man would have to be a complete idiot not to want an Incubus as his consort. They were needy and demanding and required so much by way of loyalty and caring... but they were devoted and more sensual than anything the best gold could buy.

Gently, Snape pressed his hand down more firmly atop Harry's head, and Harry got the hint, taking a deep breath and relaxing as much as he could as the thick cock nudged the back of his throat. He felt himself gag slightly before the pressure was released and he moved back up, then the exercise was repeated again.

“Swallow.” he was instructed gently as the cock nudged for entry once more, and as Harry obeyed automatically he felt Snape push his cock firmly into his throat this time. Before Harry could even process what he'd accomplished, he was mostly aware of his lips pressed firmly against Snape's body, the bollocks resting at his chin, his nose buried in pubes. His eyes watered from discomfort and he had to swallow again convulsively as he thought he might gag. His throat hurt, as did his jaw, and he couldn't properly breathe -- and yet it was phenomenal. There was a sort of comfortable weight in his belly that had settled, and he didn't want to be anywhere doing anything else, with anyone else, ever again. In this moment, in this place, life was perfect.

And he was moving back up, and there was air. Then smoothly down, and swallow. It came more easily the second time.

Before long, the boy was fellating Severus like a practised professional and the man marvelled at the natural aptitude a young Incubus had for this sort of thing. If he didn't know Harry personally, he would have found it difficult to believe that the boy actually hadn't had any experience before this. But no, this was simply within his new-found nature. He wouldn't last long with these delicious sensations, and sure enough with a final plunge Severus was shooting off down Harry's throat as the boy swallowed reflexively around him.

Even as Snape released him, Harry continued to suckle and lick at his deflating cock.

When Snape pushed Harry gently back, he began to do up his clothes once again. “Feeling better?” Snape queried with a knowing smirk.

“Loads.” Harry breathed. The air was so clear now, and his skin felt like it was sparkling. That didn't even make sense, but it was nonetheless true. Everything within him felt so alive and at peace, all at once. Although his cock throbbed painfully hard between his legs. “Are... are you going to touch me again?” Harry asked hesitantly. It felt strange to ask for such a thing, even given what they'd just done, and what Snape had done for him earlier in the week.

“Perhaps, in time.” Snape told him. “You see, Harry, when you are aroused you're particularly focused on me, and I like you to be focused on me. You may sometimes be allowed to have an orgasm, but it isn't necessary for your health and well-being as an Incubus. What you require is regular sexual contact, and what we just did certainly qualifies. I intend to make full use of you, but for now I also intend to deny you that final release. It won't always deny you, but that will be the norm.”

“Oh.” Harry said with some disappointment. It had been his only orgasm since some time in July, and he really had been looking forward to having another one. He ached for it, and Snape was right there. But at the same time, the rules were laid out so simply for him, and he didn't have the burden of thinking about it or questioning it just now. Snape had taken care of him completely, and he could feel the very real effects of their interaction still. That was more than enough.

“Now. I require time to recover and finish my grading. You should use this time to work on your assignments or read, or do whatever it is that you normally do to amuse yourself once you've finished your work.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully, moving back to his place in the arm chair and pulling out some of his school work from his bag. Snape summoned the parchments, ink, and quill from the little desk again and got back to his work, right where he'd left off.

“At nine o'clock I'll have some tea or brandy as per my mood. On nights when it's tea you may join me. Between nine thirty and ten, we shall have our shower, during which time I shall begin to introduce you to the world of anal sex. Fingers first, though after your performance tonight I very much doubt you'll require much practice before we can move on to penetrative sex.”

Harry gasped. “Does that mean you intend to consummate our bond?” he asked, his voice shaking with eager anticipation. That was more than he'd dared hope for. A proper bond would sort things out for him considerably.

“Of course, Potter. I don't intend to share what's mine, or even consider competing. But all in due time. Do your homework.” he said, as he silently went back to his grading.

Chapter Text

It turned out that Snape had had a brandy that evening rather than tea, and so Harry had had nothing, though he had watched Snape's every move with interest, as well as keeping one eye on the time while he struggled to focus on his homework enough to at least do some of it. If he weren't able to rely upon Hermione's work ethic this weekend he really would have to find a way to focus in Snape's quarters, especially if the man made a habit out of this.

At nine thirty-seven, Snape set down his empty glass and set aside the book he'd been perusing while drinking, looking up at Harry who was already paying rapt attention. “A shower, I should think.” Snape reiterated, and stood to walk to his bedroom -- through a carved wooden door at the far end of the sitting room. Harry followed behind him, looking around the bedroom with as much interest as he had the sitting room before.

Whereas the sitting room was browns and reds, cluttered and warm, the bedroom had a distinctly different feel. The four poster bed was large and heavy, and so dark of wood that it was more black than brown. The duvet was black, the sheets Slytherin green, and the curtains in broad tasteful stripes of the two. The floor of the sitting room had been thoroughly covered in dark rugs -- the floor of the bedroom was largely stone with a smaller rug beneath the bed only. As Harry began to undress along with Snape, his feet felt the cold first as he removed his shoes. It was colder in here with no fire and so much stone. Almost but not quite damp. There was very little clutter, only the necessary furniture, really, at least when compared to the other room.

Harry followed Snape's lead in setting his boots against the wall, and his robes draped over the same chair Snape used for his own clothes that weren't yet in need of a wash. Dirty things in the wooden hamper -- supposedly the house elves would sort it all out in the same magical way they handled the dorms. As Harry got down to less and less clothing, his hands shook, and he couldn't take his eyes away from Snape as more and more of the man was revealed. Snape was thin but not underweight. He had more hair than Harry had imagined, though he wouldn't describe him as particularly hairy in the scheme of things. The cock, he’d already seen earlier that night, and wasn't it strange to be more interested in the rest of Snape's body?

He was so distracted in looking his fill that he temporarily forgot his own nudity, though when he noticed Snape's dark eyes on him he flushed at the attention. It was new, but he strangely didn't want to hide from Snape. The air felt thicker and his skin tingled pleasantly in a way that he was coming to associate with sexual activities, now that he was an Incubus. When he hadn't had sex in his life, he hadn't thought about it too much -- certainly no more than an average boy his age, perhaps a bit less. But now that he had it and knew what it felt like with this new appetite, it was almost addicting. It was a delicious frisson and he wanted more.

“To the bathroom.” Snape directed, pointing to another door on the side of the room. Harry stepped through first as directed, and saw yet another motif. White tile from floor to ceiling. White ceramic tub and sinks. Very utilitarian, much like the bathrooms in the dorms, though this bathroom showed more signs of being lived in rather than borrowed, and was much larger and nicer quality than anything used by the students.

Snape adjusted the water in the shower to his liking and stepped in, beckoning Harry to follow. He placed a flannel and bar of soap in Harry's hands. “First you'll wash me, then I shall follow suit.” he directed, and Harry swallowed nervously at the directive. Washing another body was certainly nothing he'd ever been tasked with before, and he was worried about displeasing Snape or embarrassing himself in some way.

He wet the cloth and soaped it up, setting the soap back in its tray, and decided to do as he'd do to himself. Top to bottom, skipping the head. Shoulders first, arms, back, chest... He took his time and was pleased to note that Snape worked with him, allowing him access and moving as Harry gently directed.

Stomach, then after a moment of hesitation, skipping over the genitals and arse entirely to come back to at the end. Down the legs and to the feet was a bit awkward in the spray of the shower, especially without the benefit of glasses to see with properly, but Harry was grateful that at least it was roomy and it was a walk-in, not a shower-bath with a slanted floor of death.

Back on his feet, Harry stared up at Snape's impassive expression and gently wiped the cloth over his cheeks, his forehead, nose, chin, being careful not to get soap in his eyes and holding his wet hair away from his face. This close to the man, it was hard for Harry to remember why he'd ever seen the man as ugly. Snape wasn't ugly -- he was just a man with a face. It wasn't an ugly, crooked nose. It was just a crooked nose, Snape's nose. The man tilted his head into the spray to rinse off the soap, while Harry cautiously moved to wash the man's cock and balls. It wasn't as bad as it might have been, as he'd already handled Snape's cock earlier that night. Then he dipped a hand behind to wash his arse, swiping it down the crack hurriedly and away. That, at least, still somehow seemed too personal, and he was nervous.

Snape caught Harry's wrist during his hasty retreat and with his own fingers over Harry's, washed his arse again, taking his time and guiding the motions, his eyes sliding shut as if he might even be enjoying the sensation of it. The idea that he could cause Snape pleasure, and like this, was too wild to contemplate.

Then the moment was over, Snape exchanged the flannel for a bottle of shampoo in Harry's hands.

This was a little more awkward for Harry. Firstly, his hair wasn't nearly so long as Snape's was. Secondly, washing someone’s hair had to be a bit more difficult than washing their body. He poured a bit of shampoo into his palm, not at all certain if it was the right amount, and set the bottle aside. Snape's hair was already wet from the shower, and Snape was still facing him. Was he supposed to wash his hair like this? Wouldn't it be easier if the man turned around? But then the water would be in Snape's face. Should Harry move behind? There wasn't really room, though, and the man wasn't moving or giving any indication. Harry raised his hands and smoothed the shampoo onto Snape's scalp awkwardly, and began to try and pile the hair atop his head to lather it as best he could. He blushed throughout and was certain he was making a fool of himself, but he was careful to keep the soap from Snape's eyes and to work his fingers against Snape's scalp in a way that would at least be effective, if not elegant. He combed his fingers through the strands methodically until the water ran clear, and decided he hadn't done half bad. He also realized that not once had he thought of the man's hair as greasy when his fingers were in it.

Apparently satisfied with his efforts, Snape moved Harry around to switch places, as Snape began a rather more sensual exploration of his body with the soapy flannel. It was largely a repeat of what Harry had done but with more finesse from start to finish, and Harry was hard as a rock by the time his hair was finished. Snape had barely even touched him sexually but as far as Harry was concerned this was nearly as good as sex. Everything Snape did to him was arousing.

Finished with Harry's body and hair, Snape reached now for a third bottle of pale yellow liquid, and Harry wondered what it could be. Some sort of conditioner or lotion? His question was soon answered as Snape poured just a bit of the oil onto his fingers as he bid Harry to turn toward the wall and brace himself.

Harry did so, forearms against the tile as his head dipped, eyes closed against the spray of water. Behind him, he felt one of Snape's slender oiled fingers probing at his anus and it was unlike any sensation he'd felt before. Unusual, but electric, and he knew immediately he wanted more of it. A breathy whine escaped him and he was so overcome with the want and need of it, that he didn't have space in his brain to be embarrassed.

Snape chuckled at his Incubus' wantonness and pressed his oiled finger firmly forward. This was not usually this easy with a typical virgin, but then Harry was made for this. He'd had a sneaking suspicion that he would be a natural.

As Snape's finger slid home Harry groaned deeply and it was all he could do to stay standing, braced against the shower wall. He wanted to go limp, lie down passively while his mate did these wonderful things to him, but Snape had ordered him to hold his position. In and out, filling and retreating, probing and stretching -- that single digit was going to be the death of him, and his breath came in panting gasps.

Then one finger stretched him to become two, and the crooked just so, as Harry became aware of his prostate for the first time. He grunted huskily and felt his cock jump in response. Instinctively, he tried to push back, to widen his stance somehow, but there was nothing he could do braced against the walls and slippery floor like this. That was perhaps part of the point.

“You like that, do you?” Snape asked him, doing it again.

Harry gasped before answering. “Yes, Sir” he said breathily.

“No doubt you could cum from this sensation alone, but I think you've had enough for now. It seems anal sex should pose no problem at all.” he said, removing his fingers from a desperately aroused Harry.

Harry could almost have cried from his level of arousal as Snape shut the water off and stepped out of the shower, but at the same time he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so alive. His focus followed Snape like a magnet, and the man handed him a towel as he dried himself. Harry followed suit, his erection not flagging in the slightest though Snape had them brush their teeth, use the toilet, hang the towels, and so forth -- so many little things that might have distracted anyone else or given them time to calm down. Not so for Harry. He was just aching for the next chance to touch Snape, and their state of undress was not helping.

As they made their way back out to the bedroom, Harry couldn't follow quickly enough to the bed as his bare feet pattered across the icy stone floors. The fire in the sitting room was burning low and Snape wanded out most of the candles, lifting the covers for Harry to join him in his bed. Heart thumping a mad tattoo, Harry spooned up with Snape and waited for something, anything to happen.

Maddeningly, the man simply spelled off the rest of the lights and wrapped his arm around Harry's waist. Snape somehow wasn't even aroused behind him -- Harry could feel the flaccid cock nudged up against his arse as Snape's breathing slowed and steadied to that of rest, while Harry's own heart beat madly in the darkness. How was he ever supposed to sleep like this?

But the room was quiet and the blankets were cosy. The skin to skin contact did more to settle Harry's nerves than anything had at bed time for ages. It wasn't too long until he dropped off as well.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up feeling more refreshed than he could ever recall. He'd slept like the dead. Groggily, he opened his eyes and tried to determine what had changed. The first thing he noticed of course was the warm body still pressed up against his, skin to skin. Snape. He sighed and snuggled back closer, his attention piqued when he noticed that Snape was no longer flaccid, but sported some impressive morning wood that was snugged against Harry's arse crack.

He blinked around at the slowly brightening room as torches and candles lit themselves automatically at the appropriate hour. Magic was absolutely wonderful, and Harry would never get tired of it, always managing to find yet another thing he'd never seen before. The air around his face was chilly and he could just imagine how icy the floor must be. Someone would need to stoke the fire, unless it too were charmed.

But under the blankets everything was warm and wonderful. Harry wriggled against Snape's erection and wondered if the man would take him soon. A hand tightened on his hip and a sleepy voice instructed “Desist.”

“If you insist on moving around at this hour, Potter, you can get up, get dressed and ready for the day. Then go to the other room, stoke the fire, and prepare tea. You'll find the necessaries in the kitchen cabinets.”

Harry sighed, wanting to stay in bed a while longer with Snape, but he'd already annoyed the man, who apparently wasn't at all a morning person. And besides, if he were honest he wanted quite a bit more than to lie there and cuddle. He braved the freezing floors and threw on his clothes as quickly as possible before heading to the loo to relieve himself and brush his teeth. Then out to fix the fire as the lights continued to brighten in the sitting room as time went on. In the early morning half-light he moved to the small kitchenette off the sitting room, a series of cupboards and counter space with a small sink and not much else. The supplies for tea were some of the only things Snape kept for himself, which made sense considering the house elves were available to provide for his food.

Tea, biscuits, various potions ingredients (as far as Harry could tell). Alcohol. Harry snorted. It was like the home of a stereotypical bachelor, which he supposed Snape was. Except perhaps he wasn't any more, if he had Harry. And he had said he intended to actually bond with him, and not to share. Did that mean they were... what, dating? Was this the sort of thing he could let others know about? Would he want them to know? And if so, exactly how much would he tell?

Harry frowned as he thought about it. He wasn't eager for people to find out about his inheritance., because they'd immediately think “weird sex stuff”. And then he'd need to explain that no, it wasn't really just weird sex stuff... except that when he thought about what it really entailed, he supposed that it was. It just wasn't the sex stuff he'd initially imagined. No, the reality was embarrassing in a wholly different way. But he couldn't very well just let people know that he was dating a professor, could he? Not without some explanation of why it was sanctioned for him to do so.

Unless perhaps the wizarding world didn't have laws against such a thing. Now there was a thought. Harry hadn't ever heard about students messing about with teachers, but that didn't mean it didn't happen.

Snape finally stirred in the bedroom. Harry could hear the sounds of him in the bathroom doing much the same as Harry had done, if perhaps a bit more sluggishly. Harry heated the water with his wand, seeing no hob of any sort, and set the tea to brewing. He set out two mismatched old mugs on the coffee table in the sitting room, seeing no more appropriate place for their morning tea. And Snape had eaten his supper there the night before, so clearly it was okay. He was a bit surprised at how informal the man was in his own chambers considering how meticulous he was in a public setting.

A very groggy Snape emerged from the bedroom, dragging his feet a bit, his posture slightly slumped. It was almost comical to Harry who had never seen the man look less than wholly intimidating. Snape slumped on the sofa and combed his glossy hair out of his face, reaching for the cup that Harry had just poured for him.

“Are we dating?” Harry blurted out, and received a tired glare from Snape in response.

“Potter --” he said warningly, annoyance lacing his voice more than intimidation. He buried his large nose in his tea and inhaled, warming his hands on the cup. The man's head to toe robes were not out of place in the chilly rooms, though the fire was picking up again and the lights were brightening to their full strength over time.

“I just mean,” Harry hastened to explain himself, though suspected he was only making it worse. “I just mean that you said that I'm yours and you don't share and you plan to bond with me and you have me in your chambers and I know that Madame Pomfrey and the headmaster must have said it's okay on account of me being an Incubus but what am I supposed to tell everyone else?” he ended breathlessly.

Snape set his cup down on the coffee table and regarded Harry seriously. “You need not tell anyone anything at all, as it's none of their business, though you may share as you see fit. If asked directly you're not to lie about it either. You will divulge that you're an Incubus and that you're my property, of course.” he said simply, and then picked up his cup again to sip at his tea.

Harry gaped at him a bit, at a total loss. “But--” he said before thinking, flushing at the notion of everyone knowing.

Snape raised a single brow at him, and Harry silenced, swallowing thickly. He turned his gaze away and picked up his own mug instead, sitting quietly and sipping tea. Snape seemed to prefer the silence anyway, the only sounds in the quiet room the crackling fire.

Harry was lost in his own sea of thoughts. What would people say about him when they found out? That he was some sort of submissive sex slave? He chewed his lip thoughtfully, only half his tea gone before his cup went cold.

“Come here, Potter.” Snape instructed, gesturing to the ground between his spread legs. He gave a tired, though much more awake sigh. “I'd like some release before getting back to work this morning, and then you'll be free to do your own work or seek out your friends. You may stay quietly or go elsewhere but I expect you back in my quarters for supper.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered automatically, already reaching to undo Snape's clothes and pull out his partially erect cock. He did it without thought or pause, smiling eagerly as his fist closed around the heavy member. It felt so perfect in his hand. He fisted it up and down a bit, feeling it harden satisfyingly, and he inhaled deeply of Snape's natural scent. It was addicting. Without further ado Harry leaned forward to engulf the warm flesh in his mouth, sighing in satisfaction along with Snape. The second time was easier than the first had been, and his throat remembered how to swallow and open for Snape as the man pressed Harry's head down more deeply.

When Harry's belly was full of Snape's emission, the man pulled away and began doing up his clothes again in clear dismissal while Harry's own cock throbbed uncomfortably. But he felt contradictorily calm and fulfilled, settled in his bones somehow. Snape was standing and moving to the little desk against the wall to shuffle through various parchments, no doubt getting assignments in order, and Harry moved into the bedroom to grab his school bag and head up to Gryffindor tower. There was no way he was finishing these assignments without some help from Hermione.

~~~

“Harry!” Hermione's face lit up as she saw her friend walk into the common room. She was of course already up bright and early working on her assignments.

Harry smiled back. “Hey, Hermione. Ron's still asleep I take it?”

“Of course.” Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron rarely even made it to breakfast on weekends. Harry was often right along with him in the sleeping-in department. “You're up rather early.” she said with a suggestive smile.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Snape has charmed candles that come on early.”

“Oh.” Hermione said with a blink. “So you didn't --”

“I didn't say that.” Harry smirked, blushing.

Hermione's face lit up with excitement. “You didn't!” she gasped out, looking equal parts intrigued and embarrassed. “What was it like? How far did you go?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Wait, no. Do not answer that. I'm not sure I could handle the image of my professor in such positions.” she wrinkled her nose.

Harry shrugged and settled down on the floor, taking out his books. “About the Charms assignment --” he began.

“Why am I not surprised?” Hermione asked with fond exasperation and they got to work.

~~~

“Harry.” Ron said with some surprise when he finally emerged. “You look... better.” he remarked. After so long of Harry looking so ill, he'd almost forgotten what the boy looked like when well. As much as Ron didn't want to consider the particulars of Harry's creature status, he had to admit that this connection he had with the greasy git was clearly important to his health.

“Er, thanks.” Harry answered awkwardly, as he silently wished neither of his friends would ask too many direct questions about what went on between he and Snape. They at least already knew most of it, but he still wasn't ready to out himself as much as Snape seemed to demand.

~~~

Harry's confrontation with his true nature came sooner than he could have imagined. It was later that evening when he was heading down to the dungeons to meet Snape for supper, as ordered, when he came face to face with the one person he probably least wanted to see: Draco Malfoy.

“What're you doing this deep into the dungeons, Potter?” Draco demanded haughtily, as if he owned the place.

Harry clenched his fists and his jaw in irritation. “I'm going to see Professor Snape.” he answered quietly, trying to step past the boy, but Draco was always ready for a confrontation.

“For what?” Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You two hate each other, and it's the weekend. His office isn't even down here.” Draco's eyes suddenly widened with comprehension. “You're going to his quarters? What for?” he demanded.

“It's none of your business.” Harry ground out, but already he felt uncertain about what to do. Snape had said it wasn't anyone's business, but he also knew that he'd been given a direct order to answer truthfully if asked a direct question. And Draco had asked him directly what he was going to Snape for.

Harry's skin began to almost itch uncomfortably. It wasn't an itch, but more of a crawling sensation, and he felt himself sweat and his stomach was full of nausea and cramping. His throat felt thick and he was compelled to divulge, but he didn't want to, damn it! Not to Draco.

Draco was eyeing him suspiciously, no doubt noticing his sudden discomfort. Before Harry could stop himself, the words were tumbling out of his mouth. “I'm an Incubus.” he said simply. “And I'm Snape's property.” he mumbled, and pushed past Draco to make his way more quickly to Snape's chambers.

“What?” Draco asked incredulously, jogging after him. “You can't be serious.”

“Fuck off, Draco.”

“You expect me to believe you're what, some sort of sex slave to my Head of House?” Draco demanded, trying to provoke him.

“Essentially, yes.” Harry ground out, hating every second of this inquisition. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and hated that too. He'd be damned if he'd cry in front of Draco about this.

“What's the matter, Potty?” Draco teased. “Nothing better than a Gryffin-whore now?” he snickered at his own lame joke, and Harry was about two seconds from turning around and belting him.

But Harry had arrived at Snape's door, and knocked politely, fuming inside. The door cracked open and Snape raised his brow at Draco. “Come in, Harry.” he said without looking at him, ushering him past and into his chambers while he kept his eyes firmly on Malfoy. “Is there something I can do for you Mister Malfoy?” he asked darkly.

“No, Sir.” Draco muttered, a bit shocked at seeing Harry admitted into Snape's chambers so readily, regardless of what Harry had just divulged.

“Then I suggest you see yourself to the Great Hall lest you miss supper.” he said. By tone, it was clear it was more than a simple suggestion.

“Yes, Sir.” Draco answered, and scurried away.

Snape closed his door and judging by Harry's distress he could only imagine some of the scenarios of what might have happened. Not that it mattered. Harry would simply need to get himself over it.

“Clothes off, Potter. I intend to enjoy the view while we eat.” he instructed.

Harry sighed in both frustration and gratitude at the simple order. At least he had some direction as to what to do. And now that Snape had willed it, his clothes felt confining and stifling, though they hadn't just moments before. He curled up on the worn couch beside Snape in front of the warm, crackling fire. It was as bright and cosy in here as it had been the night before, and Harry felt himself relaxing. It was almost like the Gryffindor common room, only more peaceful and private.

As usual, Harry was already half-hard just being in Snape's presence, and Snape took his time drinking in the pretty sight. He tapped his wand on the coffee table twice and summoned their evening meals he'd had pre-arranged with the elves, and handed Harry his plate and fork, then took his own.

Harry smiled and began to eat many of his favourites -- meatloaf, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, a buttered roll. Hogwarts always had the absolute best food as far as he was concerned. Both pumpkin juice and water were set out on the table, as well as small plates of dessert to the side -- little individual custards that Snape had asked for. Harry was forced to take his time with the food in order to digest and have room for dessert later.

“I take it you had a quarrel with Mister Malfoy?” Snape asked conversationally.

Harry paused in his eating and tensed slightly. “He asked about why I was coming down here.”

“And I take it you informed him?” Snape prompted.

“Yes.” Harry said shortly, and Snape simply nodded. As long as he was obeyed in this, he saw no problem.

“Very good.” he said simply, and those simple words took the edge off of Harry's irritation. His mate was pleased with him, and it warmed him somewhere inside to know it.

Snape asked him a few more questions as they ate -- where he was in his homework, what he'd done that day. But mostly, they ate in silence, and it was comfortable. Harry thought how quickly he could get used to living like this. He felt more himself now than he did anywhere else. It was freeing. He was so much more at ease.

In time, they finished the main course and sipped their water. Harry eyed the untouched desserts but didn't dare ask about them if Snape didn't want them to eat it. The man in question seemed to be content just to stare at the fire, lost in his thoughts while he digested and sipped.

At length, Snape set his glass aside and went into the bedroom to rummage around, coming out with a small black box. “I've been out today.” he announced to Harry suddenly, and Harry paid rapt attention, interested in what Snape was about to tell him. After all, Snape wasn't the sort to just tell Harry about his day in general. “And I've purchased some things for you.” he said.

Harry's eyes widened. “You got me a present?” he blurted out in surprise.

Snape smirked slightly. “Let us call it a present for the both of us.” he sat down and opened the box as Harry peeked in curiously. Harry's curiosity waged with concern as he eyed the items in the box, not entirely certain what all of them were.

A little jar of oil was obvious. He'd seen that the night before in the shower. And the little metal plug with a simple green SS in the centre was fairly obvious. “You're to wear these at all times except during the following: when removal is necessary to use the rest room, when cleaning, when playing Quidditch or doing similarly athletic activities, any times when their use could result in injury, or when their removal is necessary for my enjoyment of you. Is that understood?”

Mutely, Harry nodded. His eyes were off the plug and fixated on the other two items in the box which he still didn't understand but felt some concern for.

“When presented with a gift, you shall thank me, Harry.” Snape admonished gently.

Harry blinked in surprise at the use of his given name rather than his surname, but he hurried to comply. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You are welcome.” Snape said simply and handed him the little pot of oil. “Use your fingers to lubricate your anus. The plug will be the first to go in, and I want to be assured you can use all of these items on yourself.” he said calmly.

Harry took the little oil pot nervously, his hands shaking a bit. He unscrewed the cap and dipped two fingers into the viscous fluid hesitantly. Kneeling up on the sofa, he reached behind himself and probed gently with a single digit. It was the first time he'd ever touched himself there, and he sucked in a breath at the sensation of it. Still, he hesitated a moment before continuing further, simply getting used to the feeling of his finger there. Snape had done this the previous night, he recalled, and it hadn't hurt him. In fact, it had felt incredible.

Summoning his Gryffindor bravery, he slipped one lubricated digit into himself and his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of it. He wriggled it slightly -- uncomfortable, but not unpleasant. For some reason, nothing at all like when Snape did it. No matter how he worked it in and out, he couldn't seem to find that magical place that Snape had. One finger became two and he bore down on them instinctively, allowing them passage.

Snape watched with sharp eyes to be sure Harry wouldn't injure himself taking the plug. “That's good, Harry. Now lubricate the plug.” he said, handing it to him.

Harry dipped the plug into the pot of oil, up to the narrowed neck at the base.

“Press it into you and bear down until it's fully seated.” Snape said calmly, and Harry obeyed. He pressed the firm metal against his loosened hole and pushed. There was a bit of discomfort, but then it slid in easily and sat heavily inside of him. He felt very full, and stretched, though the plug was fairly small.

“This will stay in you at all times. You needn't worry that it will cause any lasting damage. The lubricant will see to your continued elasticity.” Snape reassured him, and Harry nodded. He trusted Snape's judgement implicitly.

Next, Snape reached for a shiny metal ring in the box, again inscribed with his initials in very small green script. “This is a cock ring. It shall keep you erect, as well as help display you prominently.” Snape pressed his thumb over his initials and the ring snicked open as if by magic, and Harry realized it probably was enchanted to work so seamlessly. “It will rest around both your cock and balls at once, like this.” he said, showing Harry how to secure the little ring, though he instructed Harry to press it closed.

Harry saw immediately how it thrust his entire package slightly forward. And if it kept him erect at all times, it would be impossible for Harry to hide his erection in his trousers unless he wore his robes at all times. He blushed slightly imagining it.

The final piece of jewellery was a round little metal cap with a green SS in the centre like the plug, but this had a small protrusion sticking out of the base of it. Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion. He couldn't make heads or tails of what the thing was for.

“This may be a bit uncomfortable.” Snape warned, and dipped the little stem into the oil. He grasped Harry's penis firmly but gently, and to Harry's horror worked the little stem down into the head of his cock, into his urethra. Harry hissed in discomfort, but in truth it didn't actually hurt. It was just a sensation he'd never experienced before, and couldn't imagine ever actually wanting to experience. But apparently this would be the norm.

The little stem was pressed into him until the round cap was flush over the head of his cock, fitting perfectly over him as if made for his body. It even sealed around the mushroom base of the head snugly so that it was unlikely to move on its own.

“Just lovely.” Snape said, staring at Harry admiringly, and Harry flushed under the attention.

It wasn't jewellery he would have chosen for himself, and he was a bit uncomfortable with it, but the attention Snape gave him was well worth it. He felt like a prized piece of art under that gaze, his cock thrust proudly forward and on display for his mate.

“You will of course remove it whenever you should require the toilet.” Snape assured him, “As I have said before. The same goes for your plug. You should therefore make certain to carry the oil with you at all times, either in a pocket or your bag.” he said, handing the little box to Harry as well. “When your jewellery is off for any reason, you should keep it in the box. If it is off for more than a moment, be certain you clean it thoroughly.” Seeing Harry's flush of embarrassment he continued. “I don't care whether you're seen in the dorms or the Quidditch locker rooms doing so -- I want you to take care of your things and keep them on your body when instructed. Is that clear, Harry?”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully. How was it that Snape could read his thoughts so effortlessly? He was certain it didn't even require Legilimency.

“Good. Now I believe it is time for dessert.” he announced, and Harry had fairly forgotten all about the custard during all of that. He lit up again, the discomfort of the moment forgotten, as they got down to eating the sweet.

After dessert, Snape settled in to relax and read and Harry did his best to do the same, curled up on the couch beside Snape in the quiet room. Snape had a small bit of scotch later in the night while he continued to read, and at length it was time for their shower.

“Come along, Harry.” Snape announced as he stood and headed to the bedroom. “Same routine as before. And pick up the clothes you've scattered in my sitting room and put them away.” he admonished as Harry scrambled to comply.

He followed Snape into the bedroom and put his own things away as the man began to undress himself.

“Go in ahead of me and remove your plug, ring, and cap. Wash and dry them thoroughly at the sink and place them in their box.” Snape said without looking away from what he was doing.

Nervously, Harry moved to comply. The ring was easiest of course. The plug came next, and he was relieved that he was able to pull it out without much effort. His hole felt soft and a bit open afterwards, and had a slight ache for the unaccustomed stretch, but nothing was painful. He washed the plug and set it aside too. Finally, the bit that weirded him out the most, the cap. Grasping it very gently, he pulled it from himself and winced at the strange sensation. It wasn't pain, but he wasn't certain he'd ever get used to it. This too was washed and set aside, just as Snape came into the room and started the water.

The shower was less awkward and took less time the second time around, as they took turns washing each other as before. Snape plunged a soapy finger into Harry's hole in the end and checked for any damage, but didn't waste any time fingering him as he had the night before. Satisfied that Harry had taken the plug well, he ended the shower and stepped out to dry himself, Harry following behind.

As Snape brushed his teeth, Harry moved hesitantly to the box of jewellery again, giving a wary glance to Snape who was ignoring him. He knew what he had to do. The plug first just like last time. He found it was already easier the second time around.

The ring, which displayed him proudly. He used the loo for a quick piss before moving to the final piece, the one Snape had inserted for him before. It was a bit scary to install, but not as difficult as he had imagined it to be in the end. He didn't like the thing, but he could admit that it didn't hurt him at all. And Snape liked him like this, which gave him a warm feeling.

Snape had already left the room by the time Harry finished brushing his teeth and tidying up. The man was in the covers and dousing the lights just as the night before.

Harry crawled in beside Snape and spooned up against him as before. But last night, he'd got Snape off, and this night he hadn't, and it was all he could think about. Never mind the blowjob that morning. “But what about --” he started to ask as he shifted under the covers.

Snape simply draped his arm over Harry and pulled him in close, murmuring into his hair “Tomorrow, Harry.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said quietly, and willed himself to still his restless motions so as to not annoy the man further.

Snape's hand came down to Harry's crotch however, and Snape smiled against Harry's hair as he fondled his property simply for the enjoyment of it. The hard little cock and full bollocks displayed proudly with his inscribed jewellery upon them. Harry's little restless twitches didn't even disturb him at the moment as he mapped the new terrain with his hand.

In spite of the teasing, or perhaps because of it, Harry slept well that night, through to morning.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up to the earliest flickers of Snape's lights once again, and immediately knew he had to take a piss. He sighed and braced himself for the icy floors, making his way quickly to the bathroom to relieve himself. The cap over his cock was all the more annoying when he really had to go, but he eased it out of the way as quickly as he could, and re-lubricated it for easier reinsertion when he was finished. It was a challenge to piss with an erection and his package jutting out as it was as well, but he realized he'd better soon get used to it. His cock felt harder than ever and his bollocks extra full with this cock ring pressing them forward and confining them, and he wondered how his day would go with the addition of the jewellery.

His trousers certainly had a noticeable bulge in front now, as he'd suspected they would. There was nothing for it though, so he dressed hurriedly and went out to stoke the fire and make the tea for when Snape would wake in a few moments. Sure enough, he heard the man puttering around before long, and Snape emerged sleepily to accept a warm mug from Harry and take his customary seat on the couch.

They sat in silence for a few moments while Snape savoured his morning tea, and Harry tried not to fidget with morning energy. He wasn't a morning person exactly -- he often used to sleep in. But for some reason in the unusual environment of Snape's quarters, and with getting such good sleeps now, he was awake quite early. And once he was up he was up -- that at least, he'd always had. Snape, though, Harry was learning took a longer time to fully wake up.

After a few moments Snape's gaze flicked over to Harry and he took in his appearance with a frown. “Why are you wearing robes?” he questioned.

“Why wouldn't I be wearing robes?” Harry came back, and Snape's scowl deepened.

“I have known you for years, Potter, and I've not once known you to wear your robes on the weekend. Take them off.” he snapped.

Harry scowled as he complied. He may very well have put them on because he was cold. If only he could have argued that. But the fact was that he'd put them on because he was self conscious about his clearly defined bulge in his trousers. It wasn't exactly obscene, but only just shy of it as far as Harry was concerned. Everyone would know what had caused it at the very least.

“Much improved.” Snape said at length and tapped his wand twice on the coffee table to summon breakfast. An array of pastries, fruit, and cheese appeared along with a carafe of juice and some glasses, and two small plates for the two of them. He began to make his own selections and Harry waited until he was finished to make his own.

“What are your plans for the day?” Snape queried as they ate and listened and nodded while Harry mentioned one assignment to finish up, going to Gryffindor tower, playing chess and exploding snap with Ron, perhaps going out on brooms if the weather held.

“That'll be fine.” Snape said after some time contemplating. “I believe to start you'll spend Friday and Saturday evenings with me, but you should continue your routine of staying in Gryffindor through the week. I suppose that means I won't see you alone until next weekend.” Snape explained. “We'll see if your health holds out for the week well enough or if we'll need to increase our time together. I take it you're comfortable caring for your jewellery from now on?”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered uncomfortably. He was mortified by the idea that eventually someone would see it on him and there would be questions he'd have to answer, and all manner of gossip about him throughout the school. Not to mention he hated that cap and the ring. The plug wasn't so bad thus far but the others.... He bit his tongue and kept it to himself. Snape liked them, and that fact alone filled him with a sort of warmth.

He also realized that he wouldn't get to have any more sexual contact with the man for a full week now, and he still hadn't been fucked or bonded. He tried to keep the disappointment to himself. After all, this was all much more than he'd hoped for.

“On your knees, Potter.” Snape directed, spreading his legs as was their new routine. Finished with his meal, Harry sank gratefully to the rug and set about opening his present with genuine pleasure. This was something to treasure and savour, especially now knowing that he wasn't likely to get another taste until Friday night at the earliest, or even Saturday morning next.

All too soon it was over and Harry's belly was full of cum while his own cock remained hard in his trousers, trapped within its various confines. As with the day before, Snape put his clothes to rights in obvious dismissal of Harry, and Harry saw himself out, taking his overnight bag with him, being sure to keep track of all his various belongings so he wouldn't need to explain to anyone why his toothbrush might've gone missing, though he already knew people might be asking where he'd spent the last two nights. It was sheer luck that he hadn't gotten any uncomfortable questions yet, save from Draco. Worriedly, Harry wondered whether Draco had spread his gossip throughout the whole school already. Harry wouldn't put it past him.

Harry made his way back to Gryffindor tower, and as he passed some younger students in the hall he already saw them glance his way and whisper between themselves. He tensed. Just bloody brilliant. As stoically as possible, Harry ignored them and made his way to the common room where Hermione was at her usual post, reading away. She'd even managed to rouse Ron in time for breakfast, and Ron was yawning over his unfinished assignments.

Two first years whispered between each other in the corner when Harry walked in, and Harry scowled, noticing Ron wince. “Hey, mate.” Ron said a bit tensely.

“What did you hear?” Harry demanded.

“You're not going to like it.” Ron said apologetically, and Harry sighed.

“No, I don't expect so.” he said and slumped down into one of the stuffed chairs. “I doubt it's anything worse than the truth.” Harry admitted, and Ron more or less confirmed it by his uncomfortable grimace.

“Harry, it was bound to come out sooner or later.” Hermione said in a reasonable tone. “And anyway the sooner people know what you're up to the sooner the gossip will die out as old news.”

“Hermione, when has any aspect of my life ever been old news?” Harry demanded. “It'll be in the papers before long, you can count on it.”

Hermione's reassurance faltered a bit. “Well, we'll just have to ignore it like we always do.” she resolved.

“Is he treating you all right in the meantime?” Ron asked seriously. “The way Malfoy put it seemed a little well....” he shrugged.

“A little what?” Harry asked in annoyance.

“Non-consensual, Harry.” Hermione said gently. “Or one-sided, at least. He is treating you okay?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, fully aware of the metal pressing into his arse, and the bulge in his trousers that couldn't go entirely unnoticed no matter how he sat. “He's been fine.” he said defensively. “Brilliant, actually.” he amended. And it was true that Snape had been wonderful to him. Harry had never felt more cared for. But that didn't mean that the relationship wasn't a little one-sided in a way. Consensual, certainly. But perhaps maybe abnormal? He wasn't about to try and explain it here in the common room, though. Or perhaps he'd never explain anything quite so personal. Surely Snape didn't mean for the intimate details of their engagements to be public knowledge.

“Malfoy did say that you were Snape's... well, his property.” Hermione said gently.

“I am.” Harry said, jutting out his chin defiantly. At Hermione's worried frown, he continued. “Hermione, you know full well what my nature is. I let you read that whole bloody book against my better judgement. Snape... well, he gives me what I need.” he said with a flush. Bloody hell, he'd never blushed so often in his life than in the past few days.

“As long as you're all right, Harry.” Hermione said, as understanding as she could be while she tried to wrap her head around the situation. As open-minded as she was trying to be, the implications clearly hadn't fully sunk in yet. “You know you can come to us if something's wrong.”

“Nothing's wrong!” Harry snapped in exasperation.

“Well, good then.” Ron said with a tone of finality, and got back to his work as if that ended the discussion. Grateful for the reprieve, Harry joined him, and thankfully the rest of the day went better than expected, all told. It wasn't the first time Harry was the centre of unpleasant gossip at the school, and he mostly stuck with Ron and Hermione anyway. Hopefully Hermione was right, and it would all blow over in time.

~~~

The first day with his jewellery was a challenge. Two trips to the rest room to piss by lunch time, and thankfully he'd been alone and able to fiddle with the cap and his lubricant easily enough, thinking that even if there had been another bloke around he might not have noticed what Harry was messing with. The key, he figured, was to be quick about it. Which was difficult because he felt so hesitant to move the damned thing at all. What if he damaged himself? It felt so strange going in, strange coming out, strange simply being there. He hated it. And pissing with an erection remained annoying as well.

Then he and Ron were going to head out to fly around the Quidditch pitch in the afternoon, and Harry remembered Snape's warning to remove all of his jewellery before doing so. He shut himself in a stall in the bathroom to do it, wanding it clean (thank Merlin for spells, he didn't think he could handle the sink), and placing it in its little box to wait for him to return.

Then there was putting it all back on without Ron noticing after he'd come back, again shutting himself away in the stall and taking his time. Ron was going to start to become suspicious if there was much more of this, Harry worried. This wasn't a normal amount of time to spend in the bathroom unless he were sick, and it was only going to continue.

By mid-afternoon he had his first bowel movement with the new accoutrements to contend with, though luckily he was growing accustomed to removing the plug and spelling it clean. He had the little pot of oil in his pocket at all times now. It was weird defecating after being stretched though. It made him all the more aware of what he was doing to himself, and it embarrassed him a bit, though it didn't worry him. Snape had told him it wouldn't do any harm.

By bed time that night, Harry couldn't do much about how much his package bulged in his pyjama bottoms, but he noticed Ron was starting to shoot him weird looks. His friend had gotten used to Harry's frequent bouts of arousal since his inheritance. but this was getting a bit ridiculous and was so much harder to hide.

But it was morning when Harry would take his customary shower during the week that he finally got caught out.

Getting the jewellery off wasn't that much of a problem. He kept the curtains on his four poster shut while he removed it to his box, spelling the lot clean, and when he emerged from his bed he was still in his pyjamas and thankfully his bulge was a little less noticeable. Harry ironically hoped that Ron would notice that fact, so that perhaps he wouldn't believe something totally weird was going on with Harry.

He showered as per normal and would usually just get dressed at his bed like all of the rest of the boys... but how to put the jewellery back on? He faced a moment of panic and indecision. He could climb back into bed with the curtains shut, or do it out in the open but facing away and as quickly as possible, or take the lot back into a private stall as if to use the toilet again. In the end, he chose the toilet.

“Harry what in Merlin's name are you doing in there?” Ron asked in annoyance as he heard Harry rustling around and very obviously not taking a shit. “This is like the millionth time you've been in that stall since yesterday.

Harry scowled behind the door. He really needed to concentrate to do this and he could use a little privacy. Plus he hadn't been in the stall a million times. Three times the day before and once today was hardly a million. “I'll be right out!” he snapped.

“Is this some weird sex thing Snape's making you do?” Ron demanded to know.

What gave him the right? “What business is it of yours?” Harry demanded right back.

“Bloody hell, Harry, I knew something weird was going on.”

Harry emerged fully dressed and thankfully with his school robes in place. No one would notice the bulge. He glared at Ron and didn't say a word as he stalked out.

“What is it he's having you do?” Ron wanted to know.

“It's none of your business. I don't ask you about your sex life.”

“You're not even with him right now. It's weird, whatever it is.”

“Thanks so much for your judgement.”

“Harry that's not -- that's not what I meant.”

“That's exactly what you meant!”

“Harry --”

“No. I don't want to hear it, Ron.” Harry stopped him, and stalked off the rest of the way to the Great Hall alone. Hermione tried to get out of both of them what had happened, but neither was talking about it, or to each other.

Harry was in a foul mood the rest of the day. The metal plug was uncomfortable on the hard wooden seats. And while his bulge didn't show with his robes on, he was hyper aware of it all day. The cap was the most annoying and strange bit and he resented it most when he needed to use the loo. Harry took to only using the stalls for all of his bathroom stops.

He had DADA on Mondays and he was on edge throughout, though Snape didn't treat him any differently in class than he normally did, in spite of the gossip. Harry figured that the man had to have heard it by now, being the accomplished spy he was, but of course he'd be totally unaffected. Harry, meanwhile, was an absolute mess over it. He answered direct questions about it affirmatively but they were few and far between. Mostly he endured the stares and whispers as well as he was able without lashing out or bursting into mortified tears.

By evening, he was completely knackered. All Harry wanted more than anything was to curl up on Snape's couch like he had the nights before. To watch the man read and drink, to shower and go to bed. Instead he worked on his homework first in the crowded and noisy common room, then alone in his four poster, still completely avoiding Ron.

He readied himself for bed earlier than usual and shut himself behind his curtains. The jewellery felt particularly uncomfortable just then, but he figured it was because he was annoyed and exhausted. And alone. He missed Snape, and it was only his second night away. He'd barely had time to even establish a routine with the man, and it didn't make any sense for him to become so attached so quickly. They'd been practically mortal enemies just days before.

Then again, Harry was an Incubus, and Snape was a potential mate. Soon to be bonded mate. Something inside of him yearned for it like a physical ache.

Well, nothing for it. He'd just have to hang in there until Friday.

Chapter Text

His week was terrible. Everyone knew. And everyone in the dorm knew that he was constantly in the rest room stall for some reason or other, and no one wanted to know why -- they were very vocal about that fact. Or they definitely wanted to know why -- and some people were vocal over that as well. And then there were those who refused to say anything at all near him, going completely silent or whispering amongst themselves. Harry had a short temper and was becoming exhausted. His nerves were frayed.

Some of it was contending with Snape's required regimen, but some of it certainly was from a sort of sexual withdrawal. He craved the man like a drug. His focus was on Snape any time the man was within line of sight, and he found himself thinking about the man's naked body, the man's touch on his skin. The man's cock in his mouth. It was like being mesmerized, and it made paying attention in DADA hell, even though it was his best subject.

Potions, by contrast, was continuing to go surprisingly well that year with Slughorn, though he was no closer to figuring out how to get close to the man for Dumbledore's sake. Harry was driving himself mad with how to get the man's hidden memories, but it didn't help that Dumbledore himself wouldn't share with Harry why he was doing anything or how anything really added up. Why couldn't Snape just use his Legilimency on him? Or Dumbledore for that matter? Or what about Veritaserum? Perhaps it was “illegal” but that hadn't stopped Umbridge all the past year.

Harry was told to come to Snape's quarters after dinner again on Friday, and that's what he did. Completely soul tired and weary, he trudged to the dungeon and knocked on the door politely, waiting admittance. When Snape answered the door, he glanced over Harry's exhausted, distressed appearance, but wasn't surprised. He'd heard the gossip and he'd certainly seen the boy's discomfort grow throughout the week.

“Clothes off, Harry.” he said, turning back to sit on the couch and pick up where he'd left off with his grading.

Harry sulkily undressed, resenting his jewellery that stood out so vibrantly now. Snape wasn't even looking at him to appreciate it, so what was the point? He curled up on the free armchair and put his feet up on the seat, arms wrapped around his knees as he stared into the fire, grateful at least for the moment of silence.

“Tell me about your week.” Snape instructed after at least fifteen minutes of allowing Harry to unwind.

“What about it?” Harry asked curiously. Why did the man even care?

“How are you physiologically? Is the exhaustion back? Dizziness? Nausea?”

Harry took a quick inventory of his body. “I'm a bit tired.” he admitted. “Not dizzy, though.”

“You haven't been eating well.”

“I suppose not.” Harry admitted quietly. “Though that might be for other reasons.”

“The gossip.” Snape supplied, and Harry simply shrugged uncomfortably, not wanting to be judged. “I've heard it. Does it bother you?”

“Of course it bothers me!” Harry burst out. What kind of asinine question was that?

“Which part of it?”

“All of it.” Harry said resolutely.

“You're an Incubus, Harry. Surely that fact shouldn't bother you to have known. It is who you are.”

“Maybe, but it's no one's business. I don't know why they need to know. They don't even know the first thing about what it means.”

“And what does it mean?”

“You know.” Harry said petulantly.

“I do. I want you to explain it to me nonetheless.”

“It means... I have certain needs.” Harry said reluctantly, utterly embarrassed. “Appetites, Madame Pomfrey called it.”

Snape nodded. “Go on.”

“And my subconscious directs me to potential mates who can fulfil those needs. And you're fulfilling them. That's it. End of story.” he insisted snappishly.

“Describe those needs.” Snape prompted.

“Sexual contact.” Harry admitted quietly.

“And?”

“And I'm a submissive.” he muttered almost inaudibly.

“Say it again.” Snape directed levelly. “Louder and more clearly.”

“I'm a submissive.” Harry said more audibly this time, though it was clear he was still coming to terms with the idea of it.

“Yes, you are. And what are you to me?”

“Your property.” Harry admitted in a whisper.

“Does that disturb you, Harry?”

“No!” Harry was quick to correct, his heart beating fast all of a sudden. He couldn't have Snape, his mate, thinking that it bothered him. He wanted it. He wanted it desperately, yearned for it.

“Then don't continue to act as if it does.” Snape said simply. “You're submissive. You're an Incubus. You're my property. And you perform sexually for me.”

Snape wanded away his work and gestured for Harry to come over to him, which he did reluctantly. Snape tugged Harry down to sit on the sofa beside him, wrapping his arms around Harry so that he rested his head against Snape's chest. Harry sighed into the comfort of his touch, some of the tension leaving his body.

“Now. Tell me about the rest of your week.” Snape prompted. And it was as if the floodgates had lifted. Harry told him about his struggles to pay attention. About his fall out with Ron over what he was doing in the bathroom stalls all of the time, and his struggle to piss with an erection and to fiddle with the jewellery without getting caught. He spoke of how much he disliked the cockhead cap in particular, and how his arse was sore after a week with the plug, and how his bulge embarrassed him.

He spoke about how he was improving at Potions, which prompted questions as to why and he divulged a bit guiltily the used book he'd found, to which Snape made no further comment. He spoke about Dumbledore's secret meetings with him to get some memory out of Slughorn and how much he hated being “collected” to the little club.

And throughout it all, Snape simply held him, and caressed him, and pet his hair. Harry couldn't believe how much he'd pent up inside for so long and it felt as if a tremendous weight had lifted as he finally was able to divulge it all to someone who really listened without censure, at least for now.

When he'd finally run out of things to say, they sat cuddling in that way, and Snape stroked Harry's erect cock gently, fiddling with the jewellery there to idly amuse himself, twisting the cap about within him, lifting it up slightly and pressing it that little bit back down. Harry shuddered at the strange sensation of it moving within him. When Snape had had enough of that, his hand moved further back to twist and tug at the plug in Harry's arse for a while as well, and he began to speak.

“I'm glad you shared all of this with me, Harry. It does bring up a number of items that we need to address.

“Firstly, you'll be turning over that Potions book, as it may surprise you to know but it is my property. I am a half-blood, and my mother's maiden name was Prince.” Harry's shock only lasted a moment before he was distracted by the plug twisting and tugging again. “You'll do well in Potions on your own or you'll fail on your own. If you need additional tutelage, I am willing to help you, but you must then be willing to actually work and follow instructions.

“Regarding Professor Slughorn's little collection: You will be polite and courteous to your professor as I'd expect you to do for any instructor at this school. However this little plan of the headmaster's was something I wasn't aware of. From now on, you will divulge all such information to me immediately. But as for the required memories, I don't want you involving yourself in such foolishness. I can't imagine that that old fool is thinking at times. I'll retrieve it myself.

“And regarding your friend Ronald -- don't be an utter imbecile. You'll apologize to him first thing tomorrow for your part in the argument.” Harry opened his mouth to protest but was cut off. “That is non-negotiable, Harry. You'll have to find a way to work through your discomfort over your nature and our relationship. This is your reality. You must accept it, and your friends must find a way to accept it if they wish to remain your friends. But that means you must work with them when they are understandably concerned. It's utter foolishness to lose friends over such a minor incident, and to give silent treatment like a child.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered sulkily, and Snape finally released him from his sexual teasing.

“Now, I believe it's time that I teach you how to make me a drink. Come.” he beckoned, heading to the little kitchenette and showing Harry how he liked his scotch.

“Next time I desire a scotch, you will be able to retrieve it for me.” Snape said as he settled himself back in his seat to relax with his drink and a book after a long day.

Harry watched him as was his custom, and after a few minutes of silence he asked timidly, “Sir, are you going to let me suck you off tonight?”

“No, not tonight, Harry.” Snape said gently. “Wait until morning.”

“And are you going to fuck me soon?” he asked with poorly hidden eagerness.

“Not this weekend. You're clearly not ready for it yet.” Snape said simply. “But we'll give it another week and see then.”

Harry swallowed his disappointment and watched the flames, lost in thought while Snape finished his ritual relaxation before it was time to shower.

This, Harry had really missed greatly, and he relished the intimate touches they traded with one another in the process. In a way, it was just as good as the sex was. This was a part of it, he realized. Part of a much larger picture Snape was starting to paint for him. All of the little touches, teases, affection, were part of the sustenance that fed him.

He crawled into bed with Snape again after he'd finished in the loo, and once again felt Snape's hand drift magnetically toward the jewellery where he fiddled and played. Well, the man had required him to wear it for a reason. He wanted it and intended to enjoy his property as he saw fit. Harry simply sighed and snuggled in to the warm body, drifting off even as Snape fussed with the cap.

~~~

When Harry awoke Saturday morning, he felt immensely better than he had when he'd come to Snape's rooms the night before. Perhaps it was being in physical contact again, or a good night's sleep, or perhaps it was unburdening some of his problems the night before. Perhaps all of these factors had some effect. Whatever the reason, Harry was relieved to find that he did feel a bit less fragile and a bit more capable the next day as he awoke with the first rays of candlelight in the morning.

His routine, such that it was, felt good to him. Solid. First braving the icy floor, a trip to the loo (with blessed privacy from schoolmates). Getting dressed in his clothes for the day, in spite of the bulge. He realized as he dressed that although Snape had addressed most of what he'd confessed to him the night before, the man had said nothing of his various discomforts with the jewellery. Well. That was answer enough in itself. He'd simply have to find the strength to confront it within himself.

Next, to the sitting room to stoke the fire and make the tea. Snape eventually stumbled out to accept his mug and they sipped in absolute silence for some time. Snape tapped his wand twice on the table and some scones presented themselves for breakfast, and Harry wondered idly whether Snape put in these orders ahead of time or if the elves just used their own discretion. Perhaps a question for another time, but he knew better now than to interrupt Snape's morning routine lest he sour his mood.

After a comfortable breakfast, Snape was looking very much more alive to the world and he beckoned Harry in front of him without a further word of explanation. Harry sank down with a relieved sigh. It was like being thirsty for ages and finally being allowed to properly drink. The weight of Snape's cock in his mouth already felt familiar. The stretch in his throat almost comfortable even as it slightly chafed. The guiding hand on his head and tangled in his hair made the experience complete.

Neither was in a rush, but it couldn't last forever, though Harry did his best to continue to lick and suckle afterwards, unwilling to relinquish the contact unless forced to. Which Snape did, by way of pushing Harry back gently and doing up his clothes again. “Be back for supper.” he reminded Harry. “And go apologize to Mister Weasley.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully, and made his way up to Gryffindor tower to get it over with, and to start on his assignments.

~~~

It seemed to take ages until Ron finally came down from his dorm and Harry was driven to distraction until then, barely getting any work done even with Hermione's help. When Ron did come out and spot him, the boy scowled darkly and began to simply turn back around, as if unwilling to share Hermione, or perhaps the common room at all.

“Ron!” Harry called up to him, and Ron paused, looking back over his shoulder. Harry swallowed thickly. “Look, I'm sorry we quarrelled.” he forced out before Ron could retreat entirely. Some of the tension left Ron's shoulders as he looked at Harry in surprise.

“Yeah.” he admitted a bit sheepishly. “Me too.” he said simply.

They still hadn't addressed the real issues that lay between them. There was still a sort of unspoken tension between the three friends as they carefully avoided mention of Harry's weird relationship with Snape these days. But they were trying, and Harry supposed that that was enough.

~~~

Harry endured the whispers and the obvious looks at his crotch with as much bravery as he could muster that day, particularly in the Great Hall for lunch. He kept his head down and focused on his homework for the most part, spending most of the day in the common room with Hermione and Ron -- doing homework, chatting about school as well as the upcoming Christmas season now that December had just started. It looked like it might snow any day now.

By supper, Harry was grateful to be able to retreat back to Snape's quarters and the relative solace found therein.

“Clothes.” Snape said without looking up from his book. He'd not even come to the door directly, having opened it by wand.

Harry shed his clothes quickly and was rather getting used to being naked in Snape's quarters. He curled up on the couch next to Snape, and after a moment Snape set his book aside and tapped his wand twice on the coffee table, causing supper to appear.

It was rather a fancier meal than Harry would have chosen for himself from the Great Hall, though it was something he'd seen before. A chicken dish with some sort of gravy and mushrooms. Some sort of puréed vegetable that he'd once made the mistake of thinking was mashed potatoes. Some sort of dressed salad in a side dish. More water and pumpkin juice for his choosing as well.

And for dessert, a parfait, though only one, which was curious. Was it just for Snape? Just for him? Were they to share it?

Supper was a largely silent affair, which suited Harry fine. He made certain to clean his plate, but the unusual flavours took a bit of getting used to. Still, the more he ate the more he decided that perhaps he'd been a bit too picky in the past and would give meals like these another go. It really wasn't half bad once you knew that whatever it was wasn't mashed potatoes.

“Did you apologize to Mister Weasley?” Snape queried as he ate.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered and Snape nodded.

“And do you have your Potions book in that bag?” Snape asked, following up on his earlier statement that Harry would have to give it up. Harry was rather hoping the man would forget about it but no such luck. He retrieved the book in question which Snape exchanged with a different old book containing no notes in the margins. Where he'd gotten it was anyone's guess, but then Snape had been the school’s Potions professor for years. There were probably dozens of older books here and there if one knew where to properly look for them.

When they'd finished the main meal, Snape pulled Harry into his lap, causing Harry to blush at the memory of Snape masturbating him that first time in a position very similar to this. Just like then, the man's hand came down to his cock to stroke, though now not to get him off but simply for mutual enjoyment. Snape weighed his heavy bollocks and gave them a gentle tug, fiddled with every bit of jewellery as was his habit now. His hand even strayed up to tease Harry's nipples which was an entirely new sensation for the boy, as weird feeling as it was arousing.

Thus engaged, Snape reached for the parfait after a moment and spooned some into his own mouth. Licking the spoon clean, he carefully directed it at Harry, who realized then that Snape was actually going to feed him by hand. He blushed furiously but opened his mouth to accept the food off the same spoon Snape had just used. Dessert, it turned out, was a leisurely affair that night, as Harry was absolutely pampered with alternating spoonfuls of the sweet, and many pauses for Snape to feel him as he pleased. The overall effect was that Harry was utterly worked up and entranced by the exercise, and the magic thrummed around him and in his veins as some of his craving for affection was satiated.

When they'd finished with the food and had sat a while longer, Snape noticed Harry squirm a bit at the sensation of the very short sound rotating in his cock again. “Are you still uncomfortable with the jewellery, Harry?” Snape asked curiously.

“Er, sort of.” Harry admitted. “I'm getting used to it being there.”

“That's not the same as comfort.” Snape corrected him, and placed Harry's own hand over the cap. “Twist it.” he ordered softly but firmly. “Feel what it feels like to twist right and left inside of you.” he encouraged, and Harry bit his lip in discomfort as he did so, the sensation still feeling totally foreign to him. He hated doing it to himself. “Try pulling it out slightly and pressing it back in.” Snape instructed him, and watched as Harry complied hesitantly. When no further orders were forthcoming but Snape's attention didn't waver, Harry realized he was meant to continue on this way as Snape would, twisting it this way and that, pulling and pushing it within him, sometimes with quick short jerks, sometimes with excruciating slowness. He continued to work the little plug in and out of his urethra as Snape watched him while he laid back against the man's chest.

Anything when done long enough became a bit more comfortable, and so it was after Snape encouraged a full ten minutes of such an exercise. “Now the ring.” Snape said. “Feel your cock and your bollocks. Stroke them as you would if you were masturbating.” he instructed, and Harry did so. Since he hadn't been able to bring himself to completion any longer, he hadn't really even done this for months now. But here with Snape, he explored himself anew. His heavy bollocks prominently displayed, his hard cock standing at attention. “How does the ring make them feel?” Snape queried.

“Bigger.” Harry admitted. “More obvious.” he continued to play with himself, simply enjoying the sensations, feeling the difference that the cock ring made in how everything set. His body was foreign to him now, but he was getting reacquainted.

“Now reach back and grasp the plug.” Snape urged him after some time. “Give it a twist.” he instructed, and Harry did so, sighing at the sensation. The metal was hard and unyielding during the day when he had to sit upon it. His hole became a bit sore from it, but twisting it strangely gave a sort of relief rather than more ache. “Pull it out slightly and press it back in.” Snape told him and it was easy to comply. It wasn't that large and it was still well lubricated by Snape's special brew.

For a while, Harry gently twisted the metal inside his arse, pulled it out a bit and pressed it back. It was strange to be playing with himself in this way. Before his inheritance., he would never have thought of his arse as a sexual place, but it certainly was, even if the plug wasn't reaching that special spot deeper inside.

“Pull it out further, Harry.” Snape encouraged after some time. “Pull it out fully and press it back in. Fuck yourself with it.”

Harry was hesitant at first. The plug widened slightly which caused his anus to distend, then it contracted sharply near the base to keep it in place. Pulling it in and out stretched and chafed slightly at his rim. But he realized as he continued that he loosened up and began to really enjoy the sensation of it, his arse was accepting it without any problem even after a week of sitting on hard chairs all of the time.

As one hand worked the plug in and out of him more vigorously, Harry panted with exertion and arousal, his eyes slitting shut as he focused on the sensations and the utter safety of Snape's arms around him, his firm chest to Harry's back. Snape moved Harry's free hand to the penile cap and Harry automatically began to twist and jerk the sound within him along with the plug. He gave little grunts and whimpers of arousal and frustration as his need grew and grew. His bollocks were so swollen and his cock so hard, full to bursting. His hips gyrated a bit instinctively, seeking completion that wouldn't come on his own.

He gave a whine of frustration and Snape shushed him gently, laying his hand's on Harry's and stilling his motions as Harry laid panting and recovering, a thin sheen of sweat painting his body. Harry blinked up at Snape in wonderment. The jewellery was certainly more interesting now, if nothing else. “That's enough for tonight.” Snape said gently. “You did well.” He pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, and Harry felt himself grow warm and fuzzy in the pit of his stomach. Some of his fierce need blunted in a way at the praise and gentle affection.

“It's about time for my scotch.” Snape said, and gave Harry a little push to indicate he should go fetch it. He recalled how Snape liked the drink and brought it to him, surprised how late it was already.

As Snape drank and read, Harry curled up on the couch next to him, content to simply stare at the fire slowly dying down. He felt peaceful.

The shower was a part of their routine now. Harry marvelled at how what seemed so awkward and daunting at first, to wash another human being, was now something he rather enjoyed providing as Snape simply relaxed to his ministrations. He cheekily tried to linger on Snape's cock a bit longer than necessarily and got a doleful look in response. Harry bit his cheek to try and keep from smiling too much and moved on. When it was Snape's turn to wash him it was a bit more sensual, or at least it seemed so to Harry. But then most of Snape's touches turned him on.

After the shower, the jewellery was easy to put back, and Harry found he was rather getting used to the feel of it. He wasn't long in following Snape to the bed this time and he happily snuggled into place, soon out like the lights Snape doused with Nox.

Chapter Text

By Monday, some of the previous week's gossip had died down as old news, and Harry went about his week with more focus and determination. He still spent too much time in a bathroom stall, but his schoolmates were getting used to it as just something weird about Harry that didn't concern them, and Ron had chilled out with his awkward questions as well. Every time Harry came back from a weekend with Snape he was healthier-looking, happier, and more calm, so whatever they were doing Ron figured it couldn't be that bad.

Potions was a bit of a nightmare without his special book, but Harry dedicated his evenings to remedial study with Hermione as often as he could. He was determined not to fail in Snape's favourite subject, even if the man was no longer his professor for that class. He had a desire to make the man proud of him. And at any rate he was less distracted in Potions class now that Snape had said he'd take care of the weird memory thing for Harry. It really was one stress he simply did not need in his life.

He wouldn't say he was exactly comfortable with the jewellery yet, and he was still terrified of someone seeing him in it somehow. But he was certainly more at ease with the whole thing after his little masturbatory session with Snape the previous weekend.

So when Friday evening came, Harry was feeling pretty good about the week, all told. He was in a good mood when he made his way into Snape's room after supper. “Clothes off, Harry.” Snape instructed as always. Harry wondered why the man didn't just make it a standing order, but perhaps he liked giving it. Harry stripped down and curled up in the empty chair while Snape took up the whole sofa with his work.

“We're going out tomorrow.” Snape informed him while he continued to slash at parchment with red ink.

“Oh?” Harry asked curiously. “Where to?”

“Diagon Alley.”

“We're going to London?” Harry asked in surprise. That was certainly unusual. “What for?”

“Clothes. I'm tired of your shoddy muggle rags. I'll be purchasing you a new wardrobe.”

“Oh.” Harry answered a bit uncomfortably. He wasn't proud of his clothes, he'd never really liked them at all, to be honest. But he hadn't known they'd actually bothered the man. “You don't have to buy anything for me.” he said. “I have money in Gringotts.”

“You're a minor and you're mine to take care of.” Snape said dismissively. “Don't argue with me.” he added, and the direct order ended any further reservations Harry might have had.

Still, Harry felt compelled to warn him in a quiet voice. “The Dursleys might not like it.” he said with a bit of concern. “I'm afraid they might take them from me.”

Snape simply waved his hand dismissively. “You're an Incubus, Harry. You've creature status. Once we bond, in the eyes of the Ministry and in all reasonable effect you'll belong to me as my property. You'll not be going back to the Dursleys this summer.”

Just like that, Snape had said it so casually. “What? Really?” Harry asked excitedly, a grin splitting his face. “I don't have to go back? Where will I stay? With you? Will we stay at Hogwarts?”

“I haven't worked out the details.” Snape answered distractedly, snorting at one idiot student's answer and deducting several points in red. “Here, my home, a safe house....” he trailed off. “It's not for you to worry about.” he said with a tone of finality. The subject was closed, and Harry was content to trust Snape to work something out. This was absolutely brilliant. Better than he could have dreamed of.

“Don't you have homework to do?” Snape asked irritatedly as Harry sat there grinning away.

Harry didn't bother to answer verbally, but happily pulled out some work and surprisingly was able to focus on it relatively well, all the way until Snape had Harry put his things away and make them both some chamomile tea.

He cleared away space on the sofa for Harry to join him and snuggled and pet his Incubus as they drank, becoming drowsy from the soporific effects of the tea. Harry felt some of his tension edge away as he finally got the physical affection he'd been craving throughout the week.

“Tell me about your week.” Snape bid him quietly, and listened as Harry prattled on about mostly inconsequential nothings, but it was nice that Harry felt comfortable enough to let someone in. He expressed his concerns for whatever Malfoy was up to, but wasn't surprised when Snape had nothing in particular to say about it. Still, it felt good to unburden himself of that worry to someone he really felt would take him seriously.

Soon, Harry was growing sleepy, and they made their way through their normal nightly routine and to bed.

~~~

The first thing to go, apparently, were his muggle jeans. Snape forbid him even to wear them home. “Put these on.” he instructed simply, handing Harry a pair of wizarding trousers similar to those he wore for his school uniform but with a slightly different cut to them. Like the school set they were of a sturdy fabric of some sort -- older and nothing at all like jeans. And like his school set they had a button fly. But unlike the school set the placket of these trousers seemed specifically designed to emphasize and compliment his bulge, which made him distinctly uncomfortable but seemed to please Snape. Of course he would have chosen the cut purposely.

He was allowed to keep Weasley sweaters but required to forfeit his t-shirts of all sorts in favour of some nicer quality items that fit him better, so he couldn't complain. Simple henleys, button-ups, under shirts and even two waistcoats. It was perhaps a bit posh for his usual taste but he was grateful that Snape allowed him at least some say in the styles so that he didn't feel like he was wearing entirely someone else's wardrobe.

A proper pair of boots replaced his trainers which Snape dubbed “hideous”. They had a short, awkward sort of argument about pyjamas -- Snape thinking that Harry should wear a traditional wizarding gown and Harry trying to convince Snape that that was not at all the style these days, even among purebloods. It was particularly awkward as Harry really didn't want to be seen as arguing with Snape, and he was immensely grateful when the man relented. What he did not relent on, however, was confiscating all of Harry's underwear and replacing them with positively sinful silk boxers. Harry simply knew Snape was doing it on purpose, that it was meant to feel sexual. But then, of course it was, because that was the sort of relationship that they had. After the jewellery, it wasn't worth even mentioning.

Even his socks were confiscated, and he was resolutely banned from wearing white muggle socks at any point in the future. In their place, Snape got him tasteful woollens that Harry liked much better anyway. A few other odds and ends that Snape thought were necessary, and they were out of the shops by lunch, having sent the packages ahead to the castle, all except for what Harry was now wearing of course. A Weasley sweater but with a new proper undershirt, new socks and boots, and those new trousers that left nothing to the imagination.

Snape was positively smug as he had Harry follow him around thus dressed in public, and took their lunch in the Leaky Cauldron. Well, at least there he could sit down and scoot under the table, Harry figured, though now he was hyper aware of the new boxers, and once more focused on the metal plug in his arse. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

Snape ordered for both of them, and Harry once again ate the new foods without comment. When they reached the castle, Snape instructed one of the house elves on which of Harry's clothes to purge, the new belongings already having been delivered to Gryffindor tower.

“I've some brewing to complete for the hospital wing this afternoon.” Snape informed him. “Run along with your friends to do your work or spend time doing whatever it is you do.” he said. “And be back for supper.”

And so it was that Harry showed up in his new outfit in Gryffindor common room that afternoon.

“You're looking very smart.” Hermione commented. “Get those today?” she asked, her eyes raking over the fit of his new trousers.

“Snape took me shopping for some things.” Harry said uncomfortably, dropping into a chair and getting out his homework. He really did have a lot to catch up on to make up for the shopping trip.

Ron snickered. “I'm sure he did. You still look obscene, mate.”

Harry glowered but it was clear from Ron's smile that he was just taking the piss and didn't mean it to be cruel.

“Really?” Hermione asked in surprise. “I think the trousers look rather nice. They fit better than your jeans.”

Ron made a choking sound. “Just how often are you looking at the fit of Harry's clothes?” he wanted to know, which caused Harry to laugh a bit.

“Well, let's hope everyone else thinks so. Snape took all my muggle clothes.”

“He what?” Ron asked.

“I thought you didn't even like muggle clothes.” Hermione snapped at Ron in irritation. “You give me a hard time about mine all the time. You said they look ridiculous.”

“They do look ridiculous.” Ron said reasonably. “But it's the principle of the thing.”

Harry just shrugged, then smiled. “He also told me I don't have to go back with the Dursleys this summer.”

“Oh, Harry, that's wonderful!” Hermione said. “Will you be staying with Professor Snape then? I assume he must live somewhere....” she trailed off uncertainly.

Harry shrugged. “Don't know. He said he'd work it out.”

“Well, if the cost of your wardrobe is the price of freedom....” Ron reasoned, placated slightly about the outrageous trousers.

“You've an awful lot of opinions about my wardrobe for a straight man.” Harry said with mock suspicion and had Ron going all over again. It was the most comfortable Harry had felt about his condition probably since announcing it in the first place. It wasn't a thing, sitting in the air between all of them. They were getting closer every day to just being friends, and this just being a part of Harry.

~~~

In spite of the trousers, Harry had a bounce in his step when he made his way to the dungeons for supper. Things were going surprisingly well for him of late. He grinned at Snape when the man answered the door with his usual stoicism, earning him a raised brow. “Clothes.” Snape directed him as he strode back to the coffee table and tapped it twice with his wand to summon supper.

“Do you order that sort of thing ahead of time or do the elves choose for you?” Harry asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. He pulled off the last of his things and curled up on the couch beside Snape.

“A combination of the two. If I've not specified, they choose, though the elves know my preferences by this point and I rarely receive something I do not want.”

Harry wrinkled his nose a bit at the selection that night, but didn't say anything. Pork chops, which he'd never cared for. Sweet potato mash -- again, not a favourite. And Brussels sprouts, which made him gag. But he set about eating the food without comment. No dessert this time, he noted with a bit of disappointment. No sexy shared parfait.

Cautiously, Harry broached the subject he'd been thinking about all week. “Are you going to fuck me this weekend?”

Snape snorted a bit. “Been on your mind, has it? Of course it has.” he answered himself. Harry looked a bit sheepish and worried he shouldn't have asked, yet he couldn't help glancing up for an answer of some sort. “You think you're ready for that?” Snape asked him.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered eagerly. Of course he was ready for it. His biology was urging him to be ready for it since his sixteenth birthday. It had just taken his mind a little time to catch up, but now they were certainly on the same page.

Snape eyed him critically, though what sign he was looking for Harry couldn't even guess. “If I take you tonight, you won't be cumming.” Snape warned him. “You've not gone nearly long enough abstaining for my satisfaction. I could wait to take you so that your first time will be cumming on the end of my cock. But if you're truly in a hurry to have the bond we'll do it tonight.”

“Tonight.” Harry's eyes lit up with excitement as he felt his pulse quicken in anticipation. He'd like an orgasm, of course, but he'd learned by now that they weren't necessary for him to feel amazing. And he craved the bond like a drug.

“Eat your food, Harry.” Snape directed him back to his plate.

Harry barely tasted the rest of it going down.

~~~

After supper, Harry was insufferable. What that really meant was that he sat quietly and tried to focus on a book (homework was right out) as Snape read his own. But he continually fidgeted and cast lustful glances Snape's way.

At length Snape finally sighed and set his book aside. It wasn't even time for brandy yet. “You truly are an insufferable brat.” he said but his voice held no venom.

Harry simply stared, waiting for instruction. “On the bed. I intend to be in relative comfort.” he directed, and smiled a bit as Harry eagerly scrambled to comply.

He sat watching as Snape removed his own clothing, setting it aside as he would if showering. It was maddening watching the man do everything so meticulously, when all Harry wanted was to be ravished. He could feel the air seem to thicken around him as his attention focused on only Snape.

“Hands and knees.” Snape directed as he moved to his bedside table to pull out a little pot of oil. Harry moved into position and felt the bed dip as Snape knelt behind him. This was it, Harry thought. His hole twitched around his plug as he recalled the sensation of Snape's fingers in his arse in the shower. That magical spot deep within that only he seemed able to reach.

Gently, Snape tugged out the metal plug and set it aside, then he dipped two fingers into the oil and plunged them inside. Harry's hole was already fairly stretched, soft and yielding. Harry moaned and relaxed to the fingers immediately, and Snape smiled. The boy really was made for this. He scissored his fingers to widen them, and it took little effort to stretch Harry to a third. Harry grunted huskily as he crooked them to press against his prostate.

Harry was going mad with the sensation of it, his cock throbbing for release. The ring and the cap remained maddeningly in place, reminding him that Snape was not going to allow him to cum at all from this. He shuddered as Snape stroked over his prostate again. And then he felt it, the blunt head of Snape's cock at his entrance. In one smooth plunge, Snape was inside, and continued to press inward until he was fully seated, even as Harry's arse fluttered and stretched to accommodate the new length and girth. Harry saw stars, and was sure he'd stopped breathing.

Snape was in heaven as he sunk into the willing, tight heat. He gripped Harry's hips tightly and set a rhythm, allowing himself to simply let go. He certainly had enough stress in his life, and it was a blessing to have this willing receptacle below him. Before long he was pounding into the boy as Harry screamed and moaned in delight and frustration, barely bracing himself in position on the bed. With a satisfied groan, Snape unloaded into him, and felt both their magic flare around them as the bond settled into place. A subtle, grounding force between them.

Satiated, Snape held his position for a moment longer as his cock gave it's last futile twitches and began to soften. He pulled out of Harry who was still panting, his face scrunched in a rictus of pleasure and denied release, fists still clenched in the sheets. Snape took advantage of the position to slide the metal plug back home after giving it a quick Scourgify and new coat of oil. He hadn't had his drink yet and he didn't want Harry leaving a mess in his rooms. Snape smiled at the cock cap which prevented even pre-cum from staining his sheets. Harry was so precious like this.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently, carding his fingers through Harry's hair, and Harry began to unwind himself into a more comfortable position, blinking up at Snape with glassy eyes.

“That was brilliant.” he said wonderingly, in hushed tones.

Snape smiled. “Good, as there'll be more of it. In time you'll get used to taking my cock without any more preparation than your plug has already given you. Now,” he said standing to put on a loose robe, leaving it hang open to display the rest of his nudity. “I do believe it's time for a bit of scotch to relax.” he said, and it was clear that it was Harry's job to fetch it as Snape moved to his customary place on the sofa.

On unsteady legs, Harry fixed Snape his drink and brought it to him. His bollocks ached fiercely for relief and his cock was hard as nails, but his arse felt absolutely fantastic, and something in his magic had settled like never before. He curled up comfortably on the sofa beside Snape to watch the fire die down as the man read and drank. And he felt utterly content.

Soon enough it was time to put his clothes away and join Snape for their customary shower, where Snape spent a bit more time than usual with his fingers up Harry's arse, checking for damage and cleaning him out a bit. Meanwhile, Harry's released cock positively dripped with pre-cum.

“Is that normal?” he asked with some concern in his voice, but Snape just chuckled.

“Perfectly healthy.” Snape assured him. “With the jewellery on there's little place for it go, and it's got to come out somehow.” He reached around to slowly but firmly milk Harry's cock, encouraging a bit more of the fluid to drip out. Harry moaned and his knees felt weak at the sensation, his breath already coming in harsh pants. It would take so little for his mate to make him cum. But Snape seemed to realize this and let him go as Harry trembled to regain control of himself. The water was turned off and they dried themselves, and soon enough Harry was re-affixing his jewellery which would prevent any mishaps.

It was strange, but Harry realized that he almost didn't feel normal without it any more. Normal enough to shower, or fuck, or fly -- but he couldn't imagine going the night without it, or going a whole day. He settled down comfortably in the bed, and moaned gently when he felt Snape's fingers come down predictably to fiddle with the sound.

“You like that, do you?” Snape murmured into his hair.

“Oh, yes.” Harry sighed at the sensations. What had at first felt weird weeks ago now felt positively arousing as the little rod moved within his cock. Little tingles of sensation and a pleasant filling of the small space.

“I can get a longer one for play, rather than regular wearing.” Snape suggested, and Harry tried to imagine how long Snape was talking, and what something would feel like penetrating even further into his cock. It was hard to wrap his mind around.

“Whatever you want.” he said simply, and that seemed to please Snape because it earned him a kiss to his hair.

“Go to sleep, Harry.” Snape instructed gently, and finally let off playing for the night.

~~~

Sunday brought their usual breakfast routine, and Harry still felt rather pleasant from being fucked the night before. And he was rather pleased to note that he got to suck Snape off that morning as usual, in spite of the man's performance the night before. Harry was in high spirits as he made his way to Gryffindor tower after breakfast to finish his work for the weekend and hang out with his friends. He didn't even notice his form-fitting trousers any more. That was just how his trousers fit him. The jewellery that Snape required had become a part of his person, because Snape had willed it so.

Chapter Text

Harry settled into his chair Friday night, nude as always, but was surprised when Snape got off the couch and away from his work to retrieve something from the bedroom. Harry craned his neck curiously to see.

“I bought you something.” Snape announced, and Harry felt himself flush with eager anticipation. Snape's purchases, he was learning, were always wonderful.

“What is it?” Harry asked with interest, and immediately understood when Snape held out the slim metal rod. A sounding rod for his cock, for play -- as Snape had mentioned the previous weekend. Harry took it gingerly in his hands, intimidated by the length of it and swallowed thickly.

“I'm going to continue my work.” Snape told him, gesturing to the usual array of parchments taking up the sofa. “But you may treat yourself to some pleasant sensations in the meantime. Use plenty of oil and go slowly, don't force anything and you'll be fine.”

With that, Snape was back to his sofa, and Harry was left to fish the little pot of oil from his belongings before settling himself back in the chair. Gently, he removed the cap from his cock head, extracting the short little stub of metal that was attached to it. Barely anything compared to this new toy. He lubricated the metal rod and inserted it just into the tip of his cock, letting it slowly drop with the pull of its own weight, and gasped when he felt it reach the end of where he was accustomed to the sensation. It was immediately different. Noticeable.

He felt the inside of his cock stretch around the metal, though it certainly wasn't very wide, as shivers of sensation raced up and down his cock. Harry's hands trembled as he pulled the slick metal back up slowly, and then plunged it gently another millimetre down. He gasped and trembled all over, and was acutely aware of Snape's casual gaze as the man enjoyed the show while he worked.

Harry whimpered softly as he continued to work the metal in and out of his cock, a little terrified at the depth of penetration. But steadily, it sunk lower and lower inside of him, until half of it was embedded and he was holding it back from sinking further out of nerves as he took panting breaths.

“All the way in, Harry.” Snape instructed him from the sofa, and Harry had fairly forgotten the other man was even there.

Gently, Harry allowed the rod to sink, guiding it downward without forcing. He groaned and trembled when at last it reached the base, the metal ball on the end of the rod preventing it from sinking too far. He blinked up at Snape for approval and felt warm when he saw it there in the man's eyes.

“Now try giving it a twist, or gently stirring it at the base like you would a cauldron. Allow yourself to get used to the feeling of it inside of you.”

Harry hissed as he twisted the rod, feeling every nerve light up at the sensation. Then he tried the stirring motion Snape had suggested and groaned with real need, his whole body trembling with arousal.

“That's good, Harry.” Snape told him. “I want you to feel nice things. Does that feel nice?” he prompted

“Y-yes.” Harry answered with a shaky voice, stilling his motions as he tried to regain some steadiness. The sensations were intense, so intense he almost wasn't certain he'd describe them as “feeling nice” as Snape put it, but then, they were nice feelings. Overwhelming pleasure.

“Continue, Harry.” Snape directed him, seeing him pause, and Harry moved the rod in a slight stirring motion once again as his thighs trembled and his breath hitched. “That's it. You deserve to feel good, Harry.” Harry's eyes slit closed as he listened to Snape's guiding voice and surrendered to the sensations. He gave the rod a little twist as he continued his motions. “Now pull the sound up until it's only just penetrating your cock, then press it back down. Gently, gently.” he urged as Harry complied, fucking himself with the little tool.

Satisfied that Harry would continue, Snape allowed his attention to drift back to his work, pleased to hear the little panting breaths and whimpers of his boy as he worked. Five minutes of the gentle torture continued, then ten, as Snape glanced up now and then to check on Harry's progress. The boy's legs were splayed wantonly and his whole body was flushed with arousal, coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Beautiful.

The rod was now moving freely in and out of Harry's cock, which had adjusted to the intrusion, and Harry's motions were smooth with it. “You can move it a bit faster, Harry.” Snape encouraged, and was pleased to see Harry's pace automatically picked up at the suggestion. After a few more minutes of this treatment, Harry was moaning frequently, and his voice had a plaintive sound to it as he nearly sobbed from sexual frustration and the overwhelming sensations.

Snape had set his work aside to simply watch the boy for a few minutes. He truly was lovely. And how sad it was that Harry probably wasn't used to feeling good, after so much hardship in his life. He sighed. As precious a sight as it was to behold, all good things must come to an end.

“That's enough for now, Harry.” Snape said gently, and Harry stilled his movements with shaking hands, cracking open his eyes to look up at Snape desperately.

“Remove the sound and clean it up. You may keep it in your jewellery box. Replace your cock cap.”

Harry was trembling as he gently removed the rod and he was shaky on his feet as he got up to comply, finding his jewellery box and spelling the sound clean. His cock was trying to drool out pent up pre-cum and he had to go to the loo to let some of it out before he could re-affix his cock cap. Now the little penetrating end of the cap felt like almost nothing in his cock, after the thorough sounding. How had he ever found this little adornment to be invasive? Now he'd feel naked without it.

With a groan, Harry gave his sore bollocks a tug, and enjoyed the way his ring pushed his sack forward and plumped them up slightly from the constriction. They felt full, large.

Much recovered, he went back out to the sitting room and found Snape had cleared away his work. Checking the clock, he realized it was time for Snape to have something to drink. The man already had his nose buried in a book for pleasure. “Tea? Scotch?” Harry queried as he moved to the little kitchenette.

“Chamomile tea for both of us.” Snape instructed.

As they sat and drank, Harry curled up against Snape and Snape leisurely caressed his body and his hair as he asked Harry to describe his week. It was a comfortable routine, and gave Harry a chance to calm down from his over-stimulation and bask in the physical affection of his mate.

“Time for our shower, then.” Snape said after some time, rousing himself from the comfort of the couch.

When Harry came to join Snape in the bed afterwards, he was surprised to see Snape propped up against the headboard, atop the covers, and the little pot of oil was out. Harry's heart sped up. Did that mean Snape meant to take him?

“Tonight you'll do the work, Harry.” Snape said as he beckoned Harry to the bed. “Take out your plug and use your fingers to prepare yourself. Use at least three before you attempt to take my cock. When you're ready, I want you to ride me.”

“Brilliant.” Harry breathed, his eyes lighting up. Tonight was more pleasure than he'd bargained for. It was no trouble at all for Harry to stretch himself a bit further and oil his hole. By now he was so used to the plug that he was always a bit stretched, and felt no qualms about putting something up his arse. In a moment when he was ready, he oiled Snape's cock and squatted over it, facing the man, and lined it up with his hole. Harry groaned softly as he felt it stretch him deep inside as he sank further and further down until he was flush against Snape's pelvis. This angle had him really feeling it deep in his guts, and it was a feeling he'd missed. He paused a moment to adjust to the stretch and flexed around it.

Snape's hands came to his hips and lifted Harry up a bit, encouraging him to get on with it. Before long, Harry was bobbing up and down in earnest. He'd found the perfect angle to press his prostate and he was enjoying himself just as much as his mate, though he hadn't accounted for how much physical exertion it would take to actually ride the man. His hands braced on Snape's shoulders and his thighs burned from the effort, as Snape largely allowed himself to rest against the headboard and be pleasured.

Snape gripped Harry's hips tightly and held him down as he finally groaned and came deep within Harry's body, as Harry continued to quiver without relief, his breath hitching in frustration even as he drank in the delicious sensations of Snape's emission.

When Snape had finished, he released his death grip on Harry's hips. “Take your wand,” Snape instructed as Harry made a reach for it on the bedside table. “Now use it to clean the plug once more. Good. Now dip it in the pot of oil, and as you lift off of my cock be prepared to insert the plug before you can cause a mess.”

Harry got himself into position and made the transition as seamlessly as possible, managing not to get drips anywhere, though Snape's cock still shone shiny with cum.

“Now cast a gentle cleansing spell on my cock.” Snape instructed. “It's only polite to clean me up after we finish.”

Harry was careful not to be too zealous with the charm so as to not cause any discomfort, and the rest of the mess vanished neatly.

“Well done, Harry.” Snape praised, and Harry felt himself warm in his belly. Snape set the pot of oil and Harry's wand aside and pulled the covers over them both, then put out the remaining lights with a soft “Nox.”

Harry was asleep before Snape had even finished getting comfortable, and was completely obvious to the hand gently petting his cock and bollocks as Snape lulled himself to sleep as well.

Chapter Text

Saturday morning went normally enough, but just as Harry was going to leave for the day, post blow-job, Dumbledore floo called Snape to his office for an emergency Order meeting, and told him he may as well bring along Harry.

Harry cast a worried glance at Snape but Snape just beckoned him to step through the flames first, following him closely behind.

Everyone was there, and there was a chaos of movement and arguing. Snape took one of the few open chairs and sat quietly while Dumbledore called the meeting to order. “Silence!” Dumbledore called over them, and everyone settled down.

“I want to know what this is about.” Remus said sharply. “What do you mean that Harry is... is property?” he spat at Arthur Weasley, who shuffled his feet nervously and glanced between Harry, Snape, Dumbledore, and Lupin.

“Er, well it is filed in the Ministry. I came across the paperwork last week officially. I'd been keeping an eye out --”

“How would you have known to keep an eye out?” Remus questioned sharply, and Harry swallowed thickly at Lupin's outrage. He never had gotten around to informing any of his family about his creature inheritance.

It was Snape who spoke up. “Calm yourself, wolf.” he said levelly. “Potter is registered as a magical creature and has been since his sixteenth birthday. He's an Incubus, and as of last weekend he's officially become my property as we've completed the bond.”

“This is outrageous!” Lupin was screaming, and Harry flinched back. Remus wasn't taking this well at all, as he'd worried from the start. Molly and Arthur were obviously uncomfortable as all hell about it but at least they seemed to have known about it, which made sense if Dumbledore had had Arthur looking for paperwork. Harry wondered if Snape had told Dumbledore after they'd bonded. Probably. Arthur was trying in vain to calm Remus when Dumbledore spoke over them again.

“We have more pertinent issues right now than Mister Potter's sex life.” he stated brusquely. “Severus' status as Harry's Master is now logged with the Ministry, and it's only a matter of time before Voldemort finds out about it. This means that our spy is out of commission, and several of the larger plans I'd set in motion are off the table.”

Harry had no idea what plans those were but as he glanced over at Snape he could guess that man knew.

“As I had told you before.” Snape said calmly.

“What plans?” Arthur spoke up quietly, trying to get at the heart of the matter.

“A young Tom Riddle, now Voldemort, split his soul into several parts called horcruxes.” Dumbledore admitted softly, to many gasps and murmurs around the room. The horror of it struck Harry in his core. “Not only did he split it in two, but into many pieces over time, and confined these shards of his soul into everyday items to preserve them so that he would be harder to destroy. It has clearly worked for him, and until recently I'd been trying to ascertain the total number of pieces to look for.”

“Seven.” Snape said. “And you've said you've already found several of them.”

Dumbledore nodded and continued to describe what was known so far, finally getting to the point about one potentially even remaining in Harry.

Harry was outraged. “You mean there's a piece of that mad man's soul inside of my head?” he burst out angrily.

“Harry....” Dumbledore said warningly.

“No. No way. First the journal, now this? You've put me in harm's way every single year since I've been at this bloody school and now you want me to sacrifice myself like an animal to save the world? It's not fair!” he raved.

“Harry, if you'd please calm down.” Remus said gently, sounding all the world like a hypocrite after his own earlier outburst.

“Like hell.” Harry shouted back. Pandemonium broke out as everyone was shouting at everyone else, and nothing was getting accomplished. Snape watched it all with mild annoyance and pinched the bridge of his nose. They were all treating Potter with kid gloves as they normally did.

“Potter!” he snapped above the din of the crowd and Harry's attention snapped to him immediately.

Snape spread his legs and pointed at the ground between them. “Mouth shut, on your knees. Now.”

The room hushed as they watched with horror and fascination as Harry dropped quietly into position immediately, even as he still clearly fumed internally.

“Head and hands to the ground.” Snape said levelly and watched as Harry made himself small at his command.

Severus placed a booted foot on Harry's back between his shoulder blades just to drive the point further home, and the room watched in stunned silence.

“Severus is that really necessary --” Dumbledore began softly.

“Yes. It is.” Snape said in a hard tone. “Now, please continue with what you were saying.”

The meeting continued as they debated ways to get the final horcruxes, and to remove the extra shard of soul from Harry's body without harm to the boy. Snape had several ideas to research in terms of possible potions as solutions, and Lupin had several grimoires at Grimmauld Place that he vowed to look through for answers.

That led them to talk of Draco Malfoy, and Harry finally got to hear what exactly the boy had been up to. Apparently Snape knew all about him fixing up a vanishing cabinet to let Death Eaters directly into the school, and so did Dumbledore. Dumbledore, it turned out, was dying, and Harry's mind swirled with conflicting emotions at the news of it. Apparently most in the room had not been aware of it either as the mood became sombre as they discussed at length the cursed ring, and Dumbledore's plans to end his own life.

Snape's Unbreakable Vow was tied neatly into it and they'd a plan to gain Snape ranks among the Death Eaters that was now completely out of the question, now that Snape's loyalty to Harry was made public knowledge. Snape had been working on a revised plan now for some time, against Dumbledore's wishes, and now it turned out that Snape had been right to prepare alternatives.

He was thoroughly convinced that with some further effort he could turn Draco to the side of the light and use him as a replacement spy. Dumbledore's death would be a quiet, private affair at his own hand. Snape would brew a painless potion to ease the way, and it would be mourned publicly as it should be, in the normal way of things. The mood was thick and depressed as they discussed plans for the old man's death, but Dumbledore seemed to have made peace with it long ago.

Draco, Snape said, could quietly claim credit for the death as via poison and get into position as spy. And Snape himself would be released from his Unbreakable Vow when Dumbledore died. There was much debate over whether he could actually secure Draco to their side but there seemed to be no further suggestions of how to proceed.

~~~

By the end of the meeting, Harry was a complete wreck internally. He was grateful for his place beneath Snape's boot, not needing to see what was going on, at times not hearing, not thinking, or trying not to. He felt small and protected, the weight of the boot grounding. The order to keep his mouth shut controlled his anger, his grief, his fear for his own life.

When finally the meeting came to a close, Lupin had wanted a chance to talk to him but Snape had denied the man as well as everyone else in the room, maintaining their positions until everyone save Dumbledore had filed out.

“Severus...” Dumbledore started to say something once they were alone, but Snape cut him off.

“No. Not now.” he said, and finally lifted his boot off of the boy. “Come along, Harry.” he said, gently helping him off the floor and through the floo. It was clear Harry had been crying, and when they reached Snape's chambers Harry started sobbing in earnest. From everything. Everything was so utterly awful, and his brain simply didn't have room for it.

Snape held him close and let him cry it out, pulling Harry onto the couch and into his arms. “That's it. Just let it out.” he said soothingly, and it was a long time until Harry had cried himself out.

When Harry had finally run out of steam, he felt totally hollow inside, and kind of numb, and the fear and grief and anger hadn't really left him, for all that the tears had.

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked in a small voice.

“We are going to do nothing.” Snape admonished, and Harry looked up at him in confusion.

“What are you, Harry?”

“An Incubus.” he answered. They'd gone over this before.

“And?”

“And a submissive.” he reiterated.

“And what are you to me?”

“Your property.” Harry affirmed, feeling a bit calmer having said it.

“And do I take care of my property?” Snape asked in a stern tone.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered immediately.

Snape nodded in satisfaction. “Things will be difficult, but we will get through them. You must trust me in this, Harry.” Snape instructed, and he could see the struggle in Harry as he tried to muster such implicit and complete trust. The desire for it to be true. “I've tried to shield you from much of this. As far as I am concerned, you're a child and should not have to be involved to begin with, prophecy or no. And on top of that, you are my property and my responsibility. I've been handling things up until now, haven't I?”

“Like with Professor Slughorn?” Harry asked, recalling Snape taking that burden from him.

“Yes.” Snape confirmed. “I retrieved the memories in question. They concerned Tom, as you might have guessed.”

Harry hadn't thought much about it, but he had assumed it had something to do with that. He nodded, and Snape handed him a handkerchief to begin to clean himself up from his crying.

“Now, I think that's quite enough excitement for the moment. Take your clothes off and go back to bed. I want you to have a nap. I'll wake you for lunch.”

Harry wasn't certain he needed a nap. It was still morning and he'd only been up a few hours. And he had homework still to complete, and he had to tell Ron and Hermione about everything that had happened. But he also could admit that he felt absolutely exhausted, and he didn't want to argue with Snape even when at his best. He shuffled off to the bedroom and set his clothes aside, crawling under the covers to fall fast asleep.

When Snape came to wake Harry up, it was already lunch time, and Harry was groggy and his eyes felt dry from having cried earlier. Luckily, lunch consisted only of soup, because Harry didn't have much of an appetite and knew that Snape wouldn't accept anything less than an empty plate.

He was sent up to Gryffindor tower again for the afternoon, where he didn't finish a lick of homework, instead secluding himself with his friends and unloading the torrent of information he'd gathered that morning. He was so relieved when Ron asked if he wanted to go for a flight, afterwards, as all three of them were far too distressed by all of the news to do any real work.

It was the first time in quite a while that Harry had been without his jewellery for several hours in a row. When he was in the bathroom stall getting dressed again before supper with Snape, he marvelled at the strange look and feel of it. A quick shower was hardly enough time to get used to its absence.

His cock had gone mostly soft, though it never seemed to go entirely flaccid these days even without the ring, he was surprised to note. Still, he wasn't used to how it just hung there, he was so used to his constant arousal. His cock and balls set differently in his trousers when he took the jewellery off for a flight. They hung lower and didn't stand out as proudly, didn't fill the placket of his trousers in the same way. His bollocks seemed to hang lower, and he realized that the type of cock ring Snape had him wear continually acted as a slight ball stretcher as well as it tugged them to the front.

His cock and his arse were so empty and naked feeling without their plugs, and when he reinserted the butt plug in particular he found that after a few hours of flying he actually had shrunk up again as Snape had said he would, the special lubricant keeping him elastic.

He thrust the plug back home and felt the stretch widen his stance a bit. Locked on the cock ring and felt his pelvis jut forward a bit as his package was thrust out, causing his shoulders to shrug back and down in sympathetic action. His posture was much improved after the modification. It took a few strokes of his cock to get the blood trapped within it again, behind the ring, and he was soon fully erect and able to add the cap to the head of his cock, the sound slipping into the head effortlessly as he pressed it into place. He let out a deep sigh. That was much better. Dressed again fully, he made his way to the dungeons, feeling a bit improved from his mood that morning.

~~~

“Did you have a good time with your friends?” Snape asked Harry as he undressed for supper.

“Yeah.” Harry answered truthfully. “I told them about this morning.” he admitted. “Then Ron and I spent a few hours flying.”

“A reasonable use of your time, considering.” Snape said, “Though I do expect you to finish your homework tomorrow.”

Harry nodded his understanding, and curled up on the couch as Snape summoned their meal. A beef stew this time, which was a bit heavy for how Harry was feeling emotionally, but was at least comforting and nothing weird. They ate in silence and Harry made sure to clean his plate. No dessert again, but he sat sipping his water for some time after he'd finished his own meal, waiting to see if Snape had anything planned for him afterwards.

When Snape had banished the plates, he summoned a little pot of lube and a rod very much like the sounding rod Harry had used on himself the night before. However, this one was far more intimidating, and his eyes widened nervously at the sight of it. It was thicker, and longer, and had a sort of slight curve on the end. Harry eyed it warily.

“I was going to save this for later, but I think we could both use it now, after our day.” Snape said by way of explanation. He propped himself comfortably with his back against the arm of the sofa and his legs splayed enough for Harry to lean back against him and give him easy reach of his cock.

“What is that?” Harry asked as Snape was already removing his cock cap and setting it aside.

“It's a sound, of course. What does it look like?”

“But it's massive.”

“Indeed it is, and until you're more experienced you're not to use it on yourself. This sound will allow for direct stimulation of your prostate, Harry. It's a bit tricky to reach from within the cock instead of the anus, and the sensations can be very intense. But I don't want you to be frightened of it. In fact, it should be a highly pleasurable experience, and I'm hoping you'll be able to fully let go.”

“Lean against me and try to relax.” Snape soothed. “That's it.” he encouraged as Harry let himself go lax and closed his eyes, afraid to watch. There was no way that massive rod could possibly fit in him without pain, he thought. And how was it going to reach all the way inside of him like that? Best not to think, and only to trust and feel.

Snape lubricated the rod liberally and began to press into the tip of Harry's cock, allowing the sound to already widen his urethra more than he'd ever felt before. Harry hissed a bit at the stretch, but it didn't cause any pain as Snape let gravity do most of the initial work, allowing the sound to slowly sink into him of its own volition.

It was slow work, widening as it sank. Then sometimes Snape would begin the slow process of removing the sound entirely again to add more lube. Unlike with the smaller sound, there was no vigorous motion, no twisting and turning it about. Just the slow steady work of letting the wider metal drop down into Harry's hard cock.

Harry lost himself to the sensations of it, feeling his cock give up the battle and allow Snape to put the thing in. It was a gentle sort of yielding, and he found himself willing his body to relax further, to find out what this could be like.

At long last, he felt the thing deep within the base of his cock just as he'd felt the previous night, and he was panting and sweating at the sensation of it. Snape worked it in and out of him in a slow, sensual fuck, and he moaned and whimpered, clenching his hands on Snape's trousers at the sensations.

“Is that nice, Harry?” Snape asked quietly.

“Ngh.” Harry grunted incoherently as he trembled apart.

Snape smiled, and then began changing the angle as the sound was lodged deep inside of Harry still. Pulling his cock this way and that, up and back, gently rocking the sound but not forcing it. Then suddenly, Harry felt it. The curved tip seemed to slip much deeper inside of him all on its own, sinking against the core of his entire being. His brain broke a bit at wondering how it could possibly penetrate him that deeply.

“Ah, there we are.” Snape said with satisfaction as it slipped down to rest against Harry's prostate, touching him directly.

Harry trembled uncontrollably already just at the feeling of it pressing him there. “Ah, ah!” he huffed, and then gave a tremendous moan as Snape shifted it minutely against him.

Shift and pull, press and rub. From the outside of his body, Snape pressed the fingers of his other hand against Harry's taint, now stimulating his prostate from two angles, and Harry fell apart in his arms. Trembling, moaning, and panting at the touch, soon he actually felt himself begin to sob. Harry couldn't believe he was crying, and didn't know where the emotion came from.

“Do you want me to stop?” Snape asked gently, checking in, and Harry shook his head 'no' quite vigorously.

Harry was falling apart so beautifully in his arms with the sounds he was making, with the raw emotion pouring out of him, and Snape was quite moved to be able to provide this for him. He worked the sound into Harry's prostate and fucked him gently with it, directly into the man's sexual centre while his fingers stroked and pressed gently on Harry's taint, waiting for it to happen.

And then it did. Harry's body seized and contracted as Snape stilled his motions as Harry had his first dry orgasm, fingers and toes clenching as his back arched and he fought for breath. Then he fell bonelessly back against Snape, still trembling.

“What... was that?” he asked breathlessly.

“An orgasm.” Snape said with a smile, kissing Harry's damp hair. “Though a dry one. The ring prevents you from ejaculating, but not necessarily from experiencing an orgasm, and I chose to give you one.”

“Thank you.” Harry said, staring up at his mate wonderingly, tears still shining in his eyes.

He hissed again as Snape began the slow process of dragging the rod back out of his cock, and Harry watched with rapt fascination as it left him, unbelieving that it had even gone in to begin with. When it was out, his cock slit seemed to gape at him, larger than before.

“Go ahead and touch yourself, Harry.” Snape encouraged him. “This is your body, and no harm has been done to it.”

Harry grasped his cock and gave it a tentative stroke. Everything felt all right. He groped his bollocks, pressed at his taint, stroked himself again. Inspected his slit with the tip of a finger. Snape passed him a clean and re-lubricated cock cover.

“Back on.” Snape instructed, and let Harry re-affix the jewellery. The lube would see to it that any stretching the new sound had done would contract back as it had been, and Harry's plug would once again effectively seal off even the smallest drops of pre-cum as Snape desired.

“Feel better?” he asked as Harry sat up again.

“That was incredible.” Harry admitted in hushed tones.

“Good.” Snape said with satisfaction, cleaning the sound and sending it back to a special box in his bedroom that Harry did not have permission to go in.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Harry asked eagerly, feeling as if Snape gave him so much and got so little in return.

“I assure you, I enjoyed that quite a bit.” Snape said with a wry smile at Harry's enthusiasm. “But if you're so eager, you can suck me off.” he offered, spreading his legs in invitation.

Harry dove for the opportunity, realizing that Snape had indeed enjoyed sounding him as he was already fully erect. As usual, Snape preferred to direct Harry's movements and lead the experience, fucking into Harry's throat and tangling his fingers in Harry's unruly hair.

It didn't take him long with as aroused as he was from sounding Harry, and after a few minutes he was coming into the willing throat swallowing around him. Usually, Snape did up his clothes right away, but tonight he simply gently held Harry to his crotch as the boy continued to suckle and lick his softening cock. The intimacy of it was nice after a trying day, and Snape appreciated the opportunity to indulge. Harry himself had laid his head on Snape's lap while he suckled the organ gently, and was drifting halfway to sleep as he relaxed and Snape pet him.

At length, Snape roused him and put his trousers to rights. “Scotch.” he directed, because he could use the drink tonight. Harry got up groggily and made his way to the cupboard to fix Snape a drink, and brought it over to the man. Snape pulled out the book he'd been enjoying and relaxed after a hard day. There was much to plan, but it would wait. Now was about unwinding before sleep.

A drink, a shower, and straight to bed. Snape and Harry were both out shortly after their heads hit their pillows.

Chapter Text

Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione for the holiday, and promised to write immediately about what he got for Christmas. It was a Friday and everyone was leaving for the Christmas holiday, though as usual Harry had to stay behind. Unlike usual, he didn't feel too bad about it, because Snape would be here to spend the entire holiday with, and Harry couldn't wait.

They hadn't talked about what they'd do during break at all, or whether Snape even celebrated really, but Harry didn't mind either way. What was important was that he'd get to spend time with his mate, even if that were just their usual routine and nothing else. Though with the number of surprises Snape had had for him lately, he suspected they might do at least one thing with some sexual adventure.

~~~

It was two nights into Harry's stay when Snape was sitting with Harry in his lap one night as he sipped some whiskey that had arrived as a gift, as they both stared into the fire and relaxed. Snape was letting his hands wander over Harry's body to amuse himself, tweaking a nipple or twisting his cock plug. His hand drifted down to Harry's bollocks and he weighed them in his palm, caressed over the taut sack and enjoyed the effect of Harry's ring.

“I like how the ring makes them look.” Harry commented as Snape lingered there, giving his bollocks a bit of a gentle squeeze and tug.

“Oh?” Snape queried.

“They jut out nicely, look fuller somehow.”

“On prominent display.” Snape agreed, an began rubbing them more firmly as Harry relaxed and splayed his legs.

Harry had never really spent much time on his bollocks, and neither had Snape for the most part, but now that the man was lingering there, Harry found the sensations to be very nice, like everything that Snape did to him.

Snape gave an experimental pat, and Harry flinched, tensing slightly. Slapping was definitely not something one did around a man's bollocks, no matter how gently, and it made him nervous, but Snape just did it again, just as gently, patting them really. Harry squirmed and tried to wrap his head around the sensation.

“Relax, Harry.” Snape said warningly, already feeling the tension in him. “I assure you, this can be pleasurable if you let it.”

“You won't hurt them?” Harry tried to confirm first, warily.

“I may do. You may like it.” Snape said ambiguously. “Legs wide.” he ordered and Harry had to consciously spread himself out again, sweating as it put his tender bits on such display.

Snape went back to patting them gently, developing a steady rhythm that Harry could predict and begin to relax into. Nothing bad was happening to him, and in fact if he relaxed himself he began to feel the little jolts internally, sending pleasant shivers down his spine.

Over time, Snape worked to slapping a little more firmly, and smiled knowingly as Harry breathed a gentle moan, his eyes slitting shut as he tried to process the new sensations in his body. Snape stopped to caress them, tug at them, squeeze them a bit more firmly than before, tug them a bit lower in their sack, and continued pulling them this way and that until he felt the tension release in Harry's thighs.

Back to his slaps again, now significantly firmer than before, and Harry felt a sort of ache building inside him, not really pleasant and almost making him queasy. He groaned and felt his thighs start to shut to shield himself instinctively.

“It's all right, Harry.” Snape cooed to him. He knew that Harry's Incubus nature would allow him to enjoy this type of sexual play as well, but only if he were ready.

“Hurts.” Harry said, his eyes starting to water. He pouted, curling up a bit and closing his legs, though his legs no longer protected his bollocks, not with the ring pushing them forward and out. Even with his thighs closed they jutted forward, and wasn't that just the thing he'd just told Snape he liked about the ring?

Snape rubbed the sore, tender bollocks firmly and gave them gentle squeezes. “I know it hurts, Harry, but you need to relax, and feel it more deeply. Focus inside. You remember where your prostate is, don't you? What it feels like when my fingers are in your arse, or when we used the sound?

Harry nodded reluctantly and closed his eyes, trying to find his sexual centre. He was still tense, afraid to let go, though as Snape kept petting him he began to relax again by degrees.

Snape started the steady tap, tap, tap again, light at first and building in intensity and allowed Harry to remain curled on his side with his thighs together this time, though ideally Harry would open himself to a more vulnerable posture.

Harry tangled his fingers in the fabric of Snape's trousers and tried to process the little shocks of sensation that shot through his bollocks and into his core, the warm sensation spreading throughout his pelvis and belly. He grunted in time with the hits and before long Snape was giving him rather firm slaps, though nothing that would cause damage. Just a steady thump of slap, slap, slap to the tender bollocks that grew warm and swollen under his hand. Snape was enchanted by the sight of it, and he intended to use Harry's jewellery to its full advantage. After all, he'd gotten this ring in part because it allowed Harry no ability to hide from his attentions.

Harry let out a long groan of both pain and a sort of warped pleasure building in hits guts that he couldn't understand. Soon, his voice gave way to a steady stream of painful groans as his eyes and fists scrunched tight, but his cock pulsed with need and his belly ached strangely.

“Grasp your cock, Harry.” Snape instructed him. “Stroke yourself for me.”

Harry reached down and began to pleasure himself in slow, firm strokes, while Snape continued his firm slaps, the bollocks jiggling a bit with each impact. They wanted to crawl up into Harry's body at times in retreat but the ring continued to hold them out in prominent display. Now, with the added pleasure to his cock, Harry didn't know whether he was coming or going. It was a confusing mix of sensations and he continued to groan and whimper as his thighs began to tremble and his toes curled.

As his hand flew more quickly up and down his cock, Harry didn't even realize he'd rolled onto his back and spread his legs wide again, giving Snape perfect, welcome access. He choked back a sob of pain even as his body gave a small shudder and his cock pulsed ineffectually in his hand as his motions stilled.

Snape gave a few more firm slaps as Harry rode out what appeared to be a dry orgasm of sorts, though the boy seemed uncertain of whether he'd enjoyed the experience or not, then he gently but firmly continued to rub and manipulate the swollen sack as Harry calmed down, stroking himself more gently now.

Harry opened his tear filled eyes and looked up at Snape questioningly.

“You did very well.” Snape told him.

“Hurts.” Harry said simply. His bollocks were swollen and tender and his tummy hurt in a strange way.

“Yes.” Snape confirmed gently. “They may be a bit tender for the rest of tonight, or even tomorrow, but I did not injure you in any way. I wasn't even hitting you very hard, Harry, but I know that it was scary for you, and the sensations were new and strange to you. You remember what it felt like when you first used your cock cap?” Snape reminded him, and Harry nodded his understanding, though he couldn't imagine actually liking this in the future.

“I believe you had a dry orgasm at the end there.” Snape prompted, and Harry bit his lip uncertainly. Had he? He wasn't sure. He recalled a crescendo of some sort, but the pain and pleasure was all mixed up inside of him.

Snape relented for now. Harry would come around, he was just cautious about such new sensations. “Give them a feel, Harry.” he instructed, moving Harry's hand down to rest atop the swollen sack. “Aren't they plump and lovely now? Feel how they've grown hot and full. Look at the lovely red colour. They aren't damaged are they?”

Harry touched himself cautiously, almost afraid of what he'd find there. But there was no damage, no twinge now, only a dull sort of ache. It wasn't really as bad as he'd worried only moments before. They were bright red, but not concerningly so. Just flushed with healthy arousal, and they were plump and full like Snape described. Like Harry himself had just commented he liked them. Perhaps that was why Snape enjoyed this sort of play, he considered, though he hoped that it didn't become a regular habit. He wasn't at all certain he liked it yet, though he continued to stroke his bollocks soothingly.

“Come on, Harry.” Snape said, feeling as if Harry had had enough time to sulk a bit and recover himself. “Shower time, then to bed.” he said, getting up and pulling Harry to his feet as well. By the end of his shower, when he replaced the ring, Harry barely had any pain at all, just a slight lingering tenderness that would be gone by the next day.

Chapter Text

Harry was naked throughout the day in Snape's chambers. They read, and talked, and played various games, which surprised Harry to know Snape was even capable of such a thing. At times, Snape needed his alone time to sit and read or work to himself, and Harry would find something to occupy himself. There were meals to take together, and frequent groping. There were the morning and evening routines Harry had grown accustomed to, and overall it was the best holiday he'd ever had already, even without decorations or cookies or any of the usual trappings of the holiday.

“You'll be pleased to note we're visiting the wolf on Boxing Day.” Snape informed him Monday evening. Christmas was on Thursday, so it would be only a week until he saw Remus again. Harry was uncertain how to feel about it after the outbursts Remus had made during the Order meeting.

“Do you think he'll have moved past my inheritance. by then?” Harry asked uncertainly, as Snape penned a note for a waiting owl.

“I doubt it.” Snape answered succinctly. “However, he is practically your family, and he's sent an invitation. We'll go together, and you'll be on your best behaviour. If he causes trouble, I'll handle it.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered, relieved that Snape would be there to take over if Remus started yelling.

“In the meantime,” Snape said, coming over to where Harry was perched in one of the armchairs, “Having you prancing around naked in my chambers at all hours is driving me to distraction.” he said, leaning down to nip playfully at Harry's neck.

Harry squirmed and grinned, loving knowing that he turned his mate on even when he was doing nothing at all. He'd only been reading!

Snape pulled him off the chair and Harry went willingly, but Snape immediately bent Harry over the arm of it, arse up as he undid his own trousers, fishing out his hard cock and giving it a stroke. “Are you ready to take my cock without preparation, Harry?” he asked teasingly.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered breathlessly, his heart beating quickly as he hoped that he was indeed ready. He was plugged and lubed as always, but the few times Snape had fucked him there had been fingers and more lube.

Snape pulled out the plug in a swift motion and shoved his full cock home, robbing Harry of breath at the sudden intrusion deep into his guts. He felt the stretch and slight burn as it entered him, and had no time to adjust as Snape continued at a quick and dirty pace, plundering him with intent of immediate release.

It was certainly the roughest Snape had ever been with him and Harry was in heaven, growing more light-headed and aroused with every punishing thrust. He moaned and felt tingles of arousal all up and down his spine, his bollocks tightening with the release he couldn't have. He recalled keenly Snape's words that he could have an orgasm without ejaculation, and he reached for it, strained for it, but Snape was too quick and such a thing was so elusive. Snape groaned with completion and unloaded into Harry as Harry bit back a sob of frustration, orgasm still out of reach. Even in his frustration though, he felt warm and loved, and fulfilled somewhere deep in his core.

Snape pulled out and pressed the clean and re-lubed plug back home to avoid a mess, casting a cleansing charm on himself before tucking himself back away. He hadn't even bothered to undo his trousers fully before taking what was his.

Harry sat up and tugged gently at his bollocks. “Are you ever going to let me cum again?” he asked curiously, but without any sort of annoyance in his tone. Just simple interest.

“Eventually, probably, but not for a long time, Harry.” Snape told him, and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Harry felt his cock give a throb at that declaration, and a warmth spread through his veins.

“You handled my cock well enough.” Snape commented. “I believe there's no further need for preparation if I want you in a hurry. No pain?”

“I'm a little sore but I like it.” Harry assured him.

“Is that so?” Snape asked with a small smile, and Harry nodded with a blush.

“I like the sort of ache I get inside when you pound into me, and the stretching feeling.” he admitted, because there was no reason to deceive his mate when Snape always gave him such wonderful sensations.

“In that case, I think perhaps it's time to bring out a new toy.” Snape announced, and went to the bedroom to retrieve it as Harry watched around the edge of the chair curiously. What Snape brought back was an absolutely massive dildo, at least as far as Harry was concerned. His eyes widened at the sight of it.

Snape handed it to him along with the customary pot of oil and Harry received the gifts with wide eyes, both excited and a little nervous at the prospect. “Don't I always tell you you deserve to feel nice feelings, Harry?” Snape queried.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well then, it's the holidays. Have at.” he gestured, and took up his spot on the sofa to read while he enjoyed the show.

Harry angled his arse up, draping one leg over an arm of the chair and pulled out his plug again. He used his fingers to lube up the massive dildo, bigger and less yielding than Snape's cock, and then positioned it at his entrance. Gently, but with a determined push, he began to press it into his opening, and his eyes fluttered shut with pleasure at the sensation of the stretch.

Harry let out a breathy moan of pleasure and his whole body went lax at the feeling of the invasion. Snape watched with interest, and made a mental note that Harry might be a bit of a size whore, and had no problems whatsoever with anal penetration. It was slow work, inching the cock in and out of him in small increments at a time. Even after Snape's brutal fuck, it took his arse time to accommodate the new stretch.

Harry's husky grunts and sighs were pure sin, and Snape regretted nothing in giving Harry a new toy to occupy himself. At length, Harry had lodged perhaps 80% of the length of the thing in his arse which now stretched around the girth obscenely, his legs spread wide as he caught his breath in short pants, sweat shimmering on skin.

“I don't believe I gave you the toy to laze about.” Snape chided in amusement, and Harry smiled slightly and blushed at his poor constitution. He reached behind himself and began to slowly draw out the tool and thrust it in again with a gentle moan. Yes, he could definitely feel this deep inside of himself, and it was fascinating to feel, a sort of deep internal massage.

“Is that nice, my Harry?” Snape asked after some time of watching Harry's slow, languorous strokes.

“Fantastic.” Harry answered breathlessly. “It's so deep and full.”

“That's not the full length of the toy, however.” Snape pointed out. “I need you to challenge yourself now, Harry. It shouldn't hurt, but you need to be a bit more forceful if you're to accommodate the wider base and the full length.”

Harry shoved a bit harder on the toy, and ground his hips down on it, swivelling his pelvis slightly in an attempt to stuff more of it in him, his eyes scrunching tight as his mouth dropped open at the sensation. He tilted his hips up and straightened out to allow more of it to sink in, then pulled it back a bit and plunged in again with a grunt of satisfaction. There was that pleasant ache.

“That's it, Harry.” Snape encouraged softly. “All the way to the base.” He could see Harry's thighs trembling with exertion as his small body reacted to the new invasion. But Harry was really getting into it now, driving the cock into his stretched hole with regular, firm thrusts as he continued to groan with pleasure.

The squelching sounds were as obscene as Harry's own voice, and Snape was proud of his sub for taking to the toy so well. Who knew that that tight arse was just waiting to be filled to burst? Harry still couldn't quite accommodate the entire length and girth of the toy, but Snape was satisfied that he was fucking himself firmly enough now, training his arse to take it, and so he allowed his attention to drift back to his book while Harry amused himself.

After a few more minutes focused on his book, Snape spoke without looking up. “If you can get it fully seated within you, I'll allow you to keep it in over lunch. But either way, when it comes out you've got one hour with no plug so that your anus has time to contract down again.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said completely breathlessly, and spread his legs a fraction wider in his efforts. Snape smirked.

Sure enough, in another ten minutes when it was time for lunch, Harry was plunging the thing in to its full depth in short jabbing thrusts, his eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Time's up, Harry.” Snape said, inspecting Harry's work. “Press it in to where it narrows at the base there. Yes, that's it. Now go wash your hands while I summon lunch.”

He watched with amusement as Harry struggled to get out of the chair, a bit bow-legged and walking stiffly as the unyielding dildo inside of him forced his posture to perfection. Harry's body flexed and strained against the unaccustomed intrusion but he made it back from the bathroom and sat down on the sofa next to Snape, groaning a bit as the base pressed that much more firmly into him.

Snape laid a hand on Harry's belly and rubbed it gently, knowing Harry was feeling the rod deep within his guts and Harry sighed, relaxing at the soft touch.

“Are you able to eat?” Snape asked him seriously, and wasn't surprised at Harry's answer.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very well.” he said, and accommodatingly handed Harry his plate of a sandwich and chips, then taking his own.

“I take it you like that toy?” Snape asked almost rhetorically as they ate.

“It's bloody brilliant.” Harry answered, his whole body seeming to have come vibrantly alive.

“I'm pleased that you like it and have taken to it so well.” Snape told him. “Though this won't be an every day sort of toy -- only for special occasions. I will say though that your ability to accommodate large objects means I can give you a rather pleasing internal massage one day.”

Harry looked at Snape with a bit of confusion as he wondered what exactly that could mean, but shrugged it off. He'd find out some day, and he'd no doubt love whatever it was Snape wanted to try.

Lunch was over all too soon, and Snape made Harry remove the toy and clean it, after which Snape banished it to his special bedroom box. Harry was made to go an hour then without any plug at all while he felt the curious sensation of his rectal walls contracting back down to size in reaction to the lubricating potion. He missed his plug and felt restless without it, sort of incomplete, and was glad when the hour was up and he could put it back where it belonged.

Chapter Text

Christmas morning was upon him, and Harry was up at the very first flicker of light as usual. He did his morning ablutions in the loo and ran out to stoke the fire and make the tea, and was almost distracted to a stand-still by the pile of presents at the hearth. He quickly continued with the tea and was itching to dive into the boxes but knew he had to wait at least a few minutes more until Snape was up.

The man emerged, grumpy and sleepy as ever as he accepted his morning mug. “Merry Christmas, Harry.” he said in spite of his fatigue, and he even managed a wan smile.

“Merry Christmas, Sir.” Harry answered warmly as he held his own cup, eyes flicking to the pile of packages.

Snape smiled in amusement. “You may open them.” he said magnanimously. “I know you're itching to.”

That was all the permission Harry needed as he crouched down on the icy floor in his bare feet to look at the first package, a squashy thing from Mrs. Weasley, that he assumed was a sweater as usual. He tore it open and found within a lovely hand-knit sweater, this year with a snitch on the front. He showed it to Snape and grinned up at the man, then saw an identical squashy thing addressed to 'Severus Snape' as well, and handed Snape the gift.

Snape opened it and was rather amused to see that Molly had knit him a rather lovely thing all in black. She couldn't have had much time to throw it together, considering she'd only just learned about his and Harry's relationship recently. Still, it spoke volumes of the woman's character that she was already trying to make Snape feel welcome in the family in spite of her obvious discomfort.

“A lovely woman.” Snape murmured. “I will have to send her something as a thank-you.”

“Let's see.” Harry murmured. “Next is from Fred and George.” he said, opening the box and grinning at the array of their products contained within.

“If you use a single one of those in this school I shall tan your hide.” Snape warned darkly, but Harry only smiled in response, setting the box carefully aside.

Hermione had sent a new set of quills. Ron had sent some chocolate frogs.

Harry handed Snape a glass bottle of something green from McGonagall, and Snape huffed a laugh at it, setting what was likely some sort of alcohol aside. It was, in fact, absinthe and referred back to a private joke between them earlier in the year. He would enjoy it some time when he was prepared to get absolutely wrecked, probably with her company.

Flitwick had sent Snape some sort of candy as far as Harry could tell, though it didn't look like anything he'd ever seen and the box was in another language. “Goblin-made.” Snape said by way of explanation at Harry's perplexed gaze.

The pile now empty, Harry accioed a gift from his bag and handed it to Snape as well with a grin.

Snape's eyes lit with surprise and sentiment as he accepted the gift personally from Harry. “You didn't need to get me anything.” he said softly.

“I wanted to.” Harry said. “And really, it wasn't expensive, or very personal....” he shifted a bit in embarrassment as he knelt on the rug and waited for Snape to open it. This, Snape opened very slowly and carefully, and smiled gently when the paper revealed a winter scarf. Good quality, soft and warm, it was black with green accents. Predictable colours and impersonal perhaps, but touching nonetheless because it had come from Harry.

“It's perfect.” he said warmly, and Harry glowed at the praise, warming all over.

Snape called a smallish but heavy box from the bedroom into his own hand next, and beckoned Harry forward. “One final gift, Harry.” he said, and opened the lid in front of Harry to reveal a seamless metal collar with the customary SS engraved in the centre, as was on all of Harry's jewellery. Harry gasped at it and looked up at Snape in wonder. This was a very serious symbol, one to be worn in public for all to see.

“It will be a permanent fixture.” Snape told him softly. “No need to remove it for Quidditch, or your shower.”

Gently, he removed it and unlatched it by pressing his initials, a latch that would only open for him. He placed it around Harry's throat, and snicked it shut. It was the perfect size of course, snug without being tight, weighty in a grounding sort of way without weighing him down. Harry's hand came up automatically to feel it, as he stared up at Snape, his eyes shining with emotion. He was at a loss as to what to say.

“Thank you, Sir.” he said quietly.

“You're welcome, Harry.” Snape answered warmly, and pet Harry's unruly hair affectionately.

“Now. Breakfast.” Snape said, and pulled Harry onto the sofa with him, tapping his wand twice on the coffee table to summon the meal. The whole table was filled with a buffet of choices, including multiple desserts, and Harry laughed gleefully at the sight of it. The elves had certainly outdone themselves for the holidays. It was a long and filling breakfast which culminated in Snape fucking Harry into the sofa.

Thus far, it was definitely Harry's best Christmas ever.

~~~

For a late Christmas lunch, Snape and Harry joined Dumbledore in the Great Hall at the end of one table. Harry wore his most form fitting trousers, his new Weasley sweater, and of course his brand new collar, and he could tell it bugged the hell out of the headmaster. He positively preened when he noticed that Dumbledore had noticed it, but knew better than to say anything.

“How is your holiday so far, Harry?” Dumbledore asked politely.

“Fine, Sir. Professor Snape has kept me occupied.” he said simply, and Snape snorted, having a vision of Harry with his arse stuffed to within an inch of his life. Occupied indeed.

“We'll be visiting Remus Lupin tomorrow for lunch.” Snape informed him.

Dumbledore blinked in surprise but seemed pleased. “Well that's lovely. You too, Severus?”

“Of course. Lupin is in some way family to Harry, and he's extended the invitation to both of us.”

“Of course.” Dumbledore answered, eyes twinkling. No doubt he thought everyone would all get along in the end, but Harry had his doubts and concerns.

~~~

As his clothes from Christmas lunch had been on for only an hour, Harry wore the same outfit to Grimmauld Place on the following day, and was pleased to note that Snape wore his new scarf when they went out. Harry side-along Apparated with Snape and held on for dear life, the sensation totally unnerving. And to think it wasn't long until he'd be having to learn the skill himself. For now, he was grateful for the supporting arm.

When Lupin answered the door, he did his best to give a welcoming smile though it was obvious he was uncomfortable. “Harry!” he said warmly, pulling the boy in for a hug, though he could feel the tension between them as it was returned. “Severus.” he said, putting his hand out to shake, which was returned coldly, but at least it was returned.

It was after Harry had removed his cloak and scarf that Remus' eyes immediately fastened on the collar with the prominent SS in the front, and he scowled at it, eyes flicking dangerously to Snape who simply looked bored. Lupin also saw the outlandish way that Harry's trousers hugged him and had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something.

Lunch was soon ready, so they joined Remus in the kitchen while he finished the cooking and setting the table. Harry offered to pour everyone tea, and conversation was polite of stilted. There were questions on both sides of how everyone had been, how the holiday had gone. Harry reviewed his gifts, skipping over the most obvious that was around his neck.

“So you're staying with Severus over the holiday then?” Remus asked, confirming his understanding as his face fell a bit.

“Of course.” Harry said in genuine confusion. “Why wouldn't I be? We're bonded. Professor Snape says I can stay with him this summer, too.” he added brightly as he ate.

Remus' eyes widened slightly. He'd understood that Harry was supposed to stay at the Dursleys' until he came of age due to the blood protection there. He was just about to say so when he latched onto something else. “Wait, did you call him Professor Snape?” he asked incredulously.

“What else would I call him?” Harry asked.

“He usually calls me Sir.” Severus interrupted quietly, giving Remus a steady look.

Harry was genuinely confused. What was wrong with calling his mate Sir? He looked at Remus like the man was truly a bit off.

“You call him Harry, and he calls you Sir? Isn't that a bit unequal?”

“Indeed it is.” Snape replied coolly, continuing to focus mostly on his meal.

Whatever else Remus had to say about it, he shut up and went back to eating, and Harry was relieved that the man let it go. Obviously their relationship was unequal. Harry had spent the last Order meeting on the ground with Snape's boot on his back, and he was wearing the man's collar. But just what the problem with all of that was eluded Harry entirely. He was happier and more fulfilled than he'd ever been in his entire life, and beyond that, his biology had made him inclined this way.

The rest of the meal was uncomfortable but everyone tried their best to smooth the rough edges, and afterwards Remus and Severus had drinks in the sitting room while Harry curled up on the couch beside Snape as they all continued talking, unwinding a bit.

Remus sighed after some time. “Look, Harry. I suppose in the end I just want to make certain that you're safe and happy.”

“I am.” Harry answered with a bemused sort of smile. “Though I thought it'd be obvious. He takes care of me.”

Remus took a long look at Harry, really looked at him, and saw the truth of the words there. There was a healthy glow to his skin, and he looked well rested, and content. His eyes weren't haunted like they had been after Sirius' death. And yes, the obscene bulge in his trousers made him uncomfortable, as did the glaringly obvious mark of Snape's ownership. But Remus was a creature too, and he knew that one didn't get to choose their nature. It seemed that in Harry's way, he was taking care of himself, or rather had found someone who would do so for him.

Lupin had never liked Snape much as a man, but he did think that he was honourable and trustworthy.

“Well then, I suppose that's all that needs to be said.” Remus conceded.

They stayed for a bit longer and then parted, and Remus' parting hug with Harry was much warmer than the initial one had been. The handshake with Snape contained a bit less hostility.

Together, they Apparated home.

Chapter Text

After Boxing Day, Snape had to go shopping in Hogsmeade to send something nice along to Molly Weasley as thanks for her gift. Harry owled notes to his friends thanking them for the gifts and updating them on his holiday thus far, at least the family-friendly parts of it. After those chores were out of the way, Snape had work to do in his lab to restock potions for the infirmary, something which he typically did alone during the week or weekend while Harry wasn't around. But now that Harry was around continually, he had to go.

What surprised him, however, was Harry's request to tag along, and at least sit quietly, or perhaps assist. That led to a reluctant admission an hour and a half into brewing that he really wasn't doing as well as he would have preferred in Potions since Snape had confiscated the book, and thus began remedial lessons that went much better this time around, now that their relationship was so much less hostile. Though it wasn't easy by any means; Snape was still short-tempered, and Harry was still a slow learner in the subject. But he listened well and obeyed all instructions, and Snape decided to tutor Harry every Tuesday evening in the upcoming semester.

The days were busy with brewing and chores and homework to catch up on, and it was three days after Christmas when Harry was becoming sexually restless, in spite of the regular blow-jobs he provided Severus in the morning, and casual groping in the evening. It was the holiday, and his mind was full of everything Snape had done with him already. He wanted to do more of it.

“Can we do something tonight?” Harry asked as Snape read his book after supper.

“What sort of something?” Snape asked without looking up.

“Oh... you know.” Harry said with false casualness. “Something that feels nice?” he asked hopefully, borrowing Snape's language.

Snape looked at his sexy minx over his book and eyed the boy up and down. “Is there something in particular you'd like to do?” he asked curiously.

“Anything you like.” Harry answered eagerly, though his mind was on the sounding in particular. Then again, the dildo had been nice. Or fucking. Or any number of things Snape had yet to introduce him to.

“Anything I like?” Snape asked with a smirk. “So if it's playing with your tender bollocks again, you'd be eager?”

“Er...” Harry said nervously. “But that hurts.”

“So it does.” Snape said with a shrug and went back to his book as if it didn't matter either way to him, curious how Harry would react.

“But you like it.” Harry reiterated, as if trying to convince himself. He chewed his lip in thought.

“I do. They're delightful bollocks, and they become so sensitive and swollen, and you make such wonderful sounds.”

“Okay.” Harry said quietly, and Snape had to admit he was a bit surprised, a bit impressed. Harry clearly still wasn't certain how to feel about pain with his pleasure, and felt real fear over this activity, though it had done him no damage. And he had had a dry orgasm out of it, Snape was certain now. Harry just hadn't reconciled the new sensations.

Snape set his book aside and let Harry crawl into his lap and get comfortable against his chest as Snape rotated his back to the arm of the couch and pulled his legs onto the cushions around Harry. His hand came down to simply gently stroke Harry's bollocks and really enjoy the feel of them. They really were quite sweet, pushed up like they were. It was a vision he was certain he'd not tire of.

Harry relaxed against him as he continued to play and explore, giving them little tugs or squeezes, rubbing them with gentle but firm strokes. Harry sighed in contentment and closed his eyes, his thighs spread lazily open.

Snape began as before with little pats that caused no discomfort at all, but allowed Harry to get used to the feeling and the idea of what it was they were doing. Even this caused him psychological discomfort, Snape could tell. Harry's breathing was a little too carefully regulated, but he was trying.

Snape's hand came down a bit more firmly and Harry felt the sting of the impact and the shock of sensation travelling through him and into his guts. An ache began to spread through his pelvis and he groaned into the discomfort of it. Harry choked out a sob as the blows continued to rain down, faster than he could process the pain of it and the little shocks of pleasure in his centre. Tingles spread down his cock and into his arse but so did the ache.

Snape paused for a moment to give the swollen, tender orbs a gentle squeeze and Harry groaned, turning to bury his face against Snape as much as he could. “Just let it go, Harry.” Snape murmured to him. “You've nothing to prove to me. If you need to cry out, you can.” he soothed as he rubbed firmly over the reddened flesh.

Then steadily, he built up to the steady tap, tap, tap again, the shocks travelling into Harry as the bollocks bounced slightly on impact. Harry let out a little shout of pain, and then another, determinedly keeping his thighs spread this time, and then he felt his control give way as he began to cry in earnest.

“It hurts.” he complained through his tears.

“Yes it does, doesn't it.” Snape answered in soothing tones, all the while continuing his assault. “Just let it hurt, Harry.” Harry sobbed more freely as Snape continued, but the tension had gone out of him as he surrendered himself to it, and soon his pelvis was thrusting a little in time with the impacts even as he cried. Severus wrapped his other hand around Harry's hard little cock and began stroking him in time to the slaps, and soon Harry was writhing beneath him as he sobbed. Not long after that, his body froze as before in a tense toe-curling moment where his back arched and his body shuddered. Snape only stopped after the dry orgasm had finished its course and Harry had slumped back against him, exhausted and still sobbing.

He really hadn't hit the boy that hard, he knew. Harry could take much, much more without even the slightest chance of actual damage. But he'd taken as much as he could, and he'd done so well. Snape let the boy finish his cry as he stroked Harry's hair, and then he helped him to sit up and clean himself up with a handkerchief.

“Do you feel better?” Snape asked, and Harry shrugged in confusion, still a bit distraught.

“I'm not sure how to feel about it. It's different.” he said.

“It is at that.” Snape admitted with a nod. He reached down to give Harry's bollocks a gentle squeeze. “How do they feel?”

“Sore.” Harry admitted. “Sort of tender. And there's an ache in my gut somewhere when you do that.”

“Rub them.” Snape encouraged, placing Harry's own hand over the tenderized sack. Harry began to rub very gently and soothingly over the reddened flesh. “Now give them a gentle squeeze.” Snape encouraged.

Harry groaned slightly in discomfort as he did so. It made him aware of the ache, though it wasn't painful exactly.

“That's it.” Snape said encouragingly, though Harry was being very careful of himself. “Just continue like that for a while and get used to the sensations. What does it really feel like when they're a bit tender? Explore that feeling.”

Harry continued to stroke and knead them gently, giving soft groans at the sensations it elicited, and after fifteen minutes Snape could tell that Harry was more aroused than uncomfortable at this point, his eyes closed as his touch became firmer and less hesitant.

“Is that a nice feeling, Harry?” he asked.

“Yes.” Harry breathed. It was intense, but it was sexy.

Snape's hand replaced Harry's and he grasped the bollocks firmly, giving them a squeeze and slowly increasing the pressure as Harry writhed and struggled to assimilate the intense increase in sensations spreading through his bollocks and his belly. Snape held firm in what he knew to be a quite uncomfortable grip for a few more moments, and then gently let go as Harry panted for breath. Harry's cock throbbed tellingly.

“That's enough for tonight.” Snape said gently. “You did very well, now go read while you recover.” he urged.

Harry was still a bit tender that night even after the shower when he went to bed, but somehow he didn't mind. He was realizing that everything Snape did to him truly was good, even if it took him a while to come around to it.

Chapter Text

The next night, while Harry was lying against Snape while Snape had his customary scotch, Snape was looking down at Harry's nipples just coincidently. His free hand moved up to tease them a bit, causing them to pebble. They were so small and delicate, he noticed, and usually escaped his attention. He gave the one a firm squeeze, wanting to make it bigger, and Harry gasped slightly at the treatment.

He realized he really had been neglecting the boy's nipples. Just because he hadn't really gotten much of a response from Harry thus far when teasing them didn't mean they couldn't build up to more. Idly, he wondered whether he'd like to have them pierced with little rings he could tug on. They would look so sweet. But then of course it wouldn't be charming in the same way they were un-pierced and virginal in their way.

Snape set his glass down and pinched both at once as Harry hissed at the pain of it. He released them and began to gently circle the little nubs with his thumbs, causing Harry to squirm. “So small and delicate.” he commented offhandedly.

“Er, I suppose so.” Harry answered awkwardly and a bit breathily. He still thought the feeling of someone playing with his nipples was a bit weird, but it seemed Snape had found a fixation with them tonight, so he did his best to lie still and endure it.

Snape pulled from his empty glass a cube of ice which he held fast to one of Harry's buds, causing him to hiss at the intense cold sensation. After a moment, Snape set the ice aside again and tweaked and manipulated the nipple until it regained feeling, though now the intense pinching on top of the numbing sent shooting pains to it causing Harry to call out in discomfort. Snape of course ignored him and repeated the treatment to the other side to even it up.

“Better.” Snape declared, giving them a look after he'd finished the other side.

“Better than what?” Harry asked curiously.

“Better than they were, of course.” Snape replied wryly. “Look at how pert and puffy they're becoming.” he said and Harry glanced down to see what he meant. Snape continued to twist and pinch them, pulling at them as best he could though they were so small, loving the sweet sounds Harry made as he writhed and tried to adjust to the new sensations.

Harry wasn't at all certain whether he liked the treatment or not. It was doing funny things to his cock even as he was sure he felt irritation.

More ice, more chafing. As they began to swell a bit, Snape was able to get a better grip on them and really work them more firmly as Harry whimpered. “Now we're getting somewhere.” Snape said in satisfaction. As he lightly dragged his thumbs over the reddened buds, Harry's whole body shivered at the intense sensation. Every nerve in his nipples seemed to be hyper-sensitized now, and he was certain that they were connected to his cock as it gave an interested pulse.

Snape continued to chafe them with gentle caresses for some time as Harry responded with pure pleasure to the sensations, moaning and writhing a bit beneath him. Then he summoned a set of clamps from the box in his room. He gently attached the metal to Harry's nipples as the boy watched on with concern. A chain connected the clamps, and when Snape tugged gently on it, the motion caused the clamps to tighten themselves while they pulled, causing an intense sensation. Harry moaned at the first gentle tug.

“Do you like that, Harry?” Snape teased him, and Harry nodded as he panted at the continued gentle tension. It was nearly too much.

Snape began to tug gently but firmly, then let up the tension a bit. Then pull again, let off, pull as Harry continued to moan and contend with the growing ache. After a bit, Snape was content to hold a sustained strong tension on the line as the little buds were pinched and pulled to their limit while Harry whimpered. “Just a bit longer, Harry.” Snape soothed him, but didn't let up. Just as Harry was starting to tear up a bit, he released the tension and Harry took in panting breaths of exertion.

Snape released the clamps and set them aside and Harry moaned anew as the rush of blood hit him, shooting lances of pain in his tender buds all over again. Snape rubbed his thumbs against them harshly, chafing the blood back into the tortured nubs while Harry carried on. When they were bright red and puffed out, Snape admired the view.

“Just lovely.” he breathed, looking down at them. He caressed them gently again and enjoyed the little shudders that went through Harry at the attention. “Look down.” he instructed Harry, and Harry viewed his changed physiology with a sort of detached wonder. “Touch them.” Snape instructed as he pulled his own hands away, and Harry hesitantly brushed his fingers over each of them, shivering again. They were so tender, and seemed huge and fiercely red on his chest.

“Give them a pinch.” Snape encouraged, and Harry did so as gently as he could, still giving a surprised hiss at the intensity of the sensation now that he'd been brought to such a state.

“Will they stay like that?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Oh heavens no.” Snape said with a slight chuckle. “This effect would wear off in even just an hour, probably less, though that's part of the appeal of doing it all over again. Of course we could train them and stretch them incrementally over time, but even then there's only so much one can do.”

Harry continued to brush his fingers over the buds gently as it sent sparks of pleasure across his skin.

“Try the clamps.” Snape encouraged, always interested to see Harry play with himself. He handed them over.

Harry inspected the metal for a moment, then gently clamped one bud and then the other, wincing at the sensation. He gave an experimental, gentle pull of the chain, causing the clamps to tighten and pull, and immediately hissed and relented.

“You can take more than that, Harry.” Snape admonished. “You just did.”

Harry looked up at Snape pleadingly, but the man was resolute, so he pulled the chain slowly away from his body, stretching the sore buds out so that there was a continual small tension on the chain.

“Keep going.” Snape instructed, knowing that Harry was holding out. He knew precisely how much tension he'd just put on that chain and he encouraged Harry with comments of “More” until the boy was trembling with the pain he caused himself, the little buds finally pulled taut from the tension.

“Hold it just there.” Snape said gently as Harry struggled to comply. “Yes, that's just lovely.” Snape sighed, watching the scene admiringly.

After a few more seconds of pulling, Snape told him, “All right, Harry. You may release.” Harry was quick to obey that suggestion, and let out a shaky sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. “Unclamp them.” Snape told him, and again Harry felt the absolute fire of blood rushing to the tortured nubs. “Now rub them firmly to work the blood back in. Firmly.” he admonished, and Harry grit his teeth against the pain he caused himself as he rubbed against the bright red flesh.

Snape could tell by watching the moment when the pain turned to pleasure, as Harry groaned as he continued to rub.

“That's right, Harry. Give them a pinch.” he suggested, and Harry did so, moaning outright. He continued to moan and writhe in pleasure as alternated between firm rubs and little pinches to the tender buds.

Snape couldn't hold himself back and simply watch any longer, replacing Harry's thumbs with his own as he rubbed harshly against the little buds, then pinched and twisted them cruelly and held as Harry arched and writhed beneath him, moaning out his pleasure.

Finally, Snape released and Harry lay back panting and recovering himself. His nipples, once pert and small, were now obscenely dark and puffed on his chest.

Snape smiled down at Harry and was taken by how utterly gorgeous a boy he was. But it was late, and Harry had had enough. Snape banished the clamps back to the box of toys, and announced their need for a shower and bed. Harry's nipples would fade back to how they had been overnight, though they could always repeat the exercise again later, Snape knew. And perhaps next time he'd have Harry do the bulk of the work himself.

Chapter Text

The two following days were still quite busy, and Harry was aware that their time together was running short. The winter break wouldn't last forever. Even the evenings weren't the sex-fest he'd been quite expecting as Severus required his own down time to relax. He still required a blow-job every morning, but would often wish to read and drink some tea at night.

Those following two nights, however, Harry could hardly complain. Severus instructed him to fuck himself with the sounding rod he'd used on himself before, and left Harry in a sweating puddle of arousal for an hour both nights. Snape loved to see Harry lost in the pleasant sensations, and loved to see that thin metal rod disappearing into his little cock while he quivered. He liked to see Harry work for his pleasure, and to use his body in new ways.

It was after the second such session when Snape told Harry, “That's enough for now, Harry. Cap back on and take a rest.”

Harry was trembling uncontrollably from his arousal and was slicked with sweat, flushed pink. It was with shaking hands that he cleaned up and righted himself, but he massaged his sore bollocks gently, giving a groan. Harry hadn't actually ejaculated since October, and he was starting to really feel the strain, a sort of ache that lingered every time he was sufficiently aroused.

“Getting a bit sore?” Snape asked with a small smile.

“Merlin, it hurts.” Harry complained. “I have so much cum in there I'm fit to burst.”

Snape snorted. “I highly doubt that. You could certainly hold out a few more months before I decided it was time to clean out the old and replace it with new.”

“That's a weird way of putting it.” Harry remarked.

“Oh, it's not necessary for you to orgasm in order for me to rid you of that fluid, Harry.” Snape informed him. “Not any more than it's necessary for you to ejaculate when you have an orgasm.”

Harry looked at him totally bewildered. “But then how does it come out?”

“If you're really that curious, I'll perform the procedure for you now, otherwise you'll have to wait until I deem it medically necessary. It's important to clear things out periodically. I warn you though, the process isn't exactly satisfying in the way an orgasm would be, but it will relieve the pressure.”

Harry thought it over a bit, trying to imagine what it might be like. “I am curious....” he said hesitantly, though he wasn't going to come out and ask for something Snape didn't really want to give him yet.

Snape gave Harry a considering look, and then shrugged. “Very well then. Jewellery off, Harry, and hop in the shower. Cold water, I want you flaccid.”

Harry moved to the shower and took off his jewellery and braced himself for the freezing spray. Harry wouldn't have thought it would take more than a second, but was surprised to note that his erection was stubborn these days, especially after an hour of sounding with no relief. His teeth were chattering a bit by the time he stepped out totally soft. It was strange to see his cock limp and shrunken, simply hanging there. Even after his showers or riding a broom it was at least a bit chubbed.

Harry wandered back into the bedroom once he was dry, and was curious to see Snape standing with a concerning metal contraption.

“This isn't strictly necessary if I had any belief in your ability to stay soft. However, I think we both know that your cock has other ideas.” Snape informed him, and began to lock the thing around Harry's cock and bollocks, the design of it snug around his cock in its flaccid state. There was simply no way to obtain an erection in the cage.

“Hands and knees.” Snape instructed him, and Harry got into the familiar position, relaxing as he felt the familiar probe of two of Snape's lubed fingers. He sighed and relaxed at the sensation. Well, this was nice at least. Aside from the cock cage, it wasn't too weird.

Harry groaned as he felt Snape probe his prostate firmly and begin working it. It wasn't often he got to feel such sensations, and he'd never had such a concentrated massage right atop it. Snape wasn't going for exploration or stretching, just a steady rub and press of that nut.

Harry groaned again. “That feels fantastic.” he said huskily.

“Just relax, Harry.” Snape said. “This may take some time.

After a moment, Harry saw why, and shifted as much as the position would allow. His cock strained against the metal enclosure as it tried desperately to get involved in things, and it smarted as there was no place for it to go. It took several minutes of this conditioning to kick in and his erection to finally sort of give up, and those weren't a comfortable few minutes either.

Meanwhile, Snape continued to rub and press so slowly and determinedly. Harry felt his hips gyrate to try and encourage some change in pace. Just a bit faster, or a bit more varied. A hand on his hip stilled him, and he had to will himself to relax and breathe. Long minutes ticked by and Harry's mind was fixed entirely inward on that little nut deep inside.

A warmth started to build and tingle across his skin, and then he felt the most curious sensation, as if he were urinating, but not quite. He looked down between his legs in shock to see a steady stream of white escaping the head of his flaccid penis and pooling on the bed. It poured out of him in a slow stream, not in spurts like it would if he'd orgasmed. And he didn't feel any of the usual explosive climax to go along with it, just a hazy sort of warm release that started inward and spread out.

Harry sighed at the sensation, both pleasant and a let down, and wasn't sure what to think of it. Snape simply continued to press firmly and determinedly until nothing further came out, and Harry gave a shudder at the discomfort of having his empty prostate probed. His bollocks felt lighter but he felt weirdly emotional, almost wanting to cry in frustration from the lack of fireworks to accompany it.

Snape banished the mess with a wave of his wand and unlocked Harry's cage as he sat up. “There you are, Harry. I'm sure that feels better.”

“Yes, thank you.” Harry answered meekly as Snape weighed Harry's now empty bollocks in his palm, giving them a bit of a squeeze. The ache was gone.

“That is called prostate milking.” Snape informed him as he cleaned the cage and banished it into the toy box. “If your discomfort ever feels too much for you, you may approach me and asked to be milked, though I may or may not indulge you. I do intend to milk you several times a year for health purposes at the very least.”

“Will I ever get to have an orgasm and ejaculate at the same time again?” Harry asked. Ejaculation without orgasm, and dry orgasms without the benefit of ejaculation. They were both maddening in different ways.

“Perhaps some day, Harry.” Snape said, ruffling his hair affectionately. “But not for some time. Now go put your jewellery back on.”

Harry wandered into the bathroom and reinserted the plug first, which went in quite easily. Then came the ring, though his bollocks didn't stand quite as proudly as before. Harry worked his hand over his soft cock and was surprised that it took a moment for it to start to perk up again, when just minutes ago it had been almost impossible for him to get it to go soft. He decided he didn't much like being milked if this was the result. When it was firm, he replaced the cap over his cock head and pressed it firmly into place, sighing at the sensation of completion.

There were still a few hours until they would shower and go to bed, and Harry wanted to spend that time curled up on the sofa next to Snape. He felt a bit out of sorts and wanted the affection, though he was content just to be nearby, not disturbing the man as he finally got back to his book.

That night in bed, Snape fucked Harry while they spooned until he released his load, and pressed the plug back into place. Harry smiled and sighed with satisfaction. Yes, this felt about right. Stimulation without his own release, and those pleasant tingles across his skin again as he fell asleep aroused.

Chapter Text

It was Sunday morning in Snape's quarters. Harry had just finished sucking off Snape and was finishing up his last packing. The Hogwarts Express would be arriving soon, and everyone would be back, and he'd have to go back to normal life again. School, and homework, and Gryffindor tower instead of constantly being with Snape.

“Don't sulk, Harry. It's unbecoming.” Snape admonished him.

“Sorry.” Harry said, not doing a very good job of hiding his disappointment.

Snape rummaged in the toy box and pulled out the clover clamps on their chain and handed them to Harry. “I want you to keep these in your box along with the sound.” he said. “You've grown accustomed to having some special time with yourself to feel nice, and that's good. I want that for you. When you used to masturbate, did you find time for it late at night or early morning?” he asked.

“Late at night.” Harry admitted. “I'd just pull my bed curtains and put up a silencing spell once we'd all gone to bed.”

Snape nodded. That was fairly typical, and no doubt all his school mates were doing the same. “Every night, I want you to spend twenty to thirty minutes with either the sound or the clamps, making yourself feel good. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said, feeling a warmth in his belly from Snape's caring instruction.

“What is our rule for the sound?” Snape prompted him.

“It shouldn't hurt, but I need to work it all the way in.” Harry recited. Snape was always firm that he shouldn't be too gentle on himself. He'd shown that he could take the full length without any problems.

“That's right. And the clamps?”

“Don't be too gentle; pull them taut. And when I take them off, rub firmly to get the blood flowing.”

“Correct.” Snape said in satisfaction. “Being gentle with your nipples will cause a pleasant enough sensation, but you know you'll feel even nicer if you challenge yourself. And you deserve to feel nice, Harry, remember that. Don't shy away from intense sensations, reach for them.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy. Now run along, your friends should be back any moment now.” he said, and Harry gathered his things to go, feeling a bit better about the separation.

~~~

It was with shaking hands that first night that Harry took out his little box behind the curtains of his four poster. He pushed his pyjama bottoms and his silk boxers down to his knees and pulled off his cock covering, giving himself a gentle stroke in anticipation. The silencing charms were up and so was an obscuring charm that would hide his light and any movements of the bed.

Harry took his sounding rod out of the box and coated it liberally with oil, and began to insert the end into the tip of his cock, gasping a bit as it slid past the point where his cock cap usually penetrated. He'd done this to himself a number of times now in Snape's presence, but never entirely alone, and it heightened his nerves to do so. Snape wasn't here to guide Harry verbally this time when he got nervous and hesitated.

Slowly, carefully he worked the rod down his shaft and moaned softly at the sensation of it filling him. It was always a unique sensation, nerves lighting up all up and down his cock deliciously, and a fullness he'd come to really enjoy. About halfway down was where he normally got nervous and fucked himself with the little rod to that point for a moment, up and down, delighting in the sensations. But he knew the rules. With careful work, he fucked the rod down further, further, until it sat all the way down at the base, filling his entire shaft.

Harry groaned at the sight of it, sweating from arousal and exertion. He gave the rod a little twist and felt every nerve on fire, gave it a stir and felt it tease deep within. It was intense, but it was good. Harry pushed through the intensity instead of pausing, and began to fuck himself with the sound, pressing it to its full depth on every stroke. He was getting lost in the sensations of it, his arousal building to frustrating heights when a little chime went off. The timing charm he'd set for twenty minutes.

Flushed and sweaty, breath coming in short pants, Harry paused in his motions as he trembled, then carefully extracted the rod and cleaned it, putting it away. He cleaned and re-lubed the cock cap and pressed it into place, groaning a bit at the unfulfilled arousal churning within him, and curled up to go to sleep.

~~~

Monday night, Harry pulled off his t-shirt and pulled out the nipple clamps, which he'd not used or had used on him since that single night in Snape's quarters. He could still recall the delicious sensations he'd felt after some time playing, however, and he was eager to see if he could recreate the feeling.

Snape had said twenty to thirty minutes of play, and since he wasn't sure how long it would take him to work up to full intensity, Harry set a thirty minute charm that night.

He laid back and let his fingers drift over his nipples. They were small, unremarkable. His initial soft touch was pleasant enough, but still a bit foreign to him, and nothing like he remembered the end of his last experience. He felt the little nubs pebble under his touch and gave them a gentle pinch, sending sparks of pleasure straight to his cock. More boldly, he began to work them, pinching, tweaking, and tugging gently as he winced at the pain of it, but he had to get them plump and firm enough to even attach the clover clamps, and he did recall significant pain when Snape had worked him over.

Harry bit his lip cautiously when he attached the first clamp, then the second. He gave a gentle tug to the connecting chain and felt the clamps tighten and pull on his sore buds. With a soft groan, he pulled the chain a bit harder, then eased off. Pull, and ease, pull and ease, keeping a gentle tension on them.

Harry knew it wouldn't satisfy his mate, though, and began to slowly pull the chain further from his body until he felt he'd reached a reasonable tension, and he let out a groan of pain as the ache travelled deep into each tortured bud. The feelings were intense and he trembled, struggling to hold the tension a moment longer, then finally eased off, panting from the exertion as the ache dulled a bit, then he repeated the exercise again twice more.

Finally, Harry released the clamps and yelped at the sudden rush of blood to the tortured buds. His instinct was to simply grip the sheets and ride it out but instead he rubbed them firmly with his thumbs, working the blood back into them and writhing with the pain and pleasure of it. It was a divine agony of sorts and Harry remembered to lean into the sensations, not shy away from them. He gave the plump nubs a pinch and groaned at the feeling of it. He pinched and pulled and twisted at the sore, reddened flesh, and finally his chime went off and Harry laid still again, recovering as his nipples seemed to radiate heat.

He put his clamps away and pulled his shirt back over his head, and felt the fabric send little sparks of pleasure where it touched his sore flesh. Harry fell asleep feeling content.

Chapter Text

It was a Tuesday in February when it happened, and Harry wasn't ready. He'd never, ever, ever be ready. But Dumbledore had died, in his bed that night, peacefully. Or at least, that was the official story, but he knew better. Snape hadn't warned him that it was coming, but then, what was there to say? School was cancelled for the rest of the week as the students grieved. The papers were full of it, and Harry was nearly inconsolable. Snape let him spend Tuesday night in his chambers to comfort him.

Harry sobbed uncontrollably into the man's arms. He hadn't realized until Dumbledore was gone because he'd had so many mixed feelings about the man... but he knew now that he'd loved him. And there was so much he should have done and said, and the man was gone. Irrecoverably. Permanently. Everything felt huge and insurmountable and horrible.

Snape simply held him, not trying to tell him that it was all right, because it certainly wasn't. Snape's grief was a quieter sort, but it was still there.

When Harry had cried himself out he felt wrung out and fragile.

“Come to the bedroom, Harry.” Snape instructed quietly, and he had Harry undress as he did the same.

Were they going to fuck now? Harry cautiously moved to his hands and knees in anticipation of it. A good solid fuck would feel nice right about now. “No, on your back.” Snape told him. “Prop yourself up against the pillows and headboard, and get comfortable.

Harry did as he was told, and allowed Snape to splay his legs wide, arse on display. He propped up pillows under Harry's knees and arranged him for quite some time until he was satisfied, and all the while Harry wondered where this was leading. His eyes widened as Snape summoned a concerningly large pot of oil.

“Close your eyes, Harry, and relax. Remember I told you about a special sort of massage, months ago?”

Harry nodded as he recalled it and had always wondered what Snape meant. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, feeling Snape pull his plug free and begin working in two fingers and scissoring them to make room for a third. Harry sighed pleasantly and easily accommodated the stretch. He groaned at the sensations, even as Snape avoided his prostate, simply fucking in and out and stretching his rim. Harry adored the feeling of that sort of stretch, and if this was the massage, it was absolutely wonderful. He could already feel himself melting.

More lube, and three fingers scrunched together to admit a fourth. Harry's thighs began to shake as he struggled to accommodate the new width and he was glad for all the pillows propping him up, because he didn't think he could have held himself properly otherwise.

Snape watched the lovely opening and unfurling of Harry's tight hole. He'd been saving this sort of connection for a special occasion, and now he felt they both needed it. Something intense but relaxing to help them through their grief. When Harry was groaning and sighing steadily and his four fingers fit up to the knuckle, he tucked in his thumb and started the steady press and twist.

Harry groaned loudly as he felt himself quiver and stretch further than he'd ever done before, and before he could even imagine what Snape must be doing to cause the sensation, Snape's hand was through, and the rim of his hole fluttered to contract around Snape's wrist. He panted with exertion as his mind tried to wrap around what had just happened and Snape held still for a bit as he adjusted.

Then he felt the fingers flex inside of him and form a fist. “You're... you....” Harry said breathlessly as he realized what they were doing.

“Relax, Harry. Just relax.” Snape soothed, rubbing Harry's belly with his free hand, and Harry decided to give in and do just that.

Gently, Snape rocked his fist inside of the boy, just millimetres at first, and Harry moaned loudly at the intense sensations. Snape pressed his fist against the boy's prostate and got an even louder reaction. He rocked back and forth, side to side, and in and out, easing a bit of his forearm into the boy, very gently over time.

Harry was groaning, whimpering, panting and almost sobbing at the sensations that overtook him, and Snape marvelled at how beautiful the boy was when he let himself go. Harry was soaked in sweat and trembling uncontrollably, his whole body convulsing at times as his anus contracted around Snape's arm. Snape knew that if he removed the boy's other jewellery, Harry could probably ejaculate multiple times from this sort of play, but instead he let the boy ride out more than one dry orgasm as his cock throbbed ineffectually.

He was thrusting his arm into Harry at a steady rhythm now to Harry's steady grunts as Snape punched into his guts, half of his forearm within the boy. Every so often, Snape would twist his arm as well, or flex his fingers within the boy, causing Harry's head to loll back with overwhelming pleasure. Harry's overworked body gave one final convulsion, and then lay limp as Harry breathed gently, utterly spent, and Snape gently eased his arm out of the gaping hole.

He carefully cleaned himself and the mess, and put away the pot of lube, setting aside the plug for when Harry had closed up again. The great benefit of this lubricant was that it would tighten up the boy again within an hour, even after all of that.

After those activities however, Snape was painfully aroused. He straddled Harry's head on the bed, bracing himself against the headboard, and fucked into Harry's mouth with abandon. It took him only a few minutes to unload himself with a grunt as Harry swallowed around him.

Satiated, he pulled Harry in to cuddle, pulling the covers over the both of them while they recovered.

“I love you.” Harry mumbled as he laid in Snape's arms, his mind and body still reeling from what they'd just shared.

It was the first time Harry had ever said the words, and he hadn't realized until he said it that it was true. He wondered when it had happened, when he'd come to love Snape.

Snape paused a moment, deciding how to respond. But yes, he supposed he had come to love the brat, though he'd never said it either. “And I love you as well.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple.

Harry smiled, feeling completely warm and safe in Snape's arms, if still a bit sad. But his feelings no longer felt quite so overwhelming as they had before. He was starting to believe things might eventually be okay.

Chapter Text

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall became simply Headmistress McGonagall, and school went on. Life continued. Harry found it almost strange how easily school continued to flow, even after the death of a legend. Moods were sombre and there had been a funeral, memorials, speeches and articles galore. But there was still class to attend, and everyone else was still here.

The first week back in his dormitory after his prolonged stay with Snape while school had been cancelled, Harry found it difficult to really enjoy his masturbatory session. While with Snape, apart from the fisting on Tuesday, the rest of the week had been gentle and calm. Lots of snuggling and the typical morning blowjob, but nothing much else while Harry mourned.

Now it was time to give himself pleasant feelings, and his heart wasn't really in it. Everything felt muted, as if his skin itself had become a bit numb. He went for the clamps instead of the sound. He could use that edge of pain tonight, desiring only to feel something. For the first time, he really lost himself in the intensity of it, grateful for the harsh edge of pain to his pleasure, the dull ache.

The sound and its purely pleasant feelings held no appeal that week. He stuck to the clamps.

By the time Friday rolled around, Harry's nipples were still a bit sore by Friday evening, slightly red and a bit puffier than usual. Snape noticed it right away as Harry undressed in his chambers. He came over to rub his thumbs over the sensitized buds, and only got a slight reaction from Harry.

“The clamps all week?” Snape guessed, and Harry simply nodded. The boy looked a bit hollow, exhausted and with that haunted look in his eyes he'd had after Sirius had died.

“Is it pleasure you're seeking, Harry, or pain?” Snape asked pointedly, carding his fingers through the boys hair as he searched his eyes.

Harry shrugged again. “Bit of both, I suppose.” he admitted quietly. “Everything feels sort of numb.”

“I believe I have something that will help.” Snape said. It was time to introduce Harry to something else new, something that would allow him the release of emotions he needed, and allow him to feel.

He led Harry to the bedroom and to the edge of the bed. “Bent at the waist, Harry, chest to the bed, feet on the floor, arse out. That's it.” he encouraged and made small adjustments to Harry's stance. Legs spread out more. Arms stretched over his head, a bit of an uncomfortable strain in the shoulders. Head turned to one side. Snape caressed Harry's arse for a moment and then removed his plug, setting it aside. Then he went to his toy box and rummaged around until he retrieved the item he wanted while on the bed Harry waited calmly and curiously, wondering what was going to happen.

A thin cane pressed against Harry's arse and he swallowed thickly. He was going to be caned? He'd never even been spanked as a child. He glanced back as best he could from his position to see it, but could only make out a bit of it without moving, and knew better than to break position.

“This will hurt, Harry, but I think it's what you've been craving. I want you to make any sounds that come up for you. This is about release, so don't hold it back.” Snape instructed him, and Harry nodded his understanding.

The first strike of the cane send blinding hot pain across his arse, and stole Harry's breath away. He didn't even call out, just felt his whole body tense against it as his eyes scrunched shut. But even with the stinging heat, it felt like sort of a relief to feel it. It somehow got past the numb barrier that clung to his skin, and reached him. He sucked in a breath of air and was hit again.

Harry grunted this time with pain and satisfaction, his fingers flexing in the sheets a bit but not clenching, not yet. Snape continued at a slow pace, giving Harry a moment to process the sensation and seeing how the boy responded to the impacts. Harry tensed and flexed. Breathed and relaxed. The shocks travelled straight through his arse to his prostate and spread the flush of arousal through his groin, though his arse was on fire.

After a bit, Snape picked up in pace and strength of the blows. Harry was clearly comfortable with this level of pain, and he didn't want to give the boy comfort tonight, it wasn't what he needed. Harry's grunts turned into choked shouts and his fingers curled in the sheets below him. Better. He aimed for the tender crease between arse and thigh which elicited a high pitched sort of whine from Harry, a painful shriek. Perfect.

Snape continued down the backs of Harry's thighs, seeing them tremble against the painful blows as Harry's skin was welted in bright red stripes. This would bruise, he was sure. In truth, Snape was a bit impressed with Harry's pain tolerance for a beginner, even considering the circumstances.

Time to work over the arse again with a new criss-cross of weals. The stream of yelps was continual now and Snape saw Harry flinch instinctively at the blows. And finally, there it was, a genuine sob of pain. Once the first gasping sob came, more followed, as Harry struggled to breathe against the sudden deluge of emotion. Where the hell had it come from? He hadn't felt anything at all practically all week, and now he was in pain and it hurt and he couldn't breathe.

Down the backs of Harry's thighs again for their second coat of red, Snape hit the most tender skin while Harry laid on the bed and cried like a baby. It was a beautiful sight, one that he would have etched in his memory for years to come.

And then it was time to stop, even as Harry continued to cry. He wouldn't risk breaking the skin -- Harry would bruise significantly as it was. Snape stopped and let the boy continue to sob for a moment as he cleaned his tool and put it away, then came to rub Harry's heated arse with one hand. Harry trembled at the touch on his overheated flesh, chafing against the fresh weals and sending more sparks of pain across his skin, but Snape just continued to gently stroke. Checking for damage, soothing, and aggravating all at once. He sat aside Harry on the bed as Harry continued to cry it out.

“Better?” Snape asked after some time, when Harry's crying had slowed down to the occasional hiccough.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry mumbled into the sheets.

“Plug back in, Harry, and come work on your homework in the sitting room.” Snape instructed him, leaving Harry to collect himself.

Harry stood up a bit dizzily and retrieved his plug, cleaning and lubricating it quickly before pressing it back inside. His hand brushed his arse as he did so and he shuddered at the sensation. Sore didn't begin to describe it, and the skin was still hot to the touch. He turned around to look at himself as best he could, and though he didn't have a good view, he was astonished by the red and purple stripes he saw there.

Wasn't Snape going to heal them? Apparently not, for the man was simply sitting and doing his customary grading on the sofa when Harry emerged. He tried to sit down on the stuffed chair to do his work but hissed and winced at the contact, standing uncertainly as he tried to work out how he would do this.

“Sit on your arse, Harry.” Snape said calmly. “It's meant to hurt.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry mumbled and sat himself down with a wince. He pulled out his books and started his work quietly, and was surprised that he did in fact get used to the pain. Even more than that, it had sort of a grounding effect on him, making the world seem a bit more real.

~~~

Later that night, when they were getting into bed, Snape spoke to Harry about what had happened earlier. “I gave you toys in order to feel nice, Harry, not to simply hurt yourself. I understand why you did it, and I'm not angry with you, but that's not their intended use. Intense sensation is not the same as pain, and I don't want you to confuse the two. The next time you want to hurt, or feel you need to hurt, you will come to me and ask. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now tomorrow I'm going to begin training you to use the deep urethral sound on yourself so that you can penetrate your prostate during your sounding sessions. I think that will make you feel very nice indeed.”

Chapter Text

Snape held Harry in his arms and oversaw his progress with the deep sound as Harry slowly and carefully worked the thicker rod into his urethra, stretching it and taking slow deep breaths as it worked further into his cock. “Take your time, Harry.” Snape soothed. “Your body will allow it in. Do you feel it wanting to sink deeper?”

“Y-yes.” Harry answered with shaking voice and shaking hands. “Merlin, it feels enormous. It makes me nervous.” he pulled the rod back a millimetre and let it sink just a bit further in on the down stroke.

“Relax and let it fall. We want it at the base, but go carefully on account of the girth and the slight bend at the end.”

Harry tried to relax, taking another deep breath, and this time on the down stroke the sound sunk another two inches into him with ease. He groaned at the fullness of it. By the time he'd reached the base of his cock, he was a sweating, trembling mess.

“Now comes the tricky part.” Snape instructed him. “Your prostate is an inch or two beyond the base of your cock, but at an angle. We want to move the sound gently up and down, while angling for that bend but not forcing it. You'll feel it slip in naturally when we've got it right. Try pulling your cock up or angling it different ways. It's something you'll just have to learn to feel for.” Snape told him. He kept hawk eyes on Harry's movements as the boy tried to comply.

Harry was nervous. Though Snape had done this to him before, it had seemed like magic at the time. Now it felt like the thick rod couldn't possibly go any further into his body, and he almost wasn't certain he wanted it to. Sure it was in his cock now, but if it dropped below the base, it would be in him, deep within his body. “This will touch my prostate?” Harry reiterated.

“That's right. When you touch your perineum, that's under your skin and muscle. When you find your prostate through your anus you're really feeling it through your rectal walls. But through the urethra we can stimulate the prostate directly. When done carefully, we can insert the sound into the prostate and all the way to the bladder. In fact, some men enjoy the sensation of their bladder being penetrated as well, but we won't be trying anything like that today.”

Snape's reassurances did little to help Harry who was absolutely terrified at the notion of actually reaching his bladder. His cock was his cock but his bladder was a real organ. Somehow he'd never really dwelled too much on the actual anatomy of what they were doing.

And then, before he even had figured out what he was doing, the rod seemed to slip through his fingers and his cock, and slid much further inside of him. Harry gasped and froze a bit. “Oh god, oh god, oh god....” he muttered, even as he saw stars behind his eyes at the sensation of it. It was phenomenal.

“Very good, Harry.” Snape praised him. “Say hello to your prostate.” he smiled. “Go on, try moving the rod a bit now, gently.”

Harry played with the most minute movements and couldn't control the utterly embarrassing sounds that escaped him at the sensation.

“You can ease it in, just a little.” Snape told him. “But you'll be able to feel the difference if you've gone too far and hit your bladder. I'd prefer you didn't attempt to penetrate that. If you think you've gone too far, pull the rod back.”

Harry nudged the sound forward and felt it penetrate immediately. He quickly fell apart in Snape's arms, lost to the intense pleasure of it. After a few minutes he stilled his motions and trembled intensely, holding still and catching his breath.

“Why did you stop, Harry?” Snape prompted him.

“God, it's too much...” Harry said breathlessly. “I think, I think I'm going to....” he tried to wrap his mind around it. It felt like he was going to cum, but he knew he couldn't with the ring on, so it had to be a dry orgasm. But he'd never actually felt one of those coming before like he could with a regular orgasm. They'd always sort of snuck up and surprised him.

Not only that, but he'd never been able to give himself any type of orgasm at all by his own hand. But it seemed that having his mate's arms around him now was enough -- something in his biology or his subconscious was satisfied that this was going to happen.

“Give yourself pleasure, Harry.” Snape reminded him. “Don't hold yourself back from it.”

Cautiously, Harry began to move the rod within him again, losing his breath quickly as the sensation built again as he fucked it in and out of his prostate. It built and built and he felt a moment of fear, like he had to remove the rod or he'd hurt something, or he'd ejaculate maybe and there wouldn't be room for it, or, or... and then it hit him, and Harry convulsed around the unyielding rod, feeling the dry orgasm wash through him as his body pulsed.

Snape saw Harry's motions still instinctively as the convulsion of orgasm hit him, and he took the end of the rod in his own hand as Harry fell to pieces in his arms, continuing to jerk the metal within him, heightening the sensations as Harry howled at the intensity. The feelings seemed to go on and on, bordering on painful as Snape continued to work him over even while his insides clenched. His eyes watered, god he needed it to stop but the pleasure kept coming and coming, singing through his veins and spreading everywhere.

Finally, the convulsion let up and he was left trembling with little aftershocks of pleasure as he gasped for air. His cock and his prostate inside of him continued to spasm every few seconds as the rest of him went utterly lax, and still Snape fucked him gently with the rod. “T-too much.” Harry gasped out and trembled.

“You feel those little twitches, Harry?” Snape prompted him, and Harry nodded as another twitch hit him, his body completely overwrought by the sensations.

“That means you aren't finished yet.” Snape told him. They'd have to try this again many more times before Snape would trust Harry to do it alone. For now, Snape continued to gently fuck Harry with the sound as he was incapable of doing it to himself, his body overwhelming his mind with an overload of sensation, more intense than Harry was accustomed to.

It was another full minute until Harry's body had finally calmed down, and seemed to give up. It simply stopped responding and accepted the intrusion quietly, and Harry himself leaned back in Snape's arms, breathing deeply. A deep relaxation had spread through him, and he felt almost comatose with it.

“Feel the difference?” Snape asked him.

Harry nodded. “I don't think I've ever been this relaxed in my life.”

“Take the rod again, Harry.” Snape prompted him. “Just enjoy the fullness of it, the feeling of it entering and leaving your prostate for a while longer while you're relaxed and the sensations aren't so overwhelming.”

Harry continued with gentle, small motions for a while, concentrating on the feeling inside of him. It was pleasant, and he got a sense of where the prostate started, and where was the far end.

“All right Harry.” Snape said after another few minutes of gentle exploration. “It's time to remove the sound. Go slowly and carefully, and mind the bend.”

It took a little cautious shifting, but Harry felt when he had the angle right and the metal rod slid easily from his body in one long pull. His cock felt weirdly chafed on the inside now that it was out, and stretched and empty. He hissed as he sat up. The welts on his arse and thighs had become even darker and more painful overnight. Snape ignored them.

“Put your cock plug back in. The stretching will close up within an hour.” he reminded Harry. Harry nodded his understanding, and went to the bathroom to drain out some of the copious amounts of lube that was dripping out of his cock along with a good amount of pre-cum. While he was there, he took a piss, and hissed at the slight burning sensation of the urine against his chafed insides. Even that discomfort was pleasant in its own way, and Harry could only imagine what it would be like if Snape would actually let him ejaculate from sounding some day. The sensation of it must be incredible.

Cock cap back in place, Harry went back out to the sitting room, and found Snape was already back to his work. It was snowing furiously outside, and Harry really would prefer to be with his mate rather than in the tower, so he settled into his chair and did his work in front of the fire.

Chapter Text

“For Merlin's sake, Sybill, rosemary tea isn't going to remove a shard of the Dark Lord's soul.” Snape rolled his eyes.

Harry blinked over at his mate, but turned his attention back to Sybill Trelawney. Thus far, hers was the most pleasant sounding solution to his problem. A purification ceremony to take place on the spring equinox at the end of March. It was already early March, and the equinox would soon be upon them if they wanted to take the chance.

“Oh. Yes, well no. Of course not.” Trelawney stuttered, pushing her glasses further up nose and blinking around the ring of people assembled in the Headmistress' office.

“Severus...” McGonagall said warningly at Snape, levelling a glare. “Rosemary tea is hardly the entirety of a purification ceremony as you well know. Sybill, please continue. Spring solstice at dawn, you said, as well as the rosemary and honey tea. Do go on....”

“Right. Yes.” she said, looking down at her scrawled notes. “Tea, dawn... ah, yes. Cleansing with rainwater. Of course Harry and all of the assembled parties shall have to be nude.”

“I am not chanting in the nude, holding hands in some friendship circle from before the dawn of time!” Snape spat out.

“Oh do shut up, Severus.” McGonagall snapped. “You outlined three separate potions that only have a partial chance of working themselves and all three of them require illegal ingredients and might send Harry into a coma.”

Yes, about that.... Harry loved his mate, and trusted him implicitly., but he wasn't keen on a coma, or a seizure, or internal organ failure, all of which were possibilities Snape had outlined as side effects. Not that he wanted to take sides, but lying around in spring grass while some people chanted did sound a bit safer.

“Go on, Sybill.” McGonagall encouraged once again.

“Hand holding....” she was mumbling herself. “Then of course there are the spells themselves, in verse of course and an older dialect, but the books are perfectly clear on the words so that shouldn't pose a problem. We'd have to do it atop a hill where earth meets sky. The rainwater will serve as the water element and a purifying force, and the first rays of dawn on the auspicious day of the equinox should do the trick. Oh, and the tea. I did outline the tea?” she questioned, peering down at her notes again.

“What are the odds of it working?” Flitwick asked pragmatically.

“Well I don't see why it shouldn't.” Trelawney blinked up at everyone, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to her. Snape scoffed silently but held his tongue.

“And side effects?” Flitwick prompted.

“Well of course it might not be pleasant.” she mused. “It will take a strong purifying force to drive the evil out....”

“But where will we be driving it to?” Lupin asked with concern.

“Well into the earth of course.” Trelawney answered.

“So what, there's a shard of the Dark Lord's soul in the earth then?” Lupin asked incredulously. “Is that safe? What does it even mean?”

“Well I don't, I don't...” Trelawney stuttered, paging through her notes for an answer to a question she hadn't even really thought about, and Snape sighed off to the side.

“I'd like to know what Mister Potter thinks.” McGonagall interrupted, and turned her sharp gaze onto Harry who squirmed in his seat. He'd been quiet throughout the meeting, and now he felt all eyes on him.

Harry glanced at Snape for a hint of how to answer, some direction, but the man simply stared at him as well, waiting to hear his response. “Er, well, Professor Trelawney's idea seems like it's the safest....” he trailed off, crossing his arms around himself as Snape narrowed his eyes.

Flitwick hadn't been able to find any charms yet, though he was still looking, and Lupin had found dozens of ideas in his Dark Arts books at Grimmauld Place but he couldn't in good conscience recommend any of them. Snape had three terrifying potions to offer, and Moody had suggested that they just kill Harry, though Harry tried not to take it personally, as it somehow didn't seem as if he'd meant it maliciously.

“Agreed.” McGonagall said. “Filius, work with Sybill to come up with more specifics. I want to know the effectiveness of this ritual, everything that's entailed, it's history, what it's been used for in the past and whether it has worked. I want to know side effects, and brainstorm ideas on where the soul might go and how to destroy it. We're on a timetable here, as I'm sure you realize. I believe that does it for the meeting. Dismissed.”

The room erupted into private conversations at once, and Harry had to run to catch up with Snape, he was out of his chair so fast, making straight for the floo. Harry followed him into his quarters as the man stalked over to his desk and threw down the notes he'd prepared.

Harry hovered near the floo still, not certain if he should leave, or curl up in his chair cautiously, or go to the bedroom to remove his clothes. He waited for the customary command but for the moment, Snape was fussing away with various nothings and making a racket of it.

“Er... are you mad at me?” Harry asked timidly, and Snape sighed.

“No. You were asked your opinion and you gave it.”

“It's not that I don't trust your potion making...” Harry rushed to point out.

“Harry, stop.” Snape said gently, though his shoulders were still tense. He turned to face Harry who still hovered uncertainly by the fireplace. “Sybill's idea has some merit, as idiotic as the woman is herself, and if there's something to the idea I'm certain Filius will discover it. I'd help with the research myself but I'm sure Minerva realized I'd strangle the woman before I found any answers. Believe me, it is my hope that this is a workable solution, or at the very least does nothing other than get you wet and full of tea.” he said, and Harry smiled a bit.

“And besides, the potions will wait if they're needed as a backup plan.”

Harry nodded, still uncertain if he should undress or not, and still feeling as if he'd betrayed Snape in some way for not choosing his solution. Not to mention, he was worried about the whole thing in general. He really didn't like to think about that darkness being attached to him somehow. It felt dirty, and it felt unsafe.

Snape crossed the room to Harry, and gathered him in his arms. It was difficult sometimes for Snape to remember that Harry was only sixteen, and this would be quite a lot for even an adult to take in. “What's bothering you the most, Harry?” he asked quietly as Harry returned the hug tightly.

“I don't know.” he mumbled against Snape's chest. “I don't like having him... inside me. It feels like a violation. Like I'm dirty somehow.”

“You're not dirty.” Snape assured him, propping his chin on Harry's head. “Though if you're really concerned about it we could have a purification ceremony of our own.” he said in a suggestive voice.

“What's that supposed to me?” Harry asked suspiciously, and pulled back to look up at Snape. “I know that tone.” he accused, though Snape could see he'd piqued Harry's interest. He was an Incubus; whenever something remotely sexual was involved, Harry was interested.

“Have you ever had an enema, Harry?” Snape questioned.

“No....” Harry said hesitantly, not sure whether or not he wanted one. He would have said no if someone had asked him just seconds ago, but if Snape said it was something he might want... well, the man hadn't been wrong yet.

“I don't recommend that sort of play with any regularity, as it can cause intestinal problems long term, but it's perfectly safe for once in a while. You certainly seem to enjoy having things in your arse. You might just find you enjoy them.”

Harry looked uncertain, but his eyes lit up with intrigue, and Snape smiled slightly. “Go on and get undressed and draw a bath. Jewellery off.”

“Why is it you're always doing pervy things to me when I'm upset?” Harry asked as he moved into the bedroom, Snape following behind to dig in his toy chest once again.

“Are you complaining?”

“No, Sir.”

~~~

In the bathroom, Harry drew a bath, the first time he was able to use the old claw-foot tub in Snape's bathroom. Every other time he'd used the shower. He slid into the hot water with a sigh and closed his eyes. It was nice. In fact, why were they doing an enema, again? He could just stay here and soak.

Then Snape walked into the room, and Harry forgot all about the bath as his attention zeroed in on his mate and the contraption in his hands.

Harry didn't know which was more concerning, the ridiculously long rubber tubing, or the concerningly large bag.

“Will it hurt?” Harry asked softly as Snape hung the bag from the wall with a sticking charm and filled it with water using his wand. He adjusted the temperature with a spell as well, and cast a sterilisation charm over all of the equipment, then began to affix the hose to the bag.

“There may be some slight cramping but no, it shouldn't hurt.” Snape answered.

“And I won't get sick?” Harry asked dubiously, not at all certain that that volume of water could fit inside of him.

Snape gave him a flat look, as if his worries weren't really even deserving of answers. Harry slunk lower in the water.

Finished with his preparations, Snape conjured a stool and sat beside the tub, summoning Harry's flannel and the soap from the shower. “Now then, I do believe you said you felt dirty.” he said with a small smile, and Harry slunk down further in the water but his eyes shone with amused excitement.

It was nice, though a bit silly, as Snape washed him in the tub as if he were a child. There was quite a bit of lingering at the genitals and several more teasing comments about dirtiness, and Harry was already in a better mood than he had been just minutes before.

When Snape had thoroughly cleaned Harry and washed his hair, he reheated the cooling water with a charm, and pressed a special lubricated plug into Harry's hole, beneath the water. The plug was attached to the tubing, and Snape began to carefully thread the long hose inside of Harry.

“Just how much of that do you intend to put in me?” Harry queried.

“A good amount.” Snape said with a half smile. “I'm really not certain why you're so nervous about it. You've not shied away from putting something up your arse before.”

“Because it's an enema.” Harry said simply. “I've always heard they're unpleasant.”

Snape snorted. “You've had my arm up there.”

“No one ever warned me about arms.” Harry said cheekily.

Snape rolled his eyes and continued carefully feeding the rubber hose into Harry a bit at a time, and Harry shifted around at the strange sensation of it. It certainly didn't hurt, but it was rather odd.

“Now we begin phase two of the purification ritual.” Snape intoned. “Time to get rid of that pesky second soul.” And he released the clamp on the water as it began filling into Harry's bowels.

Harry immediately felt the strange rush of water within him from the slightly different temperature, but it took a moment until it reached the end of the hose and started the steady pressure in his guts. “What, no rosemary tea?” He huffed in jest to distract himself from the strange feeling.

“Watch it, brat, or I'll give you a diuretic.” Snape warned, and Harry couldn't really tell whether he was serious but it didn't matter. Harry leaned back against the tub and groaned as his stomach started to cramp a bit unpleasantly. His hand came immediately down to his stomach to rub soothingly, and he was concerned to feel a slight distension there. He turned his worried gaze up to Snape.

Snape reached into the water to rub Harry's stomach for him as he trembled through the cramping as his stomach expanded to accommodate the large volume of water. “You're doing well, Harry.” he said softly. “Nearly there.”

Harry groaned at the fullness of it, and yes there was something sort of pleasant about the sensation even as it was uncomfortable and new.

When the water finished its flow, Harry's stomach was noticeably distended and it looked and felt almost foreign to him as Snape pulled his massaging hand away to reveal it. Carefully, Snape began pulling the rubber hose free again, sealing the plug when the hose was completely out.

“Now what?” Harry asked as he hesitantly trailed his fingers over his bulging stomach.

“Now, we wait.” Snape said. “As it's your first time, I think that twenty minutes should do.”

“Twenty minutes?” Harry asked with some alarm. “I thought I'd just immediately shit it out.”

“Language, Harry.” Snape warned him. “And for someone else, perhaps.” he smirked. “But I find it will be much more enjoyable for me at least to make you wait.”

Harry was already starting to sweat a bit as another cramp began to build, and he missed Snape's hand helping to soothe it away. He held the edge of the tub and took deep breaths.

“Are you going to be afraid to touch yourself every time we try something new?” Snape mused. “It's still your stomach, Harry, only now it's quite full. You can ease the cramps just as I was.” he encouraged, seeing Harry tremble a bit.

Gently, Harry rubbed over the distended flesh and winced a bit -- not from pain, but from the psychological discomfort of feeling himself changed in such a way. The water seemed to slosh around within him, and he felt a pressure building in his arse. He had to go, but the plug would make that impossible. Harry wanted to be out of the tub and onto the toilet.

He felt another cramp hit him and did his best to soothe it away with his palm on his stomach. All the while, his cock was hard as a rock, as if mocking his predicament. Harry licked his lower lip nervously. “Sir,” he said, “Could I get out of the tub maybe?” All of that water sloshing around him made him all the more aware of the water sloshing around inside. He wanted to sit up better. He had visions of the butt plug failing him and the clean bath water turning brown.

“No, I think not. That would defeat the purpose of the purification ritual.” Snape said, still sticking to their ridiculous story.

Snape renewed the heat of the water once more, and stood. “You just sit and soak, Harry. Try to relax. I shall return in a few minutes when it is time to evacuate.” he said, and to Harry's incredulity, he left the room.

Harry sank low in the bath water. It was warm and nice, but for a moment he dramatically considered drowning himself in it. Instead, he tried his best to relax as he rubbed his stomach. After a bit, his hand drifted south to instead stroke his cock. That was much nicer, though he paused in his movements after a few moments as it felt as if he might actually have an orgasm from it. But that didn’t make sense. Did it? He’d tried and tried to jerk off over the summer but to no avail. But then again, Snape had showed him that he was perfectly capable of having dry orgasms. He was hesitant to continue. Snape surely didn’t mean for him to get himself off.

Damn. He trembled with arousal but the sudden cessation of activity only made another cramp hit him, and made him all the more aware of the mounting pressure in his hole. The water wanted out. How long had it been since Snape had left the room?

He stared at the open doorway and strained to hear if Snape was in the bedroom. Where had he gone? Why hadn't he at least left Harry with a timer of some sort? Harry grunted as he felt his bowels spasm. He wanted to go. Or maybe to cum. But certainly, something had to give.

“Snape.” Harry called. No answer. He shifted in the bath water and waited long seconds, maybe minutes, hours, days, as the discomfort grew. Harry struggled to relax as directed, as he felt himself sweating in the water and his breath sped and shallowed. His fingers flexed on the edge of the tub, and he was almost afraid that if he continued to rub his stomach it would make matters worse. Everything was on its way down, and there was no way for it to continue out.

He wasn't about to start calling “Sir” repeatedly like a schoolboy who had a desperate question, and “Professor” was right out for the same reasons. “Snape!” Harry called out again after another long pause. He wasn't sure whether the man would think it was disrespectful but he certainly wasn't going to use his given name. Suddenly he saw Remus' point and scowled. Now was not the time for reflection over his relationship, he just wanted out of the tub. How angry would Snape be if he got out instead of staying put as ordered?

Relax. Relax, relax, relax. Snape had told him to relax, so he closed his eyes and took steady breaths as his body gave the occasional tremble and the urge to relieve himself mounted. How could it be so utterly exhausting to do nothing at all?

After another eternity, Snape wandered back in, and Harry almost fainted from relief. “Can I get out?” he asked eagerly.

Snape snorted. “It's been ten minutes. I simply came to check on you.” He stooped to sit on the low stool and dipped his hand in the water to rest on Harry's swollen stomach. Snape felt it tremble under his palm and saw the distress Harry was in -- sweating, flushed, struggling. It was absolutely delicious.

“You really shouldn't torture yourself, Harry.” Snape said, starting up his firm rubbing again, and Harry couldn't decide if it helped or made things so much worse. He closed his eyes to the sensation.

“Please?” Harry begged. “I really have to go.”

“You're doing just fine.” Snape assured him. “In fact, I think it must feel rather nice for you.” he mused, and gave Harry's hard cock a stroke.

Harry whimpered. “Please. Stop.” Harry whined breathlessly. “I'm going to...” he trembled and bit his lip.

“Are you going to make a mess, Harry?” Snape asked him, giving another slow stroke to Harry's cock, being careful to not accidentally send Harry over the edge. “But we're trying to get you clean inside and out.”

Harry's thighs trembled and he clenched his fists. He wasn't accustomed to trying not to have an orgasm. The enchanted jewellery Snape had him wear made ejaculation impossible, and if it were a dry orgasm in question, Snape positively encouraged those. Now, however, Harry was sixteen, he was an Incubus in the presence of his mate, and he hadn't ejaculated in months. It was very difficult to hold back.

Another insistent cramp hit him and he swore he'd shit, plug or no. “I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't...” he babbled, eyes scrunched tight, and didn't know what he meant the most. He couldn't keep from cumming, he couldn't keep from evacuating, he couldn't survive twenty whole minutes, he couldn't relax like his mate had told him.

“You're doing fine.” Snape said, giving a firm squeeze to the base of Harry's cock. He petted and murmured encouragement to Harry as the boy fell apart in front of him.

Snape checked the time. Soon. “I'm going to drain the tub now, Harry. Let's get you out and dried off.” he said, and pulled the plug. Harry stood on shaky legs and let Snape wrap the towel around him, drying him off as Harry trembled and tried to hang on, his eyes still shut most of the time as he breathed unsteadily. Every fibre of Harry's body was urging him to use the toilet now.

Snape took his time reattaching Harry's cock ring. Once it was latched in place, there was no longer a threat of Harry cumming -- which would have been a very real possibility when he was finally allowed to evacuate himself. Next came the cock cap. While none of it was meant to feel particularly erotic, every slight touched heightened Harry's nerves. He felt like his skin was crawling with need -- everything was highly sensitized.

“Do not spill a drop.” Snape warned him sternly, and reached back to carefully work free the rubber plug, and Harry clenched for all he was worth. It made removing the plug more difficult and uncomfortable but there was no way in hell he was going to make a mess of himself, the floor, of Snape....

Plug removed, there was very little holding Harry together now, and it took pure willpower to hold himself still as a statue, trembling and sweating from the effort it took to hold on.

“All right, Harry.” Snape said at last. “You may use the toilet now.”

The second Harry's bottom hit the seat there was a mortifying noise and smell. It really didn't bother Snape because obviously he'd known what was coming, but Harry's face heated up with humiliation. It was tremendously embarrassing as his bowels quivered and continued to expel the dirty water, entirely out of his control.

And then it was worse. Snape was right there, and he began massaging Harry's abdomen with firm pressure to help the water along. “That's it.” Snape cooed to him. “Better out than in.” Harry was sure his face couldn't get any redder. What was the worst was that he was still achingly hard, and the powerful evacuation made him groan with both discomfort and need.

It seemed to take an eternity until Harry thought it safe to leave the toilet. He wiped and rose on shaky legs as he flushed. Then he leaned against the sink for a moment taking steadying breaths and trying to regain his equilibrium, wondering if he needed the loo again.

Snape lubed up Harry's usual plug, and pressed it home. Harry felt his hole and his bowels spasm again at the sensation and gave a soft grunt.

Snape wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed his temple. “You might need to use the toilet again after a few minutes, perhaps even several more times today.” he warned. “But I believe that's most of it. Do you feel cleaner? Lighter?”

“Lighter.” Harry agreed. “Though I also feel like I've been put through a laundry wringer. You could have warned me.”

Snape simply snorted. “And ruin the surprise? Besides, you liked it.”

Harry pouted at him and Snape ignored it. There was no point in denying that Harry had indeed been incredibly aroused.

“Answer me this. Would you willingly do it again?” Snape asked, waving his wand around the bathroom to put their small messes to rights again.

Harry thought about it for a few moments. His first instinct was a resolute no, but that was because he was exhausted from the ordeal. But the fullness of it had been incredible, and the strain had made the final release almost orgasmic in and of itself. Snape had said he'd had to retain it for twenty minutes the first time. How long would Snape require the second? The third? The tenth time? How much could he take? How much would he take just to please his mate? Because Snape had clearly enjoyed putting him through it.

“Yes.” he answered quietly, and Snape smiled. That was answer enough.

“Back to the sitting room, I should think.” Snape said, leading the way out. “You've still got homework this weekend and I very much doubt you'll want to do it in the company of your friends now that you might have to run to the bathroom every half an hour.”

“Definitely.” Harry agreed. He was suddenly very thankful for his plug, because he worried that otherwise he might somehow leak onto the upholstery. His whole body felt sort of quivery and unsteady. For now though, he curled up in his chair close to the fire and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

Now cosy, empty, and sitting still, Harry felt utterly drained but content. Quite the opposite of the distress he'd been feeling earlier that day at the latest Order meeting. Once again, his mate knew what was best for him, and had made everything feel much better.

Chapter Text

It was the night before the spring equinox, and it sort of seemed unreal. Most of the time, Harry was able to put the matter of Voldemort out of his mind, by focusing on other things. Especially since Snape had become his mate, he'd had an adult championing for him for perhaps the first time in his life, and Snape had done a pretty thorough job of taking care of things for Harry and sheltering him from most of it.

He knew that the purification ceremony was set, and what it would entail, and when they'd discussed it a month ago it had seemed fine, if a bit abstract. Even a few days ago, he'd known this day was fast approaching, but it hadn't really sunk in yet.

Now, the clock was ticking well past their usual bed time. It was midnight, and they hadn't retired, though Snape had insisted that they have a shower and slip into something more comfortable than their regular clothes -- which meant a towelling robe for Snape and an old blanket draped around Harry's shoulders, along with his usual jewellery.

“It will be fine.” Snape assured him yet again.

“I know.” Harry said, his eyes haunted as he continued to stare into the fire's flames. Though spring was on its way, it was still only March, and it was cold out. There would still even be snow on the mountain they'd chosen for the ceremony.

He hoped desperately it would actually be fine, and that the plan would be successful and go off without a hitch, and then he could rest assured that he had that bit of vileness out of him forever. Harry recalled the enema Snape had given him months ago as a fun distraction from the icky feeling of knowing part of Voldemort was in him. It had been enjoyable enough then, but he knew it wouldn't help anything now. It was one of the rare times his mind was not at all on sex.

“Are you certain you'd not like to try and sleep?” Snape asked him again. Tomorrow would be Thursday, a school night, and Harry as well as quite a few others would be missing school. To cover for the loss of staff as well, Minerva had scheduled an impromptu sexual education lecture in the Great Hall for the first half of the day, led by Madame Pomfrey. It was an excuse to keep everyone in one place without arousing suspicions, and it wouldn't matter that several key staff would be absent.

Harry would be the main star of the event, of course. There was also Snape, of course. Even if he couldn't contribute significantly, he would have been there as Harry's mate. But as it actually stood, Snape was one of the more powerful Wizards to be present. McGonagall would also be present, both as the new head of the Order, and as one of the more powerful Witches. Trelawney, as it had been her idea in the first place, and though Harry was a bit dubious about whether all her marbles were quite present, he had to admit that it was her idea to perform the ceremony to begin with. Of course she had to be present.

Flitwick would head the ceremony. He'd spent a good amount of his spare time researching the details of it with Trelawney and knew the most about it at present. Not only was Flitwick a powerful Wizard, Harry had always felt comfortable around the man. He felt good about having Flitwick lead.

Professor Sprout was a surprising addition, as well as Neville and Luna. Sprout had been asked by Minerva to join the ceremony, because she was one of the few of them who had actual experience with earth ceremonies and old magic like what was being performed. Neville and Luna also fell into this category, and McGonagall had capitulated and allowed students to come mostly due to Ron and Hermione. Those two were of course present because they would never allow Harry to go through anything alone. It gave Harry a warm sort of feeling to know he had such good friends.

And then there was family as well. Lupin was an obvious addition as he'd been involved from the start. Molly and Arthur Weasley would be there as well. After that, there was only the final addition of Kingsley, which Harry didn't feel much about either way. The man was nice enough, and apparently had power to contribute.

All in all, he couldn't have asked for a better team. But of course he was still worried.

Snape watched Harry a bit helplessly. He was nervous himself, more-so than he'd care to admit. He wanted to do something to help Harry forget what was coming, but it almost seemed insulting to try. What was coming was serious.

Normally, he'd distract Harry with something sexual at a time like this, but he could tell that Harry's heart wouldn't be in any sort of masturbation, or probably any of their normal sorts of play. He couldn't very well use the cane on the boy when he was due to appear naked in front of everyone in just a few hours. And he wasn't going to have Harry service him either, or fuck the boy, because honestly sex was the last thing on his mind as well.

Ideally, Harry at least would get some rest before the big event. But sunrise on the spring equinox would be at 6:15 in the morning. It would take them a good half hour to get to the site and set up, which took them to 5:45. Another 15 minutes tacked onto that to be safe. They would all leave at 5:30 in the morning, and it was already midnight.

They'd already had a late supper, and a later dessert. Spent some time reading, and some more time talking. Snape had trounced Harry in a game of chess. They'd had quite a late shower, and chamomile tea for nerves. Snape was quickly running out of ideas for what to do, but Harry had been staring into the fire for far too long as it was.

“Come on.” he said, rousing Harry from his unproductive musings. “To the bed.”

Harry blinked up in a bit of confusion. Were they having sex? He wouldn't complain, but he hadn't really been getting that vibe from Snape. He picked himself up and moved to the bed where Snape led. Snape was rummaging in his bedside table for something apparently at the very bottom of the drawer. He pulled out a little blue phial that was different from the lube they normally used.

“Lay out on your front.” Snape directed him, and Harry complied. This was the first such time Snape had directed him to such a position, and he grunted in discomfort, shifting a bit as he tried to find a way to lay that wouldn't crush his bollocks in their confines. Nothing for it though. In the end, he just had to submit himself to it and try to ignore it.

Soon, he had something else to focus on feeling instead, as he was surprised to feel Snape's oiled hands come down on his back and begin to rub in broad strokes. Snape straddled Harry's arse comfortably and began to slowly work the tension from Harry's back and shoulders with a sweet smelling massage oil that he hadn't used for anything in ages.

Bit by bit, some of the tension seeped out of Harry's taut muscles, and he relaxed into the bed. Down his back, over his shoulders and down his arms, Snape even worked over his hands and down each finger to the tip. Over the globes of his arse and down his thighs, all the way down Harry's legs to his feet, his toes. Harry had never had anyone pay such close attention to his body before, and it felt marvellous. He felt heavy and too comfortable to move.

But move he did when Snape ordered him after some time to turn over. Then, Snape started again, working shoulders and arms, over Harry's chest (and pausing perhaps a bit long on the nipples). Then down his torso, over the jutting hips, to travel down the legs again. All the while Harry laid with his eyes gently closed, losing himself to the gentle, firm pressure of Snape's hands.

When he'd thoroughly become a puddle, Harry's eyes snapped open when he felt Snape unlatching his cock ring and pulling it off. With Harry's bollocks dangling freely now, Snape was better able to gently massage those as well. His oiled hands slipped over the skin, pulling Harry's testicles low in the sack, thumbs pressing gently into each, one at a time. Slip, pull, press. Harry moaned softly at the sensation. It was erotic, yes, but even as his arousal increased his relaxation deepened.

Next, Snape moved the cock cap and it's small urethral plug, releasing a small stream of pent up pre-cum from within Harry's cock. He blended it with the oil as he stroked Harry gently, base to tip, base to tip, and repeat. Harry's groan deepened.

Finally, he removed the anal plug and set it aside. Snape oiled two fingers and pressed them inside, gently fucking Harry with them but without intent to get him off. He mostly avoided the prostate entirely, and just let Harry relax to the feeling of being penetrated and stretched, stroked gently from within.

After a few moments, Snape pulled his fingers out of Harry, and cast a cleaning charm on his hands and Harry's jewellery. He capped the phial of massage oil and set it on the bedside table as he moved up to sit against the the headboard, near Harry's head. Harry blinked up at him as Snape sat stroking his hair.

“Do you feel a bit better?”

“Physically, yes.” Harry said. His body was a puddle, and an aroused puddle at that. For a time, he was able to stop thinking so much. But there was no stopping those thoughts and worries from creeping in.

“Perhaps it is the best we can do for now.” Snape admitted.

“What will happen if the ceremony succeeds?” Harry asked while Snape petted him gently.

“With any luck, we'll destroy what's left of that shard of his soul. The Order believes it has identified the likely candidates for the last of the horcruxes and has destroyed several of them. A few others will have to be sought out to be finished off. Once that is done, there is little stopping us from taking on the man himself.”

“Dumbledore always thought it had to be me doing it.” Harry said in a quiet voice. “It's why he went so far out of his way to... prepare me, I suppose.”

“He 'prepared' you like a pig for slaughter.” Snape answered derisively. “There isn't a reason in this world why you must deal the final blow.”

Harry wasn't sure whether or not to believe Snape or not on that one, but he wanted to believe. He wanted to feel safe and protected, and he wanted to be done with all of this.

“And if the ceremony doesn't work?” Harry prompted. They'd been over all of this before, but hearing it again made him feel a bit more prepared.

“Treat you for any injuries suffered in the process. Try one of the potions next.”

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Twelve forty-seven.”

Harry sighed again.

~~~

They met just outside the castle gates at the appointed time. Once everyone was accounted for, they mounted their brooms and took off into the cold night. The site they'd picked out was at the top of a nearby mountain overlooking the lake. There they would have a good view of the first light of dawn on the spring equinox, as well as relative privacy and protection in the remote location.

Flying in was a bit tricky with their burdens. Snape had slung across his back a bag loaded with various healing potions, hoping that he'd have at least something useful should something go wrong. Several of the teachers carried among them the required props for the ceremony itself. The site at least had been prepared in advance.

When they landed, it was still dark and bitterly cold. It might have been the official start of the warm season but in the middle of the night, on the top of a mountain in Scotland, it was still cold. Especially after a flight. Harry chafed his hands to get feeling back into them.

“All right, Harry?” Remus asked him quietly as he came to stand next to him while Snape moved off to the side to help set everything up.

“I'm fine.” Harry answered. Fine enough, at least. He'd thrown up about an hour ago from nerves. But now that the moment was upon him, he just wanted to get it over with. He was much better at action than waiting.

When everything was in place, the assembled guests started to strip off.

“Merlin, Harry.” Ron griped. “You couldn't have done this on the summer solstice instead?”

Harry smiled through his chattering teeth. “Summer isn't about new growth and purity.”

“Spring bloody well isn't about purity either.” Ron groused. “I'm pretty sure it's about the opposite.”

Harry snickered while Hermione admonished Ron. She was blushing more than the cold air could account for, and trying very hard to resist the urge to cover herself up. The adults by and large were faring much better with the nudity than the students, though Luna was perhaps an exception in the student department. She seemed strangely at ease. At least, as far as Harry could tell; he was trying very hard not to look at anyone too long.

Harry had left his jewellery back in Snape's quarters in anticipation of the ceremony. He could tell that at least several of the guests were very curious to see him strip off, to try and catch he and Snape at something kinky or weird, no doubt, but he only disappointed them, looking entirely too normal.

As a final step, Snape removed Harry's collar as only he could do, and set it aside atop Harry's clothes. That, at least, they'd agreed not to remove until they had to. Finally, his glasses were set aside as well, and he was led into position.

In the buff, everyone assembled in a great circle in the clearing, and the ceremony began.

Flitwick began to chant something in some other language while everyone, save Harry, held hands. Harry himself sat cross-legged on the cold ground in the centre of the circle. Here, they'd cleared the ground of the last of its snow for the ceremony, because they required direct contact with the earth.

After a round of Flitwick's chanting, the circle broke, and Flitwick retrieved an iron bowl of rainwater, and proceeded to pour it over Harry's head while chanting again. Then Harry's turn -- a call and response he'd had to memorize, and was grateful that it was relatively short. He couldn't recall the exact meaning of it any more -- something about purity and spring and renewal. He shivered his way through it, teeth chattering in earnest now with the addition of cold water on him.

More hand-holding, chanting in unison this time.

Flitwick broke form once more to retrieve a special tea which had been freshly brewed when they'd arrived, and set aside under a warming charm. Rosemary and honey. Harry drank from the offered wooden bowl, and handed it back when he'd finished. It wasn't a bad taste, really -- it was hard to object to either of the flavours. But it wasn't exactly what Harry would call tea, either.

With the bowl set aside, Flitwick finished his incantation, and then it was simply a matter of waiting. The group continued to hold hands and focus their magic and intent on Harry, on what they sought to accomplish there. Harry himself faced the east, and everyone seemed to hold their breath as they waited. Any moment now.

Slowly, the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon and bathed the circle -- and Harry -- in their pale light. At first, Harry thought nothing was happening, but then he could feel the air around him thrumming with the magic of everyone present. The rainwater on his skin felt a cool opposite to the fiery sun which warmed him. Here, earth met sky, and Harry for the first time in his life sensed the elemental magic that was the beginning of all magic.

Just when the quivering air reached a sort of crescendo, Harry felt the most horrific pain lancing through his forehead, and he screamed, his hands reaching for it as all went black.

~~~

“Harry!” Severus was the first to break form, practically throwing himself into the mud at Harry's side while the boy continued to writhe and scream.

Lupin was holding him back, damn him, as Severus tried to reach for his mate. “Damn it wolf, get off!” he screamed.

All the while, Flitwick was racing toward them as well, desperately calling Snape off. “You know we need to finish the ceremony. Severus, listen to me.”

A few of the others continued to try and ring in the circle, still determined to hold hands and keep the magic going. Harry went limp and Severus was feeling faint watching him.

“What's wrong with him? What's wrong with him? Filius I swear on all that is holy --”

Flitwick was throwing large handfuls of salt to the ground while Kingsley erected a protective shell around them all and held it, lest something escape. Sprout joined Flitwick in some sort of chant and more salt throwing, and the ground seemed to briefly glow black, though such a thing defied sense even as it happened. Then all was still.

Lupin released Severus at last and Snape was on top of Harry in no time, summoning his wand and then running a litany of diagnostic spells. He called out demands for a whole roster of his potions to anyone who would listen to him, and it was Hermione who got them first and brought them over.

Snape had Harry in his arms and had cast a warming charm over the both of them, as well as a drying charm on Harry. There was no time to be wasted on fussing with clothes. Replenishers and restoratives of all sorts were eased down Harry's throat by Snape's capable hands. He cradled Harry to his chest and wrapped his arms around him, oblivious to the world.

Harry was fine. He would sleep for a while, and his magic was depleted, but he would be fine.

~~~

“Severus.” Minerva touched his arm after some time. “Kingsley is convinced we've destroyed the horcrux. We're finished here. We should be heading back to the castle.” she said gently.

Around him, Snape noticed everyone else had managed to struggle back into their clothes. Quite reluctantly, he relinquished Harry to Molly while she worked on getting Harry back in his clothes, as Snape threw his own on in record time. When Harry was at last dressed, he snapped the collar on as well, but pocketed Harry's glasses.

“I'll take him on my broom.” Snape announced. “If someone could please take Harry's broom back, as well as my potions.”

“Of course, Severus.” Minerva murmured, watching as Snape gathered Harry carefully onto the broom, wrapping a secure arm around the unconscious boy. Flying with an unconscious partner was difficult, but no one doubted for a second that Harry would get back in perfect health.

~~~

Back at Hogwarts, breakfast was finishing and Madame Pomfrey's morning lecture would soon begin. The ceremony hadn't taken much time at all, and had been rather an anti-climax after so much build up. Snape could hardly believe it had worked, though he was relieved. But seeing Harry writhing on the ground and screaming, as if under the Cruciatus curse, had been more than he could bear.

And it had been something like the Cruciatus, though Severus very much doubted that the actual curse had been used. But whatever had been done to Harry through that ritual had caused slight nerve damage among all sorts of other various types of damage or depletion. The nerve restorative was one of the many potions he was glad to have brought along.

Now, he was glad for the empty halls as he carried Harry down to the dungeons and to his chambers. He waved his wand to coax the fire back to life and without pausing, proceeded into the bedroom. He laid Harry down on the bed and quickly undressed himself, then Harry once more. He went to the bathroom to start the taps for a hot bath. Harry's skin was still cold and clammy, and Snape himself could do with the hot water as well. Standing in the buff on a mountain top in these temperatures was not recommended.

Getting into the tub was unwieldy and inelegant, but no one was there to see him do it. He sat with his back against the back of the tub with an unconscious Harry in his arms, his knees jutting out of the water as there wasn't nearly enough space in the tub for what was essentially two grown men.

Snape took up a flannel and some soap and began to wash the mud off of Harry's body from where he'd been sitting on the ground, then lying there. When he was satisfied with his work, he pulled the plug on the tub and carefully extracted himself with very little grace once more, working on drying Harry off carefully with a towel before blasting himself distractedly with a drying spell that tingled and left his hair full of static.

Back in the bedroom, he coaxed Harry's lax form under the blankets, and after only a moment's hesitation he crawled in as well, unashamedly wrapping his arms around Harry. Content to finally sleep, he spelled off the lights.

“I thought I'd lost you, you brat.” he murmured into Harry's hair. “If you scare me like that again there shall be hell to pay.”

At long last, after a night without a single wink of sleep, Snape fell into a deep slumber, with Harry in his arms.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up feeling as if he'd been run over by a Hippogriff. He blinked at the darkness around him, having no idea of the time. Harry groped on the bedside table for his glasses, but they weren't there, and neither was his wand. He sighed. He was far too tired even to accio his wand properly -- he could tell without trying.

“What is it, Harry?” Snape mumbled from behind him. Well, at least there was that, Harry thought, and the presence of his mate soothed his nerves a bit.

“What time is it?” Harry croaked, his voice rough with sleep and lack of water.

Snape reached the other bedside table for his wand and murmured a mild lumos to a few of the candles in the room, bathing the bedroom with dim light. As he sat up in bed, he realized it was cold again. He squinted at the clock atop his dresser. “Eight o'clock at night.” he answered.

“Merlin. I slept through the day.”

“I'm surprised you're awake already.” Snape told him. “Your magic is depleted and you've a number of other minor ailments that shall require rest and more potions after you've eaten. What woke you? Do you need something?”

“Thirsty.” Harry answered. Though now that he was tentatively sitting up as well, he could add cold and sore to that list.

Snape nodded. “I'll go get you something. Wait here, and I'll get the fire going as well. Do you think you could eat? You've missed three meals by now.”

“I don't know. Maybe something light.” Harry guessed. He didn't really feel up to food at the moment, but he was so lethargic and he knew he would feel a bit better if he could manage to get something down.

Snape wrapped his towelling robe around himself and slipped on his slippers. He went out into the sitting room and stirred the fire to life again, then went to his kitchenette to pour Harry a glass of water. When he came back into the room, Harry looked almost as if he'd drifted back to sleep even as he propped against the headboard. Harry opened his eyes at Snape's return and gratefully took the water.

“I don't suppose you could help me to the loo?”

“Of course.” Snape answered, easing Harry out of bed and into a standing position, taking most of his weight as he stumbled into the bathroom to use the toilet.

“No jewellery?” Harry questioned.

“When you're better.” Snape answered, and Harry nodded.

Back to the bedroom, and Snape insisted Harry put on one of Snape's warmest sleep shirts -- an old fashioned sort of gown that fell nearly to the floor on Harry's shorter stature, along with some thick woollen socks. “I won't have you jeopardizing your recovery.” Snape scolded gently as he knelt on the cold floor attending to Harry's icy feet.

“Did it work then?” Harry asked. “All I remember was this tremendous pain in my scar, and then everything went black.”

“It worked.” Snape confirmed, and Harry sighed with relief.

“Good.”

~~~

Snape escorted Harry out to the sitting room which he lit with the same dim light. With their missed sleep and lethargy, neither one of them was in the mood for anything brighter, and the fire provided light of its own. Snape summoned an elf through the floo and ordered them both soup, black tea, and warm rolls with butter. Comfort foods, but nothing too heavy.

Harry ate slowly, but was grateful for the warmth the food lent to his tired body. “You missed your afternoon classes.” Harry pointed out.

“I'm sure Minerva made my excuses.” Snape dismissed easily. “I'll go tomorrow. You, however, will rest. And no doubt Poppy will want to take a look at you, though I can run a diagnostic spell as well as anyone. And no doubt she'll have some criticism or other for my treatment plan.”

Harry smiled a bit at Snape's usual ire. “I trust you.” he said simply. He was sure that whatever Snape did, the man wouldn't risk his health. “Does this mean I can stay in your rooms on a weekday again?” he asked curiously. “Or are you going to send me off to the hospital wing?”

Snape snorted. “If I'd any intention of sending you to the hospital wing you'd be there now. I intend to keep you, though you'll have to make a short stop tomorrow, as I said. You may stay here for the duration of your recovery, though I'll still have my usual responsibilities to attend to.”

“Do I get to wear your clothes the whole time?” Harry smiled cheekily, though tiredly as he curled into Snape's soft shirt.

“As long as you need it.” Snape nodded. Though he thoroughly enjoyed the sight of a naked Harry in his rooms, one dressed in his own clothes was possibly a close second.

They took their time eating, after which Snape floo called McGonagall to let her know that they were both fine and both awake once more. That led to Madame Pomfrey finding out they were up and moving and she insisted upon making a brief house call, during which time she really only confirmed everything Snape had already discovered. Harry was forced to choke his way through several more potions and encouraged not to over exert himself -- which would be difficult considering he'd been in bed all day and on the sofa since waking.

When finally all the activity had died down, Harry was yawning again but not ready to try and sleep as he'd slept the whole day. It was still early -- he was just very tired. So they made a night of playing cards, something which didn't take much thinking or vigorous activity.

Before long, Harry was losing his focus even for cards, and Snape was ushering him to bed again. It didn't take too much encouragement, and Harry lay fast asleep under the covers, still dressed in Snape's shirt and his own woollen socks. Snape hadn't wanted to disturb him taking them off, and besides, Harry could probably use the extra warmth until his body recovered.

It was still too early to sleep for Snape, after sleeping the entire day away, so he sat for a while on the bed reading and watching Harry in his slumber. He hadn't realized just how emotionally compromised he'd become because of this boy, but he'd completely lost it earlier that day when he'd seen Harry in genuine distress. Now though, he was peaceful. And the future looked more hopeful than ever.

Chapter Text

June. It was the last day of school and the Hogwarts Express had just left with all of Harry's friends aboard it, and though he was sad to see them go, he was the happiest he'd ever been on such a day, because this year he got to stay behind. If he didn't want to, he never had to see the Dursleys again. He was staying the summer at Hogwarts, with his mate.

Throughout the previous months he'd had steady pattern with Snape. Weekends in Snape's quarters -- sometimes it led to sexual adventures, other times it was mostly mundane. The rest of the week included rather tame masturbatory sessions on his own time, as per Snape's instructions. Still the regular sounding rod, still the clover clamps.

But now, now Harry's mind flashed back to Christmas break, and how amazing it had been just to be around Snape that often. Not to mention all of the new things he'd tried at the time. Things had been busy lately, but surely now there would be time, and closeness. Nearly three months of it.

Harry practically skipped down the dungeon stairs toward Snape's rooms. He was surprised that the man didn't answer the door when he knocked, though he tried a second time just to be safe. Where was he? He wasn't on the platform with some of the other professors, seeing the students off. Harry had just been there himself to say goodbye to his friends.

Harry dug into his school bag and found his map, which he hadn't needed to use in ages, and quickly found Snape on it in the nearly empty castle. The Potions classroom. Harry frowned in confusion. Snape had continued to brew sometimes in a private lab much further into the dungeons than the classroom was, but there was surely no reason to start brewing now, and why would he do it in the classroom?

Harry made his way there, and when he peeked his head inside, he heard Snape rummaging around in the storage closet. There were things everywhere -- on every desk and across the floor. The closet had been half-emptied and totally mixed up.

“Er... Sir?” Harry prompted when the man didn't seem to notice him.

“What?” Snape spat out, in a foul mood.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked curiously.

“That incompetent fool utterly destroyed my organisation system. It'll take days to get this sorted. Not only is the place in complete disarray, but some of the ingredients are expired, others are missing....” Snape sighed heavily and set down a jar of what looked like eyes, and Harry squirmed as he swore he saw one blink at him.

“Does that mean you're taking over Potions again?” he asked in confusion. The man never told him anything. “I thought Slughorn was Potions now and you were DADA.”

“Albus only wanted Slughorn here because of his asinine plan to gather the man's pertinent memories and he was too principled to take them by force.” Harry swallowed as the implication of Snape's words hit him -- that was what had happened when he hadn't been involved. Of course Snape hadn't asked politely, but he hadn't really considered how it might have gone. Now he didn't really want to know. At least the professor had seemed outwardly to be okay.

“He lured me into that accursed position and fairly ruined the school's reputation in Potions by hiring that old fool.”

Harry wanted to say that he didn't think Slughorn was that old in the scheme of things, and to point out that hadn't Slughorn taught Snape? But he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“So then you are coming back as the Potions professor.” he clarified.

“Of course I am.” Snape bit out. “And you should be relieved that I tutored you in the subject for the remainder of the term because I expect excellence in my class, Potter, and I will not accept anything less.”

So, it was back to calling him Potter. Harry tried not to be bothered by it. Snape had actually been a decent tutor once they'd gotten into the routine. He wasn't patient or kind in a lab by any stretch, but Harry was a good listener and followed all of his mate's directions these days, so their new relationship had made a difference. Now, however, Harry had his concerns about the upcoming seventh year. He could only hope that things did not slide back to how they had been.

“So who's going to teach Defence?” Harry asked curiously.

“I haven't the slightest idea, nor do I care. I did my best to remedy all of your disastrous educations thus far but the matter is out of my hands. Hopefully Minerva can find someone to fill the post who is neither evil nor insane. That leaves mostly idiots, but there you have it.”

Snape was back in the cupboard, moving things around furiously, in a manner that Harry couldn't make heads or tails of. Honestly, he hadn't noticed much of a difference between how Slughorn had kept the cupboard and how Snape had, because he'd never noticed any pattern of classification of ingredients either way.

“She'll need to find a new Transfigurations professor while she's at it.” Snape went on. “And I imagine that'll be the harder post to fill. I can't imagine Minerva being content with anyone for the job that she could do better.”

“Oh.” Harry said, blinking. He hadn't really thought about the fact that McGonagall couldn't continue to teach Transfiguration and run the school. She'd done so for the rest of term only because necessity required it. She would have to give up her post as head of Gryffindor as well, and Harry couldn't quite wrap his head around someone else being in charge of his House. She was a permanent fixture in his mind, something that he'd felt had always been and always would be. The prospect of the coming change underscored Dumbledore's death once again, and though it had been months, the pain still felt rather raw at the realisation.

Someone else would have to be named Deputy as well, since McGonagall had been promoted, and Harry wondered who it might be.

“If you ask me,” Snape had continued, “the whole school needs an overhaul. Binns is useless. Hagrid likely won't be here many more years if his relationship with that French woman continues.”

Harry's mind reeled. Binns, gone? Would that mean someone would actually teach History of Magic? But surely the ghosts couldn't just... go. Where would he go? And Hagrid? Harry hadn't considered that the giant might move one day.

“... if there are Muggle Studies, there ought to be Wizarding Studies...” Snape went on, as Harry missed half the conversation. Overhauling Hogwarts? Changing around the classes? The professors? The head of his House?

Though it occurred to him that his final year was coming up, and he hadn't the slightest idea what he was going to do after. Where would he go? What would he do for a living? Hermione was always on about N.E.W.T.s, but if she'd said what she was going to do once she'd gotten her desired results, Harry hadn't been paying attention.

If all of these changes that Snape was going on about took place, the new crop of first years wouldn't even notice the difference. It was the end of an era coming, and Harry felt a bit distressed and melancholy thinking on it. The new students would miss out on what made Hogwarts Hogwarts for Harry, though he knew that his own experiences weren't really typical. Most students didn't fight trolls or three-headed dogs or giant spiders.

“What happens when I graduate?” he asked suddenly, interrupting Snape mid-tirade.

“What?” Snape asked, losing his train of thought. He scowled at Harry from amid his dusty pile of ingredients, a jar still in his hands. “what do you mean what happens? What always happens, I expect. Though I had been meaning to speak to you about your plans.”

“But... will I still live with you in the castle?” Harry prompted. “During the school year? What if I get a job somewhere?”

“I assume we'd work something out as we've done.” Snape said distractedly, obviously more concerned about his jars than their future together.

It stung a bit for Harry. He'd been so excited about the coming summer break, to finally spend some quality time alone with Snape other than their weekends when there was still homework and grading to focus on. And now the man was elbows deep in dusty old dead things and had said he'd need to spend days at it, not even giving a second thought to being with Harry.

And on top of that, here the man was saying he hadn't given significant thought to Harry's future with him either. While Harry hadn't thought about it very often or in any depth, he supposed now that he'd looked forward to some vague time at which he could be around the man all the time. Come home to him every night, make his tea every morning. Perhaps it was a bit disgustingly domestic of him, or perhaps just naive.

He watched as Snape continued to ignore him, bustling about his reorganisation project and sighed. “Well, I guess I'll just go visit Hagrid then.” he said quietly, and saw himself out.

“Be back for lunch!” Snape called after him. “The Great Hall stops serving over the holidays.”

Well, that was something at least, he supposed. Snape wanted him in his quarters for lunch. Because he couldn't eat in the Great Hall, as if it were a regular weekend. Really, did Snape want to spend time with him at all, or was this simply a practical concern? Would the man have even bothered to remind him about lunch if Harry had been able to actually enter the man's quarters on his own? Because even after all these months, Snape hadn't keyed Harry to his wards.

~~~

Harry had a good enough time with Hagrid. He really didn't visit the man often enough, and really Hagrid was like Harry's first family. He was certainly the first person he had any memory of treating him so decently.

The man had been in and around his hut, as usual. And as usual, there were a myriad of things that needed done around the grounds. There were the thestrals to see to, and several other magical creatures Hagrid was keeping at all times. There was the garden out back of the hut, plus Hagrid did much of the summer work in the greenhouses. And unlike Snape, Hagrid had asked Harry to help and had given him something to do.

When Harry came back to the castle in time for lunch he was covered in dirt and tired, but feeling a bit better than when he'd gone out.

Snape flicked his wand at his door when Harry knocked, admitting him, and glanced over as Harry came inside. “You're filthy.” he stated simply.

He himself had been dirty as well, and his clean robes and damp hair attested to the fact that he'd just taken a shower.

Snape had taken a shower without him. Harry sighed. It wasn't as if the man never had done so before. Most of their showers were separate, after all, as Harry stayed in his tower and Snape in his rooms. It was really only the weekends he'd gotten accustomed to sharing a shower with the man, and they'd stuck to months of routine in washing one another. It had felt so close, intimate. But this was only mid-day, he reminded himself.

“Go clean up while I summon lunch.” Snape instructed, dismissing Harry as he continued to bustle about the kitchen making tea. Harry had asked Snape once why he didn't just get it from the kitchens as well, but Snape had scoffed, and apparently found the entire idea of it ludicrous, though Harry had never gotten a sufficient answer as to why. It wasn't anything to do with wizarding convention as far as he could tell; both McGonagall and Dumbledore had ordered their tea from the elves just fine, and Snape drank what was served in the Great Hall sometimes.

Harry trekked into the bathroom, calling out to the other room. “Should I dress again, after?” he asked.

“What?” Snape asked distracted. “Oh. Yes, I suppose so. I certainly won't be staying here, though you're welcome to. The elves seemed to have delivered all your things to the bedroom, and we'll need to come up with a system for where to keep such a large volume.”

Harry sighed as he started up the shower and stripped off his dirty things. After months of travel back and forth between the tower and Snape's rooms the man had allowed him to keep a spare toothbrush in the bathroom and a few extra pieces of clothing on an empty chair in the bedroom, but as of yet there was no space in the man's dresser or wardrobe for any of Harry's things. No real place for his trunk, either, that wasn't terribly out of place. And he saw both his trunk and Hedwig's cage plonked right in the middle of the room on his way to the bathroom. He'd have to find somewhere to put it.

In the bathroom he picked up his customary flannel and Snape's soap. He'd always borrowed the man's supplies when he'd come down to visit, but Harry did have a whole set of hygiene products all his own. He would have to ask Snape about where to put those as well. Keep them piled up in his trunk? Or set them out for shared use?

Harry supposed he'd have to ask Snape about Hedwig as well. He figured she wouldn't mind staying in the owlery most of the time, but she had occasionally tapped on one of the windows in the tower to be let in -- sometimes to deliver something, but sometimes just for attention or an extra treat. Would the elves continue to feed her over the summer? Would she get too hot up there? And how would she get to Harry in the dungeons if she needed him?

~~~

When Harry emerged from the bathroom in fresh clothes, Snape was already sitting with his food, his nose buried in some Potions magazine. Harry served himself and joined the man on the sofa, full of questions.

“Are you going to key me into your wards?” Harry asked.

“Why should I?” Snape asked distractedly.

“Because I'm living here.” Harry said simply. “For the whole summer. What if I want in the rooms while you're working on something?”

“Point. I shall consider it.”

“And what about Hedwig?”

“Your owl? What about her?”

“What if she needs in?” Harry persisted. “Do you own an owl? I saw one in here once. How did it get in? Can she get in if she needs in? And will the elves keep feeding her over the summer or will I have to do it? And what if she gets too hot up there?”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He'd spent all morning dealing with the catastrophe Slughorn had left him with, his room was full of Harry's things, and he didn't have time for a hundred questions. All he wanted was a hot shower and some lunch. “Harry I know that you know the school has its own owls. They stay in the owlery all summer and yes, the elves will continue to look after Hedwig. The owl you saw me with before I had sent down by the elves. You'll have to go visit your owl in person if you want her.”

Harry felt gutted. Hedwig wasn't allowed to visit him here? All summer? He was quickly losing his appetite and pushed his chips around his plate, having barely touched the sandwich. “But what if she needs me? Or gets lonely?”

Snape turned his gaze to Harry with flat incredulity, and sighed at what he saw. The boy was actually genuinely distraught about his owl.

Harry turned his own gaze away, trying hard not to look quite so like a kicked puppy while Snape was scrutinizing him. He didn't want to let on how much it bothered him that he didn't exactly feel welcome. What had he been thinking, really? These were Snape's chambers, not Harry's. He was only staying over. After all, Ron didn't clean out his dresser when Harry stayed over at his place -- Harry's trunk simply got pushed against a wall and that was that.

“Eat your lunch, Harry.” Snape encouraged softly, seeing that Harry had all but given up on it.

“I'm not very hungry.” Harry said quietly.

“Nonetheless.” Snape admonished, and Harry started to make a renewed effort at it, though he was subdued.

“You weren't the only one busy at end of term, Harry.” Snape told him. “And though that's not an excuse, I do regret my failure to plan for this eventuality better.”

“It's fine.” Harry assured him. “Really. I stay down here all the time. We'll just do what we normally do.”

“We certainly will not. This is your home, and Merlin knows you've little experience in having a proper one. We'll need to rearrange the bedroom a bit to accommodate new furniture -- you'll need a wardrobe at the very least for your clothes, perhaps a small dresser as well. You can take the left night stand as well -- just move anything of mine out of it and into the right-hand side.”

Snape paused to think. “I suppose you can add what you like to the bathroom -- there's certainly space for it, though you needn't bother really, as far as I can tell. You already share most of my products anyway, but if there's something you'd like to set out, feel free.”

“Your chest and its school supplies can sit in the corner of the sitting room near the desk. It shouldn't get in the way there. And I'll take your owl under advisement. I hadn't accounted for the fact that you might want your pet in your personal quarters -- it's been a long time since I've had one of my own. Give me a few days to think about it and work something out.”

Harry practically beamed at him. He was really moving in? “You're going to get me furniture?” he asked excitedly.

Snape waved it away as a triviality. “I'll ask the elves to come up with something. The castle is massive and I'm sure there are spares somewhere.”

“Brilliant.” Harry said quietly. It didn't matter to him that it was just rearranged school property. It was his furniture, in his quarters. Snape had called this his home. Some of the tension he'd been carrying left his body. Perhaps it wasn't a honeymoon vacation but it was a start.

“Come place your hand on the door.” Snape said, setting his empty plate aside and moving to the front door. Harry trailed after and held his palm flat as Snape instructed, while Snape murmured an incantation and made some complicated wand movements. The door warmed for a second then went back to normal. “There. You're keyed to the wards so you can come and go as you like.” Snape said, just as easily as if it were nothing.

But to Harry it was everything. He'd wanted it for months, but had never said because Snape had never offered, and Harry being a student, he'd thought it might have been weird to ask.

“Now. I'm going to dirty my second set of clothes in one day trying to make sense of the storage cupboard. You can do as you like, but I'd prefer you finish your lunch first.” Snape told him, and moved to leave.

“Can I come help you?” Harry asked impulsively. “When I'm done eating?” he amended, because Snape had just told him he had to finish his lunch first.

Snape paused and considered. He hadn't really given much thought to what Harry would actually do all summer either, but now that they were here, he supposed he'd have to keep the boy busy and out of trouble. “Fine. But eat first.” he warned, and saw himself out.

It wasn't exactly a warm welcome, but Snape had never been a warm man. The important thing was, he'd said Harry could help. He'd keyed him into the wards, and he'd said that this was Harry's home. Harry sat himself down on the sofa and picked up his plate once more, his appetite returning. Even with Snape being his curmudgeonly self, this would be the best summer Harry had ever had.

~~~

Harry was probably more of a hindrance than a help in the storage closet, but he did his best to keep out of Snape's way the majority of the time while helping out when he was directed. It was dusty work, and Snape had him cleaning out old phials and dirty shelves more often than not, but Harry was content. If this was a precursor to how the rest of the summer would go, he could handle that.

Supper time brought another shower, after which time Snape bothered only with a towelling robe and Harry with nothing at all as they ate. Snape had ordered the elves earlier to bring the needed furniture, and now it was left to them to rearrange the room a bit to fit the new things in place. And really, it wasn't all that much work. Snape didn't have many belongings in the bedroom to begin with, and with no windows to beware of there was plenty of space for the new furniture against the far wall.

Snape dusted the old things and moved them into place while Harry began to unpack his trunk. He moved his own toothpaste and some deodorant onto the bathroom sink, and set about putting all of his clothes away into his new furniture. The bedside table he left as it was -- only adding his jewellery box to the top of it. He really didn't need that much space.

“Your boots are in atrocious condition.” Snape griped as he helped put Harry's things in their proper places in the wardrobe. “Don't you care for them?”

“What's wrong with them?” Harry asked. They were a bit dusty, but he used Scourgify if they got totally encrusted in dirt.

“I suppose it's my own fault that you know nothing of how to take care of your things. Those relatives of yours seemed to have taught you nothing of real use in the world. Bring them out to the sitting room, as well as my own pair, when you're finished.” Snape directed, and went out into the other room to dig around for something.

When Harry came out a few minutes later, Snape had a wooden box with all sorts of supplies in it. “This will be your first lesson in basic boot care. From here on, I expect you to take proper care of your own boots, as well as mine.” he said, and proceeded to explain every item in the box.

Harry had to unlace each boot entirely, though they were exceedingly tall. It was a tedious endeavour, and Snape admonished him when he started “ripping” the laces out, in Snape's words. A slower, more careful touch was required, though Harry really didn't think that pulling quickly was going to damage the fibres.

Next, there was a whole procedure for cleaning the boots, without using a single spell. Cleaning the leather itself, cleaning the bottoms of the soles. Cleaning the laces. Even deodorizing the insides when required. Then polishing was its own slow, steady task. Only after all of that was Harry allowed to painstakingly re-lace the boots.

“Aren't there spells for this?” Harry questioned as he worked on Snape's second boot, curled on the rug in front of the fire.

“There are.” Snape confirmed. “I prefer it if you don't use them.”

It was the way he said, it, something silky and dark in his voice, the made Harry look up at the man. What he saw in the man's eyes sent a frisson of something sexual through him, and he quickly turned his head back to his task as his mind spun. How could cleaning Snape's boots possibly be sexual? And yet now that the seed had been planted, it was. Harry's focus was locked onto his task after that point, as his subconscious and his biology interpreted the task as for his mate, in a very important way. He moved a bit more slowly and carefully. These were Snape's boots, and he wanted them to be perfect.

Even after he'd finished Snape's and started on his own, Harry was meticulous. Because Snape had ordered him to take care of his things, and Snape had bought the boots to begin with, and Harry himself was the property of Snape. All of it in some way reflected back onto the man. And it was Harry's task now to help maintain that image. By hand. Tediously. No spells.

By the time Harry had finished, there was a peaceful calm in the room. Snape had just poured them each some tea to unwind with before bed. “Put the boots away in the wardrobe, then I'll show you how to box up the boot blacking kit and where it goes.” Snape instructed, and after a few minutes they were both curled up on the sofa with their drinks.

Harry was peaceful, but horny -- though arousal was a near constant state for him, really. Still, he had to ask the question that had been eating away at him. “Was that sexual in some way?” he asked, still not quite sure how to make sense of it. It had been boot maintenance. Snape hadn't even been wearing the boots at the time. Hadn't even watched what Harry was doing, really, after he was content that Harry understood what to do.

“Was it?” Snape asked lightly, with a slightly raised brow and an amused glitter to his eyes.

Harry glared back, sensing he was being made fun of. “I don't know.” he huffed in frustration. “You made it seem... intimate.”

“In some circles, care for a man's boots can be the height of intimacy.” Snape divulged seriously, hands wrapped around his mug of tea.

“What circles?” Harry asked curiously.

Snape turned his gaze toward Harry. “Harry, did you never wonder how I came to be so well versed in so many unusual sexual acts?” he prompted.

Harry furrowed his brow. Now that Snape highlighted it, he'd perhaps known that it was rather odd. He knew, for example, that the things they did weren't normal sexual acts enjoyed by the people around them. But this was Snape. His mate. It always had just seemed somehow fitting that the man should know all of this. “I suppose you learned it somewhere.” Harry shrugged. He had no explanation.

“There are others such as you and I who enjoy some of the more... shall we say, unusual sexual acts. They are often, but not always, paired as Dominant/submissive couples, just as we are, though they are rarely compelled by a creature inheritance. to enjoy what they do. Just as I enjoy our activities as much as you do.”

Harry took the information in. He supposed it wasn't surprising that there would be others, though he'd certainly never met any. “And you used to... do things. With these others?” Harry asked, wondering now exactly how many other partners Snape had had through the years to become so proficient at so many things. How many other Harrys had there been?

“Yes.” Snape nodded. “There are clubs where people meet, and often perform sexual or power-charged acts with an audience. There are social conventions and protocols amongst various in-groups. A whole society based upon voluntary Master and slave relationships.” He smiled slightly. “I'm sure some slaves would be quite jealous of the fact that you have quite literally become my property in the eyes of the Ministry -- something which a regular Wizard can't have recognized, and so makes do with a private contract between partners.”

Snape shrugged. “At any rate, all of that is in the past, though I still do occasionally enjoy having service performed for me -- enjoy it in a way that is nearly sexual, as you've no doubt picked up on.”

Harry considered quietly, then asked. “Will you ever take me to one of those places?” Snape looked at him sharply, and Harry hastened to clarify. “Not to meet anyone, of course. Or even do anything publicly, really. Just... to see what it's like. I've never met anyone with a relationship like ours.” he added quietly.

“There is no reason for you to seek them out.” Snape told him. “You are driven by an innate biology, and though there are plenty of submissive Wizards who no doubt would claim that they, too, are driven by their natures, for you it is quite literal and unavoidable. It isn't the same. And as such, you've no reason to learn a roster of tedious rules and protocols to which you've not agreed nor sought out.”

“But do you miss it?” Harry asked curiously, wondering for the first time who the man beside him was, and had been. Snape was old enough to be Harry's father. The man had lived an entire other life. Harry knew some things about Snape's past of course -- something of his time at Hogwarts, his obvious connections with the Death Eaters. He knew Snape had been a professor for years and before that he must have gone somewhere to get his Potions Mastery. But that wasn't nearly enough to account for years of actual existence in the world. Of course Snape had dated other people, done other things. And Harry wondered now whether he missed any of that past life, and whether Harry was fulfilling those needs.

Snape was quiet for a few minutes while he really thought about his answer to Harry's question. At length, he answered. “I suppose there are some aspects that I miss, at times. It is not that I am unfulfilled, Harry. In fact, quite the opposite. You are more to me than any submissive I've ever had under my care, and you accept everything so willingly and beautifully. But I suppose there are brief moments when I recall that community, and wonder what they would make of you, and what you might make of them.”

“You could take me to one of those places and find out.” Harry said. “I don't mind. I want to.” he amended.

“I shall take it under advisement.” Snape answered, and was silent. Harry knew enough of the man to know he wasn't going to get any sort of real answer tonight, and so let off. Besides, it was time to have their tea, and in a short while they would retire to bed. Tomorrow would start Harry's summer vacation, and he was excited to see where it would go.

Chapter Text

Saturday was the first day of his summer vacation. Harry blinked his eyes open as the candles began to flicker to life in Snape's quarters. He'd gotten so used to waking up this way on the weekends that he didn't even really miss having windows. He'd see the sky surely enough later on. For now, he awoke in his dim, cosy nest.

Snape was sprawled on his back, mouth slightly open as he snored softly. Harry watched him for a moment, smiling as he enjoyed the sight. No one would believe him if he tried to explain that the foreboding man could ever look like this. Inching his way under the covers, Harry sought his target. As usual, Snape sported an erection in these early hours of morning.

With determination, Harry swallowed him down, and didn't waste time with teasing. This was satisfaction. A hard cock in his mouth and throat, as he struggled to swallow Snape effectively from such a terrible angle. But no one could fault his efforts. What he lacked in depth, he made up for with enthusiasm.

Snape roused soon after, and reached a hand under the covers to pet at Harry's hair. “You're awfully friendly this morning.” he mused sleepily.

Harry only moaned in response and continued his work, as Snape laid back and relaxed to his ministrations.

Normally, Snape would direct Harry's motions to a large degree, pushing and pulling at his head, or thrusting his cock in as he gyrated his hips. But Harry had caught him at the earliest stages of wakefulness, and so Snape let Harry have his own way this once. It was different -- more varied, more languid. A pleasant enough way to wake up in the morning.

After Snape had finally cum into Harry's sweet mouth, he sat himself up in bed. Harry licked his lips and grinned up at him, blankets dishevelled and the air chilled from the cold ground of springtime. “Brat.” Snape scolded him, and Harry only continued to grin. “You haven't stoked the fire nor made me tea. Now I shall have to rise with cold feet.”

“What did you do on the mornings I didn't stay over?” Harry queried.

“Suffered in solitude.” Snape groused as he braved the icy floor and began pulling on his clothes for the day. “Don't get used to this. I like my routine.”

“I know. I just couldn't resist.” Harry admitted, giving his aching bollocks a gentle squeeze as he watched Snape dress himself. Reluctantly, he began to pull on his own clothes. No sitting around in the nude today -- Snape had made it clear the day before that they had a lot more work to do on the storage closet.

Snape paused in his dressing to watch Harry, a speculative look on his face.

“What?” Harry asked curiously, pausing his own motions as well.

“Take the boxers back off.” Snape said with a sigh. “I suppose it's been well long enough since you've been milked.”

Harry's good mood depleted slightly. He hadn't liked it the last time it'd happened. It was weird, and he didn't get to orgasm when it happened so it was tremendously unsatisfying. And then he felt all empty afterwards, and less desperate. Really, it wasn't very fun. He'd take the ache in his bollocks if it kept things exciting.

Reluctantly, he stepped back out of his clothes while Snape finished up his own clothes for the day. “Jewellery off, cold shower.” Snape directed, getting the cock cage out of the toy box already.

Harry sighed. So much for a pleasant morning. He took off his jewellery with practised efficiency and braved the icy spray of water. Damn but it was unpleasant. Why was it his whole body was in agreement except his cock? It seemed to take the longest time to get with the picture and finally go entirely flaccid.

Still no one had tended the fire, and Harry shivered as he towelled himself off. It wasn't the middle of winter, but it was still spring, it was still Scotland, and it was still in the dungeon of a stone castle. Harry was cold and a bit grumpy as he hurried back into the bedroom, arms wrapped around himself.

Snape took care of business, locking the chastity device over Harry to ensure he didn't enjoy the procedure too much, and gestured at the bed for Harry to take position.

Harry sighed contentedly as he felt Snape's lubed fingers enter his arse. As always, they were a welcome intrusion. He groaned softly in pleasure at having his prostate pressed and rubbed -- it would have been absolute bliss if the cage around his cock weren't digging in and frustrating his cock's efforts to really enjoy the procedure.

Milking this way was slow work, with Snape determined that Harry not actually orgasm when he ejaculate, and Snape was a man of enormous patience. Time dragged on infinitely as Harry lost himself to the sensations, relaxing into the touch that went on and on. It was arousing in its way, but steady, not explosive. His hips rocked slightly in time with Snape's fingers, and a warmth seemed to spread through his belly and pelvis.

And then, there it was. The sensation that was as weird the second time as it had been the first, as his flaccid cock released a steady stream of cum onto the bed below, almost as if he were having a piss that went on and on. The building pressure that had been mounting in his bollocks eased, and Harry felt lighter, emptier somehow. And frustrated. It was June, and his last normal orgasm had been in October. The last before that, some time in July.

Harry sighed as Snape finally pulled his fingers free and banished the mess.

“Much better.” Snape determined, giving Harry's bollocks a grope as he released the cage. “Put your jewellery back on and get dressed.” he ordered, and saw himself into the bathroom while Harry complied. Harry took the bathroom second that day for his own necessary morning rituals.

Today, it was Snape who saw to the fire and the tea as Harry lagged behind. But soon enough, they'd finished breakfast and were on their way back to the storage cupboard to work.

~~~

Morning was spent sorting out the storage closet, and though Snape had complained that it would take days to have it finally put to rights again, they'd finished the bulk of the work by lunch. Now it was more a matter of taking inventory and ordering new supplies, but at least Snape could actually find most things again.

They broke for lunch and cleaned themselves up decently. Then Snape surprised Harry by pulling down a book from his shelves on common household charms, which he used to install a special flap on his door for Hedwig. Harry went and fetched her from the owlery and showed her that she could use it, and spent some time making her cage nice again in the corner by the desk.

Snape sighed at the owl invading his chambers, flying around and leaving feathers everywhere, softly hooting or rustling around. When he'd taken on Harry months ago, he hadn't bargained for exactly how disruptive it would be to his life, but he didn't regret it for a second.

Chapter Text

They developed a new rhythm. Harry was usually up before Snape, and as it was summer there was no fire to tend to, but there was still tea to make. Breakfast and morning rituals, and then a day ahead of them. Sometimes Harry helped Snape with brewing potions for the hospital wing or the occasional commission. Sometimes that help looked more like organising the storage cupboard or scrubbing cauldrons, or tedious ingredient preparation. But he didn't mind -- he was content to have something more to do than stay locked in a room all summer, or do chores for an ungrateful host.

When Harry wasn't helping Snape in the lab, at times he was doing his summer assignments. There were never very many of them, but he'd never had the luxury of actually being able to work on them before. His previous work had been a rushed bit of mess due to his things being locked away all summer at the Dursleys, and when Snape found out that was the reason for his sub-par work he'd not been happy. Now, not only did Harry have the time to set aside and work on things, but he had the benefit of an adult Wizard to look over his work and offer suggestions. It was almost like having a parent, except that Snape also fucked him.

It was just over a week after Harry had established his new routine with Snape that the man surprised him over breakfast.

“I need to go to Hogsmeade today.” Snape announced. “You shall accompany me, and we'll take our lunch there.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked in surprised. “Cool. What are we doing?”

“I've potions to deliver to the apothecary there, as well as dropping off a rather lengthy list of supplies required by Hogwarts. After the school business is tended to, I've a number of personal errands to run. Apothecary for my personal stores, book store, the bakery for a new tin of biscuits -- we're almost out of the shortbread. The tea shop of course, and possibly the wine and spirits store.”

“There's a wine and spirits store?” Harry asked curiously, racking his brain to conjure an image of it.

“McClaggens.” Snape elucidated. “It's past the river. Students aren't allowed to that side of town.”

“Oh. I thought that side of town was supposed to be rather seedy.” Harry said. He'd known it was restricted but he'd had the impression it was more like Knockturn Alley.

“Not all of it, though you are meant to garner that impression. We can't have students running around to get their personal stores of alcohol, though some enterprising student or other does find out about it at some point and manages to smuggle something in for a party.”

“What parties?” Harry asked incredulously. “Is this a Slytherin thing?”

Snape snorted. “Occasionally. All of the Houses have been known for it at one time or another. It wasn't too long ago that the Weasley twins put on a rather private affair in an empty classroom on the fourth floor. But no, usually it's the Hufflepuffs if you can believe it.”

Harry blinked as he took in that particular piece of information. “Hufflepuffs.” he said disbelievingly.

“Believe me, the alcohol is the least of what we have to crack down on with them. But I digress. Not all of the town west of the river is seedy, though some of it is, and sometimes that's desired as well. Rare magical items, a brothel, even a small private club that caters to those rare sexual tastes we've discussed. Though no sex shop -- you'd have to go to Knockturn Alley for that.”

“There's a sex shop in Knockturn Alley? Where?” Harry asked in surprise. He'd actually been in Knockturn Alley, at least a little bit, and he didn't remember seeing any such thing. “Wait there's a private club in Hogsmeade? And a brothel?” his brain caught up to all Snape had said.

“A small club, yes, and a larger one in Knockturn Alley. The same for the brothel, really. They're not at all illegal in the Wizarding world, nor is there the same type of stigma that exists in the muggle world, exactly, though one still does exist. It's more that it's simply not discussed in polite company.”

“Go back to the bit about the club.” Harry urged him. “Can we go? Can I see it?”

Snape eyed him speculatively. “There's nothing particularly interesting there during the day, though they do serve lunch. Perhaps I'll take you there to eat.”

“Brilliant.” Harry grinned. He'd take any excuse to see more of this world that Snape had told him existed. Aside from them, he didn't know a single other person who indulged in the fringes of sexuality. Though it was unfortunate he wouldn't get to see any of this alleged public sex Snape had once mentioned, at least maybe he'd see something, something that would tip him off to the fact that yes, there were others like them out there. He couldn't even imagine what that would look like. After all, they were a fairly normal couple when eating lunch at least, weren't they?

~~~

With breakfast finished, Snape began gathering his things for Hogsmeade, and Harry rushed into the bedroom to change his clothes again.

“What is it that you're doing?” Snape asked curiously as he saw Harry digging through his clothes to pull out his lightest possible long sleeved shirt.

“It's still been a bit cool out since a) it's Scotland and b) we've mostly been in the dungeons, but it's summer. I need some t-shirts or something for if it gets hot, and we'll be out walking today.” he complained, shrugging the shirt on. “You took all my muggle shirts. What do Wizards even wear in hot weather? You wear the same thing year round.” Harry complained.

“I do not.” Snape rolled his eyes. “This robe is light-weight and loose. The shirt, though long-sleeved is again of a lighter material that breathes well. We'll get you some shirts while we're out. And they will not be t-shirts. I'm not going to see you in anything so utterly tasteless. Put on your school robe for now. I'll order you some personal robes from a catalogue later this week.”

“I have to wear robes too?” Harry asked in surprise. “But school's out, and we're only shopping.”

“A proper Wizard is always in some sort of robe, Harry. You've just never bothered to notice before because in a school full of under-aged muggle-borns it has never made a difference. You're nearly seventeen now, and you'll need to learn proper decorum. As I said, I'll order from a catalogue. I'll even allow you some input over the styles, of which there are many.”

“All right.” Harry agreed easily. If Snape said that Wizards wore robes, then they wore robes. He suspected there was an awful lot about the Wizarding world that had completely slipped his notice through the years, and he was actually feeling quite pleased to know Snape was going to let him have some say in his choice of robes, actually. He'd half suspected Snape would just pick something similar to what he always wore and be done with it.

They left their rooms and Snape stopped in the lab long enough to retrieve a rather large wicker basket full of phials for the apothecary, and then they were off to walk their way to the village.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and Harry realized how much he'd missed fresh air and sunshine as he breathed it all in and walked with a bounce in his step. He and Snape had taken to going for a short walk around the grounds after lunch, but it wasn't nearly enough. He would have to make a point to go flying or for longer walks, or perhaps volunteer to help Hagrid more often.

This early, the air was still cool and the grass fresh with dew, and everything was lovely.

“If you're going to bounce you can carry the basket.” Snape told him, shoving the basket into his hands, which Harry took gladly. It did slow down his exuberance while having the benefit of burning off a bit more of his energy.

“This is nice, isn't it?” Harry asked with a smile.

“I suppose it could be worse.” Snape allowed. “I'm surprised it's not raining for once.”

“You make it sound like it always rains.”

“It's Scotland. Of course it always rains.”

Harry simply rolled his eyes. It was plenty sunny for him.

~~~

The first stop as promised was the apothecary, a place where Harry had never bothered to visit before. He'd gotten his school supplies in Diagon Alley and had seen no reason to visit this place in all of his visits to Hogsmeade. But Snape had to drop off potions and a list of supplies for the school, so he braved the dusty room full of weird smells and creepy jars while Snape spoke to the old man behind the counter for what seemed an aeon. Nothing they talked about made even a remote amount of sense to Harry. He might have improved in Potions, but certainly not to that extent.

Apparently the list had to be reviewed item by item as the old man asked Snape various questions about what was on it, giving his input and making little notes. The phials Snape delivered also required some sort of explanation. Harry was going mad with boredom by the time Snape finally wandered the store to pick out his own supplies and paid. Finally, they left for the next shop.

The clothes store they stopped by briefly was nothing at all like Madame Malkin's. Again, it was a place Harry hadn't bothered with because it was rather boring. All of the interesting shops for students seemed to be clustered around the centre of town and they weren't anywhere near Honeydukes or the Three Broomsticks. Instead, they were in a tiny shop with limited supplies and several pre-sized items sold as-is rather than tailored. Harry decided he much preferred Madame Malkin's and saw why Snape had taken Harry there in the winter for his things before, though it made little difference now when all they wanted were a few linen shirts.

The parcel was wrapped neatly in tissue paper and twine and Harry was required to carry it as they moved along.

As nice as it was to be out and about with Snape, Harry was beginning to have his doubts about these errands. His memories of Hogsmeade were far more interesting than the reality of adult chores.

The book store was their third stop of the morning. “What are we here for?” Harry asked curiously, looking around. Hermione would be in heaven, but Harry had never really gotten into reading in the same way as Hermione or Snape had. He could read for pleasure, certainly, but only if just the right sort of book dropped into his lap.

“Pleasure.” was Snape's only explanation, and he spent the next twenty to thirty minutes wandering the shop and reading snatches out of various books while Harry alternately tagged along looking bored, tried to peruse his own selection, or sat around waiting. Whatever caught Snape's eye, Harry couldn't seem to replicate the experience for himself. He mostly saw countless things he had absolutely no interest in. The most absurd thing about the entire visit was that Snape didn't wind up getting anything at all, yet still managed to seem more content than when he'd entered. It was a type of madness that Harry would perhaps never fully understand.

The bakery was next, and it actually did manage to keep Harry's attention. He saw a number of cookies and cakes for sale that he wanted to try and he almost couldn't keep still, while Snape only went to a pre-determined tin of biscuits he always kept in his cupboard and paid for them straight away. “Do you mind if I get something?” Harry asked eagerly as he eyed everything with wide eyes. “I'll use my own money.”

Snape checked his pocket watch. It was still fairly early in the day for sweets, but Harry was still a growing boy. He sighed in defeat at Harry's enthusiasm. “You may buy up to two items but you may only eat one treat now.” Snape said sternly as Harry grinned.

He got a rather decadent looking soft chocolate biscuit for immediate use and a tin containing two flavours biscuits -- half of them in pumpkin and the other half ginger. A rather tasteful purchase, Snape noted, considering what he'd imagined Harry getting. All manner of cakes and royal icing abominations. As it was, he might even try some of Harry's biscuits with his tea at times when he actually felt like branching into something off his usual routine.

Tea next, Harry thought. And then across the river. He would have had a bounce in his step again if he hadn't been carrying all of his own parcels and Snape's as well. The man had simply handed them off as he continued to lead the way.

The tea shop was every bit as dull as Harry had imagined it would be. He liked tea, he was English after all, but as long as his tea was vaguely tea-like in nature, he didn't have much to complain about. Snape, however, had his particular likes, and set about restoring his supplies with quick efficiency. At least they didn't linger long, and the parcel was only a small addition to Harry's burden.

Harry paid rapt attention when they were finally on the bridge and he took in a view he hadn't seen before. It really was lovely in Hogsmeade. More than a collection of shops, people lived here, and he saw people moving about their day to day. People running errands like he and Snape, people tending their yards, or going in and out of their houses. A little Witch hanging laundry out a window on a line attached to the next building over.

Perhaps one day if he had to live somewhere, he'd live here. When he'd been younger, he hadn't given much thought to where he'd wind up. He'd always assumed that most Wizards lived like the Weasleys because he'd not seen anything else, and perhaps in a vague way he'd expected to do the same. Settle down with a wife at some point in a little house in the country and begin making a family, because that's what people did.

Now, he had no such ideas at all. There was no Witch, no family. Only he and Snape, though he was happy with that.

Once Sirius had died and he'd found out he'd inherited Grimmauld Place, he'd rather pessimistically thought he'd wind up living there, gloom and all. For now, it was a place for the Order to meet, and he was too young to take the house at any rate. Perhaps one day it would be well and truly his to do with as he pleased, but for now he was glad it was put to other productive use and was mostly out of his hands.

“Didn't you say you had a house?” he asked Snape as they walked.

“I did mention it.” Snape confirmed.

“Where is it? Why haven't you ever shown it to me? Why are we both staying at the castle all summer?”

“You haven't seen it because there is nothing to see. The house is a sty, and a number of unsavoury people are aware of its location. It is safer that we stay at Hogwarts.”

“Oh.” Harry answered simply. Talk of Voldemort and Death Eaters always put a bit of a damper on conversation. “But what about in the future?” he pressed. “Will you take me there someday? Or will we always live at Hogwarts?”

“What has brought this on?” Snape questioned with a bit of irritation but also confusion.

“Just looking around Hogsmeade.” Harry shrugged. “It's nice here.”

“Ah. I suppose it is.” Snape agreed as he led the way toward the shops on the other side of the river.

~~~

It wasn't seedy at all as far as Harry could tell. At least not yet. It didn't have that same dark vibe of Knockturn Alley, though he did notice right away the rare magical item shop Snape had mentioned. Harry wondered if what they sold at such a place was strictly legal or not, but regardless, they passed it by to head for McClaggens.

Harry had no idea what to make of the plethora of alcohols available. He'd had a few things with Fred and George, and he'd had wine with dinner at the Weasleys once, but really he hadn't had much experience with anything at all. He wanted to point out to Snape that he was technically old enough to order whatever he liked at a regular pub, but the man still denied him anything whenever he had his own alcoholic beverage at night now and then. He wasn't really sure of Snape's reasoning, but he'd never pushed the issue, and he certainly wasn't going to start now when the day had been going so well.

Harry accepted the new heavy parcel with a sigh, wishing more than anything he could turn seventeen already so that he could shrink down packages like these over the summer without the Ministry having a fit about under-age magic. He wondered briefly why Snape didn't shrink them down for him if he were going to make Harry carry everything, but then dismissed the notion entirely. The man was capable of much love and kindness at times, but he was still an arse.

As they walked around town, Harry took in the sights as Snape pointed some things out. Just there in a lovely old Victorian-style house was the brothel, apparently. Harry almost couldn't believe it, glancing sharply at Snape to see whether the man was having him on. But no, Snape was serious, and Harry gave the building a second look. There was absolutely nothing he could pick up about it that would make him think those sorts of things happened there. Just a few homes away, he'd seen a woman with a child. Did they allow that sort of thing in a family neighbourhood?

They passed a grocer, a tailor, a pub of some sort, and came round to a park that overlooked the river on one side, with a view of the mountains in the distance, and sat down. Harry was grateful for the break as he set down his heavy burden. Hogsmeade had taken on a whole new light for him. He'd really only ever visited part of the little village, but of course there was much more to it. People lived here. They required a whole endless variety of shops and parks and places to live. From this vantage point he could see it sprawling off toward the woods on one side and what looked even to be a field or meadow in the distant south.

“I could get used to living here.” Harry mused.

“Perhaps one day you shall.” Snape answered him. At Harry's questioning look, he continued. “You'll need to begin thinking about what to do upon graduation from Hogwarts. A job, an apprenticeship perhaps. Opening a business of your own. There is no end to possibilities, and certainly some of them could be fulfilled here if you were determined to stay, though I would have imagined you'd want to travel a bit.”

“Maybe.” Harry shrugged uncertainly. “I wouldn't mind going on trips, but I don't really want to leave Wizarding Britain. It's my home, the only real one I can ever remember having. I'd probably live in Hogwarts the rest of my life if I could but it's probably impractical. Hogsmeade seems like a nice compromise -- getting on with day to day life, with the castle right there in the distance. It seems like the kind of place I could really settle into.”

“Not that I really have much of a choice as things stand now.” Harry went on after a melancholy pause. “Not until he's gone.”

“That will come soon enough, Harry. It's best to think of your future in hopeful terms, so that when you find yourself in it, you don't find yourself wondering how you got there and what on earth to do next.”

“All right then, what do you want to do in the future?” Harry prompted, calling Snape on his own advice to be hopeful.

“I already have more than I had hoped for.” Snape answered simply, and continued to look out over the river.

Harry didn't know whether to be warmed by the words, or a bit saddened. Mostly, he just wanted to keep giving Snape more.

~~~

Between the walk to Hogsmeade itself and the walking throughout the village itself, the time spent in the shops, and the time enjoying the scenery, it was heading on toward lunch time before Harry could blink. His excitement and anticipation spiked as he followed Snape through the cobblestone streets, waiting to see what this private club looked like. All Snape had said was that it was called The Bolt Hole.

The shop in question was in a very old, dusty part of the village. Most of the buildings were made of brick and towered in more ornate, winding configurations. The roads weren't straight and there were little staircases and alleyways going every which way. Down one of the alleys they came to an unassuming wooden door with a sign above it: The Bolt Hole. No explanation of any sort, no picture of what lay inside. There were no seedy boarded windows, no rubbish in the streets, no questionable-looking characters lingering around. It was a sunny day in June in a quaint village, and this was really not how Harry had envisioned his entrance into the fringe of society.

Snape knocked twice on the door and was admitted by a doorman in plain robes of neutral colours. The man was probably around Snape's age, though Harry had never been a very good judge of it. Everyone older than their mid-twenties looked about the same to him until they got grey hair or wrinkles. This man had dark brown hair cut in a short, run of the mill style. Shaven but with a bit of stubble, brown eyes. He greeted Snape as Snape led the way in.

“Good day, Sir. How may I serve you?”

“Just here for lunch today, Jason.” Snape said easily, and Harry wondered how exactly Snape knew the man. Was Jason always here to help guests? Were they old friends?

“Of course.” his gaze flicked over to Harry. “If you'd set your parcels on the bench, I'll have them kept for you until you're ready to leave?” he asked Snape.

“That will be fine.” Snape said, and nodded for Harry to set their things down. After that, they followed their host -- Jason, apparently -- through the small foyer and into a quaint dining room with little wooden tables in the centre of the floor and booths to the side. The walls were clean and white, the floors scrubbed hardwood. Off to one side of the room, Harry saw a man and a woman eating together and they looked perfectly normal to his eyes.

Jason led Snape and Harry to a table on the other side of the room from the other couple, affording each couple some relative privacy. He handed Snape a menu, ignoring Harry entirely. “Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” he questioned.

“Just water for both of us.” Snape said, opening the menu and beginning to peruse it.

Harry blinked at the reality of Snape ordering for him. He'd been to restaurants and pubs a few times with his friends, and he knew that this was definitely not the norm anywhere he'd been so far. It sent a frisson of something pleasant through him to have Snape caring for him. It was the most natural thing in the world. After all, Snape always chose the meals he had sent to their rooms as well, and Harry hadn't even considered questioning it, or giving his own input. Snape always observed what Harry seemed to like more or like less and did tailor the food around those preferences a little, but for the most part Harry wasn't picky and would just as soon someone else decide.

After the waiter left, Snape continued to peruse the menu and Harry glanced around the room. Again, it gave nothing away. Harry's own collar was on obvious display as always, but the waiter didn't have any outward signs that Harry could detect to give him a clue about whether he was in a relationship and what sort. Harry wondered whether he, too, was submissive in some way or not. Just because he was wait staff didn't mean much of anything -- most regular wait staff didn't know anything about this sort of lifestyle at all and they got along just fine, even with dominant personalities.

Over in the corner, the middle-aged man and woman were eating their food like a normal couple and talking quietly. Was one of them more in charge than the other? Who had Jason brought the menu to in their case? For the life of him, Harry couldn't detect anything at all that set them apart from regular people. And there was nothing in the room in which he sat either.

He glanced back at Snape to see the man watching him with an amused smile.

“You're not likely to find anything that easily spotted.” Snape told him.

“Why not? I've got a collar on, after all. I just thought maybe someone else would.” he said, cheeks heating slightly in embarrassment.

Snape nodded. “Some do, though our numbers are small and those that choose to display their inequality openly are even fewer. And as you can tell, this place is hardly busy on a weekday at noon. You'd see more interesting sights on a Saturday night.”

“Are you going to bring me back on a Saturday night?” Harry asked with a smile, but Snape was interrupted from having to answer by the delivery of their waters.

“Have you decided what to order?” Jason asked him.

“Yes. I'll have the shepherd's pie and he'll have the fish and chips.” Snape instructed.

“Very good, Sir.” Jason said, accepting the proffered menu back into his hands as he made a note on his pad. After that, he was off to fulfil their orders.

“Is that how it's normally done here?” Harry asked curiously. “One person ordering the food for both?”

“Often.” Snape answered. “Though not always. And not always the Dominant. Jason knows me and knows both that I am a strictly Dominant partner and that I prefer the control.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked, a million questions vying for attention in his brain. “There are Dominants who don't prefer control?” Harry asked in confusion, trying to wrap his brain around the particular phrasing Snape had used.

“Perhaps I wouldn't want to be bothered.” Snape suggested. “And you, knowing my preferences, would handle such tedium for me.”

“Like the elves.” Harry said with dawning comprehension.

“Like the elves.” Snape confirmed.

Snape rarely actually put in orders for their food at Hogwarts, Harry knew. He'd asked about it before. By now, the elves simply knew what his preferences were, and so that he didn't have to be bothered ordering a specific meal every time, they simply sent along something he'd like whenever he had food sent to his rooms. He only placed specific instructions when it was particularly important to him, but it wasn't something he wanted to decide every day.

Apparently, though, Harry wasn't to be trusted with the elves' duties while in The Bolt Hole. Or at least, as Snape had said, he preferred the control. Harry decided he preferred it that way as well. He could only imagine the immense pressure he'd feel if he'd had to order for both of them just then -- trying to guess what would most please Snape, with the possibility of disappointing him looming.

“Different couples practice different protocols. Sometimes those differ for clubs like this as well. I know one man, for example, who is overly fond of having his play things kneel at his feet and be fed by hand. Impractical for day to day life, but he enjoys himself in that way here. Or some of the more old fashioned couples have rules concerning who dishes food from shared serving bowls, or that the submissive may not eat until the dominant partner does first.” Snape explained.

“Do you have any rules like that?” Harry asked curiously. “Or did you in the past?” He glanced at the bread basket Jason had brought along with their water and wondered whether he were allowed to eat a roll without permission or anything like that.

Snape noticed and pushed the basket an inch closer to him to indicate his permission either wasn't required or was already given and Harry helped himself. “I have done at some points in the past.” Snape said with a shrug. “One partner was overly fond of rules and rituals. It was part of our agreement that such disciplines remain in place, and there was a certain novelty to it, I suppose. But in the end, I couldn't be bothered to keep up with it. Requiring my submissive to wait for me to eat first means that I require myself to pay attention to whether he or she does so. After a point, I found that I couldn't be bothered.” Snape said dismissively.

Harry turned it over in his mind. He supposed he was relieved that Snape wasn't overly fond of such protocols. Firstly, because it might mean that he'd been doing things wrong all along and would have a lot of catching up to do if he ever did find out the rules Snape favoured, and secondly because it meant that Snape wasn't really giving anything up by doing things the way they had been so far. But even so, there was a small part of Harry that was curious about the appeal of such rigid rules. What was everyone else doing in their relationships? How did Harry measure up? He'd wanted to come here in order to see others living like he did, but he wasn't sure now that he fit in at all. Not if everyone else had little rules and special agreements.

“Harry you have nothing to prove with me.” Snape assured him seriously as he watched Harry thinking too much. “I give orders and you follow them. I can think of dozens of submissives who could learn something from the simplicity of that directive.”

Harry was a bit reassured, but still disappointed that the restaurant wasn't exactly as he'd imagined, at least during the day. But he'd already expressed his desire to see more, do more, and he could only wait at this point to see what Snape would decide. “I suppose I just want to know about others like me.”

“And you had hoped to find that here.”

Harry shrugged. “It is a bit difficult at times, you know, when I overhear the boys in Gryffindor talking about who's gone to second base, and who's gone 'all the way', meanwhile the things that we get up to would probably horrify or shock them.” he said with a bit of a smile.

“Are you self conscious about it?”

“Not exactly, but I can't exactly relate either, can I?”

“No, I suppose not.” Snape conceded.

“And it's not just that.” Harry continued. “Do you remember a few months back at that Order meeting when you had me on the floor with your boot on my back? I know every single person in that room was... was judging us.” Harry said with a heated flush. “I'm not ashamed of it. As far as I'm concerned, if they have a problem with our relationship or with how my inheritance. has made me, they can fuck right off. But that doesn't make it any easier to live with. The fact that you said others act that way....” Harry shook his head, uncertain how to explain what it meant to him. Why exactly was it so important to him?

“I believe I understand.” Snape told him. “And I shall think seriously on all you've told me, and try to find a suitable experience that might allay some of this angst and isolation you are feeling. But I hardly think that having you strip naked in a room full of strangers and caning your arse while they look on would be the experience you're hoping for. I shall have to give your needs and desires serious consideration.”

“Thank you.” Harry answered quietly, though his mind turned over the scene Snape had painted. Perhaps in a pragmatic sense Snape was right -- he wouldn't really want that scenario to play out. But his continual low-key arousal was immediately interested anyway and he was having a bit of difficulty paying attention now that his mind was on sex. Thankfully, their food arrived, giving him something to divert his attention.

~~~

Full and happy, Harry had regained the energy he needed to walk back across Hogsmeade and back to the castle. It would be afternoon by the time they finally got back, but neither of them had any sort of pressing business so it didn't matter how long they took. And true to form, Snape forced Harry to carry all of their parcels as well.

When he got back to their quarters, he was sweaty and exhausted, and wasted no time in stripping off the overly warm robes and shirt. And while he was at it, the rest of the sweaty clothing he was wearing.

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” he called out to Snape.

“I'd be annoyed if you did not. You reek of teenaged boy.” Snape answered back, and that was enough permission for Harry who jumped in to do a quick rinse off.

When he came out he saw that Snape had removed his robe but not otherwise changed, and there wasn't a drop of sweat on him. Cooling charms no doubt, not to mention not lifting a finger to carry things back. Harry was more eager than ever to reach his age of majority so he could use cooling charms, shrinking charms, and featherweight charms as much as he wanted.

“Are we doing anything?” he asked curiously as he stood in the door to the sitting room, still towelling off his hair and without a stitch of clothing.

Snape took a moment to admire the view. “As much as I would like to keep you naked and have you entertain me, I have research to get back to. Being DADA professor for a year was not kind to my studies, and I've real work to do. And unfortunately, that also means you'll need to find some way to entertain yourself for a few hours.”

“All right.” Harry said, going back to throw on some new clothes, including one of his new lighter-weight shirts. No robes this time. “I'll go see if Hagrid needs any help. Meet back at supper?”

“As usual.” Snape confirmed.

Chapter Text

A week passed. Two, then three. Time was flying by, and it took Harry a while to realize what his problem was. He was irritable, and sad, and he couldn't account for it. He was with Snape practically all of the time. They had all their meals together. Woke together and slept together. Showered together. Rested together in the evenings. At times, Harry helped Snape with his work, at times they were separate, but by overall amount of time, Harry knew he was with Snape more often than he had been during most of the school year. So why was he feeling neglected?

They still had sexual contact, he thought. Some mornings when there was time, Harry gave Snape a blowjob. It wasn't often that Snape fucked him in the evenings, but a handful of times he had done. Other times, he had Harry play with himself in the usual way while he watched, but more and more often Harry wasn't feeling much satisfaction from it. Snape paid less attention over time, and Harry masturbated less often. He wanted the attention of his mate.

Friday night, he was determined to get it.

He'd been flirting all day, really. First thing in the morning, Harry had tried to feel Snape up in the bed, but Snape had simply rebuffed him and gotten on with his day. He'd wanted to get back to his experiments which were at a critical phase, and there wasn't time for it, he'd said. Which would have been fine, and Harry was trying his best to be understanding of critical experiments, but Snape had been saying that for ages, and Harry was beginning to resent Potions in a whole new way.

The attempted morning blowjob was similarly rebuffed, but he wasn't giving up quite yet.

The next time Harry saw Snape that day was during lunch. He'd been helping Hagrid again and had gotten a bit filthy, which gave him a good excuse to have a shower, and in his opinion a good excuse to prance around naked in their rooms wearing only his jewellery -- historically, Snape's favourite look on him. Snape had looked at least, and Harry found that encouraging. He was stared at throughout lunch and did his best to present himself in an attractive way. Though to be honest, Harry had never actually had to flirt before. He hadn't had much reason to or much practice before his creature inheritance. kicked in, and afterwards he'd mostly had Snape. And until now at least the man had been interested in him without Harry having to do anything but exist and follow directions.

Unfortunately, when lunch was over, Snape was back to the lab, telling Harry he could do as he liked for the afternoon and they'd meet for supper. Harry was left naked and alone and very frustrated, if not a little defeated.

Harry kept his clothes off and spent the entirety of the afternoon indoors, no matter how much he wanted to go back outside, because he was determined to be naked in their rooms at supper and he wanted to have a more casual excuse for being so. When Snape came in and saw him curled up on the sofa with a book and nothing else, he hardly even blinked before removing his robes and getting himself settled for the evening meal.

“Can we have dessert tonight?” Harry asked impulsively, remembering the time Snape had fed him alternating bites of parfait.

“Perhaps we can share some of those biscuits you purchased in Hogsmeade.” Snape suggested, and Harry tried not to show any disappointment. After all, he'd spent weeks trying to get Snape to budge from his routine enough to eat some of his own snacks, but the man had never been in the mood. But it was rather difficult to eat a biscuit sexily.

“All right.” he said, trying to sound pleased with the situation. At least they'd be doing something together. But then, spending time together wasn't exactly the problem. And unfortunately for Harry, there was also no sexy way he could devise for eating roast beef, mashed potatoes, or green beans. It was a rather dull (though delicious) meal.

By the end of the meal, Harry was getting a little desperate. He simply didn't know what to do to get Snape's attention. He supposed he could ask outright... but for what? What exactly did he want? Sex, yes. Attention of some sort. But he didn't want it to be a chore. He wanted Snape to notice him, to want to do something to him, with him.

What sorts of things did Snape like? His tea or his drink fixed a certain way, but only later at night and only when he asked. Doing the job well hadn't earned Harry any special praise, and he could think of nothing he could do now that would be special. As he watched Snape finish up his meal, his eyes landed on Snape's boots, and he remembered.

“Sir?” Harry prompted.

“Yes?” Snape answered distractedly, glancing up.

“Would you like me to polish your boots?” Harry asked.

Snape gave him an indecipherable look. “They're not particularly in need of maintenance.” he said carefully.

That wasn't a no, Harry thought. “That's fine. I'd just like to do it for you. If it wouldn't bother you.” Harry said, and he could feel the air thicken with that strange something he'd felt the last time Snape had had him do this chore. “You can even keep them on while I work if you'd like.” he suggested, just imagining how much more intense that could be, in spite of the awkwardness of manoeuvring around Snape's feet in such a way. Any difficulty would be worth it if it could keep Snape staring at him in that intense way.

“Very well.” Snape answered simply, and banished the dishes back to the kitchen with a tap of his wand.

While Harry got out the kit, Snape got himself comfortable with a book, but Harry very much hoped that he wouldn't be getting much reading done.

Harry set up his tools carefully as he knelt on the floor at Snape's feet. With great care, he began to unlace Snape's boot. He wiped any dust off the lace with a damp cloth and set it aside, moving to unlace the second boot. Snape's legs were there, his strong calves, his feet. The thick woollen boot socks the man favoured. Harry could feel his feet flexing slightly under the leather, feel the immovable heft of the boots now that they were currently occupied.

Gently, he placed one of the boots across his thighs and knees where he knelt, and began the process of cleaning the leather, feeling it warm and flex under his hands. He cleaned, then polished until the boot shined, and took his time at every step to find the optimal way to manipulate his tools around the boot so as not to cause Snape any discomfort or annoyance. It was different than it had been the first time -- more intimate, certainly. And more caring for the man himself while he worked on the boots.

He was aware of the dirty soles on his naked flesh, and it was awkward and slow work to wipe those clean as well with gentle manipulations. At long last, it was time to re-lace the boots, though honestly at this point Harry wanted to simply take them off of Snape and continue undressing the man from there. Even if it was just to give the man a foot rub. But no, Snape hadn't asked for that. And in fact, he was pleased to note by then that he had the man's full attention. Snape's impenetrable, dark eyes lingered on his every move. Now he moved and began the tedious process of lacing the boots up to the top again and tying them snugly in place.

“What brought this on?” Snape asked Harry quietly, his eyes still holding that strange emotion that Harry could never quite identify. Something intense, that sent a frisson of need through him.

“I just thought you'd like it.” he mumbled, tilting his head further down to focus on his task.

Snape reached out and gently tipped Harry's chin up, meeting his eyes. “I certainly did appreciate your service, but I'll admit it isn't your usual style.”

Harry shrugged helplessly, compelled to be totally honest with his mate even while he remained cautious. “You've been ignoring me.” he confessed, his stomach twisting with worry at saying such a thing.

“Ignoring you?” Snape asked in confusion. He'd been with Harry every day, and they'd spent time together, had conversations. And there had always been some form of sex or physical affection. What had he missed?

“Sort of.” Harry squirmed with discomfort as he tried to find a way to explain it. “I want to do so much for you. So much to you.” he confessed with a blush. “And there's so much I want you to do to me, but I want you to want to. You've been....” he shrugged again, growing frustrated with his inability to articulate the problem well. “Bored, I suppose.” he ended lamely.

“I suppose I have been distracted of late.” Snape allowed, reviewing the past days and the distraction of his research. He hadn't realized that all was not well with his Incubus, and that was a problem he was going to have to remedy. “What are these things you say you wish to do to me?” Snape asked curiously.

“Anything.” Harry said eagerly. “Everything. I want to taste every inch of your body, touch you everywhere.” He wanted to be more specific, but he couldn't. If he thought of licking Snape one place, he thought of another, and there was no part of the man's body he didn't want to consume in some way it seemed. “And I want you to want me. Sexually, not sexually, everything. If it's cleaning your boots or something... scrubbing the floors? Whatever. Whatever it is that'll gain your attention again, your approval, I’ll do it.”

“Harry.” Snape said gently, his whole presence softening slightly at the sight before him. “I don't need a house elf.” he told him, and saw Harry wilt a bit in defeat. “But I shall take your words to heart. What is it you'd like to try right now, this very moment?” he prompted.

“Kiss me?” Harry asked hopefully, his whole body flushing with desire at the thought of it. For Snape had never kissed him, not once in all the months they'd been together. Well, he'd pressed a kiss to Harry's head now and again, but they'd never actually touched lips.

“Come here.” Snape coaxed him, and Harry climbed off of the floor and into the man's lap, straddling his hips with a knee to either side. Snape tipped Harry's chin up, and with a single finger under the chin to guide him, pulled Harry in to press his lips softly against his own. It was gentle at first, sweet even, barely a touch of lips as their breaths mingled. Then Snape pressed forward more firmly as his lips moved against Harry's, sucking a bit at his lower lip.

Harry let out a soft sound, too gentle to quite be considered a moan, but pleasant, as he melted into Snape's lap. Instinctively he pressed forward for more. It was as if he'd been dying of thirst, and Snape was a well he could drink from, and drink he did. Harry's mouth parted willingly as Snape's tongue came to press its way in. This was beyond any of the sexual encounters they'd had so far, Harry decided. It was better, more intimate, or differently intimate. Here, he poured out all of his feelings for Snape, tried to express with his returning kisses everything that the man meant to him.

To Harry's delight, he felt Snape's cock firming beneath his arse as they continued. Snape became more forceful, dominating the kiss, drinking him in, and Harry was sure he could go on like this forever. He didn't need to breathe, to eat, to sleep. Just this.

It had been quite a while since the last time Snape had properly snogged anyone, and he was reminded now how lovely it could be with the right partner. Harry was the perfect treat -- so receptive, but yielding when encouraged to yield. His hand came around to cup Harry's bare arse, and his fingers trailed along the edge of the metal plug. He almost took Harry's adornments for granted at times, but now he allowed himself to acknowledge them, enjoy them. Harry wore these things for him day in and day out, because he had ordered it so.

While they continued to kiss, with one hand Snape deftly opened his trousers and released his cock from the confines of his pants. Reaching around, he eased Harry's plug out and set it aside. Harry, catching on, allowed himself to be repositioned, and hissed into their kiss as he slowly sank down to impale himself on Snape's cock. No extra stretching, no extra lube. He'd done it several times by now, but it was always a bit of a challenge even for him, as his arse struggled to stretch and accommodate.

Harry moaned into Snape's mouth as he gently rocked up and down, and Snape's hands seemed to be everywhere. His hips, his nipples, his cock, his bollocks, his arse. Even tangling in his hair now and then as Snape tilted his head this way or that to better plunder his mouth. And it was so, so good. Not only because it had been some time since he'd had the full focus of his mate on him like this, but also because he'd never actually fucked while kissing until now. It was brilliant, and Harry vowed to try for it whenever Snape would give him half a chance.

What shocked him the most, however, was when he felt Snape's hands coming down between them to first remove his cock cap, and then the ring, leaving him painfully erect and more than ready to cum. Was he really going to allow it? Harry's mind shorted out at the thought, and he lost himself in the bliss of ever deepening thrusts, quick and plundering as Harry had to grip Snape's shoulders for support as Snape began to thrust his own hips in tandem.

With a tremendous shudder, Harry felt himself finally release, cumming wetly between them. He gave a shout of pleasure at the feeling and his body went rigid. He couldn't respond to Snape's kisses or continue to move his hips, he could only hold on and endure the rapturous sensations that coursed through him. Soon he felt Snape releasing inside him as well, and that only made it better.

Harry couldn't think, could hardly see, and thought that his heart might burst out of his chest as he took gasping breaths and continued to tremble in the aftermath of his orgasm. It was July now, and he hadn't cum, really cum in the traditional way, since October. This was only the second such event he'd had since Snape had taken him on all those months ago. He almost wanted to weep with the satisfaction of it.

“All right, Harry?” Snape asked as he watched Harry fall apart in his lap. His hand came between them to gently stroke Harry's still sensitive cock as Harry gave another violent tremble at the over-stimulation.

“Brilliant.” Harry gasped out, as he wriggled in Snape's grasp, his body instinctively shying away from the intense sensation.

But what was the fun in allowing Harry such a great release if he didn't follow it up? Snape smiled in amusement as he continued to stroke, focusing most of his attention on the delicate head of Harry's cock as Harry writhed in his grasp, unused to such treatment. He was delightful this way.

“S-sir.” Harry gasped, his grip tightening on Snape's shirt as he tried desperately to hold still for the man. But the sensations were so intense that they bordered on pain. “I... I can't.” he gasped out as Snape cruelly continued pleasuring him.

Snape chuckled in amusement. “You can. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if you came a second time, were I go on long enough.” Snape tightened his grip slightly as his movements became more focused. “Shall we test that theory?”

Harry let out a desperate sort of whine, his face scrunched in pleasure-pain. His thighs locked against Snape's hips as he tried to hold himself still, tried to endure or process or at least let it happen. “Please, please, please, please...” became his litany of mumbled pleas as he couldn't decide whether to ask Snape to stop or to help him in some way.

In the end, Harry couldn't keep still and Snape had to hold him firm as he wriggled around on his lap. Once Snape had finally gone completely soft and slipped free of Harry, there was really very little to hold him in place but his squirming didn't annoy Snape -- it simply added to his fun as he continued to stroke Harry off. His pleas for help of some sort had degenerated into a series of embarrassing shrieks and whines. And then it happened, Harry gave a great shudder and his cock spurted wetly for the second time that night, though with far less volume than the first.

He clung to Snape's shirt, his hands balled into tight fists and he bit his lip as he grunted with the sensation of an almost painful orgasm. After so long doing without the experience was so longed for, and yet with this torture he was still desperate to get away. His eyes watered and his whole body twisted and twitched with the second climax, until finally, finally he was released.

Snape kissed him once again. First on his forehead which was in easy reach, and then he tilted Harry's head up to press one last gentle kiss to Harry's lips.

Snape reached for his wand and banished the mess between them. “Be careful what you wish for.” Snape warned him, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “You wanted my attention. Is it everything you'd hoped for?”

“Yes.” Harry answered honestly, meeting Snape's eyes. It was just the sort of ruthless pleasure he longed for from this man. Being the focus of Snape's attention was like a drug.

“Incorrigible.” Snape teased him, and Harry smiled tiredly. He felt absolutely exhausted, but content.

Snape handed Harry his jewellery. “Clean up and put them back.” he instructed, doing up his clothes again as Harry moved out of the way to go get his wand and some lubricant. The jewellery felt like an afterthought now. He had, at times, worried that he wasn't even capable of cumming regularly any longer, but tonight had certainly put that fear to rest. Everything felt perfectly normal.

While Harry worked on putting everything back on himself in the bathroom, for the first time in months he didn't really feel like wearing it all. Strange, considering it had almost become a part of him. But his orgasm had left him feeling so languid and relaxed, and now he had to firm up his erection all over again in order to insert the penis plug. The constant sexual tension could be very draining, he was beginning to realize.

As long as Harry got some sort of physical affection from his mate, he wouldn't suffer any of the symptoms he had beforehand from lack of sex. But he was still a man, and keeping on that edge at all times was a bit tiring for anyone. He sighed as he fixed the last piece of jewellery in place, then went out to join Snape again on the sofa.

“Perfect.” Snape said admiringly, as he reached out to caress Harry's taut bollocks. Harry glowed at the attention and changed his opinion on the jewellery immediately. Snape thought he was perfect.

Snape took out his book to read as usual, and Harry did the same, but tonight Snape pulled Harry in to cuddle as they read. Harry sighed contentedly and snuggled in close.

Chapter Text

“Take a shower, we're going out.” Snape instructed Harry as he came in for supper that evening. Harry blinked for a moment, then moved into action. They weren't showering together? That was unusual. But Snape was already showered and dressed in a rather sharp ensemble. You had to know the man to know how his clothes differed at all, but Harry had made a habit of paying close attention over the past months. These trousers were just a little bit more flattering than his usual fare, and the fabric seemed to be pricier somehow. His shirt was silky and expensive looking. And those robes were some of his best. Still clad in all black, he looked to be the same man he always was, but Harry knew something was up. Were they going to a fancy restaurant to eat, then?

Harry showered quickly and efficiently, and when he came into the bedroom to dress he saw that Snape had already laid out clothes for him on the bed. His most form-fitting trousers, which were dark grey, almost black. One of his new linen shirts -- the brown one that Snape seemed to be fond of, though Harry couldn't for the life of him figure out why the man would like him in brown. It had to be something to do with the cut, though Harry didn't know much about that either. But again, the man was having them dress up, and Harry itched to know what for.

They walked to the Hogwarts gates and Snape Apparated them to their destination, which Harry immediately recognized as The Bolt Hole. It was a Saturday night, he realized with a start. They were here. It was happening. But what exactly was happening?

Snape rapped twice at the entrance door and was admitted immediately by someone who wasn't Jason, though Harry couldn't say more than that. The foyer was busy and much louder than it had been before, and they were led into the dining room at Snape's request for a meal. All around him, Harry saw people this time. People in dress robes and people in outlandish costumes. People in varying states of undress. Couples and groups of every gender configuration. It was a lot to take in.

He followed Snape to their table in a bit of a daze, and was glad that Snape was handling things because he didn't even notice the menu getting handed off or the waiter being sent away to get them drinks. He hadn't even heard the order.

At one table, a man older than Snape had two different young ladies at his feet, both barely dressed and fawning over him as he fed them little bits of fruit or cheese by hand. At another table just next to that scene, however, two men and two women were all dining together, and Harry couldn't tell if any of them were dating at all or not. They were all dressed perfectly normally, and he couldn't detect a thing. At another table, he saw two men, and his heart raced when he realized that one of them was wearing a thick black leather collar. Someone like him, though nothing else in their behaviour gave him any hints as to what they might be like.

“Eyes on me, Harry.” Snape's silky, level voice caught his attention, and he turned his focus back to Snape. The man was mostly perusing the menu, though Harry had no doubt that he'd already selected what he was going to order for both of them.

“Now then. Tonight, there will be rules. You may look your fill, but you may not interfere, and you certainly may not touch. Similarly, should anyone touch you, you are to inform me immediately. Touching without permission is not a casual event in this club, it is a serious infraction, and I do not expect it to happen.”

“Should anyone invite you to do anything, try anything, even watch anything, you are to seek my permission first. Should anyone ask any decision of you whatsoever, you are to inform them that you're my property and they are to consult me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered, his excitement and nerves ratcheting up by the second.

“Feel free to look around, observe, explore. There is much to see, and I won't begrudge you for being curious. However, your attention should always be partially on me. I do not want to have to fight for your attention. If I speak, you listen. If I move, you follow.

“Regarding safety: this establishment caters to Witches and Wizards with certain sexual tastes, and these tastes do not discriminate, so neither does the club. Therefore you may see individuals with unsavoury connections. Do not panic, but do keep alert to your surroundings. I do not expect trouble but one can never be too cautious. Questions?”

Harry's head swam with questions. “Er, what is it we're going to do here tonight?” he asked cautiously.

“First we're going to eat some supper. Then we'll adjourn to the play area downstairs where you can see some of what goes on in a place like this, though at least at first I intend to sit in the lounge area to the side of the room and relax with a drink. As to whether we'll do anything more than observe the proceedings -- I have not yet decided.”

Before Harry could respond in any way, the waiter reappeared and took Snape's order, dropping off some glasses of water and some fresh rolls and butter for them.

“Two orders of the chicken parmesan.” Snape said, handing off the menu. Harry, as before, was completely ignored by the waiter as he took their orders and hurried away.

They took their time with the bread and water. Normally, Snape might indulge himself in some wine if out to eat, but tonight he needed a level head, and he planned to have one drink in the dungeon space anyway.

When the food finally came, Harry barely tasted it. He was too busy watching everyone and everything around him, while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on Snape as directed. Not only was he curious to see the others, but the others were curious to see him as well. Some of it, no doubt, was because he was Harry Potter, and people had a tendency to recognize him sooner or later. But some of the looks showed a certain recognition of Snape as well, and a curiosity about Harry that wasn't usually really there. People tended to herald him as a hero, not want to actually see him. But here, it was as if at least half of the room was waiting to see what he would do as well, to see what he was like. It made him nervous in a way. What was he expected to do? Snape's rules were so simple to follow, but would that be enough to earn him some sort of respect among this crowd? Harry so desperately wanted acceptance of a sort from people at least remotely like him.

Of course, news of Harry's creature inheritance had hit the papers months ago, as well as the fact that he had a bonded mate in Severus Snape. It was why Snape had had to quit the Death Eaters, after all. How much of their curiosity was due to the fact that Harry belonged to Snape, and how much of it was curiosity to see an actual Incubus?

~~~

Snape took his time eating, and when he'd finished he finally led Harry out of the room, back through the entranceway, and to a set of stairs leading down. Already, Harry could hear moaning of some sort, as well as a steady thwack of something hitting something else. It would have been concerning only months ago, but Harry could now bring to mind several ways in which such a thwack wouldn't necessarily be unpleasant. He itched to see what was going on.

It turned out, everything was going on. The dungeon was a riot of noise, dim lighting, and bodies. Harry's mouth went dry. It was definitely more common to be undressed than to be clothed down here, and the air was positively stifling hot. He wondered if that was because everyone wanted to be naked and needed the heat, or whether it was to encourage the clothes to come off. Already, he felt a trickle of sweat down his neck, though some of that might have been from arousal.

A man was tied to a big wooden X and was being thrashed to within an inch of his life with a long whip by a rather terrifying looking woman. There off in a dim corner, one man was almost certainly buggering another, in full view of everyone, up against a wall. In the centre of the room, a man was tying up a woman with more rope than Harry had ever seen in one place, with a series of complex knots, by hand, not by spell. And there to the side, one woman was drawing her wand along another as little blue sparks shot off. He couldn't tell by the recipient's sounds whether she liked the sensation or not.

Harry's mind locked back into gear. Where was his mate? He quickly caught sight of Snape again, just two feet away. He hurried to catch up and stick close to the man's side. Snape headed off to the left side of the room where things were a bit quieter, and sidled up to a bar.

A grisly looking man with a crooked smile cracked that crooked smile at Snape. “Severus.” he said in a rough voice. “It's been a while. I was starting to think we'd see more of your new sub in the papers than in person.” he said, his gaze flicking over to Harry. Harry nervously shifted a faction behind Snape, wondering exactly what the bar tender was thinking about him.

“Riley.” Snape answered simply by way of greeting, and Harry wondered whether it was the man's first or last name. “This is Harry, as I'm sure you already know. And he's not only my 'new' submissive, he's my final.”

Riley raised a sceptical brow. “I can certainly understand wanting to keep him. The Harry Potter. An Incubus of your very own. But you're a hard man to live with, Severus. How long until this one has one too many infractions?”

Snape snorted and waved his hand dismissively. “Harry obeys without question. There are no infractions.”

Riley looked unconvinced, and again turned his gaze at Harry as if to get a better look at the supposed perfect sub, who could please even Severus Snape, a man whose standards were nearly impossible to meet.

“Are you going to stand there ogling my property all night or are you going to get me a scotch?” Snape asked, and Riley turned his eyes back to his bar, fixing Snape his customary drink. He held it in his hands and turned to lean his back against the bar, elbows behind him as he leaned a bit against the counter to look out at the room. Harry seemed uncertain where to stand or what to do, and Snape merely pointed at the ground at his feet.

Harry sank down to kneel next to Snape, grateful for the direction. He laid one hand gently on one of Snape's boots as he turned his own gaze out to watch the room, confident that if Snape moved or wanted him he'd notice. This was a comfortable spot, a safe place from which to view the goings on.

Above Harry, Riley had watched the quick exchange. “He's quick.” he commented, and Snape simply grunted.

“How long did it take you to train him to that kind of obedience?” Riley questioned.

“You don't know much about Incubi do you?” Snape responded. “They come that way -- it's in his nature.”

“And you just lucked into him?” Riley shook his head in disbelief or envy.

Snape smirked. “Give the boy some credit. An Incubus' nature will only select for him the right sort of potential mate. In essence, he deemed me trustworthy.”

Riley snorted at that. “Merlin help him.” he joked.

~~~

Harry half listened to the conversation above him, but his attention was mostly fixed on something across the room. There was a young man not much older than Harry himself on the floor -- he couldn't have been older than his twenties. And he was being thoroughly abused by the man he was with, or so it seemed to Harry, though no one really gave it a second glance. The perpetrator of this abuse was a man significantly older than him, stronger, larger. Superficially, they were a couple so much like he and Snape.

Harry could only hear snatches of words at this distance, but he chilled at the words he did hear. “You little cunt...” was part of it. And later a husky laugh, and “like that”. On the ground, the younger man had been made to crawl, his trousers around his knees. Harry hadn't caught what got him in the position to begin with. The man was painfully aroused in spite of the abuse, and it looked like cum had landed on his face, dripped from his swollen lips. The older man gave him a solid kick in his ribs, causing him to stumble and fall onto his side, struggling with his clothes and to crawl to wherever the man was demanding.

Harry couldn't tear his gaze away. The scene was equally upsetting and arousing and it all made him very confused. He couldn't hear the words now but he could hear the mocking tone in the older man's voice, and he could see the flush of humiliation on the younger. Unknowingly, Harry tightened his grip on Snape's boot enough to get the man's attention. Snape looked down to see Harry clutching at him a bit desperately, his body taut and his gaze fixed across the room. It only took him a moment to see where Harry's gaze led.

“All right, Harry?” he asked, carding his fingers through Harry's hair to get his attention.

Harry blinked back to the present moment and looked up at Snape, then back across the room.

“Is he okay? Why isn't anyone doing anything?” he asked worriedly.

“That's how they like to play.” Snape answered calmly.

It didn't look like any sort of game Harry was familiar with. He could only imagine how he'd feel if Snape treated him like that. The idea of it made him feel ill and panicky. He was with Snape because he could trust the man to protect him, not abuse him.

Snape could see the distress in his mate and continued to pet him gently. “The older man's name is Bastian. The younger is Colm. Would you like to meet them?”

Harry looked back up sharply. Meet them? He didn't know. What would he say? What would he do? What would they do?

Snape saw the panicky indecision etched on Harry's face and decided this would be a good lesson for him. He stood up. “Come along, Harry.” he directed as he made his way through the room to the scene taking place.

They stood out of the way for a few moments while the abuse continued, Bastian laughing darkly at Colm's plight. When finally his eyes lit on Snape, Bastian smiled a bit less evilly, though Harry wasn't at all put at ease. Colm remained panting on the floor on his hands and knees, face entirely red. Harry could see now he was also covered in bruises, sweat, and dirt from Bastian's boots.

“Severus.” Bastian greeted with a nod, glancing at Harry.

“Bastian.” Snape inclined his head politely. “I hope we're not interrupting.”

“Not at all. Take a breather, Colm, and pull your goddamned trousers up you slut.”

Colm scrambled to get his trousers back up and secured around his erection, though he didn't get off the floor. He simply crawled over to Bastian's feet and sat a bit more comfortably, resting his head against Bastian's leg as he got his bearings. His eyes slid closed for a moment as he just breathed.

“This is Harry.” Snape introduced Harry to Bastian, and Harry simply glanced up shyly, or perhaps it was more terror in his eyes than shyness. He felt like prey in the presence of a predator.

Bastian nodded at Harry, and Harry swallowed and nodded back, inching behind Snape slightly on instinct.

“He's cute.” Bastian remarked. “Bit of an innocent look about him. Of course there would be with him being all of a child still.” Bastian's eyes sparkled as he taunted Snape a bit.

“He's an Incubus, Bastian.” Snape answered boredly. “It's hardly the same as buggering a student.”

Bastian chuckled darkly. “Though it can't hurt that he's young. What a hardship.” he mocked.

Snape rolled his eyes. “I'm afraid my boy was a bit apprehensive at your play with Colm. He isn't familiar with it himself, and worried that Colm might be a less than willing partner.”

Harry wanted to shrink into the floor at his concerns being outed so bluntly to Bastian. He tried to inch even further behind Snape as Bastian eyed him up. Colm's eyes had snapped open at the accusation as well, and he looked completely surprised and baffled by it. He huffed a laugh as he looked up at Harry, and grabbed his still hard cock through his trousers. “Do I look like I'm having a bad time?” he asked.

Harry opened his mouth to try and answer, but had nothing he could say. He looked to Snape in a bit of desperation, his face heating at being put on the spot.

“I'm sorry.” he apologized, because it seemed like the right thing to do, though he still wasn't totally convinced that what they were doing was right. “It just seemed like... it just....” Harry closed his eyes for a moment in mortification.

Colm chuckled. “Relax, would you? You're making me nervous. Trust me, I liked it.” Colm leaned against Bastian all the more as he said it, smiling. “We've been playing this way for what, five years now? And I haven't grown the slightest bit tired of the way Sir treats me.”

“Join me for a drink, Bastian?” Snape lifted his scotch to the man in a toast.

Bastian glanced down at Colm, and apparently was satisfied with what he saw. “Yeah, all right. Boy!” he snapped at Colm, who jumped slightly. “Go get me something I'd like. I'll be in the lounge area.” he said, and he and Snape led the way to a collection of couches and chairs beside the bar. Snape settled into one of the cushy chairs while Bastian made himself comfortable on the nearby end of the sofa. At Snape’s indication, Harry settled himself on the floor and leaned back against the chair, as well as against Snape's leg to his side. He was content when Snape's hand reached down to tangle in his hair occasionally.

When Colm came back, he handed something off to Bastian who didn't even acknowledge him, and he settled himself down at his partner's feet as well. He eyed Harry up.

“So you're the Boy Who Lived.” he said, taking him in. “And an Incubus, according to the papers?”

“Does everyone know about my life?” Harry asked rhetorically, in annoyance. He thought maybe he would have gotten used to it at some point, but no. It was still as annoying as ever.

“Afraid so.” Colm said with a slight smile. “So you are then?” he prompted. “An Incubus?”

“Yes.” Harry said with a defensive edge to his voice. He tensed a bit under Colm's scrutiny, though he wasn't sure why.

“So what's it like to be his submissive?” Colm asked curiously. “I mean, you practically have to listen to him due to your biology, don't you? So you're not really choosing to obey.”

Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Of course I'm choosing to.”

“So there's not a biological imperative?” Colm questioned.

“Well, there is...” Harry tried to explain, but he was rather worried that in some way, he'd failed a test already. As if he wasn't as legitimate a submissive as Colm because his creature status compelled him. “What about you?” he asked, turning the tables. “What makes you listen to your...” he wondered what to call Bastian. Mate? Boyfriend? What were they to one another?

“My Master?” Colm supplied, and Harry shifted in discomfort at the title. He'd never thought of Snape as his Master, though he technically was, by law even. “I suppose I obey Bastian because it fulfils something in me.” Colm allowed. “I want to do it. I like to do it.”

“Well so do I.” Harry answered simply.

Still, Colm looked sceptical. “Look, I'm not trying to judge.”he said, though Harry very much doubted that. “I'm just saying that what you do and what I do aren't exactly the same thing.”

“I suppose not. Snape doesn't kick me or insult me.” he said uncomfortably.

Colm only snorted in laughter. “You're still on that? How many times do I have to tell you I like it?”

“But... how can you like it?” Harry asked in confusion. It just didn't make any sense at all.

Colm folded his arms and looked at Harry consideringly. “You're saying there's nothing he does with you that you don't think most people wouldn't like?”

“That's different.” Harry answered, blushing. “I'm an Incubus. I can't very well expect just anyone to like the same things that I do.”

“Well then. Some people like chocolate, some don't. I like being kicked around.” Colm said as if that settled it. Harry still looked uncertain, but decided to drop it.

“So... you belong to him then?” Harry asked after a moment of silence. “You called him your Master.”

“I do.”

“What is it like when you're not having sex?”

“What do you mean?” Colm asked. “It's fairly normal, I'd say. We both have jobs, we've a house to keep up with, chores to do.”

“Oh.” Harry answered, looking down to his hands. “So it's really only a sex thing then?”

“What is it you're getting at, Harry?” Colm asked.

“I mean... does he order you around in other ways? Or, you know... pick out your clothes, or your meals.”

Colm smiled knowingly. “Is that what Snape does with you then?” he asked. “Picks out your clothes and food for you?”

Harry blushed furiously and scowled. “Look, I didn't ask so that you could take the piss. I just thought... I thought maybe that was part of what set people here apart from the norm.”

“Sometimes.” Colm admitted. “Bastian doesn't like to give that many direct orders.” he explained. “It irritates him. There are some things I'm meant to do and I do them.” he shrugged.

“Like what?” Harry pressed.

“Stupid things.” Colm shrugged again, dismissively. “Like cleaning the bathroom every weekend or doing up the grocery list.”

“So you sort of do the domestic duties.” Harry clarified. “Like a house elf.”

“Not like a house elf!” Colm corrected in irritation. “We don't have an elf so we split the chores between us, that's all.”

Harry frowned in confusion. “If you split the chores then that's just normal, isn't it?”

“Except that Bastian assigned them to each of us. He does the ones he wants to do, and I do the ones he wants me to do.” he explained with a grin. “Like I said, we both work. It wouldn't make sense for me to do all the chores around the house.”

“You're still in school, aren't you?” Colm asked, and Harry nodded. “So you can't possibly hang around his quarters all day and cook and clean for him. I'm sure Hogwarts does all of that anyway.”

“Well, no, I suppose not. He recently had me start doing our boots, but I think it's some sort of weird sex thing for him.” Harry wrinkled his nose in confusion. The sexual tension in the air was always enough to arouse him at the time, but he still didn't fully understand what Snape got out of the act. It seemed fairly arbitrary to him. Apparently, though, it wasn't that arbitrary because Colm's eyes lit up in a knowing way at the mention of it.

Off in the distance, Harry heard something between screaming and muffled moaning. He couldn't even imagine what was causing the continual sounds, and he couldn't see it from where he was sitting. It was at the far end of the dungeon from where he was, and his back was to it anyway. Even if he stood up to see past the couch behind him, there would likely be too much in his way to get a clear view, or the shadows would be too deep in the dim room. Hearing it was enough to give Harry goosebumps. His wide eyes looked to Colm. “What do you suppose that is?” he asked, uncertain as to whether he really wanted an answer.

“Could be anything, really.” Colm answered disinterestedly.

Harry heard another piercing sort of shriek and couldn't tell whether it was from pain or pleasure, though to his ears it sounded discomfittingly like pain. He curled closer to Snape's leg while the man continued to sip his drink slowly and talk to Bastian. Snape's hand came down reflexively to card through Harry's hair comfortingly, and Harry leaned into the touch, leaning his head against Snape's knee.

“What is it, pet?” Snape asked Harry softly.

“Do I want to know what's going on over there?” Harry nodded his head vaguely in the direction of the yells that surfaced over the din of other questionable sounds of the dungeon space.

Snape paused for a moment to pay attention. He had been in this space so many times that he really just filtered most of it out automatically. He smiled a bit when he noted what Harry was referring to. “Why don't you go take a look?” he encouraged.

“Are you coming?” Harry asked.

“No. Just go take a peek from a respectful distance, and when you're satisfied, come back here. You know what I said earlier: no one is to touch you, and all questions are to be directed to me. You're collared and clothed; I very much doubt you have anything to worry about.”

Harry swallowed but didn't see a way out of it, so he stood on shaky legs and began to pick his way through the room, feeling horribly out of place.

There was the woman who was tied up still. She looked rather peaceful, but Harry wasn't certain he'd be comfortable bound, and was grateful that Snape hadn't done it to him so far. There was someone with tear tracks down their face while their partner held them, a blanket round their shoulders as they got them to sip water. He wondered what had happened there. That, at least, looked rather nice, and rather familiar. He could think of several times he'd come apart for Snape, only to be put back together again.

But the place where the sounds came from was up ahead, and there was a bit of a crowd gathered. There was a woman strapped to a bench of some sort and there was a man at her front choking her with his cock, and another man in back at one of her holes, though Harry couldn't make out which. She was obviously enjoying the treatment to some degree based on the moans, but at the same time she seemed to be in plenty of pain.

There were stripes across her arse from some sort of spanking or caning. There were tears streaming down her face. Both the men using her sexually as well as two others to the side were zapping her with their wands in some way while she twitched, shrieked, and writhed. All the while all four men were laughing at her. And what was that blue substance on some of her skin? A quick glance around and Harry spotted blue wax candles. They'd been dripping wax on her? But why?

A man beside him eyed him up and down, and Harry tried not to squirm under the attention. At least he was dressed.

“You want a turn with her?” the man asked, nodding to the girl in question.

Harry blinked in surprised, his mouth falling open. “What? Er, no thank you.” he answered.

“Pretty sight though, isn't she?” the man said, smiling fondly. “That's my girl.”

Harry's mind nearly shut down at that. She belonged to him? They were... together? And he was sharing her around like this? The idea of it made Harry positively ill. Was this the lifestyle Snape had left behind? Was this something that the man would ever want? But no, Snape had declared his possessiveness early on, and Harry thanked his lucky stars for that at least.

“Is she all right?” Harry asked in a small voice, watching the scene unfold before him, and not knowing in the slightest how to feel about it. Upset? Aroused? Both?

The man chuckled. “She's a hell of a lot better than all right. Tonight's a treat.”

A treat. Well, at least that meant that this poor woman didn't have to deal with this sort of thing regularly, Harry supposed. Again, she supposedly liked it, in the same way that Colm liked to be kicked and humiliated. Was everyone here completely mad? Had he been wrong to think he might find some sort of special camaraderie by visiting these people? Perhaps Colm was right in saying that Harry was simply fundamentally different from all of them.

Then again, everyone here seemed to be doing something different from each other. There were perhaps some similarities in theme, but maybe it was their differences that united them in some way. Each of them enjoyed something that most people didn't understand. And wasn't that one of Harry's concerns? That no one would understand him should they somehow find out what he actually got up to? But here, everything was on full view, and seemed to be relatively judgement free. Perhaps no one would understand Harry fully in the end, but it was possible that he could have a place where he didn't feel he had to intentionally hide this side of himself.

A hand came down on his shoulder and Harry startled out of his reverie. He sighed in relief when he realized it was only Snape. “Are you satisfied with what you found?” he asked, eyeing the scene before him with apparent disinterest.

“Yeah.” Harry said quietly, not knowing what else to say or how to explain all of his thoughts and feelings.

“I would allow you to play as well,” Snape growled into his ear, “but I would then have to expose you to all of these people, and I'm afraid that I do not intend to share. Not to mention I suspect it would be our luck that your photograph during such an act would appear in the next day's Prophet somehow.”

Harry shivered, both out of distaste of appearing in the papers like that, as well as out of arousal at his mate's sexy voice, close proximity, and teasing words.

“Would you like to go home and find something more interesting to do?” Snape asked silkily, and Harry could only nod. He wasn't sure whether he’d been aroused only moments ago, but now he most certainly was.

He followed Snape through the throng of bodies in a bit of a daze. They were stopped multiple times as someone or other said hello to Snape and eyed up Harry, but they did make it back to the front door. Out in the crisp night air, they Apparated back to the Hogwarts gates.

Only in the following silence of the night did Harry realize how utterly overwhelmed he'd been with the noise and movement of the club. For a small club, it had been jam-packed, which he supposed made some sense considering that there weren't that many places for people with such proclivities to go. As interesting as The Bolt Hole had been, Harry was glad for the privacy and solitude of the castle, made even more secluded in the summer time with no students about.

As they walked toward the entrance, Snape spoke. “Did tonight answer any questions for you?”

“Some. Although I suppose I have a lot of thinking to do about it.” Harry answered.

“Did you see anything of interest tonight? I got the impression that kicking and humiliation are out.” Snape said with a bit of an amused smirk.

Harry glanced at him, and couldn't decide whether Snape would actually want to do those things or not, and he sort of didn't want to know lest he not like the answer. “What's with all the sparks?” he asked. “I saw people using wands on people with bits of spark coming off. Does it hurt?”

“Hmm.” Snape hummed as he thought about it. “It's a particular spell that mimics the feel of static electricity in a way. It can hurt, though you should realize by now that some forms of pain can at times be pleasant. Sometimes the sensation is no more than a sort of tickle. It can be used different ways, and every individual reacts differently to the sensation. Is that something you'd like to try?”

“Maybe.” Harry answered as he bit his lip. At first glance it didn't look all that pleasant, but if Snape thought it could feel like just a tickle, then maybe it was worth exploring at least. He couldn't imagine how it would actually feel good, but Snape had certainly surprised him before.

“What about the wax?” he asked as they reached the front doors. They went inside and began the trek back down to the dungeons in the silent castle.

“Do you remember our play with ice?” Snape prompted, and Harry gave a nod. He recalled the one time Snape had used ice on his nipples. He hadn't liked it at first, but it had grown into quite an erotic experience by the end, and he supposed that the ice had done its part to contribute to the overall experience.

“Wax is like that, only hot, as you'd imagine.” Snape explained, and Harry tried to imagine what it might feel like.

“Doesn't it burn?” he asked worriedly.

“Not if sufficient precautions are taken.” Snape assured him, and that did relax Harry a bit.

They'd arrived back at their rooms, and Harry felt his heart begin to speed up again. “Clothes off.” Snape instructed. “Then meet me in the bedroom.”

Harry stripped off his clothes with lightning efficiency and shaking hands, and hurried in the bedroom after Snape to see what the man had planned. After all Harry had seen at the dungeon, he could only imagine what the man had planned for him. When he got to the bedroom though, the first thing he saw was a simple length of rope.

This was a first. Snape wasn't prone to restraining him thus far, and Harry wasn't certain he'd like it. He didn't really see the need for it, actually. He'd stay put wherever Snape put him, and it had worked for them so far. He eyed the rope sceptically.

“Sir?” he questioned.

Snape had removed his robes and rolled up his sleeves, but maintained the rest of his clothes. He moved the rope through his hands, already making a few strategic knots in it, though Harry hadn't the faintest idea what they were for. He noticed several other ropes now set aside.

“Relax, Harry.” Snape told him, looping the rope gently around Harry's neck and over his shoulders. “Just stay put, and I shall move you when it's time.” he instructed, and began gently snugging the rope over Harry's body.

Harry was apprehensive about the rope, but he'd seen this earlier in the dungeon, or at least glimpsed it. He recalled all of the intricate knots and realized now that the ones Snape was making across his body weren't meant to restrain. They were simply aesthetic. And while Harry was still uncertain about them, thinking they might just be a colossal waste of time, especially since Snape was doing it all by hand, he did see some potential in the scratchy sensation on his bare flesh. New sensations with Snape were usually good sensations, and while this one wasn't arousing yet, Harry remained hopeful.

Snape with rope, as with everything he did, was meticulous. And as the time ticked by, Harry found his breathing regulated and deepened, he became if not more relaxed, perhaps more focused in a way, and the air had that strange thick quality to it that it got whenever Harry saw to Snape's boots. This was it, Harry thought. This was whatever Snape had been missing, though he couldn't exactly make sense of it as of yet.

When he was thoroughly decorated, Harry was made to lie on his back on the bed. His legs were frogged, his arms crossed over his chest after a fashion, and more rope was added. He stared up at the ceiling as his body was made less and less comfortable as Snape worked. He did trust the man implicitly., it was his mate. But Harry did feel himself beginning to sweat a bit. He was being immobilised, and while he'd never given it any real thought before, he found he didn't much like being confined, though he couldn't place why. He supposed it was natural, in a way. Who really wanted to be in such a vulnerable position? But no, that wasn't right either. Harry had been in plenty of vulnerable positions with Snape before and had thoroughly enjoyed it.

He tried not to think about it too hard as he stared up and focused on his breathing. Sensation was always something Harry had relied upon to keep himself grounded, but now that was sort of out the window. Every time he became aware of the tightness and scratch of the ropes, his unease spiked a bit again, totally throwing him off.

Snape saw the struggle, of course. He'd always been an attentive man, and even more so with Harry. But he didn't think that this would be anything Harry couldn't handle. The boy always took a while to adjust to new sensations, new scenarios, and he would adjust again. And hopefully enjoy himself.

For Snape's part, this was something he hadn't indulged in for quite some time, though he clearly knew his way around the ropes from years of experience with them. Like with potion making, there was something soothing about the calm attention to detail, the sort of repetition to it all. And in the end, he had the loveliest art before him.

Arms and legs fastened, he conjured a blindfold and tied it on for good measure, then sat back to observe what he'd created. He tested rope tensions a bit here, a bit there. Played with Harry's jewellery, as always.

Harry was plunged into darkness behind the blindfold, and his fear immediately spiked. He was surprised to find he didn't like blindfolds at all -- they'd always seemed so innocuous. But they brought to mind cupboards that he'd really rather not recall, especially not here, not now, not with his lover.

But Snape was touching him at least, and that was good, and arousingly distracting. Harry let himself ignore everything else but the pleasant sensations that Snape created for him, trying to follow the man's motions and anticipate where he'd touch next. It wasn't easy.

Snape conjured a piece of ice first, something with which Harry was familiar, and went right for his left nipple. Harry hissed in a breath at the sudden shock of cold, but relaxed by degrees when he realized he could recognize the sensation. Soon he was wriggling in earnest, wanting more, his mind filled with visions of the last time they'd done something like this -- Snape's cruel fingers, the biting clamps. The ice, however, moved down along his torso, weaving over and around the ropes to tickle his ribs, his belly, inching closer and closer. He wouldn't. But of course he would.

Snape slid the ice across Harry's cock as Harry let out a little shout of surprise and displeasure, wriggling in his bonds. But there was nowhere to move, and with his legs frogged out there was really no way to protect his tender bits. He shrieked a little as Snape went for his bollocks, and Snape chuckled in amusement as he continued to play.

Down the legs quickly, and then to linger on the bottoms of Harry's feet, what he could reach of them. It was an amusing diversion, but he grew tired of it quickly and wanted to move the ice to its final destination. Snape eased the plug out of Harry's exposed arse and slipped the rest of the cube inside. Harry went absolutely rigid with a gasp at the painful shock of cold entering him. His mind was unable to fully comprehend whether or not it were painful, but before he could even decide he was shocked to feel Snape sealing the ice inside of him, the plug sliding back home.

Harry trembled as the cold spread through him and his breathing sped a little. He wanted it out. Surely Snape wouldn't leave him like this? But of course he would. Already Harry could hear the man fussing with something else.

When he felt a sharp fire brand his left nipple he gave a shout and wrenched his body to get away from it.

“Relax, pet.” Snape soothed him, combing fingers through his hair. “Remember, give in to the sensations. Let them happen. I won't harm you.”

Again the fire blazed, this time on his right nipple, and Harry tried to remain calm. He wasn't burnt, he realized. The sensation after the cold was just a sort of shock, and he realized with a start what it must be. Hot wax, as he'd seen in the club. He flinched every time Snape dripped some more of the wax on his sensitive buds, and was preparing for yet another such drop when he felt it spatter on the head of his cock instead.

Harry gave a small shout and bucked his hips, not knowing whether he wanted more of the sensation or to get away from it. He didn't have much of a choice, however, as the next few minutes Snape spent fairly encasing his cock and bollocks in the molten stuff. The ice was certainly melted by now, as Harry was sweating from the heat, and he was sure his overheated skin couldn't take a bit more of this torture.

To his relief, he felt Snape shifting on the bed and heard him fussing with something again, indicating that at least the wax portion of their game was at an end.

What Harry felt next sent chills down his spine -- a sharp point of metal, tracing itself across a bit of exposed skin on his ribs. He sucked in a breath and held very still. “Try not to move.” Snape warned him in a soft voice, and then he slid the knife's blade flat against Harry's chest and wedged it gently under a bit of wax, prying the wax off of the skin in a hardened chunk.

Harry's heart beat a fast tattoo in his chest, and before he could even realize it he was gone, lashed instead to a grave in a the cemetery, a knife cruelly slicing through him to herald Voldemort's return. “No!” he gasped out desperately, sweating and trembling as tears began to well in his eyes. He twitched instinctively to get himself free of the blade.

Snape stilled his motions, pulling the knife back and laying his hand flat on Harry's chest as he gasped in breaths. “Harry.” he called gently. “Where are you?”

Harry's mind whirled, fixing on the sound of his mate. The feel of Snape's hand grounding him.

“Where are you right now?” Snape prompted him gently.

“Th-the bed.” Harry answered waveringly.

“And where did you just go from me? What happened?” he asked.

“The cemetery.” he answered, his body trembling slightly under Snape's palm. Snape didn't need to hear any more, as he put the pieces together. He wondered for a moment if he should call a halt to their game -- put the knife away, or remove the blindfold. But no, not yet. It was still possible to talk Harry through this, and if so it would be a powerfully transformative experience.

“I'm right here.” Snape assured him. “You're safe in our bed. These ropes? They're not restraining you, they're holding you. Do you feel held, Harry?”

Harry listened and tried to picture what Snape was saying. The ropes were put on him by his mate, to hold him safe. He flexed against them, acknowledging them, and tried to keep his mind from dark thoughts. “Yes.” he answered hesitantly.

“That's right.” Snape soothed. “You're safe, right where I want you. Lie still, try to relax.”

Snape took up the knife again in one hand while leaving his other pressed against some part of Harry at all times. He worked the flat of the blade under the wax and peeled off another great chunk of it as Harry drew a shuddering breath, but no longer called out or jerked away.

Snape worked most of the wax free of Harry's chest first, then trailed the tip of the blade scratchingly over ropes and ribs, down his torso and along his thigh.

“Can you lie still for me, Harry?” Snape asked gently, as it was made clear what he was about to do.

“I think so.” Harry answered with a shaking voice, but his body had stilled in the past few minutes. Harry's mind still raced, and he tried not to think too hard about the fact that Snape was at his genitals with a knife. With infinite care, the blade began to gently dislodge bits of wax, uncovering its prize. Underneath, the skin was red from the cold and heat used on it, but was undamaged. As skin was revealed bit by bit, Snape enjoyed himself, caressing, stroking, exploring as was his wont.

The cock cap was encrusted with wax and Snape broke the seal, twisting the little plug within the tip of Harry's urethra as Harry gasped in arousal. Snape let it go, leaving the jewellery in place, and finally set the knife aside. He knelt before Harry and undid his trousers and pants enough just to fish out his cock which was rock hard from his attentions throughout the night. With Harry laid out so bare and vulnerable before him, he was the picture of submission and Snape pulsed with need to have him. He eased out Harry's plug and without further ado plunged forward into him, taking Harry at a reckless pace to simply relieve himself.

Harry moaned at the sudden fullness and clenched his hands where they were tied against his body. His body flexed against the ropes but he was unable to really move more than an inch, and found a sort of freedom in being made to submit to the onslaught, cast even in darkness and unable to see Snape's expression. Snape had never really fucked Harry in this position before, so close to missionary but not quite. The only times they'd been face to face were when Harry was made to straddle Snape and do all of the work himself. Were Harry free of bonds and blindfold, this might have even been particularly intimate. Indeed, there was a certain intimacy to it even now.

Snape reached out to pull on any flesh or limb or rope that would give him a better grip and leverage, and soon was cumming hotly into Harry's tight hole. Sated, he smirked down at Harry's hard cock still bound up and unrelieved. He pulled out and wanded himself clean and tucked himself away, sliding Harry's plug home.

Carefully, then, he began the process of removing the ropes from Harry one bit at a time, by hand, leaving the blindfold in place. Slowly Harry was unwound, and stiffly flexed his arms and legs as they were released as Snape carefully rubbed the blood back into them. Rope set aside, Snape finally pulled away Harry's blindfold, and Harry blinked up at him in light that seemed harsh to him now, though it was dim. Tear tracks were dried on his cheeks and he felt like he'd been through an ordeal, though he'd really only laid still for a while. His thinking felt muddled and slow now, and he was comfortable but a bit emotionally fragile.

“Are you all right?” Snape asked. He pulled Harry against him to hold him, carding a hand through his hair.

“I think so.” Harry answered distractedly, closing his eyes against the light once more.

“Good.” Snape answered, pressing a kiss to Harry's head. “You did so well tonight. I'm so proud of you.”

Harry smiled, warmed at the praise. He wasn't sure what he'd done right, exactly. He'd need to process all of this later. For now, he was feeling sleepy and a bit cold, but Snape was helpfully pulling the blankets over them and curling around him. Cleanup could wait for later.

Chapter Text

It was late at night when Harry stirred. They'd gone to bed so early, compared to their usual routine, and they hadn't prepared for bed, nor even cleaned up from the events of earlier that evening. He stretched and reached for his glasses, the room still cast in a dim glow. Spooned behind him, half out of the covers, Snape was still fully clothed. Harry smiled a bit at that -- it was totally against the man's usual nature. As if sensing he were being watched, Snape opened his own eyes as well.

“Feeling more rested?” he asked.

“I think so.” Harry answered, rolling onto his back. “A bit stiff still, and sort of tired. I don't know why -- I hardly did anything.”

“Being tied up in such contortions is no mean task, and a scene can cause exhaustion in anyone.” Snape answered, sitting up in the bed and pushing aside the blankets.

“A scene? Is that what to call what happened?”

Snape nodded. “The term is sufficient. I must admit, though, at the start of it I did not anticipate the difficulties it would pose you. It seems there are yet ways to challenge you.”

“I didn't expect it would bother me so much either.” he said, shifting a bit as he glanced away. “Sorry.” he mumbled quietly.

“There is nothing to be sorry about.” Snape assured him. “You did beautifully.”

Harry looked back at Snape and smiled, blushing under the praise. He felt that deeply settled feeling in his gut, in his bones, that he always got when he truly pleased his mate.

“Come.” Snape said, getting up. “You should put away your clothes while I clean up the ropes and things for later use. Then we'll have a shower and get off the rest of that wax.”

Harry glanced down at himself and noticed that although the large chunks of wax had been removed, there were still small flecks of it adhered to his skin. He moved to gather up his clothes while Snape performed a series of charms to remove wax from the ropes and spool them properly, cleaned off his knife, and generally put things away. The bed, too, was cleaned by wand and soon enough the couple was under the hot spray of the shower.

Snape scrubbed roughly at Harry's skin to get the remaining wax off, and Harry took rather more pleasure than he'd thought he would from the rough handling of his genitals. The flannel reddened his skin all over again.

After the shower when Harry's jewellery was back in place and Snape was in his night shirt and towelling robe, Snape relaxed on the bed with a glass scotch to unwind. Harry curled up next to him and Snape waved his wand at the toy box across the room, opening it and summoning the item he wanted as Harry watched with interest. Harry's giant dildo levitated out of the box as the lid fell down and locked again with a snap, and Snape waved the toy over to them on the bed.

“You've been so good tonight.” he praised. “I think you've earned a bit of reward.” he handed over the toy, as well as the pot of lube. “Be sure to be liberal with the lube.” he said, and he made himself comfortable to watch for entertainment.

Before Harry could begin however, Snape smirked and tapped his wand to the toy. Harry felt it grow ice-cold in his hand he looked up with a gasp, remembering the torturous ice cube. If the cube had nearly undone him, how would this cold monster feel inside of him? His insides clenched in anticipation of it.

Harry laid back against his pillows and pulled his knees up, easing the plug back out of his arse. He lubed the toy liberally, almost hating to touch it as the cold shocked his fingertips. As he pressed the head of the dildo to his anus he felt it flutter and clench a bit instinctively, and shut his eyes, biting his lip.

“Go on.” Snape urged him. “It'll feel so nice stretching you inside.” he encouraged.

“Cold.” Harry murmured, pressing the head of the dildo inside of himself and hissing as he tensed up against it.

“It's just an intense sensation.” Snape soothed. “Press it all the way in.” he instructed.

Compelled by the direct order from his mate, Harry braced himself as best he could and began the slow, steady press of the cold rod inside him. His guts trembled around the intrusion, both from the stretch that was always a challenge, as well as the intense cold deep inside. His anal walls tried to contract around the intrusion but the lubricant eased the way. As always, the last few inches were the most difficult to insert, and Harry grunted and canted his hips as he eased the dildo in and out, giving a firm jab with each inward thrust to work it in more deeply.

He was trembling all over from the unusual exertion, especially after so long a night already. Harry lay panting for a moment as he finally seated the cold rod fully inside of him. He felt his belly growing cold, which prompted him to pull the dildo out again for a slight moment of relief, and the hope that the motion of it would warm him slightly. The cold was intense and piercing, almost hot in its own way and made all the more sharp by the contrasting heat of his interior. The cold of it made the already challenging dildo all the more invasive to his body and he moaned in discomfort and arousal at the intensity of it.

“That's it, Harry.” Snape encouraged, watching with rapt attention as he relaxed against the headboard, sipping his drink. This show was the perfect way to unwind after a long day, and he knew that it was in its own way relaxing for Harry as well.

Harry continued to work the icy cock inside of himself for long minutes, soon working up to his normal pace and losing himself in the sensations. His body trembled and clenched against the cold intrusion even as he loved the stretch of it, the thrust of it inside of him. He let out little whimpers and moans halfway between pleasure and discomfort, and Snape drank in the sounds as he watched. After a few minutes of fucking himself, Harry began to realise that the dildo wasn't going to warm up from manipulation as the ice cube had. Snape had wanted it to be cold inside of him, and had charmed it to stay that way for the duration. For some reason, that realisation turned Harry on all the more as he struggled against the cold inevitability of it, his body trembling from the chill.

Harry let out a yelp as Snape touched his wand to Harry's cock ring, causing it to shock into cold metal as well, the unyielding metal tight around his cock and bollocks now frozen like ice. Harry whimpered and continued to fuck himself, looking up at Snape with glassy eyes.

Snape took pity on him, and took the dildo in his own hand instead, and began to really fuck Harry in earnest with it, tilting the angle to hit Harry's prostate dead-on. Harry yowled at the intense discomfort of it, and writhed under the attentions.

Snape wanted to send Harry into a dry orgasm, but he could tell it would take something more to send Harry over that edge. Still fucking him, he used his free hand to tap his wand against the dildo with a whispered word, turning the icy-cold rod into something quite hot all at once. Hot enough to warm the hands on a chilly day but not at all harmful, except that to Harry's frozen flesh the abrupt change felt like a singing burn deep into his bowels. He howled at the sudden shift and before he knew it was convulsing and twitching as if in orgasm, though nothing could escape with his jewellery in place, no release. The frozen ring around his cock only added to his body's general confusion as to its true temperature, and it took a moment for his twitching to finally die down, Snape fucking him steadily all the way through.

Harry hissed as Snape released the cold-charm on the ring but left the hot dildo inside of him as he rested, feeling the heat travel through his bowels and into his belly.

“Feel nice?” Snape prompted.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered sincerely, staring up in gratitude and contentment.

Snape cleaned up the mess again with a wave of his wand, and sent his empty glass to the kitchen sink. He spent some time in the bathroom brushing his teeth which Harry had already done, and finally after a long night, came to bed. Lights doused and in Snape's arms, Harry knew he would sleep like the dead. He felt totally complete and sated.

Chapter Text

Harry was back in the room before Snape that evening for supper, and when Snape finally walked in, Harry was surprised to see that he looked completely exhausted. Snape hung his robe over a chair rather than putting it properly away -- a testament to how tired he truly was, and he flopped onto the sofa.

“Tea.” he said simply at Harry, and Harry took that as his cue to get up and make some. It was still early in the evening so he made Snape's typical black tea instead of something herbal, and it seemed to be the right decision as the man took the warm mug gratefully a few minutes later as he began to sip.

“Take off my boots for me, would you Harry?” Snape asked as he concentrated on his drink.

“Of course.” Harry answered simply, dropping to his knees to begin untying the laces. “What has you so tired, if you don't mind me asking?”

“A rather difficult potion I've been at all afternoon. It doesn't allow for breaks.” Snape answered with a sigh. It wasn't something that Snape had to do often, but Harry was aware of the occasional need for such demanding potions. He pulled Snape's boots off with a tug and set them aside, then after a slight hesitation, he took the liberty of also removing Snape's socks.

He pulled one of Snape's tired feet into his lap and began to do his best to rub it, pressing the thumbs into the sole gently and manipulating the foot in a way that he hoped would feel pleasant. Snape sighed contentedly. “That's lovely, Harry.” he said, and allowed himself to relax. This wasn't something he had required of Harry so far, but he had certainly had submissives rub his feet for him in the past. Harry looked so natural down there at his feet in service. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, indulging in the massage until supper finally appeared with a pop on the coffee table as scheduled.

Snape pulled his feet back and Harry moved to the sofa beside him. “After we eat, you'll give me a full massage.” Snape informed Harry.

Harry felt himself tingle and warm with excitement. This was a first. While Snape regularly touched every inch of Harry's body, Harry was rarely allowed to do anything to Snape. And he was rarely required to go out of his way to serve his mate, though he was always willing.

Supper dragged on because Snape was tired and wanted to take his time, but Harry barely tasted it because he was so excited to be able to touch so much of Snape, so intimately. The end of the meal couldn't come soon enough, and then the two of them were headed to the bedroom and getting undressed -- one of his favourite activities, as it nearly always presaged something enjoyable.

“You'll remember when I massaged you.” Snape told him. “Just go from there. There's really no truly awful way to go about it if you pay attention. Back first, then front. Top to bottom.” he said, flopping himself onto the bed and arranging himself comfortably on his stomach, head turned out to the side and long hair draping over his face.

Harry took the little pot of fragrant oil and rubbed some between his palms. He carefully straddled Snape's hips, almost afraid to touch him, to make him uncomfortable somehow. He'd been with this man for months now but touching him so freely almost seemed sacrilegious. Harry reminded himself -- Snape was tired, and he'd ordered Harry to help him relax. That put things into proper perspective, and he began firmly but gently massaging Snape's shoulders and back as Snape sighed beneath him.

It took some time for Harry to figure out what he was doing, but Snape was right, it wasn't all that difficult once he got the hang of it. Harry was a tactile being, and he was able to feel out muscle from bone, and pick out the knots, gently urging them free. Shoulders and back, arms and hands. Over the arse without lingering over-much and to the legs, back down to those feet he'd begun with earlier. By the time Harry had finished there, Snape was a comfortable puddle, but he roused himself enough to roll over, indicating that Harry should begin again on his front.

Shoulders and arms, gently over the chest. Harry let his fingers ghost over Snape's nipples and grinned, glad the man's eyes were shut so he couldn't see the impish look on Harry's face. He pictured tweaking them like Snape would do him, but resisted the temptation and moved down the man's sides, lightly over his tummy and to his hips, then legs and downward. He ignored the genitals though he eyed them eagerly, wanting to do more.

While he was working Snape's feet over once more, Snape spoke, his voice thick and languid from the massage. “You'll move to my bollocks next, Harry.” he instructed. “Do not be rough with them, but gently pull them, rub them, make them feel good. My cock after that, though nothing too vigorous. As a final step you will slip one oiled digit into my rectum to massage my prostate while you gently suck me off. Do you understand your instructions?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered, heart racing with excitement. He finished up what he was doing at the foot of the bed and inched his way back up Snape's legs so that he could reach his target, almost afraid to touch all over again. Carefully, he worked his oiled hands over Snape's bollocks, almost too delicately at first, glancing up frequently to gauge the man's reactions. But by look and by sound, Snape indicated he was enjoying the touch and Harry was able to work a bit more firmly, nothing that would cause discomfort. He saw Snape's already half-hard cock firm entirely by the time he was finished with the bollocks, and he moved next to it. He stroked it firmly but slowly, played with the foreskin and lingered a bit at the head without intentionally teasing or frustrating.

Snape's breathing had deepened and Harry knew it was time. He oiled one digit and eased it into Snape's arse, surprised at the heat and tightness of it. How much had Snape ever been penetrated in the past? He certainly never had been so by Harry. But obviously at least this much had happened, because Snape didn’t protest the touch -- of course, he had ordered it. Working his finger against the hard nub inside, Harry lowered his head over Snape's cock and swallowed him down, keeping all of his motions smooth and gentle.

Snape's breathing was slow and deep, and his entire body was still relaxed and languid from his massage. It took a little while for him to cum, and when he did it was with a soft groan of release, his body finally going completely lax. Harry pulled away gently once Snape had finished, licking up the last drops and pulling his finger out of Snape's arse.

Harry himself was achingly hard after all of that, but he also felt peaceful when looking at how relaxed Snape was. And besides, he was fully aware of the rare gift Snape had just bestowed on him, allowing him to do that for him.

“Clean up and ready the shower.” Snape instructed tiredly. “I'll be there in a moment.” he said, taking a few last minutes to relax before rousing himself from the bed.

In the shower, when it was time for Harry to wash Snape he was just as reverent and thorough as always, if not more so. Harry's eyes sparkled as he lingered on Snape's bollocks this time.

“Imp.” Snape chastised. “Move along.”

Harry smiled a bit but moved along. He didn't want to jinx it and have his new-found privileges revoked entirely. He wanted to be allowed to massage Snape again some time in the future, and he knew that meant he had to keep the man's trust, not do anything unasked for.

After the shower, Snape dressed himself in his cosy towelling robe. It was too warm for anything else, and he let it drift open as it would, as he curled up on the bed to read. He would forgo the sitting room tonight, and turn in early.

Harry curled up next to him in only his jewellery and got his own book out. After a few moments he smiled gently when he heard Snape make a strange sound. Looking over, he saw that Snape had fallen asleep, his breathing steady and the book lax in his hands.

Harry took it and gently set it aside, easing the man down under the covers. It was a bit of work to do it without waking him, but he managed. It was Harry that night who checked the locks and doused the lights, and he realized as he did so that he truly felt at home.

Chapter Text

Harry kept glancing at the clock that evening while Snape read. He wasn't sure what he was going to do at bed time. He always had a tradition of staying up all night on the night before his birthday, to welcome the day in at midnight. And he wanted to adhere to that tradition now, but he also had his usual routine with Snape.

“Why do you keep looking at the clock?” Snape asked, not looking up from his book.

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. How did the man do that? “It's just stupid....” he hedged. He'd wanted to say “No reason.”, the answer he'd probably give if a friend asked, but he couldn't directly lie to Snape like that.

Snape's eyes flicked up a second. “I believe I asked you a direct question.” he said simply. “I require an answer.”

Harry swallowed, feeling his stomach clench from irritating Snape. He was a bit embarrassed to admit to the truth though. “I sort of always stay up until midnight on the night before my birthday.” he admitted quietly. “I was thinking about whether to try tonight or not, since you'll be in bed. You've never expressly said I shouldn't stay up but it was sort of implied.”

Snape looked up curiously. “You'll need your rest.” he said, and Harry wilted a bit in response. So, he was forbidden then. “We're going to The Burrow tomorrow.” he said with an amused smirk, when he saw Harry deflate a bit.

Harry looked up sharply. “We are?” he asked excitedly. He hadn't been expecting anything at all for his birthday this year, and Snape had somehow managed to keep this visitation completely under wraps.

“Yes, we are.” he admitted with a smile. “Do you think that the Weasleys would ever forgive me for keeping you all to myself? Molly will no doubt have some over-large cake for everyone, and my understanding is that Ms. Granger will be there as well. And the wolf, and some number of Weasleys of course, perhaps their partners, I couldn't keep track really.”

Harry was grinning in earnest now. “Brilliant.” he breathed. “But how am I possibly supposed to sleep now that I know this?” he asked with a cheeky grin, and Snape rolled his eyes. “I'll be too excited.”

“Honestly, I hadn't known about this tradition before now, but as it seems to be important to you we'll stay up a bit later than usual.” Snape said, and Harry was surprised at how easily the man gave in.

“Really?”

“Don't push it.” Snape levelled a glare at him. One of the many things Snape was a stickler for was a good night's sleep, and he would no doubt be slightly crabbier than usual all day tomorrow because of this, but it was worth it. “At any rate, it just means we can get the birthday spanking out of the way before we turn in instead of when we wake up.” he said, turning back to his book.

“Birthday spanking?” Harry asked.

“Of course.” Snape said with a smile. “You'll be seventeen now, won't you? I suppose seventeen with the cane will do. You're certainly old enough to have graduated from a paddle.”

“A cane?” Harry asked with some alarm. Snape had beat him soundly with that cane once before, while Harry was grieving, and it had helped but it had also really hurt. Then again, he'd gotten much more than seventeen strokes at the time. He was still a bit uneasy though.

Snape only smiled. “Read your book, Harry. We've still got several hours until it comes to that.”

~~~

When the clock struck midnight, Harry was yawning from the disruption to his usual sleep schedule. He smiled with satisfaction as the hand ticked to midnight on the little mantelpiece clock. “Happy birthday, Harry.” Snape said softly.

Harry smiled over to Snape. “Thank you, Sir.” he answered warmly. It was nice having someone here, someone to stay up with him on his birthday and actually say the words.

“Now. Bathroom first, I should think.” Snape said, standing up and stretching. They'd showered hours before, and only had to brush their teeth and use the loo. It didn't take long, and all the lights were turned out except for one dim candle in the bedroom.

“Ah, ah.” Snape corrected as Harry moved toward his side of the bed. “You know the position.” he said. “Hands braced on the end of the bed. And remove the plug please, it would only get in the way of what I'm trying to accomplish.”

Harry frowned tiredly. He was really going to do this then? But Snape was already pulling the cane out of the toy chest, so Harry quickly set his plug aside and braced himself in position.

“Count them aloud, please.” Snape instructed, and thwacked him soundly across his arse with the cane.

“Ah!” Harry grunted. “One!” Thwack. “Two!” he called out, eyes scrunched tight and body going a bit stiff. He tried to relax into it, knowing it would go better for him.

By seventeen he was quite sore, and his arse and thighs sported some lovely red stripes, though he wasn't really sobbing. It was nothing like his prior beating had been, but it would definitely smart the next day. Snape rubbed the marks admiringly. “These should make your trip tomorrow a bit more pleasant. Now let's get some rest, birthday boy.” he said, and moved to put the cane away while Harry cleaned and re-oiled his plug, sliding it back into place.

His arse was hot and smarting as he slid into bed with Snape, but he'd never really felt better. This birthday was already the best.

~~~

In the morning, Harry was up with the first flickers of light as usual, in spite of his fatigue. Snape was extra grumbly afterword, and refused to say a word until after his morning tea and his morning blowjob.

“We should get going in a few minutes.” he said. “But first I have a gift for you.”

Harry smiled in excitement. “You didn't have to get me anything.” he assured.

“Of course I didn't.” Snape said in a tone that suggested Harry was a bit dim. He moved to their toy box in the bedroom, Harry trailing behind, and he removed a plain package.

Harry lifted the lid off the box and frowned a bit at the strange shape waiting for him inside. He picked it up. Metal, with some weight to it. Bulbous and somewhat tapered, some what lumpy, though it did resemble a dildo a bit. Was it meant to go in his arse? But then what were the weird sticky-outy bits to it?

“What is it?” he asked, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but just genuinely confused.

“It's a prostate massager.” Snape told him. “Normally, you'd use it for an hour or so, lying still. It can give tremendous internal orgasms, which I'm certain you'll enjoy. However, it can also be left in for longer periods of time, moved about in. I thought it might be fun for you to wear it to your party. That way you'll feel good for your whole birthday.” Snape said, coming to wrap his arms around Harry from behind, giving him an affectionate hug. “Doesn't that sound nice?”

“Thank you, Sir.” Harry said with a smile.

“You're very welcome. Now, out with your usual plug and in with this one. This bit here should rest against your perineum and massage you externally, this bit will snug against your prostate inside of you, and this bit here is the base. Like your plug it will allow for easy insertion and removal.” Snape showed him, and Harry got the idea.

He shucked his trousers and boxers and pulled his plug out, wanding it clean and setting it in his jewellery box for safe keeping. Then lubing the new toy liberally with his oil, he carefully pressed it home.

It certainly took up significantly more space than the plug normally did. The plug was short, but the prostate massager was much longer and filled him out nicely, snug against his prostate. He could feel it nudging him already and wasn't sure how he was meant to function with that sort of stimulation all day. Still, he had to admit that it did feel nice. As his arse instinctively clenched around the pleasing shape, he felt the bit against his taint press as well, which caused his arse to clench again. There was a harmonious synchronicity to it and he saw immediately how it was his own body that would provide the massage.

“Like it?” Snape prompted.

“It's brilliant.” Harry admitted wonderingly. He stood up straight and noticed that he had to keep very nice posture with the toy inside of him or he'd feel uncomfortable.

“And I can sit in it? It won't hurt?” Harry asked sceptically.

“Try it out.” Snape suggested, giving Harry a chance to get at least a little used to it before heading out.

Harry did up his trousers again and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. The handle curved perfectly into the groove of his arse and was neatly tucked away. The bit over his perineum was what he was most concerned about, and he did feel it press firmly against him, though it wasn't nobby or anything -- it lay flush enough for him to sit. Really, the cane marks from the night before smarted more than the toy did. However, the press against his taint was a very firm press in this position, and the toy drove further into his prostate internally as well, causing him to grunt slightly. Harry closed his eyes a moment and regulated his breathing. It wouldn't do to be making obscene sounds or faces while out in public. This was a torturous little device.

“It's healthy to give your prostate a thorough workout every so often.” Snape told him. “Though you will notice you'll have multiple internal orgasms throughout the day. Please try not to make a spectacle of yourself. Just breathe through it and it will pass, or if you feel you must, excuse yourself to a rest room.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully, and stood up to join Snape in putting his boots on to go.

~~~

At the Burrow, the kitchen was alive with activity. Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Fred, and George had all just sat down to breakfast. Arthur seemed to have already had his and was reading the Prophet while drinking his tea, and Molly was a flurry of activity as she cooked and fed everyone as they arrived.

“Harry, dear!” she enthused as Harry came through. She enveloped him in a warm hug.

“Hello Mrs. Weasley.” he said with a smile.

“And Severus.” Molly nodded politely as Snape entered the room as well. Arthur, too, extended his greeting to Snape while the others mostly focused on Harry. Before he knew it, Harry was being ushered to the table and a plate of food was placed in front of him. Snape found himself in a similar situation before long as well, and Harry had to hide a smile as Snape eyed the plate laden with food. The man usually had a light sort of breakfast but at the Weasley household they didn't know the meaning of the word.

Harry tucked in, as Molly spoke again. “Ron, Ginny, and Hermione are all still sleeping, I'm afraid.” she said with a shake of her head. “Although I suppose that's the norm for that age. I'm a bit surprised to see you here so early, dear.”

“Oh. Snape likes to get up according to a schedule.” Harry said with a shrug, and there was a bit of awkwardness in the air as they thought uncomfortably about just how subservient to Snape's wishes he always was. He ignored it, and the moment seemed to pass.

“Of course, of course.” Molly agreed, bustling around and setting out a fresh pot of tea.

“Seventeen, Harry.” Charlie acknowledged with a grin. “You'll be getting your Apparition license then?”

Harry looked to Snape with excitement. He hadn't even thought about it.

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. “Of course, that'll need to be taken care of soon.” he agreed.

~~~

Soon the kitchen was alive with talk as both Harry and Snape were engaged in various conversations, and Harry was pleased at how at ease everyone was. He'd had his doubts that his relationship with Snape would ever really be accepted by his friends and family, but surely this sort of thing was the first step.

While everyone was talking, Harry was becoming a bit distracted by his prostate massager. The hard wooden bench pressed it into him, and while at first he was able to mostly ignore the sensation, focusing instead on everything around him, now it was an insistent rub. His arse flexed around the plug, pulling the outer nub closer into his perineum, which in turn caused his arse to pulse again. Once a rhythm got going, he found it very difficult to do anything to interrupt it as his body seemed to instinctively take over the process.

It was a very pleasurable, deep sort of internal massage, right in the centre of his arousal, but Harry breathed through it as he'd been instructed, and tried not to give anything away. Still, the contractions built and built, and it almost felt like the toy was fucking into him, and then the strangest most pleasant sensation blossomed through him, setting alight even his skin. Harry wanted to groan or clench his fingers or thrust his hips, something, but he contained himself at the table, and with the constant noise and bustle no one seemed the wiser.

As he came down off the crest of such pleasure, the contractions slowed down, and he felt them begin anew, slowly again. So, that was the sort of orgasm Snape had warned him about. He'd felt things very like it before, though of course every type of orgasm Harry had felt slightly different. He could easily become addicted to this sort. And now, post-orgasm, his insides felt all the more sensitized and alive. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his eyes bright, but to anyone else at the table Harry simply looked the picture of health and vitality, especially considering his perfect posture as he sat.

Soon enough, the others were awake and joining them downstairs. Harry went for a walk in the orchards with Charlie while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ate breakfast. After that, it was a pleasant morning full of all sorts of talk and games and walks on the property, or sitting in the sun. Lupin showed up as well before long, and so did Tonks, a pleasant surprise.

Harry declined to fly on account of his jewellery and it might have made Ron suspicious except that Ron already expected it had something weird to do with it and he had accepted that with Harry, he never wanted to ask.

~~~

It was nearing lunch. Harry had already been subjected to countless mini-O's throughout the day, and was developing the ability to ride them out without giving any outward sign, but for the last little while he'd felt one building within him again stronger than any of the previous ones had been. His prostate was killing him. It had never before had so much stimulation for such a long time, and all the walking around and sitting as well seemed to only exacerbate the situation. As Harry felt it build, he excused himself to the loo, and was soon glad he did.

The wave crashed over him and he was barely able to keep himself standing as he leaned against the sink, eyes closed tight against the waves of pleasure that assailed him. It was a pervading, deep feeling that began in his core and spread to warm every inch of him, and one wave seemed to tip off another, and another. Harry was panting with the exertion of it, and with the difficulty in withholding any groans. He trembled as his knees went weak, and finally, finally the big-O eased off, leaving him calm in its wake.

Snape knocked gently on the door. “All right in there?” he called out softly, and Harry unlatched it for him.

Snape saw Harry's totally haggard look, the arousal sparking in his eyes, and smiled slightly. “A good one, then?”

“You're trying to kill me.” Harry accused faintly, and sighed pleasantly as Snape rubbed his palm over Harry's package through his trousers.

“Not hardly. I simply want you to feel good on your birthday. Ready to come down for lunch?”

Harry nodded, wanting to ask for a break but knowing it would be useless. Besides, Snape always told him not to shy away from intense sensations, but to lean into them. This was just another example, and he knew he always felt better when he allowed it to happen. He made his way back down the stairs and smiled as he saw the whole clan at the big table, a feast spread before them.

Soon they were all eating and joking together and Harry felt totally at home with family, made all the better by Snape's welcome presence there. After lunch there was cake, and after cake there was tea while Harry opened an array of gifts.

Only a few hours more to get through, but Harry was sweating. It seemed like his whole body was becoming more sensitized as the day went on, and his prostate and perineum were almost sore from the constant gentle stimulation. He didn't want to have to hide his symptoms any more -- that was perhaps the worst of the strain.

After two more bathroom breaks and multiple small pleasure waves he successfully masked, it was finally mid-afternoon and time to be heading home. Harry thanked and hugged everyone thoroughly and gathered his gifts. He was finally now of age, and was able to shrink them himself, and found it was a welcome change to be able to use magic in the summer.

When they reached home, Harry leaned against the back of one of the living room chairs as Snape flooed in behind him. Harry groaned with relief and frustration in equal measure as his arse spasmed around the massager again.

“Poor boy.” Snape soothed, holding him from behind and wrapping a hand around his front to grope him through his trousers. “Perhaps some rest will refresh you.” he suggested. “Clothes off and in bed.” he directed. “You can have a nap for the next hour and I'll wake you up.”

“I don't suppose you'd let me have a rest from the massager?” Harry asked hopefully.

Snape tisked. “Now why would I do that? I'm certain it's doing wonders for your health, and it'll work perfectly well in your sleep.”

Harry was honestly too tired to argue. He was exhausted from these ineffectual orgasms and exhausted from trying to keep it under wraps all day. He stripped off his clothes and laid them aside, slipping under the covers and dimming the lights. He could still feel the toy rocking gently within him as his arse seemed to grip it instinctively, without the need of his conscious thought. And was it any wonder, with his biology? He was made for sex, and took to this like a fish to water.

Snape came in to check on Harry after a few minutes, saw him gently thrusting his hips minutely in his sleep, giving a soft sigh of pleasure or frustration every so often. Otherwise, he was the picture of peace and health. Watching him rest, Snape saw Harry give a bit of a shudder, his breath hitching in his sleep. Another cum, no doubt. Harry whimpered a bit and settled back down, completely calm once more.

~~~

When Snape woke Harry an hour later, Harry was groggy and disoriented, and overwhelmingly aroused. Snape spoke his name again and pet his hair to wake him, and Harry gave a deep moan as he thrust his hard cock against the sheets. He was so deeply relaxed, and the massager was doing its job. It was so easy now to just let go and give in to it, and so he did. Harry convulsed as the waves crashed through him, moaning softly as he did so.

“That was a big one.” Snape remarked as Harry finally calmed and opened his eyes, blinking away sleep.

“Mm.” Harry agreed, sitting up and getting out of the bed. “What are we doing the rest of the day?” he asked, standing to stretch.

“We've got supper with Hagrid and Minerva.” Snape informed him, taking in the view. “So unfortunately you shall have to put on clothes once again, and make yourself presentable for general society.”

Harry gave him a pained look. It was so difficult not to show signs of pleasure after hours of this toy. However was he going to keep quiet for another long meal? But he did want to see Hagrid, and he wouldn't say no to McGonagall either.

“Until then,” Snape continued, “You have a good three hours to kill. Is there anything in particular you'd like to do?”

“Not really.” Harry admitted sheepishly. “You must be rubbing off on me, but I'm a bit tired from this morning still. I think I'll just spend some time with Hedwig and read.”

Snape gave Harry a quick peck and ruffled his hair affectionately, then left Harry to his own devices as he moved to the sitting room to catch up on some of his own work. Correspondence to keep up, notes to revise for his work, lists of needed supplies to draw up -- there was always something to keep him busy.

Harry, for his part, spent the next while with Hedwig, then moved on to reading as promised. Cosy in his cushy chair, he was at liberty now to close his eyes and lose himself in the pleasant sensations when another wave crept up on him. Here in his home he could moan and sigh freely, writhe and shudder, then slowly pick up on his reading again when it had subsided.

~~~

When it was about time to get dressed and go, Snape tugged at the handle of the toy a bit, nudging it in and out, pressing against Harry's prostate and perineum. “How are you holding up?” he asked. “Is anything painful?”

Harry hissed and writhed a bit at the feel of it, having become over sensitized from such a long day of it thus far. “It doesn't hurt exactly, but it's sort of sore, sort of like it's all just too much.”

“Intense then.” Snape corrected him.

Harry gasped as Snape continued to jiggle the toy within him, then let out a loud groan as Snape pressed it as deep as it would go, wriggling the handle as he did so. Panting afterword, he nodded. “Yes, intense.” he agreed. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright with arousal.

“That's just your prostate waking up.” Snape smiled. “I'll bet you'll be much more aware of it, and more sensitive to it in the coming days. Come now, let's get dressed and be off or Minerva will send a search party.”

Harry could barely stand the silky boxers and snug trousers against his package. Every part of his body felt hyper-aware and he didn't want to embarrass himself at dinner. With deep breaths, he readied himself, and followed Snape to the Great Hall.

There was more merriment and a few more gifts, plus more food than Harry knew what to do with, as was usual at Hogwarts. He really did enjoy himself, and was glad that his professors had wanted to spend this special day with him.

“You look the picture of health, Harry.” McGonagall commented at one point during the meal. “Just look at you. It's in the eyes, I think, and your complexion. This relationship must agree with you.”

“Yes, Professor.” he answered, blushing furiously. He knew full well what was making his eyes bright and his skin pink. Then again, maybe it was a sign of health as well. Snape had said that this was good for him. For Snape's part, he just smiled smugly and accepted credit.

~~~

When at last they returned to the dungeon, Harry was going crazy from the sensations in his arse. “Clothes off, time to shower.” Snape instructed him as he shut the door behind them.

Harry couldn't throw his clothes off fast enough, and sighed gratefully as he removed the toy from his arse. His hole quivered madly around it, and his cock flexed as another wave hit him during its extraction.

Harry breathlessly removed his other jewellery. The amount of precum that drooled out of him when the plug was removed was ridiculous.

Snape cupped Harry's heavy bollocks. “We'll have to do something about these after the shower, of course. Stimulating the prostate so much generates an excess in fluids and they'll have to be drained.”

Harry vainly hoped that meant he'd be allowed to cum, but he suspected he knew what Snape really meant by it. His suspicions were confirmed after the shower when Snape instructed him “Cold water until you lose the erection.” as he walked out of the room to grab his cage. “And leave off the jewellery for now.”

~~~

When Harry was on his hands and knees in his cage, Snape massaged his perineum first and Harry half moaned, half whimpered. “Sore?” Snape asked, and Harry nodded.

“Ahhh, yes.” he confirmed, not certain whether it was pain or an overload of sensation as Snape massaged the area in firm strokes.

“A build up in fluids will do that.” Snape told him, and continued to rub at the tender area while Harry's thighs trembled and his cock twitched in its cage, unable to erect.

Snape slipped two of his oiled fingers into Harry's loosened hole, then, and found his prostate right away, causing Harry to jolt and let out a little shout at the contact. Snape hummed as he began to rub. “Yes, you certainly are full.”

Harry whined plaintively, wriggling to escape the intensity as Snape showed no mercy, pressing his fingers directly against the swollen nub and rubbing firmly, insistently. “Now, now. Don't be dramatic.” Snape warned as Harry actually let out a sob as it all became too much. Even as Harry trembled and fell apart, Snape just steadily pressed and it took almost no time at all before ejaculate was pouring out of Harry's soft cock.

Snape pressed fingers both inside and out as he worked the full little nut, feeling it steadily deflate as the puddle beneath Harry continued to grow. Harry was letting out animal groans and grunts as he was drained, and his hips writhed back against Snape's fingers instinctively.

It took a long time before Harry was fully emptied, and it was a long and overwhelming process. When finally nothing further could be extracted, Snape removed his fingers and lubed up his cock, slamming home as Harry cried out. His prostate was still completely over-stimulated and the pounding wasn't easy to take, especially with everything deflated as it was. But Snape knew that deep inside, Harry craved this sort of treatment. Soft and yielding beneath him, Snape used Harry to his satisfaction until he came satisfyingly inside of him.

Summoning Harry's usual plug instead of the massager, Snape pulled out and sealed the mess inside. “There now. Nice and empty and we'll give you a bit of a rest in there.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Harry said breathlessly, still recovering himself as he panted on hands and knees.

Snape gave his arse a little slap. “Come on then. Up, and we'll get that cage off so you can put your regular adornments back in place.” He wanded away the mess on himself and that beneath Harry.

Harry was slow to get moving, feeling totally wrung out, and still weirdly sensitive, like he could feel his prostate inside him even without stimulation if he really focused on it. He flexed his arse around his plug and felt a zing of pleasant sensation lance up his lower back. He picked up the prostate massager from his jewellery box and inspected it. Snape hadn't put it away in the toy chest, instead letting Harry keep it along with his sound and clamps. He was developing quite the collection.

So this was the thing that had been in him for hours today. It had certainly left an impression. He didn't normally notice his plug these days, but now with the change from the rather large massager to the regular plug it almost felt like nothing at all. Quite a relief from the constant rubbing and pressure. And nothing at all to press upon his poor taint.

Harry ghosted his fingers over his perineum. It didn't feel quite so sensitive now that Snape had milked him, but there was still some tenderness there if he pressed. It had always felt good when Snape had massaged there, but now it almost made his knees buckle with pleasure when he pressed.

Harry pulled his fingers away and moved out to the sitting room where Snape was already comfortable in his robe with a magazine and some tea. Harry curled up next to him and pulled out the Quidditch section of the Prophet, still spread on the coffee table, to do something mindless while he rested. He was certain he'd sleep like the dead tonight.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Snape asked him quietly.

“It was perfect.” Harry answered with a tired smile.

“Good.” Snape answered.

~~~

Soon enough, Snape noticed that Harry had drifted to sleep beside him on the sofa. He carefully set his magazine and Harry's paper aside, and roused Harry just enough to get him to use the loo and go to bed. It was still early for them to turn in, but it had been a long day, especially with staying up so late the night before. Snape was more than ready to sleep as well.

Chapter Text

Harry slept like the dead and was actually a bit slow rising the next morning after his birthday. Snape was up first for a rare change, and he looked down at his sleeping Incubus in the dim morning light. Harry was sprawled gracelessly as usual, partly on his side and partly on his front, and Snape could just make out the tip of Harry's cock peeking out with the familiar cap. Harry's arse was turned more toward Snape, and Snape decided to take advantage of his sleeping lover and his early morning wood. He eased out Harry's plug and set it aside, dipping two fingers in the relaxed hole to see whether it was still well-lubricated.

Finding that it was, Snape wasted no further time and pulled Harry onto his side, plunging in. Harry let out a loud groan as he came to wakefulness in a delicious way, a cock stretching deep into his guts and his still sensitive prostate being rubbed anew. Snape took his time because it was early and he was still groggy, and Harry lay lax in his arms, moaning at the sensations.

Noticing that Harry was more vocal then usual, Snape chuckled. “Still a bit tender?” he growled into Harry's ear.

“Could say that.” Harry gasped out as Snape continued his leisurely fuck.

“Hmm. I may have to milk you more regularly.” Snape mused, and Harry bit his lip to keep from complaining. He really wasn't a big fan of the procedure, regardless of how much nicer it made him feel afterwards. It even felt sort of pleasant in a way at the time, but it was so maddeningly unsatisfying.

Snape finally came with a soft sigh, and by that time the lights had grown considerably brighter. What a pleasant start to his day. He cleaned himself and sat up in the bed, but kept Harry from getting up with a hand to his hip.

“Just a moment.” Snape said to him, and dipped his fingers into Harry's cummy hole. Snape probed against Harry's prostate and found it was once again a bit full. Apparently the activities of the day before had really sent Harry into overdrive.

He pulled his fingers out and cleaned them with a spell, sliding Harry's plug back home. He summoned Harry's cock cage from the toy box. “Cold shower and put this on.” he instructed. I'll be in the sitting room.

That done, Snape dressed for the day and did his own morning routine, ending with some tea and scones on the sofa as usual. It was far too early for more until he'd had his tea and something to eat.

~~~

Meanwhile, Harry cooled off enough to lose his erection and for the first time, latched the cock cage in place on himself with a sad frown. He hated the thing. He'd never really paid it much attention since it was so rarely on. Snape preferred Harry to be hard and on display generally instead of flaccid and tucked away, but he noticed with some alarm that there were convenient holes for a lock should Snape decide to make it a more permanent fixture. Well, hopefully not today at least.

Harry joined Snape for breakfast, and only when it was thoroughly finished did Snape give further instructions.

“Take the prostate massager and some oil out of your box, and arrange yourself on the bed on your side, one knee up so you can get a good angle without straining yourself. You're to work the massager over your prostate until you ejaculate.” he said. “It's time you learned to do this yourself. It won't necessarily be the norm, but I'd like you to know it.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered a bit disappointedly. He got out his things as required and saw that Snape had followed him in to supervise. Once Harry was arranged properly, he pressed the toy back in his hole (plug set aside) and tilted it until it came into perfect contact with his prostate. He let out a small grunt and paused.

“This will not be a passive activity.” Snape instructed him. “I want you to work it against your prostate insistently until you ejaculate. That means you do not back off, you do not pause. This will take concentration and patience.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered, and began to press the toy against the swollen gland, whimpering a bit at the sensitivity. He rocked it in place and closed his eyes as he had to force himself to continue. “Sore.” he complained breathlessly.

“Which is why you're relieving the pressure.” Snape answered, watching with hawk-like eyes. He lightly laid his hand over Harry's, then pressed the toy in a bit more firmly. “Firm strokes, Harry.” he instructed, and Harry gave a half moan, half whimper in response to the intense stimulation. Nonetheless, he continued to uphold Snape's firm pressure even after the man released him, and soon his breathing was deep and laboured as he felt the familiar tingle throughout his body.

As if he were urinating, liquid began to flow from his soft cock and out of the cage, onto the sheets, as he kept up his ministrations. The sensation would always be weird. On the one hand, a sort of pressure was released and a bit of the tenderness went away along with it. On the other hand, the constant pressing against a now deflated prostate made him increasingly more uncomfortable. Snape could see the discomfort in Harry's expressive face, but he was also keeping an eye on his cock and its emissions, knowing the signs of when it was well and truly drained. It would be easier to tell if he had his fingers in there, but if Harry were ever instructed to take care of this himself, he would have to learn to gauge without such assistance. He couldn't even really feel for himself, because of course it was difficult to reach one's own prostate with one's own fingers, hence the necessity of the toy.

“Just a bit more, I think.” Snape told him.

Harry looked up pleadingly but continued the steady press, rub, press with the toy as the last little bit of ejaculate dripped out of him. Snape thought he was the picture of perfection, and wanted to bruise that sulky pout with a kiss or his cock. But Snape had already had his fun that morning and there were things to do.

“All right, Harry. You may stop and clean up.” We've a full day of brewing in the lab, and I'll need your help. I'm going to go get set up. Once you've finished putting everything to rights and have dressed, join me there.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered with a sigh, still sulking a bit. He was horny and sore and unfulfilled and now he had that weird empty feeling that always accompanied a milking -- and he'd just been milked the night before! It really wasn't fair at all, especially having him do this to himself, but then Harry supposed Snape had never been accused of being fair. It was what he'd signed up for.

Harry picked himself up and got back to the business of squaring everything away, delighting in the fact that he could use as much magic as he wanted now that he was of age. Today, brewing with Snape would be enjoyable enough as he always enjoyed spending time with the man and following his directions. And soon, he'd learn to Apparate. This summer looked promising.

Chapter Text

They got back into their routine. Snape spent much of his time in the lab, with Harry helping increasingly more often. Harry spent his free time with Hagrid, helping out with magical beasts, or grounds-keeping, or gathering ingredients from the Forbidden Forest for Snape. On Saturdays, Harry practised Apparition with Snape and on Sundays they usually made a trip to Hogsmeade for various items, or simply for a change of scenery.

Back in their quarters, Snape had re-instituted the rule that Harry play with himself every evening using one of his now three toys -- his sound, his clamps, or his prostate massager, though now he’d increased the required amount of time from the 20-30 minutes he’d initially required, to now an hour. For the most part, Snape left Harry to his own devices during such times. It was always in the evening after supper, while Snape did his own relaxing and Harry curled up in his favourite chair to play. Snape of course cast casual glances Harry's way -- he always delighted in seeing Harry pleasuring himself. But he tended not to get involved.

Tonight, Harry was playing with his nipple clamps, and Snape had taken particular interest in Harry's progress. He'd had this routine to himself for a few months now, and Snape wanted to be sure Harry was always challenging himself. Harry let out a slightly pained moan as he released the clamps, rubbing his sore buds painfully.

“Come now, you can do a bit more than that, Harry.” Snape encouraged him. “You've had months to build up a tolerance to that intensity. Let me see you work them for me.”

Harry looked up at Snape as he pinched them, his face a picture of arousal and pain as he tweaked and twisted at the poor abused nipples, growing red and swollen from play.

“Pinch them hard, Harry.” Snape instructed him, and Harry pinched down hard, closing his eyes. “Harder.” Snape gently corrected, and Harry whimpered as his thumbs pressed quite hard against his forefingers, his little nipples pinched tightly as his stomach clenched. “There, that's it.” Snape said with satisfaction. “I'll bet you certainly feel that, don't you?”

Harry looked up pathetically with large eyes, and Snape wasn't swayed in the slightest.

“Now work on pulling them further away from your body. Stretch them out -- we want them long and plump when we play.” He smirked as he saw Harry struggling to comply. That was much better. Things had become a bit too easy for Harry to handle, but now he was trembling with exertion. Harry had already been torturing those little nubs for nearly an hour, and Snape saw him now glancing at the clock with a bit of desperation, ready to give himself a bit of a rest.

Snape summoned something from his toy chest and walked over to his suffering mate. “You may stop.” he said gently, and Harry let himself go immediately, panting from the exertion and flushed red from arousal. “As you continue to practise, things will grow easier for you, Harry, but I don't want you to ever be bored or complacent. Rather, I'd like to challenge you to feel more intense sensations more deeply. There's nothing wrong with the fact that things have become relaxed lately but I shall be challenging you periodically. I think an hour of rest with these on should do the trick for tonight.” he said.

Snape clipped Harry's clamps back onto his sore, swollen nipples, and then hung some little weights off the chain, pulling the chain downward on his chest and Harry groaned at the feeling. It certainly was an intense sensation, but the fierce ache made his cock pulse with desire.

“We'll just let the weights do the work then. You can read your book or go back to those drawings you've been working on if you like, and I'll remove the clamps in an hour or so.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“How does it feel?” Snape prompted him as Harry reached the table to grab his book.

“It feels really nice.” Harry admitted with a blush.

Snape nodded approvingly. “I do believe you're starting to see the benefits of pain mixed with your pleasure. We'll keep exploring that aspect as we go.”

Snape moved back to the sofa and his pile of parchments that Hedwig had delivered just that morning, and Harry looked over curiously. There certainly was a lot of it, whatever it was. “What is all of that?” he asked.

“This,” Snape said, “is your inheritance. Now that you've come of age, Gringotts has seen fit to furnish me with a complete list of your holdings.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked. “I thought I already had my Gringotts vault. What's all that then?”

“What you had before was a small allotment meant for a juvenile. This is the full Potter estate, as well as some of the Black fortune as well left to you by your godfather.”

“If it's mine why're they sending it to you? Should I be learning to read all of that?”

“You're welcome to learn it if you like, but it won't do you any good. From the moment you bonded with me, you haven't owned a dime.” Snape informed him levelly.

“Wait, what?” Harry asked incredulously.

Snape sighed. “I thought I was clear on this point before, Harry. You're an Incubus. You are therefore property under the eyes of the Ministry. House elves don't have possessions and a bound Incubus doesn't either. I own you and by extension all that you own.”

Harry chewed his lip in thought. “But what about things I bought myself? Or my wand? Or what about things left me specifically by my parents? You can't own everything. In fact I already used my vault since we bound. I took out some money over Christmas holiday to get people gifts.”

“I know. I read the statements.” Snape informed him. “And yes, I own everything you listed. Don't be tiresome and continue to list. As for your vault access, I sanctioned it, and intend to continue doing so as long as your purchases are sensible.”

“Well you could have told me.” Harry pouted.

“I did tell you that I own you. The fact that you failed to acknowledge the implications is your own problem. At any rate you are aware now.”

“What are you going to do with all of my money and things?” Harry asked a bit worriedly as Snape continued to skim the documents, jotting notes on a bit of spare parchment. He wondered what the man was doing.

“Oh, different things with different parts. Save, invest, distribute.” he shrugged vaguely.

“Don't I get a say?”

“Unlikely. Though if you've something to say you're welcome to say it, and I'll take your opinion under advisement.”

Harry scowled for a moment, then sighed and let it go, because as he processed the reality of Snape having complete control over his life, that magical, settled feeling in his gut flooded him. A sort of pervasive, deep satisfaction and safety. “I trust you.” Harry said simply, and went back to his book.

Snape smiled, feeling warm. Harry was without a doubt the best submissive, the best partner he'd ever had. He'd taken his opportunity when he saw it with Harry as an unbound Incubus, and he'd only come to realize over time how lucky he really was. “You're such a good boy.” Snape told him, and set his parchments aside again. “Come over here and suck me. I could use the break.” he said, and fished his cock out of his clothes, stroking himself to full hardness. Watching Harry play with himself for so long had already gotten him more than halfway there so it only took him a few strokes to firm completely.

Harry smiled cheerily and fell on his knees at Snape's feet, leaning forward to wrap his lips around Snape's thick cock. Harry sighed with contentment as he swallowed it down, feeling it stretch and fill his mouth and his throat satisfyingly. All the while the weights swung, pulling his sore nipples. It was absolute bliss.

Harry hummed with pleasure, especially when Snape tangled his fingers in Harry's hair and began to fuck his mouth in earnest. Sometimes Snape wanted Harry to do all of the work, and sometimes he just needed to be the one in control, to use a willing vessel. And Harry was always so sweetly willing.

After some minutes, Snape came satisfyingly, and Harry continued to lick and suckle at his cock as it softened. “Such a sweet boy.” Snape cooed to him, petting him gently. After a time, Snape tucked himself away and Harry curled up on his chair once again for the duration of his play time while Snape set aside his own work to unwind with a Potions magazine. The paperwork would wait.

Snape glanced up at the mantelpiece clock and noted the time. It had been just a bit over an hour since the weights had been attached to Harry's clamps. “All right, Harry, you can release the clamps now.”

Harry carefully removed them and sucked in a breath at the pain that surged into them. He let out a grunt and winced, his jaw clenching as he tried to ride through it.

“What do we do when we take off the clamps, Harry?” Snape reminded him.

“Work the blood back in.” Harry answered dutifully. He could barely stand even the lightest touch and couldn't bring himself to be truly rough as he whimpered and gently rubbed.

Snape sighed. “Come here.” he beckoned, and when Harry was situated against him, his back against Snape's chest as he often preferred, Snape firmly rubbed his thumbs over the tortured buds. Harry shouted at the pain of it and wriggled instinctively. “Lie still.” Snape admonished him and continued the firm rub as blood surged back into the reddened flesh.

“Owowow.” Harry complained and his eyes were indeed beginning to water pathetically.

“Shhh.” Snape soothed as if quieting an upset child, and it did seem to settle Harry down a bit. “Look at how lovely they are.” Snape remarked, and Harry did look. His nipples were more swollen and redder than he'd ever seen them before.

“What shall we play with tomorrow, hmm?” Snape asked him as he rubbed soothingly.

“Whatever you want.” Harry answered helpfully, his voice trembling a bit as he tried to submit himself to Snape's attentions.

“Well of course that goes without saying.” Snape answered with a small smile. “But I'd like to know your opinion. If we practice with pain, would you like to try it on your cock? That would be something new. Your prostate again? We could always do a day of your massager to get it nice and sore. Or perhaps an enema with a burning or cramping solution.” he mused. “Then again there's always a tried and true spanking with any number of toys. Or we could try your bollocks again. What sounds most appealing?”

Harry considered the options before him, and asked tentatively, “Could you spank my bollocks again?”

“You'd like that, would you?” Snape asked with a knowing smile.

“I'm not really certain what I think of it.” Harry admitted. He recalled not liking it much at all, actually, but yet his mind had fixated on it, and he wanted to try again. He blamed his creature inheritance. and tried not to figure it out.

Snape reached down with one hand and gently caressed Harry's protruding sack, held taut in its ring. Harry shivered at the danger that caress might represent.

“I would love to tenderize these bollocks for you.” Snape said with real arousal in his voice, although he'd just recently cum. He'd not wanted to push Harry into any sort of play too early, but it seemed like Harry was ready for more of this, even if he hadn't fully admitted it to himself yet.

“Would you like me to wait until tomorrow night?” Snape asked him. “Or shall I spank them now? It's your choice.” he assured, still rubbing Harry's bollocks gently. He'd abandoned the sore nipples altogether.

Harry felt conflicted. His chest still radiated pain, especially with all the extra torture that night, and he was feeling a bit overwrought. On the other hand, now that the idea had been brought up it really appealed to him.

“Will you do it now?” he asked in a quiet voice, hardly believing what he was saying. Harry shut his eyes and blushed furiously.

“Of course, sweet boy.” Snape answered, and gave Harry's bollocks a firm squeeze.

It was as before. First Snape started with a series of small pats, a light tap, tap, tap that didn't really cause any discomfort at all. It only aroused, and Harry relaxed into the sensation. But steadily, the strength of Snape's swats increased, until Harry was a groaning, sobbing mess in his arms. Perhaps, Snape mused, Harry just needed to have a good cathartic cry every now and again. For even as the boy sobbed, his body remained relaxed and his legs had fallen gently open, exposing himself at his most vulnerable. One arm of Snape's was wrapped around his chest, while the other continued to rain down blows, now hitting rather firmly and trying to build a great ache in Harry with each swat.

It was then, as Snape was really beginning to work up to some strength that Harry began to writhe and struggle, and the soft sobs turned to small shouts and grunts. Snape held him fast, pinning Harry's legs open by interlacing them with his own. Harry gave one last shout and then his body convulsed in a familiar way, his cock throbbing with his orgasmic contractions, though he was of course denied release.

Harry lay limply in his arms then, still crying silently as Snape continued to spank him through the rest of his little twitches and shudders. He stopped and caressed the sore bollocks, giving them a bit of a tug and a squeeze and Harry groaned, burying his face against Snape.

“Feeling better?” Snape asked gently, and he felt Harry nod against him, still refusing to look up.

“There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. Tell me that you liked it aloud please.”

“I liked it.” Harry mumbled.

“Again, more clearly this time, and state what it is that you enjoy.”

Eyes still closed, Harry brace himself. “I like it when you hit my bollocks.”

“Eyes open, please, and say it again.”

Harry opened his eyes to see Snape staring down at him. He held eye contact, though he felt very vulnerable. “I like it when you hit my bollocks.” he admitted, and felt himself flushing from head to toe.

“Good.” Snape said, and gave him one last firm grope. “We'll continue to work on that.” Snape well remembered how embarrassed Harry had been about admitting to being a submissive at the start of things, or even admitting aloud that he was an Incubus. He would continue to fulfil Harry with what he craved, and would work to help Harry admit to himself what those things were.

“Now, I believe it's time we shower and turn in for the night. You'll want to be well-rested for your Apparition test tomorrow.” he reminded Harry, and that got a grin. With that simple reminder, all pain was forgotten.

Chapter Text

Harry had passed his test with flying colours, but he wanted to Apparate back from London all the way to the Hogwarts gates. They hadn't practised anything such a long distance, but Snape was loathe to stop such an exuberant, excited young soul. Against his better judgement, he agreed to let Harry try.

Harry Disapparated with a crack and Snape was seconds behind him, hoping to find him waiting at the gates rather than having to wait for a lost boy to come to him. He kept meaning to put some locating charms on Harry's collar but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

He did spot Harry immediately upon landing and felt a brief second of relief, before Harry crumbled to the ground with a yell, clutching at his right arm with his left. Blood was pouring from a wound in the shoulder.

“Damn.” Snape whispered to himself. Harry had splinched. It was his first time, and Snape had been so careful with his lessons to avoid just something like this. Well, Harry would certainly learn his limitations now. Snape sighed. Sometimes these things were inevitable in youth, and just needed to be lived through. He rushed up to Harry to inspect the damage and saw it was fairly severe, though only the one limb.

He thought of a few charms he might use to immobilize Harry or the limb, things he might try to staunch the blood, but dismissed them all just as quickly. They would be awkward and potentially do more harm than good. What was most important first was getting Harry to the hospital ward and in a bed where he could be cared for. He'd have to floo call Poppy and hope she was available. He trusted her infinitely more than some of the hacks supplied by St. Mungo's.

Snape pressed his own hand over Harry's on the wound and helped him to walk. “Let me know if you're feeling light-headed.” Snape warned him. “We need to get you to the hospital wing and I won't have you falling over and damaging yourself further.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry grit through clenched teeth.

They made the laborious ascent, dripping blood everywhere, and Snape was really becoming concerned about blood loss for the reason he'd stated already -- Harry could become light-headed, and if he stumbled or fell that could drastically exacerbate the wound. However, nothing was life threatening, nothing was detached, and nothing seemed to be missing entirely, so really it wasn't the worst ever splinch.

Settling Harry on a hospital bed which had been stripped for the summer, Snape quickly floo-called Madame Pomfrey and was relieved when she came through right away, still dressed in St. Mungo's colours, where she worked over the summer holiday. Luckily she'd been available immediately and hadn't been with a patient or missing.

“A splinch you say?” she asked, bustling over to Harry. She tisked loudly at what she saw, already running diagnostics over his whole body.

“Just passed his test too.” Snape said with a wry smirk.

“Well, the clothes will have to go, I'm afraid. I need to have a good look at him, and unfortunately I'm reading tissue damage in a few interesting places.”

Harry's boots, socks, trousers and boxers were removed by Snape, much to his humiliation as Madame Pomfrey used her wand to cut off his shirt and robes carefully away from the wound. Harry frowned both in physical pain and the pain of seeing some of his nice things destroyed. He'd like those robes and that shirt. Snape had just bought them for him this summer.

With a mental sigh he reminded himself that Snape owned the clothes anyway, and the man would buy him more if he saw fit. Or not. It really didn't matter.

Soon, Harry was gagging as Snape tipped several vials of horrendous potions down his throat at Madame Pomfrey's direction, while Pomfrey was pouring a rather dubious liquid over the wound directly, causing it to steam.

“There wasn't any bone damage.” she informed them. “Though it was a near thing. You'll need bed rest for today and no use of your right arm for tomorrow and the next. For the next week, only light use while you get back your strength. To heal the muscle and tendon damage completely I'm afraid there will be a regimen of potions you'll have to take, Mister Potter. And Severus, they're not all that common so you may want to re-stock while we're at it.

Snape nodded, already knowing the ones to which she referred.

“Now that that's out of the way,” she rounded on Snape, “Do you mind explaining to me why this young man under your care is trussed up in the most obscene of jewellery?” she asked shrilly, averting her eyes from Harry who tried to reach down with one hand to cover himself, wishing that the elves hadn't stripped the beds so that he'd at least have a sheet. He hadn't thought about it much when his clothes were coming off (aside from the regular embarrassment of being naked) because a) he'd been thinking mostly about his injury and b) he'd become so used to his jewellery that he didn't even really think about it most of the time. Now he was utterly mortified. Other than Snape, she was the first person to have seen it.

“Erections may be normal in a creature of his inheritance. but this is not at all a requirement.” she scolded. “And my diagnostics indicate soft tissue damage to this boy's nipples,” she hissed, turning red in the face, “and his bollocks.”

Snape raised a brow at the medi-witch and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you quite finished critiquing our sex life, as well as the care I give to my Incubus and submissive?” he asked her coolly.

“Severus Snape, I cannot believe you'd do such vile things, and to a student.”

“To my mate, and my property.” Snape corrected coldly. “And I'd thank you to remember it, not to mention that Harry's inheritance. compels him to crave and indeed enjoy a wide variety of sexual acts.”

“Well I don't like it.” she said bluntly. While Madame Pomfrey knew the textbook requirements of an Incubus, she'd never actually dealt with one in person, and she hadn't read any non-medical texts on the subject. As far as she was concerned, this was perhaps taking things too far, and it made her uncomfortable. “You should know I'll be making note of it and sending it along to Headmistress McGonagall.”

Snape rolled his eyes. Brilliant. Now he'd have to have a discussion about all of this with Minerva and he knew for a fact that the woman would rather just not know these sorts of things. Well, at the very least Minerva wouldn't care and would set Poppy straight. “If you must.” he answered testily. “Now if you'll write your recommended script, I believe I shall escort my ward to our quarters to begin his bed rest there.”

Poppy glared and waved her wand, conjuring a piece of parchment with the appropriate instructions on it. Then she stalked off to the floo and left in an uncomfortable huff.

Snape turned calmly back to Harry who was completely mortified, but he didn't say a word. Just gently helped him back into the non-ruined clothes and then escorted him back to the dungeon shirtless.

“I'm sorry.” Harry blurted out once they'd reached the bed, and Snape was knelt to remove Harry's boots once again.

“Don't be silly. There's nothing to be sorry for. Everyone your age splinches themselves at one time or another, and now you know your limits.”

“Madame Pomfrey didn't seem very happy.” he said awkwardly, wanting to apologize somehow for causing the problem, though he wasn't sure what he could have done to avoid it.

“Madame Pomfrey has no jurisdiction here. And furthermore, you're perfectly healthy and happy as you are. I'm certain Minerva will agree.”

“I suppose she'll find out what we get up to then too.” Harry said quietly, closing his eyes and wanting to fade away.

“As little as is possible, I would expect. She's already indicated to me she'd rather not know.”

It was a small comfort, Harry supposed, but at least that was something.

“But you've nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry.” Snape told him. Harry was fully undressed once again, and Snape was gently stroking his hard cock. “Do you like your jewellery?”

“Yes, of course.” Harry answered immediately, startled by the question. His jewellery was almost a part of his body by this point.

“And what did you confess to me just last night?” Snape prompted.

“I like it when you hit my bollocks.” Harry answered with a blush.

“That's right. I suppose based on Madame Pomfrey's diagnostics they're still a bit tender today?”

“A bit.” Harry admitted. “But I rather like the feeling once in a while.”

Snape smiled and joined Harry on the bed after removing his boots.

“Hmm. I suppose you deserve a reward for passing your apparition test today, though it'll need to be something gentle so as not to disturb your injury.” He sat against the headboard and arranged Harry against his chest, between the V of his legs and Harry settled back with a comfortable sigh, though his shoulder still smarted, even with the pain potions rolling around in him. He didn't even notice that while he'd closed his eyes to rest briefly, Snape had summoned the deep sound and some oil, though he noticed now as Snape removed his cock cap.

Harry let out a breathy sigh and settled comfortably in Snape's arms as he began the slow process of inserting the oiled rod deeply into his cock. It had been a while since they'd done this, and Harry was more than happy to just lie back and feel as Snape worked him.

Snape was gentle with Harry this time on account of his shoulder -- he didn't want Harry jostling it with sudden movements, or tensing up. Long minutes later, however, and he had his boy reduced to a quivering pile of goo on the bed as Harry whimpered and quivered in his arms. He didn't send Harry over that precipice into orgasm this time, but thought it would be better not to over-exert his boy. Gently then, after Harry was a hazy mass of sensations, Snape began to extract the rod. Harry looked up at him glassy-eyed and pleading, but Snape only pressed a chaste kiss to the top of his head.

“That'll do for now.” Snape told him. “It's an hour until lunch. I'd like you to have a nap and let the potions do their work. I'll wake you when it's time to eat.” Snape carefully extracted himself from the bed, arranging Harry comfortably on the mattress and covering him up.

Harry wanted to protest, but he felt his eyelids falling as Snape laid him down fully. The potions in his system really were making him groggy, and it had been quite a long morning.

~~~

Snape woke Harry for lunch as promised, and got him to eat in bed. After that, it was an assisted trip to the loo. Assisted mostly because a) Harry only had use of one arm, but jewellery to contend with and b) Harry was under serious chance of stumbling from the potions in his system. He took another round of vials and a drink of water, and was tucked neatly back in bed with his wand at the ready should he need to summon anything or anyone.

“I've got some serious brewing to do, not the least of which because of your splinching.” Snape told him. “Do try to rest if you can, or summon an elf if you require assistance. I will return for supper.” Snape affectionately ruffled his hair, and took his leave.

Harry dozed for a while, his mind hazy from his last dose of potions. His shoulder was on fire as muscle and sinew reknit itself and the accompanying pain potions left him sleepy and vaguely disoriented. After a rather unsatisfying nap, he moved on to trying to read, but he couldn't hold the book properly with his non-dominant hand and he never did get the hang of setting them up with charms. The pages always fluttered or the angle was wrong or the levitation charm wouldn't hold. Not to mention casting with his left hand, too, was trying.

Harry leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes with a sigh, feeling sulky. He never thought he'd miss television. When he'd lived at the Dursleys he'd never really been allowed to watch it, and when he did catch glimpses, what the others were watching hadn't seemed that interesting. But he could certainly use some sort of mindless distraction now. He considered going into the sitting room to look through Snape's bookshelves. They were extensive and though he'd skimmed them before, he really hadn't even begun to actually dig in.

But no, he was still too dizzy to make the effort, and he doubted that a house elf would try to hobble around with him if he called one. The elf would want to know what book he wanted, and the problem was he didn't really think he could read one if he got it anyway.

He pulled open the drawer to the bedside table on Snape's side of the bed out of boredom, because it was there. What did Snape keep in his side? Lube, that was no surprise. And the little vial of scented massage oil they'd used on occasion. A potions book -- shocker. Some scraps of parchment and a self-inking quill. Harry skimmed the parchment but it was all ancient and the words jotted down seemed totally random to him. No doubt they were just quick notes to remember something in the morning.

Harry dug around a bit more and found a few knuts, some lint, some sort of glass bauble, and there at the back was a photograph. Curious, he pulled it out, and was shocked what what he found. There before him was his mother, sitting right beside Snape with an arm looped over his shoulders. She was grinning, he was sombre but content. They couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve, he thought. They were in their Hogwarts robes and there was a bit of the grounds in the background of the photo. He wondered who had taken it.

Harry remembered his disaster when he peeked into Snape's penseive his fifth year. Snape had been fighting with his mother, had called her a terrible name. Now he realized looking at the photo that that fight had been even more than it had seemed. They'd been friends before that. The evidence was clear, and Harry couldn't wrap his mind around it.

Why hadn't Snape told him? They never really talked about Snape's past, or personal things, he supposed. But he'd felt like he'd certainly gotten to know about the man on a personal level. He knew that Snape wasn't a morning person, and what kind of biscuits he ate, and Snape had taken Harry to the club. But Harry supposed now there was a lot he didn't know and it made him uncomfortable.

He swallowed thickly looking down at that photo of his mother, and felt his eyes well up a bit with hurt. He missed the woman he'd never truly known, and it hurt that Snape had had some part of her, some memories, and not shared them at all.

He was quiet for the next hour while he continued to wait alone, until Snape finally arrived a bit late for supper with a flurry of motion at the front of his rooms. He swooped in with a basket of potions vials he’d just finished, some of which Harry would need later that evening. Shedding his robes he strode into the bedroom to check on Harry.

“Ah good, you’re up.” he noted. “Do you feel up to some supper?”

Harry simply shrugged, not knowing how to ask the many questions whirling in his head. Not hearing a verbal response, Snape turned his gaze to the sulky boy in his bed. “Harry?” he prompted with a frown. It wasn’t like Harry not to give him a response when asked a question. Then his eyes landed on the photograph in Harry’s hands, and he froze.

“You knew my mother.” Harry stated in a small voice, looking very fragile.

A number of reactions warred within Snape. His immediate response was a sort of defensive anger. How had Harry come by the photo? But of course he knew it was in his bedside table, because Snape knew where everything was in his rooms if he thought about it. Harry must have gone looking for something, or gotten confused in his drugged sleep, or even simply become bored. And his relationship with Lily wasn’t a secret. Not exactly. It just hadn’t ever seemed to come up.

Of course he also felt guilty at Harry’s hurt, accusing stare. Why hadn’t he told the boy of his mother sooner? Of course Harry would want to know about her. Perhaps that was all this was.

“Yes.” he answered simply. “We were friends.”

“You never told me.” Harry said quietly, staring down at the photograph, leaving Snape to wonder exactly what he meant by it.

“No.” Snape answered, somewhat at a loss as to what exactly he should say. He sensed he’d misstepped somewhere, and was surprised how much it bothered him. When exactly had their relationship evolved to such a point of emotional intimacy?

Snape sat down on the edge of the bed by Harry and gazed at the photograph with him. “We grew up in the same area.” he divulged. “She was my first friend. I was the one who told her she was a Witch.” he recalled proudly, with a soft smile.

Harry’s eyes widened as he glanced at Snape. “So you already knew you were.” he mused. “Were you a pureblood?” he asked. He’d really never wondered before. Now that he thought of it, he wanted to know where Snape usually spent his summers. He knew Snape had some sort of house but that it wasn’t safe to go to this summer as Death Eaters knew the location and he’d now had his falling out with Voldemort. But was it a large house or a small one? What did it look like? Harry had never really imagined.

“Half blood.” Snape told him in a flat voice. “My mother was a Witch, my father a Muggle.”

They were quiet for a moment then, as it became apparent to Harry that Snape wasn’t going to divulge more without prompting. Apparently he wasn’t in a hurry to talk about his parents, and Harry realized that something must have happened to them or between them and Snape, as the man had never once mentioned family.

“That memory, in the penseive...” Harry began tentatively. It was a sore spot between them still.

Snape’s head dipped a fraction of an inch, and he sighed almost inaudibly. “That was when I lost Lily.” he said sadly.

Harry swallowed thickly. This put the incident in a different light, certainly. “Why did you say it, then?” he asked. “If you were friends?”

“I suppose it was inevitable.” Snape mused somewhat bitterly, as Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Lily was beautiful, vibrant, kind. I was ugly and antisocial. Lily’s parents were loving, lovely people. My house was... not that.” he said simply. “Right from the start, it was perhaps improbable that we become friends at all.”

“Then when we reached Hogwarts, you realize the impact our Houses may have had on us. Lily was a Gryffindor, while I was a Slytherin. Lily was friends with the Marauders who made it their business to torment me. I fell in with the Pureblood crowd who would help shape my thinking and guide me toward Voldemort.”

“Perhaps calling her that name was a mistake, but mistakes don’t happen all at once, Harry. There were a series of hundreds of small choices and events that led me to where I was, some within my control and some that were not.”

“But even after, I tried to do what I could for Lily. As I know you now know, I was the one to divulge the prophecy to the Dark Lord, though of course I did not understand the ramifications of it at the time. When I knew, when I truly understood that Lily was in danger, I begged him to spare her.”

Snape grimaced at the painful memory. “But we both know the ending of that story.” he finished, unwilling to go into further detail about any of it.

Harry was stunned with the amount of personal detail that Snape had just laid bare before him. The man was not known to talk about his past nor anything remotely personal, but here he was, sharing some obviously painful memories with Harry. All because Harry had asked. He’d wanted to know.

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to the man sitting next to him. Snape had been through a lot, and Harry didn’t hold it against him. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for the man, to become involved with Voldemort in the first place. What prompted him to do so? And then to have the courage to leave.

He reached out and clasped Snape’s hand in his own and gave it a squeeze, the only thing he knew to do to let the man know he was there for him, he loved him regardless. Or perhaps even because of it all, because of the sum of who Snape was as a man, all his past and ugly bits included.

“Now then.” Snape said at length. “I do believe it’s time to get some food in you, and then some more potions. I’m sure your shoulder is hurting again by now.”

“A bit.” Harry admitted. And by a bit he meant it was considerable, but he didn’t much like the side effects of pain potions. Still, he would take whatever was given him.

Harry struggled his way through half his plate -- half a struggle because he was using his non-dominant hand to eat with and half because he really was feeling rather off from the pain and the potions still in his system. Snape took pity on him at about the halfway mark and let him set his plate aside, making sure Harry also had some water before doling out the potions once again.

Harry sighed, but took them dutifully, immediately feeling rather woozy as a result. “A bath I think, and then to bed.” Snape pronounced, and Harry didn’t fight it.

Snape stripped Harry of his jewellery, the only thing that had remained on him, and helped him into the tub where he had a good soak and was thoroughly washed. Snape didn’t let him alone lest he fall asleep in the water, and did all the work for him so he wouldn’t further aggravate his shoulder.

And afterwards, he forewent the jewellery entirely. Before Harry could open his mouth to ask the question Snape answered it. “You’re injured and tired and on enough potions that I don’t trust you not to fall over and injure yourself further. It will be good for you to have a brief break.”

Harry only nodded. He always felt weird without his things these days, but at least he still had his collar at all times. He let Snape help him to the toilet without fuss and brushed his teeth quickly, then to bed. His eyes were closed before his head even hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

It was the end of August, and the Hogwarts train would be coming the next day. Snape had been busy all day with last minute stocking of potions for the hospital wing and last minute arranging of the storage cupboard in the general lab. Then there was all the time spent that afternoon going over his lesson plans. Harry couldn’t imagine why it took up so much of the man’s time if he taught the same thing every year, but then again Harry wasn’t a teacher so what did he know?

Harry himself was fairly sombre all day. He’d tried to visit Hagrid in the morning but Hagrid had been just as busy as Snape with getting last minute preparations in order, and hadn’t really had time to delegate chores out to Harry. He’d spent his afternoon wandering around Snape’s rooms like a ghost, eyeing up his chest in the corner but hesitating in getting it out.

Though they hadn’t spoken about it explicitly, Harry assumed that like last year he’d be expected to go back up to his dorm in Gryffindor tower. Normally, that would have been a cause for great excitement. And part of him was excited, he supposed. It was nostalgic. Hogwarts had been his first home, and Gryffindor tower held a special kind of magic for him.

He looked forward to seeing all of his friends again, and starting one last year of school. He wanted to spend his time there, knowing this would be his last chance to do so, at least as an official student. Just thinking about that made him a bit sad as well. Harry wanted to stay a student here forever somehow. But even being Snape’s mate and staying in his quarters later, he knew it wouldn’t be the same. All of his friends would move on, and he would no longer be the naive child he’d been when he’d arrived.

As much as Harry did like Gryffindor tower, however, he was reluctant to leave Snape’s quarters. Or rather, their quarters, for Harry had been made to feel truly welcome over the summer, and the evidence was everywhere that this was also his home. In the bedroom, he had the little armoire and chest of drawers with all of his nice clothes in. His boots were always brightly polished now from the kit kept in the sitting room.

The bedside table next to his own side held his glasses at night, and often his little jewellery box that was filling up with toys of his own. The large toy box at the side of the room held play things he’d explored over the past months with Snape.

In the bathroom, Harry’s things were spread out everywhere, and intermixed with Snape’s own. He’d shared in things like soaps and shampoos and didn’t even remember how much of his personal supplies he had left at this point, though he supposed he should soon find out, lest he need to buy some.

In the sitting room, the tables were as full of Harry’s books and papers as they were Snape’s. Hedwig had a little flap on the front door so that she could come and go as she pleased, and a little nest next to the writing desk. The kitchenette was full of Harry’s biscuits next to Snape’s. And the front door was keyed to allow Harry access to Snape’s wards.

How was he to even begin picking out his own things from these rooms? What should he bring upstairs with him, and what should he leave behind? Particularly if he were still going to spend weekends in the dungeons as he had last year? Was he supposed to bring only a bag full of his supplies on the weekends when he slept over, once again? As if he were only a visitor in his own home? Or should he treat their rooms like someone did their house, leaving behind some things while bringing others? Harry had never had anything to leave at the Dursleys, having owned so little, so he didn’t even know what that would look like.

It had been hard enough treating Snape like a professor during school hours last year, but at least then there had been a sort of emotional distance between them that helped keep the structure in place. Now, Harry had never felt so close to another person before. Though it wouldn’t be difficult to call him Professor, as there was still a certain formality to their exchanges, it would be difficult to think of him in the proper context.

It was mid-afternoon now and Snape was going through his lesson plans one final time, making last minute notes to himself as he revised. “Have you packed your trunk? The elves can have it brought up to Gryffindor but unless you specify they won’t know what items to bring up or leave behind.” Snape asked distractedly.

“Er, no I haven’t yet.” Harry admitted. “I wasn’t really sure what I should bring up.”

Snape looked up from what he was working on, hearing the fragile quality to Harry’s voice, and sighed when he saw the worry written across the boy’s face. “Harry.” he said comfortingly. “You’ll still be visiting me every weekend, and you’re welcome to leave behind whatever you wish. You already had a spare toothbrush as of last year, so I see no reason why you shouldn’t now. I expect you’ll want to leave some of your clothes as well, perhaps some books or drawing supplies. This is your home and that won’t change.”

“What about Hedwig?” he asked, glancing to the cage in the corner of the room where Hedwig currently slept.

Snape merely shrugged. “I’ve grown accustomed enough to her being there. You may leave her things as is, if you like, or bring them up to Gryffindor with you. Whatever suits. I expect she’ll spend more time in the owlery now that everyone’s back, and she may visit you in your tower as well, but if it makes you feel more comfortable leaving her things here, feel free.”

Harry smiled at that and relaxed a bit. They weren’t being thrown out. Not really. He liked the idea that Hedwig would still visit Snape even if he were gone. It made the place seem homier somehow.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to just let me stay in the dungeons this year?” Harry asked with a small smile. “I am your mate, after all.”

“As well as a student.” Snape reminded him firmly. “And besides, you’d regret it if you allowed your last year as a student to slip away. Savour it.” Snape encouraged him. “Spend time with your friends, your house mates. Focus on your school work. After this year, you’ll need to join the rest of the world and have some idea what you’d like to do.”

Harry looked at Snape a bit desperately at that. He still had no idea what he wanted to actually be when he graduated. Not really. He still had to somehow defeat Voldemort, though Snape insisted that it wasn’t his burden to bear alone. Nevertheless, there was indeed still a war on, and would be until that man was gone.

He knew vaguely that he wanted to have a home and someone to come home to, but he thought of the things his classmates wanted to do and be and couldn’t relate. Fred and George had their own joke shop. Ginny wanted to join a professional Quidditch team. Ron was determined to join the Aurors in spite of his mediocre grades. Hermione had talked about many things -- possibly working for the Ministry, possibly going to a Muggle university. Even Neville had said he had plans to apprentice under Professor Sprout after graduation, in order to get his Masters in Herbology, though Harry didn’t know what could be done with such a title afterwards. Grow plants? Couldn’t Neville do that without an apprenticeship?

There was really so much Harry didn’t know about the world still. How it all worked, what jobs were even out there. Somehow, everyone but him had seemed to figure it out, at least enough to choose a direction. But Harry would really have preferred that someone choose for him. He liked being given assignments and told what needed to be done next, and it didn’t seem to matter much what the subject matter was.

He supposed he liked flying, but not enough to be a professional Quidditch player. The hours involved were gruelling, he’d never get to see Snape, and he would hate the spotlight.

He liked helping Hagrid with physical work, but it wasn’t as if Hogwarts needed another grounds-keeper, and he didn’t think he particularly wanted to be a gardener or something mundane like that.

“Go pack your things, Harry.” Snape reminded him. “And if you like, you may go wait for the students to arrive with Hagrid, and join your friends for the carriage ride.”

Harry smiled a bit. That did sound tempting, and much better than meeting everyone in the Great Hall. So Harry squared his shoulders and set about gathering his things for his dorm room. He didn’t work to erase his presence in these rooms. He lived there still, after all, and he’d be back there by the weekend.

~~~

“Harry!” Hermione ran to hug her friend as Ron came up grinning as well. “How was the rest of your summer?” she asked. The last Harry had seen his friends was on his birthday, and that was really it for the whole summer.

“It was good.” he answered honestly and smiled. Really, it was probably the best summer he could remember having. The first one where nothing had really gone wrong.

“You’ve got your Apparition license now, mate?” Ron confirmed and Harry nodded. “Brilliant. We should go somewhere during our first Hogsmeade weekend.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Why not just go to Hogsmeade? There’s plenty to do there and you don’t even have somewhere else you want to go.”

“Because we can Apparate now, Hermione.” Ron said with an eye roll of his own.

Harry smiled at his friends. He was certain they’d grow into a bickering married couple before long.

The three of them piled into one of the carriages and Ron immediately launched into the latest news about the war, as Harry shifted uncomfortably while he listened. Ron related news of attacks he’d heard about throughout London. That Voldemort was trying to assemble the werewolves, the rumours that the giants were moving.

“What have you heard?” Ron asked after he’d finished, and Harry just shrugged uncomfortably.

“I haven’t.” he answered simply.

Ron looked at him in confusion. “What? But Snape’s one of the main members of the Order, even if he’s not their spy any more. Surely you discuss something with him now and then. After all, you’re supposed to be the Chosen One.”

Harry’s jaw clenched at the phrase. “I’m not the bloody Chosen One.” he snapped, then took a deep breath. “Look, I really don’t know anything about what’s been going on. Snape doesn’t like me to worry about it.”

“But Harry,” Hermione argued, “regardless of whether you’re Chosen or not, there is a war happening and it won’t do any of us any good to bury our heads in the sand. After all, we’re all of age here and we’ll need to decide what we’re going to do about what’s happening. It’s all our responsibility.”

“I’m not burying my head in the sand.” Harry countered. “You two of all people should know that well enough after what I went through this spring.” Hermione and Ron shifted a bit guiltily as they recalled Harry’s ordeal to rid himself of a Horcrux. “I’m just not going out of my way to court danger. I am still a student, and it’s nice to have someone I can rely on to look after me for once. And Hermione,” he added. “You might be an adult Witch with decisions to make, but it’s not the same for me.”

“How is it not the same?” she argued.

“Because I’m property. And yes Snape wants me to figure out where I want to go in life but in the end it’s his decision.”

Hermione gaped at him. “But that’s awful!” she exclaimed. “That’s no different from a house elf.”

“It’s completely different.” Harry argued right back. “I’m an Incubus, not a house elf. I’m not tied to a family line or a property. I’m tied to my mate who I was driven to choose based on the trust I placed with him.”

“But you’re a person, Harry, with a mind of your own. You ought to be able to make your own decisions just like everybody else.”

“When are you going to get that I’m not like everybody else?” Harry asked in exasperation. “I’m not, Hermione, and neither are the house elves you’re so bent on saving. I get that it makes you uncomfortable, but that’s not really my problem. If you’re so convinced that I should be allowed to make my own decisions, aren’t I allowed to decide I don’t need saving?”

“I didn’t mean it like that....” Hermione tried to explain.

“You did.” Harry countered. “But let’s not argue about it now.”

Luckily for the trio, the carriages had arrived at the gates, and it was time to move on to the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast.

Harry tried to soak up every last second of it, knowing that it would never be like this again. He paid vague attention to the Sorting of the first years, and noted who had made it as Prefect this year, and Head Boy and Head Girl. Hermione was Head Girl of course.

Up at the Head Table, he was in for another great surprise. “It’s Remus.” he said in shock, and Hermione and Ron looked up immediately as well, Ron breaking into a wide grin.

“Brilliant. He must be back for the Defence position since you said Snape went back to Potions.”

Hermione was frowning in concentration though. “The Ministry isn’t going to like that.” she mused. “Professor Dumbledore let Professor Lupin go when it became known he was a werewolf.” she explained to Ron and Harry for clarification. “Because it really wouldn’t have been met well and he didn’t want a scandal. I can only imagine how bad it might have been if he’d been working here when we had Umbridge.” she shuddered. “Now that we’re fairly certain that Voldemort has a hold on the Ministry...” she shrugged. “I just wonder what McGonagall could be thinking.”

“I suppose she’s not really as political as Dumbledore was.” Harry mused. “Who’s that bloke on the end there?” he questioned, nodding toward an older grey-haired man at the end of the Head Table. He had short hair and a thick moustache, with tiny spectacles perched on the end of his nose and deep mauve robes.

“It’s got to be McGonagall’s replacement.” Ron said, thinking. “Unless Lupin’s for Transfiguration and he’s the new DADA?”

“No, it’s got to be Remus for DADA.” Harry said. “He was brilliant at it, and he’s not great with Transfiguration as far as I’ve seen.”

It turned out the new professor was Professor Wainwright, and he was indeed the new Transfiguration teacher, as well as the new head of Gryffindor. All of the Gryffindors were a bit dubious about it but willing enough to go with it. After all, McGonagall couldn’t go on as she had been, doing everything at once, and they were told Wainwright had been a Gryffindor back when he’d attended the school.

~~~

That night, when Harry settled into his dorm room, it was bitter-sweet. He felt sort of nostalgic seeing all the familiar faces, as everyone ritualistically asked each other about their summer holidays and set about unpacking a bit. Harry unpacked as well, and it felt weird to be up here instead of in the dungeons, sharing a bed with Snape. But it felt nice, too. Once everyone had settled in for the night, he closed his curtains and put up his silencing spells, pulling out his box of toys to begin his other rituals as well.

Chapter Text

It was the third weekend of the year and Snape had insisted that Harry go with his friends to Hogsmeade, though he didn’t sanction any Apparition beyond the little village. “Go.” he told Harry firmly that Saturday at breakfast. “I expect you back some time after supper but before bed. But I assure you I’ve plenty on my plate between grading and brewing, and you’ve got to spend time with your friends Harry, lest you lose them.”

Harry smiled a bit. “I know. And I do want to. I just also like staying in with you. I barely get to see you all week.”

“You see me at nearly every meal in the Great Hall, in Potions class, and in the halls at random throughout the week. You spend every weekend in my chambers and every weekend night in my bed. I hardly think that qualifies as barely seeing me.”

“You know what I mean.” Harry insisted. “It’s not the same as it was during the summer. Even if we spent the whole day apart in the summers we still went to bed together every night and woke up together every morning. I liked that.”

“And you shall get it again.” Snape assured him warmly. “After you graduate, I am certain we can work something out, depending on what career path you choose.”

Harry frowned again. He hated that Snape kept bringing that up.

“Have you given it any further thought?” Snape quizzed him.

“No amount of thinking about it makes anything clearer.” Harry complained.

“You’ll figure it out.” Snape insisted. “When the right thing comes along, you’ll know it.”

“I hope so.” Harry said quietly, though he had his doubts. At any rate, he’d finished with breakfast and had already serviced Snape in bed that morning, so there was nothing left for him to do but seek out his friends and go to Hogsmeade. At least that might take his mind off his future.

~~~

“Harry, where are you going?” Ron called after Harry as he continued down the street.

“Oh. I was just going to go across the bridge and check out some of the other shops.” he said, blinking. He’d done it so often with Snape over the summer he’d forgotten that it wasn’t the usual thing students had done.

Ron’s eyes about bugged out of his head. “You’re going across the river?” he asked in a high pitched voice. “But don’t you know what goes on over there?”

Harry grinned and laughed a bit at Ron’s face. “Relax, Ron. Professor Snape took me across the river a bunch of times over the summer.” He had to grin as he saw Ron’s face turn even more red, his eyes widening further. “It’s not like Knockturn Alley. The teachers just let that rumour persist so that students don’t go wandering off. It’s mostly just houses, honestly, but there are just as many random shops there, and they’re a bit more mature.”

Hermione looked pensive, considering it. “When you say more mature...” she began hesitantly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes there is a brothel, Hermione. That part isn’t actually a rumour. But we don’t have to go anywhere near it. There’s a liquor store you might find interesting, Ron. And there are some nice bakeries. A used book store....” Harry tried to remember what else was over there to make his argument, but at the mention of books Hermione was sold.

“All right. I’d like to see it.” she said, boldly stepping forward to join him.

Ron himself was curious as well at the mention of liquor. Was that where his brothers had gotten their secret stash for years? He was going to murder them for not telling him about this. Not that he really wanted anything to drink at the moment really, but it was the principle of the thing.

~~~

It was a beautiful fall day, and Harry took a moment to appreciate the view of the river, the changing leaves and the quaint village of Hogsmeade. Again, he just had a good feeling about this place. Was this what Snape meant whenever he told Harry he’d know the direction he should go when he saw it? But moving to Hogsmeade was hardly an answer to his entire future. Harry hoped that something would soon present itself more clearly.

They walked along the streets that were now familiar to Harry but new to his friends, and stopped at various shops along the way. Harry eyed the direction of The Bolt Hole and wondered what was going on there today, if anything. He wondered what his friends would think if he took them there to eat and snorted at the image presented. At any rate, they probably wouldn’t be allowed in. As far as Harry understood Snape either had some sort of official membership or an unofficial one based on recognition, and Harry really only was allowed in on his behalf. If Harry tried to go in alone, he had no doubt that word would get back to Snape and no one would be happy about it. Well, it was for the best. His friends accepted him as he was, but they didn’t want to know anything about that side of his life.

Everything about the day was just so ordinary, and so lovely, that none of them had been prepared. One minute they were leaving a bakery Harry hadn’t tried yet, hands full of sweets, slipping through another winding cobblestoned alleyway. The next minute, the brick and stone walls around them flickered with the light of spells. Harry only had time to draw his wand, but no time to process what was happening. His instinct was to flatten his back against a wall and draw but... it was too late.

A red spell hit him squarely in the chest as he took in his robed and hooded attackers. In that moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. His blood pounded in his head as sound distorted. Harry’s eyes slid to the side to try and find Hermione and Ron, but before glimpsed them, everything fell to black.

Chapter Text

The first thing Harry felt was cold, hard stone or concrete beneath him. He tried groggily to perk up and take inventory of his surroundings without moving yet or opening his eyes.

He was lying on his side on cold, hard, and gritty floor. It was damp as well. His glasses were still on his face, that was good. That meant when he opened his eyes he’d be able to see. He doubted very much his wand was anywhere on his person. He remembered now, the attack. He’d drawn his wand but... everything was so blurry. Apparently he’d been hit with something. This was bad. This was very bad.

Harry listened closely to his surroundings, but he couldn’t hear anyone else moving or even breathing. In the background water was dripping, but aside from that everything was silent. The air smelled stale, as if he were perhaps underground. The light was dim behind his eyelids.

He did a quick scan of his body, flexing various parts of himself, and didn’t feel much pain. Some bruises or scrapes perhaps. He was still dressed, though, which was good. Things could be worse. Cautiously, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in a cell with iron bars. The walls were fitted stone and the floor was stone as well. A dungeon of some sort, he supposed, though it could be anywhere. And the only light came from within the hall or tunnel outside of his cell -- a single flickering torch. Vaguely, he wondered what time it was. And where his friends were. And of course, where he was.

Harry pushed himself up to a seated position and checked his pockets for anything that might help him, but everything was gone. Of course they’d have searched him.

The cell had absolutely nothing in it. It was dirty and small. There was no toilet, no blanket, no water, on food. Harry frowned in worry at that. How long was he to be held her? Things could become very unpleasant very quickly if no one came to relieve him. He wondered why he wasn’t dead already.

“Hello?” he called out cautiously, hoping Ron or Hermione might respond. He waited a moment and tried again a bit louder. “Hello?” No answer. What did it mean? Had they gotten away? Were they being kept elsewhere? Had they died?

Harry knew he had to think clearly, had to be ready when... what? What could he possibly do when they came for him? Looking around, he didn’t have anything to use for his defence, though he supposed he could make an attempt at wandless magic. They’d barely touched it in school though and he hardly thought a mediocre wandless Lumos or Nox was going to help him here. Hermione’s words earlier that year came back to him and tears pricked at the back of his eyes as he leaned back against the wall. Hermione believed there was a war on, and that he should be more prepared to be involved. Dumbledore himself had always pushed for it, but Snape had shielded him as soon as he’d gotten the chance.

And Harry had relished that reprieve, what he’d had of it. Now he wondered if he should have been more vigilant, more prepared. Saying that he was Snape’s property under the law was all well and good, but what good was it to him now? Harry felt a bit ill to think any uncharitable thought about his mate, but what had Snape been thinking? Why hadn’t he prepared him for this sort of eventuality? And on an instinctive level, the Incubus within Harry wondered where his protector was now.

He didn’t know how long he waited in that cold cell. Long enough to develop a chill and feel perpetually damp, not to mention grimy all over. Long enough to feel his stomach growl with hunger and his mouth parched with thirst. Unfortunately long enough to have to take a piss, which he did against the bars, aiming for the hall outside in a sort of spite.

He was dozing lightly, propped up in the corner, when he finally awoke to the sounds of people coming. He recognized that voice and it sent shivers down his spine. Bellatrix.

“You’ll wait your turn!” she bellowed at whoever was with her, and Harry heard the mousy man stuttering apologies. He didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t a surprise. He wasn’t familiar with most of the Death Eaters.

Bellatrix’s eyes lit up when she laid eyes on him, and Harry felt very vulnerable indeed. He wondered if there was any use for a wandless Nox right about now. He didn’t think so. “Isn’t he gorgeous Yaxley?” she asked breathlessly.

Yaxley eyed him up dubiously, unlocking his cell door with a heavy key from a ring. “If you say so, Bella.”

“He’s an Incubus, you idiot. I’m sure even you could derive some pleasure from him.” Bellatrix sauntered in, tapping her wand against an open palm. “Now, now. What shall we do first?” she questioned sweetly. “Divesto.” she whispered, and Harry’s arms came around himself as he curled into a protective ball, his clothes flying away from him and leaving him exposed. If anything, her eyes lit up further as she saw Harry’s hard cock and its cap and ring right away. It was impossible to really hide.

“Well, well.” she said, stepping closer. “What have we here?” Bellatrix crouched down beside him, and Harry watched her narrowly, thinking that perhaps if he kicked quickly enough he could strike out at her. Could he grab her wand from her? But no. She was watching his every move, and held her wand and her body carefully.

Bellatrix traced over his cock and balls with the tip of her wand and he shivered, feeling absolutely frozen with terror. That was a deadly weapon, and he could well imagine some of the things she might do to him if he angered her. He was afraid of what she’d do even if he tried to cooperate. “S.S.” she read aloud. “Severus’ handiwork then, love?” she asked rhetorically. “He always was a possessive bastard. And he sent you out in broad daylight like this?”

Holding her wand with one hand, Bellatrix stroked Harry’s cock with the other, and Harry shuddered in revulsion. He wanted Snape now! He knew down to his bones that Snape wouldn’t approve of any bit of this. And Harry didn’t approve himself. Still, he fought with himself to remain still, to remain alive. Bellatrix’s sharp nails dug into him as she tried to pry the cap off the top of his cock and she frowned when it wouldn’t budge. Harry hissed in pain as she tried and failed to remove it.

Then her sharp fingernails were felt fiddling with the ring. She tried a few spells with her wand upon him but with no luck. Great, now she was in a nasty mood. “They don’t come off?!” she bellowed.

“O-only Snape can remove them.” Harry lied in a quavering voice. Actually, the were spelled that only Severus, Harry, or a certified medi-witch could remove them. There were layers of very complicated spells ensuring it. And only Severus could remove the collar around his neck -- no one else. Harry’s eyes flicked to the hall where he’d pissed earlier. If Bellatrix should connect the dots, she’d realized he’d lied about it. There was no way he could relieve himself with the cap in place.

“No matter.” she said with forced sweetness. “There are other ways we can have fun.” Her hand dipped back to Harry’s arse and he shuddered as he felt her reach for the plug. Again she looked furious to be thwarted. Viciously she slapped his cheek hard enough to turn his head, then raked her nails across his ribs, and was taking aim to do so at his genitals. Harry reacted instinctively and curled himself away protectively, crouched on the ground in as tight a ball as he could form.

“Just you wait, Potty.” she threatened. “There are plenty of other games we can play.”

Bellatrix was standing and adjusting her skirts, and Harry could see the calculating look in her eyes as she watched him.

“Where are the others?” he asked before he lost his chance. Bellatrix just laughed at him without answering anything.

Harry directed his gaze beseechingly toward the man, Yaxley, who was leaning against the wall of the hallway looking bored with the whole event. “What are you going to do with me?”

But no answer came. Bellatrix instead took aim with her wand and murmured a spell Harry hadn’t heard before. He learned at once what it did, though, as a whip-like pain struck across his back as she slashed her wand in his direction. He shouted at the pain and curled tighter in on himself, trying to hide his face behind his arms as well so that it wouldn’t get damaged. This was worse than the cane, though he’d felt worse pain before. And it was not the least bit pleasant for him, though Bellatrix seemed to be enjoying herself. Another strike hit him, then another, and Harry grunted through it, doing his best to stay calm and accept the pain. He would survive this. He had to.

Time seemed to drag on in a haze of pain before Bellatrix had bored herself. She’d taunted him and given him several swift kicks but eventually tired of the game and decided to leave. Harry was afraid to move, even as he heard her going and the cell door being locked again.

He wanted to know how long he’d be here. Whether he’d be fed or given water. He wanted to know what was to be done with him. But he was too terrified to ask. They wouldn’t answer even if he did.

When at last he heard the footsteps fade away, he looked up tentatively to confirm he was alone. Harry reached back to feel for damage, but other than heat, he couldn’t feel any welts or blood. Whatever spell Bellatrix had used, it was a sort of double-edged sword. He was grateful that it didn’t do that much actual damage, but it also meant that she could come back and do the same as soon as she felt like it without risking permanent damage to her new toy.

Harry’s mouth was beyond parched at this point, and he found himself regretting pissing in the hall, in a sick way. He knew that the next time he had to go, he’d be trying to recycle it if they hadn’t watered him by then. The idea revolted him, but he had to stay alive as long as he could, with the hope that there would be a rescue, or he could find some means of escape.

Harry pulled on his clothes again, relieved that they hadn’t been torn at least. They were his only means of protection and relative warmth. Pathetically, he laid down on his side and tried to rest, clutching one hand at his collar for strength. Harry wasn’t a religious person, but he prayed now to Snape, that somehow the man would be able to find him.

~~~

The first time he’d tried to drink his own piss, Harry had been disgusted. He’d almost not been able to get it down, not only because it was terribly awkward to actually execute but also because of the acrid taste and the entire idea of it. But he was desperately thirsty. And while the walls and floor were perpetually damp, they didn’t drip enough to actually pool water, and at any rate they were too filthy to try and gain anything from.

After the first time, subsequent drinks became easier for him, though he noticed the taste was stronger and the urge to relieve himself was less frequent.

They brought him no food either, and with no window or clock, Harry had no idea how much time had actually passed in the outside world. There was only long stretches of alone time, and short bursts of time during which he wished he was alone. Others, though mostly Bellatrix, would come by to torture him in some new way or hurl humiliating insults regarding his creature inheritance.

His inheritance., it turned out, was the only reason he was being kept alive. Because sooner or later, it was expected that he would break. The bond between an Incubus and his mate was very poorly understood, and Voldemort himself assumed that sooner or later Harry’s need for sexual release would overcome his resistance.

Over time, they’d realized that Harry must indeed be able to remove his own jewellery. It was made immediately obvious when after a time he’d been forced to defecate in his cell. They hadn’t cleaned the mess for several days, and had only eventually done so when the smell had offended Bellatrix enough to bother with it during one of her ritual torture sessions.

Now Harry was known to be belligerently refusing to aid them in his sexual assault, though it was becoming more and more difficult and confusing for him as time went by. His arousal was more intense day by day verging on physically painful. He’d been active with Snape for so long that he scarcely remembered what it had been like before him, though now he began to remember. It wasn’t exactly the same because he was still bound to his mate, but he felt it down to his bones that he needed some actual contact with his mate.

When left alone for long stretches, Harry tried playing with himself. In the past, some of his masturbatory sessions in Gryffindor tower had helped relieve the itch up to a point, because Snape had ordered him to do it. While his mate wasn’t physically present, fulfilling his orders helped a small amount. But the environment was hardly conducive to comfort. Harry’s clothes became more ratty by the day. He was perpetually cold and damp and covered in dirt and grime. He was weak from hunger and thirst, and weak and dizzy from lack of proper sexual contact. What little masturbation he attempted proved entirely unsatisfying.

It wasn’t that he had no sexual contact at all, however. Bellatrix saw to that as well. At one moment stroking his hard cock almost lovingly, the next minute leaving vicious marks in his skin with her nails, or swatting his bollocks in a way that caused him only pain and not even the slightest echo of pleasure as when Snape had done similarly.

Even if he hadn’t been bound to Snape, or if Snape would have died, severing their bond, Harry wouldn’t have gained any sexual satisfaction from what was being done to him. His nature bid him to seek out a mate he could trust, one who could be counted on to protect him. And the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself certainly didn’t qualify in the slightest. He’d tried to argue with Bellatrix about it once when he was in pain and furious, and it had only aggravated her further. After that, he’d learned to keep his mouth shut. After all, it was the promise of having an Incubus pet, the perfect sex slave as they saw it, that was the only reason for keeping him alive to begin with.

Harry had even met with Voldemort himself on one occasion, though he’d blocked most of that disgusting snake-like man’s touches from his memory. The worst part of that encounter was that in comparison to Bellatrix, Voldemort had been almost tender with him. It had been a welcome reprieve from the constant torture and pain of the mad woman. And no doubt the man knew enough of how an Incubus worked to try and use that fact to his advantage. Voldemort was playing a waiting game. Having the saviour of the Wizarding world at his beck and call was just too tempting.

Harry was growing weak and dizzy, and he couldn’t decide whether it was from the lack of food and drink, or the lack of sexual contact. He well remembered passing out and finding himself in the hospital ward early on, and this certainly had elements of that sensation. The withholding of food and drink was all part of their plan as well. Remove the jewellery, they’d told him, and he’d get something in return. It was a simple request, but Harry doggedly refused to remove anything from his person while they were within sight of him. If he had to piss or shit, he waited carefully for a time when he knew he’d be alone to do it.

Reinserting jewellery without oil or proper cleaning tools was also absolute hell. But it was that or open his body to further violation, and like hell he was going to expose himself to that willingly. The only problem was, he had a cut from one of Bellatrix’s nails on his cock that looked like it might be becoming infected (and certainly felt so), and the inside of his urethra was beginning to sting concerningly, especially when he had a piss.

He’d tried to clean off the tip of his cock cap with his mouth when he’d remove it, knowing that the inside of his cock was mostly sterile, and in that way he tried to use his spit for lube. But the plug in his arse wasn’t sanitary in the least, and now the rim of his hole was chaffed and irritated from repeated dry insertions. No doubt there’d been some minor tearing. Snape had warned him about the dangers of such a thing, and Harry was terribly concerned about faecal matter entering such tears and causing infection. Such infections in such sensitive areas could be fatal, he knew, and he was slowly losing the will to continue to resist.

Might it not be healthier for him, safer, and more readily ensure his survival if he were to simply remove the jewellery as instructed? Harry’s mind would turn in circles about it for hours while he was alone, lost in a haze of arousal and hunger. It’d certainly been days now, and he hadn’t found a single opportunity to fight back, to attempt his own escape. Now he knew that he was growing weaker by the day, and less likely to be able to attempt anything at all. But he couldn’t arrive at the most sensible solution. For wasn’t part of it about calling each other’s bluff? If he could just hold out long enough, surely they’d have to give in and feed him, water him, regardless. They wouldn’t risk losing their potential new toy. Would they?

Harry was in a haze of weakness one day when they took him from the cell again, for only the second time since his arrival. The only other time they’d done this, it had been to see Voldemort. Harry had had a bad feeling it would happen again, but he told himself that at least it wasn’t more of Bellatrix. He tried to rouse himself, to be more alert. Now might be his chance to escape. He had to pay attention! To be ready! But it was difficult to pay attention and be ready when he had to be bodily escorted through the halls of the dungeon to Voldemort’s rooms. It was difficult to be ready when he couldn’t physically stand on his own.

Harry was dropped in a heap on the floor at Voldemort’s feet.

“He’s filthy.” Voldemort sneered.

“Yes, my Lord.” one of the Death Eaters said. “I apologize, my lord.” Harry hadn’t even observed who’d come for him. He was dizzy and his thinking was cloudy, but he tried to focus.

“Scourgify!” someone hissed, and Harry winced as the spell hit him. It was never a pleasant way to clean. The spell chafed at the skin and left it smarting and a bit red. It wasn’t thoroughly effective either and didn’t penetrate clothing very well. Still, a part of him was happy to have it done. He almost couldn’t stand himself lately.

“My pet.” Voldemort said softly, stalking up to him and petting Harry’s hair. Harry didn’t have the strength to pull away from the gentle touch. “Why do you continue to torture yourself?” he asked. “All you need do is be a good pet and you’ll have the loveliest treatment. You do want to be a good pet, don’t you?”

Harry declined to answer, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. He didn’t want to acknowledge Voldemort was even talking to him. Part of him was afraid that at this point he’d cave.

“I understand. You’re frightened, you’re uncomfortable, you need a gesture of some sort to convince you of my benevolence toward you.” Voldemort told him silkily, and reached down to tilt Harry’s chin up to look at him. Harry stared into the face of the deformed creature before him, and shuddered a bit in revulsion. He wanted his Master.

“Are you thirsty, my pet?” Voldemort asked. He lifted a goblet from a nearby table and knelt gracefully on the ground in front of Harry, then gently held the rim of it to his mouth to encourage him to drink. Harry was so overwhelmed by the promise of drink, he didn’t know what to do. He’d wanted them to feed him, to water him, and now they were doing so. Wasn’t this what he wanted? He needed to keep his strength up. But another part of him rebelled. He was confused. Was this a sort of trick? Should he refuse the drink? Refuse to play into their hands?

The decision was made for him as the goblet of water was tipped against his lips. They parted instinctively as he swallowed the drink, feeling it soothe his parched mouth and throat. He tried to drink more greedily, wanting to guzzle the water down, but Voldemort stopped him, controlling the flow carefully. “Ah, ah.” he admonished gently. “You’ll make yourself sick if you take too much of it too quickly.” He pulled the drink away, and Harry stared at him fuzzily, not fully comprehending why he couldn’t have more, or why he’d been given any to begin with.

“Do you see now? Wasn’t that nice? You can have as much to drink as you like, Harry.” Voldemort told him. “Nice things to eat. And relief from your other conditions.” he added, his hand pressing against Harry’s permanent erection. Harry gasped and closed his eyes at the touch, even as he wanted to turn away in revulsion. His body was sending him conflicting signals. “All I want is the smallest bit of cooperation. You don’t need to be a prisoner here, Harry.” Voldemort told him, stroking gently now.

Harry whimpered in discomfort. From arousal, from revulsion, from the growing infections in his body. He was at a total loss.

Voldemort sat back down in his throne and beckoned Harry to him. “Come here.” he encouraged, and Harry struggled to crawl across the floor those last few feet, cautious of being punished if he didn’t try to comply, and wanting desperately to be given something more to drink, or something to eat. Perhaps a healing to some of his injuries.

In a sort of trance he watched as Voldemort undid his robes and trousers, pulling out his cock to stroke in front of him. It was like something out of a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. He’d already been used and abused by some of the Death Eaters. He’d had to suck off some of the men a few times, though it was more of a face-fuck, totally out of his control. But this, this was even worse. This was Voldemort himself.

And the most disgusting part of it was that Harry almost wanted it. He felt a mix of conflicting emotions stir within him.

“Come here, Harry. I think you know well what to do for me. Don’t you want something nice to eat? Don’t you crave some physical attention?” he asked seductively, not grabbing his hair, not thrusting into him violently. Harry looked up pleadingly and was forced to look away. He couldn’t make out any emotion in that demonic visage.

Harry shuddered violently. “No.” he forced out, looking away. All he could think of was Snape, his mate.

“What did you say to me?” Voldemort asked quietly, a dark edge to his voice.

“I said no.” Harry said more firmly, but didn’t raise his head to meet Voldemort’s eyes. There was a time when he would have faced the man head on, but now it was taking every fibre of his being to resist, to hold his will steady. “You’re not my Master.” he said with conviction. “I belong to Severus Snape.”

“And where is that Master now?” Voldemort sneered. “He can’t protect you, and he has not.” Voldemort said disdainfully. “You’d do well to recognize that now, little Incubus, if you wish to survive this war. I am offering you sanctuary but my patience has its limits.”

Harry trembled on the floor, his eyes shut tightly. He was so hungry, and so thirsty, and so tired and sore. He just had to do this one thing, this one thing which he was good at, and wasn’t that unpleasant, and he could have comfort again. Why was he resisting? It wasn’t helping him to survive. It was making him weaker and he was going to die this way if Voldemort was to be believed. What would Snape want him to do? Harry searched his mind but couldn’t find an answer. Snape would want him to survive, but he would also not want him to share his body willingly. He shook his head ‘no’ and stayed where he was.

“Take him back to his cell.” Voldemort instructed someone in a cold voice as he did up his clothes again. “And Harry,” he said as Harry was lifted to his feet once again, man-handled toward the door. “Think on what I’ve told you.”

With those final words echoing around him, Harry was led back to his cell to wait again.

Chapter Text

Severus was absolutely frantic about Harry, and if he had to have one more argument with an Order member about what to do he was going to lose it. His cool composure was shattered and he was ready to kill anyone who stood in the way of him saving his mate. It didn’t matter whether or not the time was right to challenge Voldemort. All that mattered was Harry.

Hermione and Ron had indeed survived their attack, though it was clear that it was only because the attackers had no need of them. Ron had been unconscious and Hermione severely injured as the group of Death Eaters made off with Harry. Hermione, a smart witch, had immediately forced herself into action, hauling herself to the nearest shop to secure help. The attack had been so quick and efficient that no one had even heard the fight. It was in broad daylight in Hogsmeade, and the village and the entire school were still reeling from the implications. Nowhere, it seemed, was safe.

It was a store clerk who’d Apparated directly to the front gates of Hogwarts, running full out into the castle and all the way up to Headmistress McGonagall’s office. Valuable minutes were ticking by, though no one could know it. The time it took to snatch Harry. The time it took for Hermione to get help. The time to explain, the time to send someone to Hogwarts, for them to find the Headmistress.

McGonagall had flown into action once she’d understood what had happened. Order members were immediately summoned and followed the clerk back to his shop. Kingsley lead the Aurors in gathering evidence, trying to find whether enough of a magical signature was left to track their Apparition from the scene. Meanwhile, Hogsmeade and Hogwarts were in chaos, because McGonagall had determined it was no longer safe.

The students had to be brought back, and that meant that McGonagall needed the Heads of Houses to help. Snape still couldn’t go look for his mate. The castle had to be guarded and fortified. There needed to be a meeting in the Great Hall to explain the danger, owls had to be sent to the parents. There’d been a kidnapping.

And in the meantime, Snape’s mind was in chaos. And the Aurors and the rest of the Order had found nothing. All they had to go on was what little Hermione and Ron remembered. But the attack had been quick and they weren’t very familiar with the looks, voices, or wands of the Death Eaters. They weren’t trained to recognize details quickly. And even when they’d been brought back to the castle for questioning, Snape had had to wait while Madame Pomfrey treated them. Of course they would need to be treated first. They were children. But it was killing him.

~~~

Now, many days had passed, and they were still debating what to do. “We have a location.” Snape stated firmly. “I don’t see what we’re waiting for.”

Minerva looked at him sharply. “We have a possible location, Severus, and you’re hearing what you want to hear. Even if Harry is being held there, there’s every chance that Voldemort himself and any number of Death Eaters will be waiting. They’d have the advantage in the attack. We can’t just go barrelling in.”

Moody, for once, was on his side. “We have the element of surprise.” he insisted. “I say we strike fast and hard.”

“Striking fast and hard isn’t a plan!” Kingsley complained. “I expect better from you, Alastor. You used to be an Auror yourself.”

“And I quit that damned organization for a reason!”

“You were ousted because you wouldn’t follow proper procedures and protocols!” Kingsley shot back.

“Gentlemen, please.” Arthur tried to placate them. “Kingsley, is there any word on the Ministry’s stance?” he asked, hoping that the Aurors could be dispatched officially.

“I’ve told you before.” Kingsley said, rubbing his forehead from stress. “The Ministry is gone, Arthur. It can’t be relied upon. We’re on our own.”

Snape rolled his eyes. He was sick of this continual argument. Arthur Weasley had to get his head out of the clouds and accept that the organization he’d worked for for so long was no longer the one that he’d given his allegiance to years ago. The whole thing needed to be gutted and started anew, but that was the least of their problems now. The main problem was Harry, and he’d be damned if he’d give the boy up because of incompetent bickering.

“I’m going tonight.” he declared to the group, and saw immediately the chaos that was about to erupt. Minerva opened her mouth to argue, Arthur gaped in shock, and Tonks of all people looked determined herself.

“Severus --” Minerva began to screech but Tonks spoke over her.

“Brilliant. I’m going with you.” she looked to her partner, and Snape was surprised to see the wolf nod his own support.

“You do not even have a plan.” Minerva insisted.

“The plan is force.” Snape declared, flying by the seat of his pants. He was a spy and a Slytherin, and wasn’t used to the Gryffindor method, but he could see few other available options. “Anyone who is willing should meet here tonight, 3 a.m. We’ll go in the small hours of the morning while it’s darkest and they’re least expecting an attack. Fast and brutal. Call all members, family, and friends you think might come along, but be discrete. We don’t want them getting word of this.”

“What if we encounter Voldemort?” Lupin asked pragmatically. “I want to know here and now -- do we engage with the enemy or focus on getting Harry out fast?”

It was Moody who answered. “We’ll have to play it by ear.” he told them. “Go in with intentions of freeing the boy, but if you see your chance, kill him. We’re fairly certain we’ve destroyed all the Horcruxes save the snake at this point. He’s powerful, but he’s still only a man. Kill him and kill his snake, and he’s gone.”

“I cannot believe we’re staging a final battle now, in this manner.” Minerva said, shaking her head.

“Minerva --” Snape began, but whatever he’d meant to say was waved away.

“Don’t be a fool, Severus.” she told him with a resigned sigh. “Of course I’m in.”

“Who will be responsible for the students if you come?” Snape asked her, and saw her purse her lips thoughtfully.

“We’ll leave Poppy with that ultimate responsibility. I’ll write up the papers to appoint her my successor or stand-in should anything happen.”

Snape nodded. It would have to do. Poppy would need to stay behind anyway to be ready to receive wounded. She’d known the school for as long as any of them and would do a decent enough job holding it together in the case of emergency. Because for right now, it was Snape who was Deputy Headmaster, and he certainly couldn’t be counted on to take over if he were the one leading the charge.

“So we’re all agreed then?” Kingsley asked, looking around the room at the determined faces. He nodded at the resolve he saw there. “Then I suppose tonight’s the night. We’ll get you your boy back, Severus.” he vowed. “You can count on that.”

~~~

Snape looked like Death itself as his robes billowed about him. He took point as the largest assembled group of Order members thus far followed him out of the castle and into the night. Even some of the students had insisted upon coming along, and he had his guess as to how they’d found out. Fred and George must have been the link between the adult Order members and their siblings at the school. Now Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were assembled along with the adults. It was too late to debate the ethics of allowing them to come along, too late to make further plans. Snape would get his mate back or die trying.

At the gates he Apparated without hesitation to the chosen coordinates. Here was an old decaying mansion from Voldemort’s own line, and it was where he was rumoured to keep his base of operations these days. Snape strode forward relentlessly and felt the wards crackle around him as he passed through. He’d been relying on the fact that he still had his Dark Mark, and that Voldemort’s wards would be keyed to it as they’d always been in the past. It was trivial then for Snape to allow the others to follow him in, once he’d already gained entrance. They had very little time. Already, Death Eaters were stirring within the household as no doubt someone or other had been on guard or had managed to feel the shift in the wards. Perhaps the Dark Lord himself.

While Snape helped the last of the members through the wards surrounding the property, Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already leading the charge into the house, and Snape could hear a commotion from within it and see the reflections of spell light in the dark night. So much for stealth. He had no doubt the confrontation had been unavoidable. He only hoped that he could find Harry quickly amid the chaos. Raising his own wand, he dashed inside with the others, spells already flying off his wand before he’d fully joined in the fray.

His eyes scanned the scene even as he blocked and parried. Familiar faces. Lucius. Bella. The blood drained from Snape’s face as he caught sight of Voldemort joining in the fray himself, that damnable snake behind him. The Dark Lord certainly would take a chance involving himself unless he thought he could win. Snape didn’t take any chances with him, making his way through the room and to the hall as quickly and as stealthily as he could. It wasn’t a covert operation -- he was under fire all the while, but the best he could hope to do was not catch the Dark Lord’s attention as he made his way through, carefully masking himself in the chaos of battle.

The house wasn’t familiar to Snape but the layout was blessedly straight-forward. The most likely place to find a prisoner in an old Pureblood mansion such as this was in the dungeons, so he made for the stairs and worked his way down.

No guards. Sloppy, but a blessed relief, and typical. Snape’s heart nearly stopped when he saw Harry in the corner of the barren cell, the boy’s eyes locking with his instantly. Harry looked ready to cry with relief, almost disbelieving that Snape had come for him. He’d distantly heard the commotion upstairs and had tried to rouse himself to pay attention, even in his weakened state. He had hoped and prayed for this for what seemed an eternity. Now his mate was here.

“Harry.” Snape whispered as he took in the sight. It could be worse, he knew. It could be far worse. But here was his boy, emaciated and filthy, covered with bruises and scratches. His clothes were in tatters and almost unrecognisable with the grime on them, and the cell stunk to high heaven. Snape could see the remains of faeces in one corner and wrinkled his nose in disgust. This was far from the worst treatment of prisoners he’d seen during his time with the Death Eaters. But though he reminded himself of that, it was still difficult to accept the reality that this had happened to his Harry.

“We have to go quickly.” Snape told him, and began trying a series of spells on the cell door. Dungeons were notoriously well-warded and Death Eater or not he didn’t actually have a key or a proper pass-code for the cell door. Precious seconds ticked by as he continued to murmur spells at the stubborn lock. Harry meanwhile had roused himself enough to stand, looking hopeful.

“I don’t have my wand.” he whispered, his voice parched and out of use.

“Accio Harry’s wand.” Snape muttered, waving his wand around in a vague sort of way. They’d just have to see if it would come, though he doubted it was well-secured and he could feel a promising pull on his magic. “Stand back, if you please.” he directed at Harry, and used the brute-force method of a well placed blasting spell, now that he’d weakened the wards. The door shuddered from the impact and then creaked open, bent and broken in places.

“Are you injured?” Snape asked him, eyeing up Harry as he walked through the door. At least the boy was standing and moving on his own.

“Not seriously.” Harry answered. “Just a bit dizzy.”

Snape nodded. It was understandable. It seemed Harry hadn’t been given proper food and drink, not to mention the possibility of his biology working against him. It had been only three weeks but Harry was used to weekly explicit sexual contact with Snape, plus small things throughout the week to tide him over. It could be any or all of these things weakening Harry. To be sure, Snape secured an arm around Harry’s shoulders and sped him along through the dungeons as quickly as was possible, his other hand holding his wand out in preparation for a fight. Partway up the stairs, Harry’s wand came flying to them, and Harry caught it with a sigh of relief.

When they emerged upstairs it was chaos. A series of pops indicated someone either Apparating or Disapparating and neither possibility filled Snape with ease. It was hard to make out who was winning by all of the noise and light, but as his eyes skimmed the crowd he found far more Order members than Death Eaters.

In the front room there was a horrific screaming and a blinding burst of light, and the second Snape was able to focus again to his horror he was face to face with the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort raised his wand, a sneer on his face and Snape’s own wand was pointed at him before he had consciously decided to do anything. “Avada Kedavra!”, the green light streaked from his wand and Harry’s, and only as Voldemort fell to the ground looking stunned did he realize the boy beside him had uttered the Unforgivable as well. He looked at Harry with a sense of horror, that Harry had felt he’d had to do such a thing, and the fact that he’d been able to do it successfully. Or was that entirely Snape’s doing?

His mind was still numb as he turned back to the prone form before him, uncomprehendingly. Another series of pops as the last of the Death Eaters made their escape if they were able, though bodies littered the ground. And then the Order members were streaming toward them and taking in the dead form of the Dark Lord. It was over. Could it really, truly be over?

Chapter Text

Neither Snape nor Harry processed much on the way back to Hogwarts. Snape Apparated them and led them shakily to the hospital wing where the group was converging. Minerva had taken charge and sent them ahead. Presumably something was being done to take care of the wounded. Snape knew in his fog that he had to take control of the situation again, find out what he’d missed, find out the state of things.

In the hospital wing, Poppy was bustling about tending to everyone, the severest cases first, and Snape turned his attention to Harry. Snape had a gash on his thigh and a burn on his forearm but no other injures he could detect, so he set about tending to Harry who was unscathed from the battle but worse for the wear from the past three weeks.

“Sit down.” Snape told him gently, encouraging Harry to sit his tired frame on a hospital bed. “Let’s get you undressed. I’m sure Poppy will want to attend to you shortly.” he encouraged, shutting the curtains around them.

Harry allowed himself to be undressed like a limp doll, utterly exhausted and relieved. “How long?” he asked in a rough voice.

“Approximately three weeks.” Snape answered him, and Harry nodded, his eyes closed.

“It felt longer.” he admitted. “I couldn’t keep track of the time in the cell.”

Snape only nodded. He could well imagine the effects isolation could have on an individual. He’d seen it all before.

Snape threw the soiled clothes onto the floor and blasted Harry with a few uncomfortable cleaning spells to rid him of the worst of the grime. A proper bath could come later, but he at least wanted to make him moderately more comfortable and see what he was dealing with. He hissed in concern as he saw Harry’s cock first, looking red and inflamed around the cap. He gently removed it and saw Harry wince and shudder. “What in Merlin’s name....” Snape began to ask, but went cold as he thought about it.

“They only kept me alive because they wanted to use me as some sort of sex slave.” Harry divulged very quietly, his eyes glancing at the thin curtains that surrounded them, clearly not wanting anyone else to overhear as he pitched his voice low. “I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, so I had to keep the jewellery on. But without lube or anything to sterilize it....”

“My poor boy.” Snape said as his heart clenched. He pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead, ignoring the grime, as he carefully set the cap aside. At best, Harry’s cock was irritated, at worst it was infected. He’d need Poppy to check.

Next came the cock ring, which was much easier to remove, though he noted the damage done to both cock and bollocks, as well as Harry’s thighs. No doubt someone had been having the ‘fun’ with his Harry, and he felt rage simmer inside of him at the thought. Well. Most of them were dead anyway, he told himself, though he didn’t quite believe he’d seen the Dark Lord’s death, possibly even caused it. And he wasn’t sure how many or who had escaped.

He caressed Harry gently for a moment before reaching behind to work free the plug and noted Harry’s flinch again. If he was infected there, that could be very bad for his health, though he was grateful they were back safely at Hogwarts. It would only take a regimen of Potions to heal him again. With proper care, nothing was seriously life threatening. Not now that he was safe.

“When have you last eaten?” Snape asked him quietly. “Or had something to drink?”

“Voldemort gave me some water.” he said with an unfocused look. “Maybe it was today? Yesterday? I can’t remember.” he said, licking his dry, cracked lips.

“And before that?” Snape prompted, suspecting he knew the answer.

Harry looked at him and gave a slight negative shake of his head. Nothing. There had been nothing, except for his own piss, and he didn’t want to say that. Not now, not yet. It was too much. He was starting to tremble from the shock of it all.

Snape cast a hasty warming charm, though his own hands trembled as well as the adrenaline coursed through him. He pulled a folded blanket off the foot of the bed and unfolded it enough to drape it around Harry, shielding his modesty in this crowded room (especially after what he might have been through), and warming him a bit.

“Sit down before you fall down, Severus.” Poppy bustled in, pushing aside the curtains and entering their little alcove. Had she really finished with the others so quickly? Snape tried to look behind him and through the gap in the curtains but he was being pushed onto the bed as well, and Poppy was already tending to the still bleeding gash on his leg.

“Harry’s cold.” he said stupidly, his mind seeing the Dark Lord fall to the ground again and again.

“Harry’s fine, dear.” Poppy assured him. “And you will be as well in just a minute. Just take that.” she pressed a phial into his hands, and Snape took it mutely, vaguely noticing the taste of a blood replenisher. He looked down at his thigh where his trousers had been further ripped away from the wound and a healing poultice had been applied and wrapped. Already he could feel the skin knitting itself together and the pain diminishing, cool tingles trailing all over his leg. It distracted him well enough from the burn salve being spread on his arm.

“He hasn’t eaten.” Snape continued.

“I’m sure.” Poppy told him. She’d already seen the state Harry was in, and had a roster of potions and treatments to begin on him, but he was in less critical condition than Snape was with large gaping wounds. “If you’ll please lie back then, Severus, while I tend Harry?” she urged, settling Snape properly in the bed, robes and boots still filthy and still worn, but it was a testament to how out of it Snape was that he allowed himself to be manipulated into place.

Next she ran a series of diagnostic spells on Harry, and then pressed various phials into his hands which he took without question. “You’ll need a proper bath.” she told him. “And I’ll have potions for you to continue taking and a salve you’re to apply rectally. I’ll be sending along a basic healing salve for the bruises and scrapes as well, though all of it is fairly superficial. The main thing is the potions to fight a number of infections you’ve got developing.”

“All of that can wait until you’re back in your quarters.” she told him. “If you’ll just rest here with your mate, I’ll have some broth brought up for the both of you.”

Harry nodded and made himself as comfortable as possible on the tiny bed, curled up against Snape. He felt vulnerable, as if he would be snatched away from safety at any second, and he just wanted to be back in their rooms. But he was too tired to argue, and the temptation of broth was alluring. In no time, the two of them were sipping from hot mugs as the liquid warmed their bones and settled their tremors.

~~~

“Is it over?” Harry asked quietly, after he’d finished with his broth. He simultaneously still felt hungry, and felt sort of uncomfortably full. No doubt that was why he’d only been given the broth to start.

“I am uncertain.” Snape answered. “Though I believe we saw him die.”

“We killed him.” Harry corrected, and he was surprised at how relieved the idea made him feel. No more chasing, no more hiding. No more destiny looming over him. He thought perhaps he should feel guiltier for his hand in the man’s death, but all he could feel was glad that it was over.

~~~

“Yes, I do believe it is over.” came a voice from the other side of the curtain. Snape waved his wand lazily and shunted the curtain aside to reveal Kingsley.

“What’s the word?” Snape asked, forcing his mind back to at least a portion of its usual sharpness.

“From what I can keep track of as everyone is in and out of here, they found the body near you two. He’s dead.”

“The snake?”

“Neville Longbottom killed it.” Kingsley answered, his tone indicating how impressed he was. Snape’s own eyebrows rose high on his face, though Harry simply smiled at the news. “He came back in critical condition but they have him stabilized and sleeping a few beds down.” he twitched his head in the general direction, though there were a good number of beds with their curtains pulled shut for privacy.

“Our losses?” Snape asked next, relentlessly pursuing more information. They’d lost two Aurors, but surprisingly no one that either he or Harry were closely attached to, by some miracle. Then again, they’d only actually managed to kill two of the Death Eaters in retaliation, and again it was two that Snape couldn’t find it in himself to care about either way. Not powerful, not important.

Remus and Tonks were also both in critical condition. One of the Weasley twins had lost an ear. Wounds all around. But everyone was accounted for at least.

Several Death Eaters were in custody now and receiving their own treatment under guard, and several had escaped. Lucius and Bella were unsurprisingly (though disappointingly) both at large. Snape felt Harry shudder violently at that news, and Harry buried his face against Snape, breathing him in, feeling him, grounding himself. Snape suspected of the two it must have been Bella who’d dealt Harry most of his wounds, from what he knew of the both of them. He’d have to ask at some point, but not now.

Just then there was a renewed burst of activity in the hospital ward as Aurors came bustling in, and Snape could swear he heard the Minister’s voice in the hall, along with Minerva speaking fast and sharp. Snape closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. He was too tired for this.

Poppy bustled up to their bed as the commotion grew, Aurors and Ministry officials trying to get the full story out of anyone they could corner while Minerva threatened them idly. There was very little she could do to bodily remove them from her school.

“Best use the floo while you still can.” Poppy told Snape. “Filius has already made his escape. I’m afraid the Headmistress isn’t too well pleased with him.” she hid a small smile. “Go back to your quarters then.” she told the pair of them. “Healer’s orders.”

“Thank you, Poppy.” Snape said with tired sincerity, and helped usher Harry along with him to the floo at the far end of the hospital ward, Harry still wrapped in a blanket as his only clothing. Snape had pocketed Harry’s wand and jewellery in his robes.

In a flash of green flame, Harry sighed with relief as they were back in their familiar quarters. It had seemed like they’d been gone for an age. After the dungeon cell, there was a certain unreality to safety and comfort.

“Bath first, I think.” Snape said, limping his way steadily toward the bathroom. He’d have to re-do Poppy’s poultice but he could feel that the wound was already halfway healed and he really did want a hot soak, not to mention Harry absolutely needed one. “Then potions. Then rest.”

Harry nodded mutely and followed Snape around every step of the way, afraid to lose sight of him. It was all he could do not to reach out and touch the man constantly, to reassure himself and to reassure his biology that he was once again with his mate. He sat on the toilet lid still wrapped in the hospital ward blanket, feeling chilled and sore, now that he had the luxury of acknowledging his injuries.

Snape drew a bath, as hot as he could stand it, and even expanded the tub a bit with a wave of his wand so that they could soak more comfortably. Stripping off his own damaged and blood-stained clothes, Snape sank into the water and pulled Harry along with him, situating his boy in the V of his legs.

Harry leaned back with a quiet sigh and closed his eyes as Snape’s arms came around to hold him. For a few minutes, they simply sat, soaking in one another, and Harry’s tremors slowly diminished as his brain caught up to the fact that he was skin to skin with his mate.

“I want you to know, Harry, that I came as soon as I was able.” Snape told him, feeling a great need to explain. Three weeks. Three weeks Harry had been in that torture chamber. He was almost afraid to find out what all may have happened, though he was relieved to note that Poppy hadn’t treated him for the Cruciatus at least.

“We couldn’t find where they’d taken you. Mister Weasley and Miss Granger were able to get help, but the Apparition trail had died, so it took us time to gather intel, time to decide where you were most likely being kept. Time to come up with a plan of attack, though obviously not very much time was spent on that. In the end, you’ll be amused to note, I pushed for a very Gryffindor approach.” Snape’s mouth quirked in a near smile, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to it in this mood.

“Was it Bella?” Snape asked into the silence, noting that Harry wasn’t likely to talk about anything unless prompted.

“Mostly.” Harry admitted. “Though sometimes she’d bring others and encourage them to... participate.” Harry felt the sting of tears behind his eyes as he recalled it. “Honestly the pain was probably the easiest to deal with in a way. Though I can’t say I enjoyed complete strangers forcing me to suck them off. I tried not to. I know you wouldn’t want --”

“Shh.” Snape silenced him. “I won’t hear any of that.” he said gently. “You were abused, Harry. Even had you complied with their wishes I wouldn’t ever hold such a thing against you. As your mate, it’s my responsibility to protect you, and I can never forgive myself fully for my own lapse.”

“It’s not like you could have known.” Harry said with surprise. “In Hogsmeade? In broad daylight?”

“Even so. I should have been more cautious.” Snape said bitterly, then tightened his embrace a bit. “Enough of that, though. You’re here now. You’re safe. My precious boy.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Harry’s head, which was tucked neatly under his chin.

“Voldemort...” Harry said hesitantly, “... he wanted me as some sort of sex slave. That’s why they kept me. Starved me. He said if I’d just....” Harry choked on a sob, feeling mortified at the memory of it. How close he’d been to capitulation, even though he seriously doubted that he’d receive the relief he needed and wanted by serving someone who wasn’t his mate.

“He’s gone now.” Snape said with a cold tinge to his voice. It was finally setting in.

“But some of the Death Eaters.... Bellatrix...”

“They will be found. Or they’ll stay in hiding. But I certainly won’t allow them to get to you. As soon as we’re finished recuperating, I’m going to have your collar worked on. It’s something I’d been planning already and would have saved us this whole ordeal had I gone through with it. There is a way to create a sort of portkey out of it, triggered by a word of my choosing and your magical signature that should bring you directly to me. The reason I hadn’t done it yet is that it’s very complicated magic -- difficult to create, not to mention gruellingly time consuming. I believe that experience has taught us it’s more than worth the effort.”

“I’d like that.” Harry said softly, curling further into his mate’s arms. The idea of having a way to instantly get to Snape made him feel warm and safe.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up.” Snape instructed, reaching for the soap and a flannel. The water was already becoming murky around them, though he hardly minded. He began the slow, delicate process of cleaning Harry who was still covered in scrapes and bruises. The genitals were of course the most delicate operation, Harry wincing uncomfortably throughout, though it did feel nice to finally be clean at least. Snape’s own washing was cursory at the end, taking only moments, and then he was out of the tub and working to dry them both.

“I can dry myself.” Harry said with a small smile, a near laugh.

“You can, but I want to.” Snape said firmly as he continued to gently towel Harry off.

Clean and dry, the next order of business were a number of salves and potions -- mostly for Harry but also redressing Snape’s leg. Warm pyjamas came next, and Harry was utterly grateful to have something in such good condition, so warm and cosy to snuggle into.

The elves had been by, delivering a basket of potions from the hospital ward, no doubt, and laying a spread of foods under a warming charm. Later, Snape decided. Harry had already had some broth, and he didn’t want to overwhelm his system. The fire had been stoked to a roaring blaze, and their bed was calling to them, with its heaps of blankets and a proper mattress. Harry was in heaven as he snuggled in with Snape.

Snape dimmed the lights to a warm glow, and together, they slept.

~~~

Snape woke up some time later to Harry whimpering and struggling slightly in his sleep. It tore his heart out to see it. “Harry.” he said gently, giving Harry a little shake. He tried again, a bit louder, a bit more physical, until finally Harry awoke with a gasp, staring at him wide eyed with incomprehension.

“You were dreaming.” Snape assured him. He thought of asking what he’d been dreaming about but he had a few good guesses. Slowly, Harry registered where he was and the reality of all that had happened. He took a steadying breath, his heart racing in his chest.

Snape reached his bedside table for his wand and cast a Tempus charm, too lazy to go in search of a clock. They’d set out before dawn, had arrived home still relatively early in the morning, judging by the sun, though he hadn’t checked the time then. Now he saw it was around lunch time. They hadn’t slept long, and he suspected that Harry could use more rest. At any rate, they were awake now.

“Would you like to sleep more or will you try some lunch?” he asked gently, stroking Harry’s hair comfortingly.

“Lunch.” Harry said, his voice rough with sleep. He unwound himself from the covers and slipped on slippers to ward off the icy chill of the dungeon floor. It was glorious to have so many warm layers on him. He’d felt at times as if he’d never be warm again, the chill damp of his cell seeping into his bones.

Seemingly sensing his need for warmth, Snape draped an additional robe over Harry’s shoulders, then went out to the sitting room to stoke the fire once again. It was only fall, but chilly enough to warrant the heat if he wanted to indulge a bit. They’d certainly earned it.

On the coffee table, the food left by the elves still had a warming charm enveloping it which dissipated when Snape reached into the bubble of heat to pour them both some tea. There was soup available and an assortment of sandwiches. Fresh fruit. All of it easily digestible and nutritious. He set about making up a plate of sandwiches. and fruit for Harry, as well as a bowl of soup and set them within easy reach. Already Harry was holding the blessedly warm cup of tea and sipping from it. It was the most flavourful, delicious brew he’d ever tasted, he was sure, although perhaps that had to do with three weeks of hellish confinement and starvation. Even the Dursleys had given him more to eat.

His stomach growled approvingly, but he only got through half of his sandwich before it was cramping, feeling uncomfortably full. It was terribly disconcerting, as he still sort of wanted to eat, but felt a bit queasy.

“Go easy.” Snape warned him. “Have some more tea for now. The food will be here when you’re ready for it. It’ll take some getting used to. How are you feeling otherwise?”

“I feel like complete shite.” Harry said honestly, rubbing at his eyes, and looked up to see whether Snape would correct him for his language. This time though, Snape just gave a wan smile.

“I can only imagine. Well. You’ll take your time recovering. You’ve nothing to worry about.” he reassured.

“Oh god.” Harry said with dawning realisation. “There’s still classes. For both of us.” He shook his head, looking into the middle distance as he thought. “It almost doesn’t seem real. You say it’s been only three weeks but.... What day is it even?”

Snape told him the date and day of the week, a Tuesday, and Harry shook his head. Just over three weeks gone.

“I had a Charms essay due.” he said dumbly, and Snape burst out laughing. A genuine, slightly hysterical laugh that Harry gaped at, and after some time joined in.

Tears were gathering at the corner of Snape’s eyes. “Harry. You and I have just rid the Wizarding world of the Dark Lord himself. I’m sure Filius will give you a pass on your Charms essay. Honestly.” he shook his head fondly.

Harry smiled a bit. “Do you know which one of us it was?” he asked quietly, still trying to wrap his head around Voldemort’s death.

“No.” Snape answered, shaking his head. “Both, perhaps. Or maybe just one of us.” he gave a small shrug. “I’m just relieved it’s over.”

“It doesn’t seem real.”

“It’ll seem real enough when you’re well enough to leave our rooms.” Snape warned him. “I suspect the whole school knows about it by now, if not the entire Wizarding world. I can only imagine there’ll be interviews by Aurors and press alike. Awards ceremonies, celebrations to attend. Funerals as well. Memorials. Trials.”

“It’s sort of anti-climatic isn’t it?” Harry asked. “I’d always sort of imagined there would be more to it.”

“We got lucky.” Snape agreed. “Very lucky that they weren’t expecting it. That Voldemort was over-confident. If he’d had any indication that he might lose he would have fled.”

“It’s Neville that gave us the edge.” Harry said with quiet conviction. “Killing Nagini, the final horcrux.”

Snape nodded. “That young man is certainly full of surprises.” he said wonderingly. He’d have to re-evaluate Longbottom entirely after that, and was curious to see what the young man would do with the rest of his life once he graduated. He’d be one to watch, certainly.

Harry got up after a time to use the rest room, and it was strange to be in a proper bathroom again, with a proper toilet. He stood there a moment, feeling strange. He’d had to go less and less over time during his captivity, and he couldn’t recall when he’d last gone. He also knew it was more painful each time, though with the jewellery now removed and potions in his system, plus the salve that had been rubbed on the head of his cock, he thought it might not be as bad. Then again, during his captivity he’d learned to sort of ignore pain for a time, and now everything felt sharper somehow, in contrast to the softness and warmth everywhere else.

It took a moment to get going, and then he hissed and winced at the stinging sensation. He wasn’t used to going all at once either. He’d had to sort of crouch down and cup a hand under his cock in order to catch the liquid and drink it from his palm quickly enough. He’d tried aiming for his mouth before but found it messy and unreliable.

Snape leaned on the door frame as he heard Harry’s sharp intake of breath and wanted to check he was all right. “Painful?” he asked sympathetically, and saw Harry give a nod. “It should be considerably better by tomorrow. The potions take time to work.”

Snape watched how little urine there was, and how dark. Even just looking at Harry, he could tell the boy had been dehydrated. “Did they not even provide water?” he asked in a sad voice, the question mostly rhetorical.

“Not as such.” Harry answered stiltingly. “I drank what I could.” he said, staring into the toilet bowl and unwilling to say more.

Snape’s mind turned over the sentence, coming to the conclusion that Harry had likely tried to drink his own urine to survive. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, wondering how long it would take to heal Harry psychologically from everything he’d been put through in just three short weeks. He hoped at the very least that Harry hadn’t been made to drink anyone else’s piss, wanting to minimise the amount of hangups his Incubus developed. Zero would be ideal. They hadn’t yet played any piss games, but it was something Snape likely would have tried to introduce at some point. Now he worried about the wisdom in even trying. Would such a thing help Harry to move past these memories? Or would the memories only serve to ruin his experience? A question to explore much further down the line.

Once Harry had finished up, Snape wrapped his arms around him from behind, setting his chin atop Harry’s head. “I don’t want you to ever feel badly about anything that you did, or was done to you during your captivity.” Snape told him gently. He could see the discomfort in Harry’s face through the bathroom mirror in front of them. “Whatever happened, I’m sure I’ve seen worse, done worse, Harry. I regret that you had to experience any of it at all, and I fear there has been some collateral damage to the bond.”

Harry opened his mouth in shock. “No!” he argued. “There hasn’t! I trust you implicitly.”

“Perhaps consciously you do. But I intend to spoil you as much as possible over the coming days until your subconscious catches up to the fact that you’re safe, protected, and completely adored.” He smiled softly, and pressed a kiss into Harry’s hair. “Now come. You may’ve finished your lunch but some of us are still eating regular amounts. You can keep me company while I eat.” he said, leading the way back out to the sitting room. “Afterwards, perhaps we can check for an update on Mister Weasley and Miss Granger. I know how close the three of you are.”

“Ron and Hermione were there?” Harry asked with surprise.

Snape raised his brows. But of course Harry hadn’t seen them in the chaos, and wouldn’t have known who all had shown up for the battle. “Yes. As well as Mister Longbottom, which you know, and also your Miss Lovegood. Several Weasleys, and a host of other Order members you’ll no doubt hear a full report of.”

It warmed Harry to know everyone he loved had come to his rescue. How much his life had changed since his childhood. Now he was surrounded by people who cared.

“Brilliant.” Harry said with a soft smile. He couldn’t wait to hear from everyone.

Chapter Text

It took time, but Harry did recover. His physical recovery was much faster than the mental. The potions did their work quickly. After two days, he was looking like his old self. After three, there was no physical trace at all left behind. But the nightmares continued to plague him, and he was quieter than before. He jumped at loud sounds or sudden movements, and rarely liked to let Snape out of his sight. He found himself always fingering his wand in his pocket when outside of the safety of Snape’s rooms. He knew it was a bit paranoid, but couldn’t seem to let it go.

The Wizarding world was a riot of celebration, as Snape had predicted. And as much as Harry was loathe to speak to anyone about what’d happened, he found himself giving a few interviews to the press and more than a few recounts to Ministry officials.

The whole of the Ministry was being overhauled. It seemed every day there was someone new in charge or losing their job, some new arrangement of a department or a new set of proclamations. Snape had expressed concern that there was too much change too fast, but Harry thought everything sounded brilliant, and he tended more to believe Hermione in these things than his mate. Because well, Hermione was progressive, and Snape was a bit... old. Though of course Harry would never say that to his face.

Hogwarts had had to cancel classes for a full two weeks, and so even though Harry had been captive for three weeks and recovering for those next two, he’d not missed much at all by way of his studies. And since they spent so much time hiding from the crowds in their quarters, Snape had plenty of time to help Harry catch up on missed work. For the first time in his life now, his school work took on a new light, and Harry wasn’t even sure what to make of it.

When he’d started at Hogwarts of course everything had seemed so rich and vibrant, and he’d wanted to learn everything immediately. He’d been young and had just found out he was a Wizard, and it had seemed he had so much catching up to do to take in the whole of this world. But by the end of his first year, his status as the Boy Who Lived and the reality of Voldemort had made his lessons take on a different note -- one that would follow him through much of the rest of his school career. And that was to make learning seem relevant to him only in terms of survival, or to seem completely pointless at other times.

Snape had been encouraging him for some time now to think of his future, about what he wanted to do or become, but it hadn’t seemed real with the threat of Voldemort hanging over him. Now it was all too real and his N.E.W.T.s weren’t something he could just ignore. He couldn’t even try to focus his energy on one most important subject -- because he could do anything. He hadn’t narrowed it down one bit, except perhaps to rule out Quidditch and the Auror program, the two paths people saw him as most likely to follow. No, he didn’t want any more fame, nor any more fighting.

In truth, due mostly to his spending so much time with Severus, Potions was taking on a new interest for him, though he wasn’t sure he wanted the headache of an actual apprenticeship either.

Well, he’d have plenty of time to think about it over the holiday and the rest of school year. Voldemort’s demise couldn’t have been better timed. After the two weeks of celebration, one more week was crammed full of classes, homework, and last minute tests before they’d break for the holiday. The end of the Dark Lord was the ultimate in Christmas gifts for everyone.

Of course, Harry hadn’t ventured into Hogsmeade at all since the attack, and Snape hadn’t pushed it. Instead, Harry had done all his shopping through owl order catalogues this year, though he did suspect sooner or later Snape would make him go into town. At present, however, the very idea of it filled him with a sort of cold dread. Which was a shame, really. Prior to the attack, moving to Hogsmeade had been Harry’s only future goal. Now the little village seemed tainted somehow. Unsafe.

Trying to focus on happier thoughts, Harry’d gotten his friends some thoughtful gifts, extending his generosity to include every member of the Weasley family this year, as well as Remus and Tonks. Knowing how everyone had rallied for him only underscored something he’d already known about himself -- the importance of his chosen family in his life.

“Are you certain you don’t wish to see off your friends at the train station?” Snape asked him as Harry made himself comfortable on their couch. He’d been staying in their rooms ever since the attack, foregoing Gryffindor tower, and Snape had allowed it.

“No, that’s okay.” Harry answered. “I already said goodbye anyway.”

Snape didn’t push it. In fact, he hadn’t been pushing anything during Harry’s recovery, concerned as he was for his mental health as well as physical. However, at some point Snape knew it would be time to begin the process of moving past what’d happened, and that meant breaking Harry out of his comfort zone once again, as painful as it might be for the both of them. He’d go slowly.

“Clothes.” he said offhandedly, gesturing for Harry to get off the couch and take care of it before he returned.

Harry frowned with a bit of confusion and discomfort, but slowly began to comply. Snape hadn’t enforced his typical no clothing policy for the last two weeks, and Harry had been grateful for it. He’d felt so vulnerable, and, not in a pleasant way. But now that it was holiday break, apparently that was all about to change. He moved into their bedroom as he shrugged off his clothing, feeling the chill of the dungeon air across his skin in spite of the fire. It was something he’d grown unaccustomed to, and he shivered as his mind flashed back to a much colder dungeon.

“Bring your jewellery box out with you, Harry.” Snape called out from the sitting room.

Harry took a deep breath as he stared at the box in question, sitting innocuously on his bedside table as usual. Snape had cleaned his jewellery after they’d returned, and put everything neatly away. At first, Harry hadn’t been expected to wear any of it because he was still physically recovering. But honestly, he’d been entirely healed after only three days, and Snape hadn’t asked him to put anything back on since then.

Harry had been glad for the break, uncomfortable memories flashing through his mind. The pain of raw, chafed skin without proper lubrication. The unsanitary conditions leading to infections. The reasoning behind keeping those items in place to begin with, to save him from further violation. The scrape of Bellatrix’s nails or the static of her spells as she’d tried in vain to remove the jewellery herself. Harry shuddered, but dutifully brought the box with him to the sitting room.

Truth be told, they hadn’t done a single sexual thing since he’d been rescued. Oh, they’d done enough to satisfy their bond, of course. A lot of cuddling, a lot of kissing. Careful bathing of one another. But that had been it.

Harry handed his box to Snape who sat on the sofa waiting for him, and he stood dutifully in front of his mate as Snape opened the box and set out the little pot of oil. “I wanted to be sure of your health during your recovery,” he said, “but I think it’s high time we put these things back where they belong.” he said quietly but firmly, and Harry nodded.

Snape reached out to stroke Harry’s half-erect cock to full hardness, taking care to check every inch of it for any sort of damage or discomfort. “Everything looks to be in order.” he said. “Any discomfort?”

“No, Sir.” Harry said quietly. At least no physical discomfort.

Snape reached down to fondle Harry’s bollocks. Any little scratch marks were long gone. He gently scraped his nails over the tender skin and Harry shivered at the touch. It called to mind something unpleasant, but it felt delicious the way Snape did it so carefully.

Snape pulled the bollocks forward and against Harry’s shaft and snapped the cock ring back into place, jutting Harry’s genitals forward in that way Snape liked so much. He smiled as he admired his Incubus and continued to fondle Harry. The boy was the picture of health once again. “Perfect.” he said, then reached for the cock cap and the little pot of lube.

Snape took his time inserting the penile plug, dipping it in, twisting it around, pulling it out again. He wanted Harry to become reacquainted with his body, with his jewellery, with this sensation as a pleasant feeling. Apparently he was having the desired effect as he saw Harry’s face take on the cast of arousal, his skin flushing nicely as his breathing deepened a bit. Finally, he seated it properly in place, and moved next to the butt plug.

Normally, Harry wouldn’t need any special preparation to take something anally any longer, but Snape coated a finger in oil anyway and gently probed, simply rubbing the skin at Harry’s entrance at first. When he pressed in, it was carefully, showing Harry that really there was no pain any longer, and giving him time to process the sensations and internalize that fact.

Harry’s breath hitched as he felt Snape gently press against his prostate with two lubed fingers. That was a sensation he hadn’t felt for a very long time, and now that he remembered it was there he wondered how he’d been surviving without it. Harry’s mind was filled with an image of his rather large dildo and the sensations it could wring from his body, and he suddenly very much wanted to play. He hadn’t wanted really to touch himself at all since the abduction.

He quelled his disappointment as best he could when Snape removed those probing digits in favour of oiling the plug and seating it firmly back home. He’d had such anxiety about putting the jewellery on again, but now that he felt the weight and pressure of it all in its proper place, something seemed to settle. The pain truly was gone, the memory of the ordeal was slowly fading as time passed, and Harry felt viscerally a sense of his life returning to normalcy.

Snape cleaned off his fingers and put the little pot of oil back in the box, closing the lid and setting it aside. Then he very deliberately opened his clothes to extract his cock, stroking it to full hardness while watching Harry squirm before him. “On your knees.” he said by way of instruction, and Harry knew how to do the rest.

Snape was a bit anxious about whether sucking him off would trigger any bad memories in Harry. He knew from what Harry had divulged that Harry had been used orally a number of times, and that even Voldemort himself had tried to convince Harry to service him in such a way. But by the eager and loving way Harry went about sucking him off now, you would never know any of it had happened. It didn’t appear to upset Harry in the slightest -- quite the opposite.

Harry moaned contentedly around Snape’s hard cock, feeling it settle on his tongue and press into his willing throat. This felt so right. He hadn’t believed Snape when the man had said there’d been some disruption to their bond, but now he believed it because he felt something in his gut settle back into place. All was well with the world again. As he focused on the feelings of here and now, all those bad memories seemed to fall away, at least for now.

It had been a long time for Snape, so he didn’t last long. He’d missed this on a number of levels, and soon he was releasing deep into Harry’s willing throat. When he’d finished and Harry had licked him clean, he tucked himself back away and caressed Harry’s hair. “I’d missed this.” he admitted, feeling uncharacteristically open.

“Me too.” Harry admitted, staring up adoringly.

“Put your things away.” Snape said, indicating the box and breaking the moment. He was almost tempted to push for more. Harry had been so responsive. But no, he would take this slowly, give Harry a chance to get his footing again.

Within moments Harry was settled back on the sofa with his Christmas catalogues and Quidditch magazines as before, only feeling very much more at home in his customary garb. Things weren’t perfect. He suspected he’d still have nightmares for quite some time, and still not feel comfortable going out on his own for a while. But he was amazed at how quickly things had slotted back into place, a mere three weeks after his ordeal. And for the first time since Voldemort’s demise, Harry felt real hope.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Harry woke Snape up pleasantly by sucking him off under the covers. He was feeling so much more like himself now, wearing only his jewellery to bed. After even just one day and night he barely felt the chill of the room any more. It simply felt like home.

“Good morning.” Snape said sleepily once Harry had finished swallowing his emission.

“Good morning.” Harry grinned up at him.

“I believe initiative like that should be rewarded.” Snape said as he slowly moved out of the bed, slipping on his slippers to avoid the chilly floor. Harry hadn’t stoked the fire yet. “After our breakfast, I do believe you’ll spend a bit of time making yourself feel good as well.” he instructed. This would be the first such play session since the abduction.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered, wondering what of any number of things Snape would have him do. He hadn’t felt much like doing anything before, but now with his cock hard and confined his libido was returning with a vengeance. It was as if he’d forgotten how to feel normal for a few weeks, and now everything was slotting neatly back into place. His body craved it.

Snape went first in the bathroom while Harry stoked the fire and made tea. By the time Harry had joined him, the elves had brought breakfast as well. Harry could barely eat while he wondered what Snape would do.

As Snape set out a basket of backlogged essays to get through after breakfast, Harry waited in his chair with rapt attention.

“Go to the toy box and get the deep sound and the pot of oil.” Snape told him, and Harry swallowed thickly as he moved to comply.

He’d only just gotten his cock cap with its plug back on yesterday, and he hadn’t sounded at all in weeks. Now Snape was calling for the longest one, the one that would delve deeply into his body, all the way inside of his prostate. The one with the thicker metal that stretched him all the way down.

When Harry arrived back in the room, Snape didn’t bother looking up from his work. “You know what to do.” he instructed. “Go slowly, but do try to enjoy yourself.” he said with a small smile. Harry may act nervous now, but Snape knew full well how wanton the Incubus would be in a matter of minutes.

Harry removed the cock cap and oiled the metal rod well, slipping it into the tip of his cock. It was a familiar sensation as it slipped inside of him, pressing and stretching within his shaft. He sighed and gave a bit of a moan as he let gravity do its work for a little while, his fingers just barely shifting the metal as he gently worked it inside. A sound this big wasn’t about lots of twisting or vigorous movement. It was a slow, steady violation that he needed to simply surrender to. As the rod moved deeper, he gave a shudder at the feel of it, and stopped to rest, his breathing more laboured and sweat starting to bead on his skin.

Harry glanced up at where Snape was working, and knew what the man would say if he caught Harry hesitating. He no longer had to be told, so he took the sound carefully in his fingers again and began to slowly fuck it in and out of his urethra, whimpering at the intense sensation of it as arousal lanced up his back and across his skin. It had been so long since he’d felt anything this intense. Deeper, deeper, he eased it down to the base of his cock, breathing hard as he savoured the full feeling.

Now came the tricky part, the part that made his heart race. He tilted his cock and the rod just so, giving it minute little shifts and rocking motions until there, just there the rod slid impossibly deeper within his body, into his prostate itself. He groaned loudly, eyes squeezed shut, at the impossible intensity of the sensation. So good. It was blissful.

“Good boy, Harry.” Snape encouraged with warm pride from across the room. Harry had come so far from the shy, hesitant boy he’d had months ago. “Now fuck yourself with it.” he instructed. “Let yourself go.”

Harry gave into the sensations as he gently fucked the metal rod in and out of him, the minute movements causing him to moan and sob with sensation, and before long his whole body was convulsing with the impossible dry climax. It was difficult to do anything at such a time but ride out the sensation, his body rigid with feeling, but he had had practice with Snape all these months and he managed to continue to fuck himself through the sensations, with minute, careful movements, even as he shuddered and shook.

Finally, there were no more twitches left to give, and he carefully extracted the sound, as he lay limply draped over his chair, soaked in sweat and still catching his breath.

“Cold shower now, Harry.” Snape told him, setting his work aside as he stood. “And I think I’ll milk you of all that built up cum. You’ll be doing it yourself more in the future since I know you now know how, but I also know that you prefer when I do it for you and you deserve a treat. After all, it is Christmas time.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered a bit breathlessly, standing on shaky legs. He was so drained from his dry climax that he couldn’t even bother to feel too sulky about being milked. He would probably forever grump about the process a bit, though.

Soon he found himself in a familiar position -- elbows and knees, arse up on the bed and with the chastity device in place. This would be so much more efficient, he thought, if Snape would just let him ejaculate and climax at the same time, rather than separating the events, but then that just wasn’t the man’s style, and Harry wouldn’t really change it.

Harry sighed in relief and the usual disappointment as the ache he hadn’t even really noticed in his bollocks was released, his cum flowing onto the bedding below in that strange, familiar way. He felt emptier, physically, but there was still a strange itch of arousal under the skin.

Harry began to sit up, ready to clean up as usual. Snape’s hand on the small of his back caught his attention. “Lick it up.” he said in a neutral but firm tone. Harry looked to him to see if he were serious, but of course he was. He’d had no end to Snape’s cum in his mouth, but for some reason licking up his own cold emission from the bedspread seemed foul somehow. Snape’s tone, however, indicated that this like many other uncomfortable instructions he’d given before, was not meant to be a punishment. It was simply something Harry was ordered to do. “You may wand the bedspread clean as per usual when you’re finished.” Snape told him.

Hesitantly, Harry bent over the portion of the bed where his cock had hovered, his tongue outstretched. Why should this seem so grotesque? He winced at the taste of it, the feel of it. The humiliation of it, though he wasn’t sure why he should be concerned. There was no one here but he and Snape. He relaxed when he felt Snape’s hand warm on his back, steadying him. It made it easier somehow, to close his eyes and lick at the puddle with broad strokes of his tongue. He swallowed quickly. It wasn’t pleasant. It was cold and slimy and didn’t come from his mate in the heat of the moment, but it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever tasted or done either.

“Good boy.” Snape praised him, and Harry felt himself warm all over, feeling utterly settled in spite of the distasteful orders. “Now get cleaned up and dressed for the day.” he said, leaving Harry to it.

“Dressed?” Harry asked after him curiously. He’d assumed that they’d spend the day indoors. Where were they going? In the sitting room, Snape was gathering up the essays again to tend to later.

“You may well have ordered your Christmas gifts by owl, but I have a number of errands to run in Hogsmeade.” he said simply, and in the bedroom Harry froze in what he was doing.

Hogsmeade. Where it had all begun. He hadn’t been back since the abduction, and he knew that Snape had been going easy on him, taking things slowly. Well, it seemed the time to confront his fears had come today, whether he felt ready or not. Harry worked slowly as he cleaned himself, the bed, his jewellery, the cock cage. He put everything neatly away and dressed himself again. It was cold out, so he used extra time to bundle in many layers. He checked and re-checked that he had his wand in his pocket, within easy reach.

When he made it into the sitting room, Snape nodded in approval and retrieved his own outerwear. “Come along then. I’ve a busy day planned.”

Though it was cold and snowy out with a biting wind, they walked from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. Harry didn’t know whether it was to give him time to adjust or make the journey more torturous. Or perhaps for some reason Snape had just wanted the exercise. When they arrived in town, Harry’s hands were frozen and his cheeks rosy, and he was utterly grateful for the warmth of the first shop -- the now familiar apothecary. He barely listened as Snape chatted idly with the proprietor, exchanging some phials of potion with him and placing an order on behalf of the school, as well as for some personal items.

Harry browsed the shelves and tried to work some feeling back into his hands. Before long, it was back out into the blustery cold, but he was already feeling far more at ease now that he was actually here. Hogsmeade was as quiet and quaint as ever it had been, with people bustling from shop to shop, and Christmas cheer decorating every street lamp and window.

The book store, the tea shop, the bakery where Snape allowed them fresh warm pasties. Harry was in good cheer by the time they made their way across the little bridge to the other side of town. His nerves spiked a little as they wandered closer and closer to the location of his abduction. But no, Snape turned down an entirely different street then, to a row of shops Harry hadn’t yet seen to his memory. He was a little surprised when they wandered into a little shop called Chauncy’s Charms.

Chauncy MacAllen was a much older wizard, Harry saw, with short cropped grey hair and a long moustache, a large pointed hat atop his head. It made Harry smile even after all these years of exposure to see some witches and wizards looking so very much the part. “Ah, Mister Snape.” the man said with a grin.

“Mister MacAllen.” Snape nodded to him, shaking his hand.

“It’s Chauncy, please.” he waved the formality away.

“Then you should really call me Severus.” Snape said with a small smile. “I believe we have an appointment?”

“Yes, do make yourselves comfortable.” he said, leading them through his little shop to some comfortable chairs in the back, clustered around a table. The bookshelves and the tea on the sideboard gave it a very homey feel, and Harry wasn’t sure exactly what to make of this shop. What were they here for? He sat himself down on one of the chairs only after Snape had indicated he should do so.

Chauncy finally let his gaze linger on Harry. “And Mister Potter himself.” he said wonderingly. “I must thank you for what you did for us all.” he said seriously.

“Er...” Harry squirmed uncomfortably. He would never get used to such sentiments. “You’re welcome.” he mumbled quietly, breaking eye contact. What were they here for?

“The collar?” Snape prompted.

“Yes, of course, Severus.” Chauncy said, shaking off the seriousness of the moment. He leant forward in his chair to squint at Harry’s collar. Harry’s gaze darted between the strange man and Snape as Chauncy reached out with his wand to tap the metal.

“Mister MacAllen is going to charm your collar for me today.” Snape informed Harry while Chauncy explored the feel of the collar with his magic. “You’ll recall our discussion about a portkey-style charm to return property to one’s owner.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully, trying to relax. He was a bit more comfortable now that he knew why he was here. It was a charm he most definitely wanted. It was just unnerving to be at the end of someone’s wand.

What Snape had said before about the procedure was also true. It was long and involved, and after a while the most uncomfortable part was not simply being at the end of someone’s wand, but trying not to move as foreign magic cascaded over his skin and through the collar around his neck. Layers of magic were added as incantations were recited, and as far as Harry understood the Charm had to be tailored specifically to his and Snape’s magical signatures. Snape himself was involved at various points as well, tapping his wand to the collar and reciting required incantations when prompted. If it was this much bother, Harry could only imagine the fortune this must be costing his mate.

“Is he carrying a wand then?” Chauncy asked Snape after an hour and a half of continual work.

“Of course.” Snape answered. “I allow him the use of it as a matter of course.”

“You’ll need to take it now.” Chauncy instructed. “The property can’t have independent control of its magic for this next bit. So you’ll have the wand and we’ll do a standard magic binding spell for now.”

A magic binding spell? Harry frowned worriedly. What would that mean? Snape held out his hand and didn’t have to ask for Harry to hand over the wand, and he didn’t dare complain or move as Chauncy continued to keep his wand to the collar.

Harry’s heart raced as Snape took away his only means of defence and he heard him recite the spell after Chauncy, his wand pointed to Harry’s chest. Harry sucked in a surprised breath as he felt something within him fundamentally shift. His magic! He rarely felt the magic within himself -- it was too much a part of his existence to actually be noticed, like feeling his blood or his air.

But he felt it now, tingling and shifting, and he wasn’t sure how he knew but he knew without a doubt that he couldn’t control it any more. Snape could. The man had solidified some sort of iron-clad control over him on a fundamental level. It was extremely unnerving, not because it was Snape -- he trusted the man implicitly. -- but because it was happening to begin with. He watched Snape desperately, and was calmed somewhat by the man’s own calm demeanour. By the look of it, one would think Snape did this sort of thing all the time. He was utterly unflappable.

His magic sequestered away, the final stages of the charm began to take root, and Harry could feel that it sunk deep into his bones, not just into the collar around his neck. The collar might be a tangible nexus of some sort but this was some serious spellwork.

When it ended, all three men were sweating and slightly out of breath. With a few murmured words, Snape released control of Harry’s magic back to him and Harry sighed with relief, slumping in his seat.

“Well.” Snape said, brushing his lank hair from his face. “This was certainly worth the cost, and your reputation is well deserved. Quite an impressive bit of magic.” he said. Compliments from Severus Snape were few and far between.

Chauncy grinned. “Oh, all in a day’s work, Severus.” he said. “Now, as I’ve explained previously, if the boy but says Reditio with intent, he should be brought to you instantly. The same as if you call out the word yourself -- you can retrieve him from anywhere with proper concentration and magical supply. I wouldn’t overuse it though, as the process is quite taxing. It will pull from the boy’s magical stores first as he’s the subservient, of course, before drawing on your own.”

“Of course.” Snape nodded his understanding. “I can’t thank you enough for your help in this. I won’t risk being separated from Harry again.” he said seriously.

Chauncy nodded gravely at his understanding. The Dark Lord might be gone now, but he could well understand Snape’s paranoia after having the boy whisked away like that.

“I’ve had the money transferred from my Gringotts account to yours so as to avoid carrying around such large sums.” Snape told him.

“Then I’ll thank you for your business.” Chauncy said, standing. He offered his hand again as Snape finished putting on his cloak in anticipation of departure. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get something to eat by now. It looks like we’ve missed lunch.”

Snape Chauncy’s hand and said final farewells, ushering Harry out ahead of him. Once outside he handed Harry back his wand.

“That thing you did with my magic...” Harry began uneasily.

“Yes?” Snape asked as he led the way through the streets toward food.

“Well, is it gone now?”

“No, it is not.” Snape said levelly, as if it was not of concern, though Harry’s heart raced at the implications. “The magical binding is part of what makes the portkey work. As you heard Mister MacAllen describe, the mechanism is all tied up in our joint magic and its relationship. But you really needn’t concern yourself with such trivialities, Harry.” Snape assured him. “It is simply another facet of my ownership of you. I’ve been legally allowed to enact such a bond from the start. As before, I’ve allowed you full control over your magic and full use of your wand.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said, wondering whether it really did make any difference to him at all. In a way, it felt comfortable to cede this too. There would be no question of who owned him ever again, nor of his loyalty to his mate. And with the charm on his collar, there would be no keeping them apart. He touched his collar gently and smiled.

“Now, come. We’ll take a late lunch at the Three Broomsticks, and then head back home.”

~~~

They arrived home in the mid-afternoon, and Harry was glad to get out of all his wet, cold clothes. He curled up on the rug by the fire as soon as his things were put away. In the kitchenette, Snape was putting away his purchases from some of the shops he’d visited. “If you’re planning on sitting around, you may as well make yourself useful and clean our boots.” Snape said from across the room. “Clean them and set them by the fire to dry out any damp. Once you’ve finished with them I’ll give you something to help relax you after such a long day.” he said.

As Harry hauled himself back off the rug to fetch the shoes, Snape settled himself on the sofa with all of his essays to grade, along with a glass of mulled wine to warm him by the fire. He’d taken off his boots and exchanged them for slippers, and after removing his outerwear he’d removed his waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves to relax. With no threat of being Called and a beautiful naked boy on his hearthrug, this was by far the most relaxing holiday he could recall.

When had he last done this? Harry couldn’t remember. Everything seemed so long ago now. It was soothing to settle onto the rug by the fire and work slowly and steadily at his task. He remembered asking so long ago whether there were spells to do all of this. Now he couldn’t imagine wanting to use a spell for it. Although he was curious what Snape had planned for him afterwards, he didn’t rush through his task. This was enjoyable and relaxing in and of itself.

At long last Harry set the last of their boots by the fire to dry out, and put away the kit. When he finally moved to settle in his usual chair, he saw that Snape had moved a rather obvious toy onto it at some point. The enormous dildo and a large pot of oil. He looked up at Snape with smouldering arousal, and swore he could feel his already hard cock go harder.

“You’ve an hour.” Snape smiled at Harry’s eagerness. The boy never could stuff enough into his arse. “Enjoy yourself.” he dismissed him and refocussed on his grading. Harry’s activities would be a nice background diversion while he worked.

Harry settled into the large comfortable chair, his back wedged between one arm and the back of the chair, legs sprawled and looped over the other arm so that he could tilt his arse up and get a good angle. He pulled out his little metal plug and set it aside, liberally lubricating the dildo. It had been so long since he’d had anything larger than his plug in his arse, but his body was telling him it was more than ready. He pressed the blunt end of the dildo against his hole and without preamble, pushed.

Harry groaned loudly and appreciatively as the toy sunk a third of its length into his body in one smooth, easy push. He felt his arse stretched wide, and he didn’t care how wanton he must look. He wanted it deeper, always more. Languidly he fucked the toy in and out of himself. With a sound he was always so careful, so gentle and hesitant. But with the dildo, it was another story. He grunted at the delightful stretch and pressure as he worked the toy further in, his head thrown back and eyes closed, mouth slightly open as he sighed in pleasure. His legs were spread shamelessly in order to ensure the best angle, and his hips writhed in time with his thrusts.

Snape watched his wanton minx out of the corner of his eye and found himself increasingly distracted. He was older than Harry and so his libido was not quite so high, and additionally he had profound self control. So normally, letting his Incubus play was an interesting diversion but not a disruption. Now, however, Snape felt himself growing hard in his trousers in spite of his determination to finish grading those essays. Before long, Harry had nearly the entire length of the toy fucking in and out of his arse as he abandoned himself to the experience.

Snape glanced at the clock. He’d given Harry an hour, and he decided that if he were going to make use of him he’d do it toward the end of his time. That meant quite a bit of time had yet to pass. He adjusted his clothes and focused his attention determinedly back on the essays. Thankfully, he could grade most of them in his sleep and didn’t really need full concentration to get through them.

But as the minutes ticked by, Harry proved to be too tempting of a distraction. Snape set the essays gently aside and pulled himself out of his trousers, stroking himself gently as he watched Harry’s unwitting performance. The boy truly was beautiful like this, he thought. Totally abandoned to sensation and sensuality. Silently, he stalked over to Harry and Harry didn’t noticed until Snape was practically on top of him. Snape stood by his head behind the arm of the chair, stroking himself as Harry continued to fuck himself with the toy. Harry’s eyes lit up and he smiled up at Snape through his arousal.

“Continue.” Snape directed at him when he saw Harry pause, then he tipped Harry’s head back until he could press his cock into the willing mouth and throat below. Harry sighed happily and if it were possible, he melted even further into the chair. It never ceased to amaze him how easily Harry had taken to deep throating, but then again, it was in the boy’s genetics.

Harry swallowed around the cock in his mouth as he clenched around the one in his arse and it truly was heaven. It didn’t matter to him that he’d already sucked Snape off that morning, or that Snape was now just fucking into him with little regard for his comfort. Any contact with his mate was bliss. And a deep instinctive part of him felt so overwhelmingly right with all of this sexual stimulation. He felt alive and awake and relaxed and content all at the same time.

Snape didn’t last long. There was no way he could with the performance Harry had been giving, and with everything he continued to give even now. Harry swallowed around him as he came, and continued to lick what he could reach when Snape pulled away, finally tucking himself back into his trousers.

“It’s been about an hour.” Snape said, petting Harry’s hair away from his face. “Go clean up, and you know the routine. Another hour until you can put your regular plug back in. The potion should do its work by then.”

Harry stopped his motions, still breathing hard and sweating as he tried to recover. His cock twitched in its confines and his hips wanted to writhe still, his arse clenched around the toy within it. But he got a hold of himself and pulled the toy free, wincing a bit at the unique discomfort of a gaping hole. Then it was simply a matter of cleaning everything up and finding a way to redirect his attention away from his arousal and toward something more productive. At least it wouldn’t be too long until supper.

Chapter Text

The next day of Christmas break was one of work. Harry, feeling much more like himself lately, was able to curl up on the sofa and really concentrate on all of the work he’d missed or fallen behind in during his captivity. He’d been given extensions on all of his assignments, as well as make-up tests to complete and turn in. For once, he was grateful that his celebrity status had afforded him some special leeway. He’d never be able to feel as if he’d actually earned it, even if perhaps this time he actually had earned it. He was just glad for the chance to make up the work, now that his schooling suddenly took on a new importance in his life.

Snape as well was busy all day, as they settled back into their comfortable routine. Essays and tests to grade in the morning. An afternoon spent in the lab brewing potions for the hospital ward. And there were also all of the usual preparations to make for next term, not to mention a few preparations for Christmas.

“Sir?” Harry asked that evening after supper as he continued to read through his Transfiguration book, half-heartedly catching up.

“Yes?” Snape asked, looking up from his own more casual reading material.

“I just wondered... you do actually have a house of some sort, don’t you? You said before it was too dangerous for us to visit since Voldemort knew about it.... Is it still that way? Because of the escaped Death Eaters?”

Snape set aside is book and considered the question carefully. “I suppose I hadn’t given it much thought. What makes you ask about it?”

Harry shrugged. “I just thought that most people like to go home over the holidays, but we always stay here. And I’m going to graduate in a few months....”

“You’re still welcome to stay here.” Snape dismissed easily. “Though I suppose I’ll have to think about doing something with my home at Spinner’s End.”

“Do something with it? So you’re not planning on living there still?” Harry asked with a frown. Snape was always so damned quiet about his past and his own inner workings. He didn’t mean to pry, but he really was facing a lot of questions about his own future and he wanted to get some read of the man.

Snape sighed. “Harry, that home is full of a lot of memories, many of which I’m not certain I care to relive. I haven’t decided anything yet. As I’ve said, I hadn’t given it very much thought at all. But it is very possible that I may sell the place and be done with it. I certainly have no desire to drag you about the place.”

“I see.” Harry said simply. He tried to squash the little bit of disappointment in that statement. Why didn’t Snape want to share it with him?

“As I’ve said, you’re welcome to stay here.” he gestured around them. “I think we’ve done a fairly good job of making the place our own.”

“But what about all your things?” Harry pressed. “You’re just going to live at Hogwarts forever? Like Professor Trelawney?”

Snape looked at him sharply. “And just what exactly are you trying to insinuate?” he asked, his voice taking on an edge. “Professor Trelawney is not the first nor will she be the last professor to live full time at this institution. From what I understand, this has been your primary home for the past seven years as well. I would expect you of all people to understand a desire to stay. Regardless of your personal preferences, I’ll not have you judging mine. You’re welcome to find outside accommodations should you choose to do so, as I’ve previously said.”

Harry felt a numbness shoot through him. This wasn’t the direction he’d hoped the conversation would go at all. He hadn’t really meant to insinuate anything. He just wanted something... more. He was glad to know he was welcome here in his rooms with Snape at Hogwarts. But surely the man had a desire for a real home? Surely he had other belongings that wouldn’t fit in this tiny suite?

“That’s not....” he struggled to find words, dismayed at Snape’s icy aura. “That’s not really what I meant at all.” he said sadly. Snape wasn’t looking at him, however. Harry had hit a nerve, apparently, and now the man was stubbornly focusing on his book. Harry sighed and struggled to find a way to explain everything that he was thinking and feeling when he didn’t even understand himself.

“I’m just trying to imagine what it’ll be like.” he explained. “When I graduate. What will I do for a job? But beyond that, what will every day look like? I won’t be a student any more. I won’t be your student. I won’t have classes to go to. Maybe it’ll be a shop somewhere, or some sort of other studies I have to keep up with, I suppose. Or maybe I’ll just keep house.” he said with a small smile. “Not that there’s much house to keep here, with the elves doing the work.”

“And is that what you want?” Snape asked, his voice still harsh. “To be my house elf? Like you were for that dreadful aunt and uncle of yours?”

“No!” Harry shouted, becoming seriously frustrated with Snape not listening to him. It seemed like he wasn’t even trying to understand. And perhaps he wasn’t. The man was stubborn to a fault. “Not exactly.” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I wouldn’t rule it out. But that’s not the point. What do I wake up to every day? Where do we go on holidays? Do I cook ever? Do you? What might we make for each other? Do we have a garden out back for your potions ingredients? A roost for Hedwig?”

“We have a roost for Hedwig right over there!” Snape pointed across the room.

“And that’s fine!” Harry said. “Really, it is. I’m not trying to change you or coerce you into something and I’m not threatening to leave you here to find something better. I just want to imagine a future with you.”

Snape thawed slightly and took a deep breath. “Harry, you absolutely have a future with me. No matter what you choose to do with your life otherwise.”

“But I don’t know what I want to choose to do.”

“You will.” Snape assured him.

“I’m not so certain of that.” Harry said frustratedly. “I don’t choose what I wear or when and how to use my magic or what time to get up and go to bed or what foods I’m allowed to eat or how to conduct my sex life.” He held up a hand to forestall Snape’s argument, seeing the man’s eyes narrow again. “And I don’t want to.” he assured him. “Yet you want me to decide where to work and how to form my life’s goals? It’s driving me absolutely mad.” He looked to his mate in desperation. Until just this moment, he hadn’t realized just how he’d felt for some time now. He needed help. Guidance. Direction. He craved it deeply. And why should this aspect be somehow different from all of the rest? He wanted to please his mate by figuring it out on his own, as he’d been directed, but it wasn’t working out in the slightest.

“I see.” Snape said, blinking as the implications began to really dawn on him. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Harry was his submissive in every respect. It was hard-wired into his DNA. But in the past, when Snape had been in Dominant/submissive relationships, even the most extreme of them hadn’t extended so far. In some ways, the control he’d had over others must have seemed extreme to an outside observer -- control over clothing and sex, food and even bathroom habits. But never one’s work. Never one’s larger life goals. He’d not even considered touching that.

But Harry wasn’t simply another Wizard like all the rest. Perhaps he should have been planning for this eventuality all along. Being the mate of an Incubus, being a good mate to one, was a considerable amount of work, though it was also tremendously rewarding.

Now he would have to seriously consider how to contend with Harry’s difficulties. He didn’t just want to choose arbitrarily for the boy, stick him in the castle’s kitchens with the house elves and squander his talent away. But what was Harry to do on a day to day basis?

Harry wasn’t a blank slate, either. He did have preferences, likes and dislikes. He simply didn’t seem capable of choosing a direction when so many were suddenly made available to him, perhaps for the first time in his young life. Should he have Harry apprentice with someone in one of the subjects he enjoyed? Should he work in Hogsmeade in one of the shops? Or even open one of his own? Or if Harry were to take on a more domestic role, it would indeed make more sense for him to do so from an actual house, not a castle full of elves who would take care of things for them.

He began to see now why Harry was asking so many needling questions about Snape’s own intentions. He was trying desperately, in the way of a submissive mate, to mould his life around Snape’s own. And while Snape had done much to make Harry feel welcome, it was quite another thing to carve out an actual space for him to have a life. Harry had always needed boundaries, walls, rules to follow. He saw now that the boy was simply reaching out, trying to touch the edges of how he should exist in this new world, to feel its form, and all he could feel was a limitless expanse of space. Rather than feeling freeing and full of possibility, it had caused a bit of a directionless panic.

“You’re right.” he admitted softly. “It seems to me now that perhaps I’ve asked too much of you.” he said, and saw Harry wince and cast his gaze away in shame. “No, it’s not your fault, Harry.” he reassured. “I perhaps haven’t guided you as much as I ought to have. You’ve given me a considerable amount to think on. But rest assured that you’ll not be cast into the world alone. As in everything, I shall guide you.”

Harry felt a ball of tension unwind within him, and he felt tears almost threaten he was so relieved and grateful. “Thank you.” he said softly, and meant it. A tremendous weight lifted off his shoulders. He still didn’t know the first thing about what his future would hold, but he didn’t need to bother sorting it all out himself. He’d never really had any sort of parent or guardian to guide him, and the teachers had done very little in comparison to what he’d required. But now he had Snape, and the man was his guiding light in a chaotic world. It wasn’t that the world frightened him, exactly, but just that there was so much of it, and Harry knew so little. It was reassuring to have Snape there to help him. He was the one thing Harry could rely upon to remain constant.

He tried going back to his Transfiguration book, because it was clear Snape has gone back to his own reading -- genuinely this time, not just to avoid discussion. He knew that the man needed some time to think and plan, but Harry itched to know what would happen. To know now, not in the future. He could hardly concentrate, and kept glancing up at Snape, considering the man. What would Snape choose for him, now that the man seemed on board with taking the reigns in this area as well?

But of course, the answers wouldn’t come tonight, and possibly they wouldn’t even come soon. Snape was reading, and Harry was meant to rest quietly as well. He did his best not to fidget or stare and annoy Snape again. Really, he told himself, it was easy to just trust Snape. He trusted him in everything else, and any time the man had introduced him to something new, it had been good. Harry released a deep breath at last and settled back into his chair, feeling more relaxed. Everything would be okay. He didn’t need to know what the future would bring.

~~~

When they went to bed that night, Snape’s mind was still on Harry’s future, as well as his own. He truly hadn’t given much thought to how his own life might change now that he was free of Voldemort once and for all. Did he want to go back to Spinner’s End? Make a home of his house? He’d never even imagined truly living there like a normal person, never imagined bringing Harry into that space. He thought about it now -- cleaning up all of the old grime that had built up over the years, putting in the work to repair ages of damage. Having breakfast with Harry in the kitchen where his mother and father had fought. Converting his small bedroom into a suite for he and Harry? Or, Merlin forbid, redecorating his parents’ larger room? Even after so many years of owning the place, he’d not slept in that room. The very idea of it sent a shudder down his spine.

No. He realized now that he wanted nothing to do with it. It was a convenient place to keep some books and things he still had an attachment to, but there wasn’t really that much he wanted to hang onto. It was the place where he’d met Death Eaters, and not much more. He realized now that he truly had considered simply living in Hogwarts like Trelawney. Even now, the idea of it didn’t disgust him.

Of course, the quarters were already cramped since adding Harry into his life over the summer. With the addition of more books, more knick-knacks from Spinner’s End, he’d have to requisition for more space to truly be comfortable, or else put all those things in a vault in Gringotts. He wrinkled his nose at that. It certainly didn’t feel homey to keep his things locked away. That was the opposite direction to where he wanted to head.

Harry turned onto his side and curled into Snape’s body, and Snape gently eased out his plug, setting it aside. He could really use the release from these stressful thoughts tonight, and was utterly grateful for such a willing companion. Harry practically melted in his arms as he pressed into him, forgoing further preparation. For a time, he could simply lose himself to tight heat and delicious sensation. Harry moaned and writhed, causing Snape to smile. Having Harry so needy and wanton without his own release was just as arousing as the rest of it. Finally, he pumped his seed deep into Harry with a relaxed sigh, then pulled out to clean up a bit and slide Harry’s plug back home.

Harry whimpered with need and curled up in his arms, and Snape held him, letting his mind ease back to its earlier topic. Perhaps Harry had a point about getting a home in Hogsmeade to go back to on weekends and holidays, and for the summer. He’d still have to stay at the castle during the school year of course, as Head of Slytherin, and Harry would stay with him here during that time, at least at night. But Harry was sure to gather more belongings as time went on and Snape had his own fair share of things at Spinner’s End. They could rent or buy a small home in Hogsmeade to hold their things, perhaps grow that garden Harry had mentioned.

How utterly domestic. He’d never once in his life considered something so... quaint, for himself. And yet the thought was not without some appeal. And if he structured Harry’s life appropriately, he could make sure the boy had time to keep the place tidy, tend to herbs, do the shopping. He couldn’t believe he was even considering it. There were still so many details to work out -- most importantly, perhaps, was what to have Harry do with the bulk of his time once he was a fully fledged adult. Not only was Harry a submissive in obvious need of guidance, but in some ways he was so young yet. He’d never really had the opportunity to be a child with someone making appropriate decisions for him, so it was no wonder that he was at a bit of a loose end now. Students like Weasley and Granger had had a lifetime of getting a feel for how the world worked and what their place might be in it. Harry had had a lifetime of feeling he had no place at all.

Well, tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He hadn’t told Harry yet but they had a visit planned at the Burrow. Christmas morning they’d spend by themselves, though they’d do lunch at Grimmauld Place with Lupin and Tonks. Then a late supper with Minerva in the Great Hall. It was a busy next few days. Perhaps Boxing Day they could begin on sorting the mess that was Spinner’s End, and sorting out the belongings he’d wish to keep. As if the two of them didn’t already have enough work to keep them busy catching up over the holidays. Well, there was nothing for it.

With those thoughts settled, Snape finally allowed himself to sleep. He noticed as he drifted off that Harry was already sound asleep in his arms.

Chapter Text

Harry awakened at the first flickers of light in the room, and smiled. He’d never grow tired of his little routine. It felt so nice to be up early in the morning when the place was still so cool and dark. He slipped out of his warm bed a bit reluctantly and did his morning business in the bathroom, then padded across the icy stone floor to stoke the fire in the sitting room and prepare tea. Like clockwork, by the time the fire was back to life and the tea ready, Snape had emerged from the bedroom and bathroom looking immaculate in his clothes as usual, though still bleary-eyed. The man silently accepted his tea and tapped the coffee table with his wand to summon breakfast.

A large variety of cakes, pastries, and fruit appeared and Harry grinned. The elves were certainly feeling the Christmas spirit. They ate in a comfortable silence. Harry had learned by now that it was useless to try talking to Snape about anything at all until after morning tea and breakfast. Honestly, he found the early morning grumpiness rather endearing in a way.

After Snape set aside his plate, he began to undo his robes and trousers and Harry didn’t need to be told to kneel on the floor between the man’s legs. He smiled as he eagerly set his task -- a great way to start his Christmas Eve and for both of them to begin the day in good spirits.

He’d never grow tired of sucking Snape’s cock, he thought to himself. It wasn’t that he liked cum, particularly. It was a salty, bitter liquid, rather slimy in fact. It had no special appeal. But the weight of Snape’s cock on his tongue was heaven. The silky feel of the skin, the stretch in his throat as he swallowed around it. The way Snape pet him while he worked. And when Snape came, it was the feel of it pulsing inside of him and the tension and release in Snape’s entire body. The little sigh the man gave as he came. These were the small things that made the task a joy, not a chore.

When Snape came and Harry swallowed it down, Harry felt that familiar settling in his bones that accompanied a satisfied bond. He was always so comfortable and clear-minded after any sexual exchange.

Snape began to right his clothes. “To the bedroom.” he directed. “Feet on the floor, hands on the bed, arse out.”

Harry’s eyes widened slightly in anticipation. It wasn’t often that Snape spanked him, and that must certainly be what he was going to do now. Although the man hadn’t asked him to remove his plug, which he had in the past. Curious and a bit excited, he quickly went ahead and got into position, allowing Snape to adjust his body minutely after he’d fetched something from the toy chest.

Harry resisted the urge to break form and twist to see what it was. Soon enough, he felt it, as Snape pressed the flat of a large paddle against his backside, allowing him to feel the weight, texture, and size of it.

“As soon as we’re finished here,” Snape told him, “We’re going to the Burrow for a Christmas lunch and gift exchange.” Snape informed him. “You’re to dress smart, not casual. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered, his body tense with anticipation. The man was driving him absolutely mad, trying to hold rational conversation at a time like this. Soon enough he was put out of his misery, as the paddle drew back and struck. Harry gasped as his body thrust forward a bit, his arms catching and steadying his position as he felt the sting of the paddle on his arse, the percussion of the strike on his metal plug causing his hole to ache.

He barely had a breath to process the sensation of it before another blow fell, then another, the heat and pain building and layering. All the while, Harry felt his cock jump in appreciation and he never could put his finger on why or how he could actually enjoy this. It was madness, but he couldn’t contemplate it now as his body was flooded with endorphins and it took all of his concentration to hold his position and breathe between grunts and moans.

He was just starting to breathe hard from it, fingers tangling in the sheets and toes starting to curl from the overwhelming sensations when it all stopped. Snape pet his arse, soothing and inflaming it at the same time. “Just a lovely shade of red.” he remarked. “This will certainly keep you warm during our holiday visit.” he said. He moved to cast a quick cleaning spell on the paddle and set it back in the toy chest. “Right your clothes.” he instructed, and Harry struggled to stand up again, getting his breathing under control and holding himself steady as he dizzily found his feet. Standing straight caused the plug to smart even more. He carefully situated his pants and trousers over his erection and buttoned up his robes. In just a moment, they were on their way.

~~~

It was still fairly early in the morning but the Weasley household was already a bustle of activity. Ron and Ginny were of course still asleep, but everyone else was awake. Mrs. Weasley was cooking a bit of everything in the kitchen and family and friends ate or took tea as they showed up. There were the twins -- George had lost an ear during the final battle. Harry had heard all about it but this was the first time seeing it. Still, he seemed in good spirits, and was accompanied by one Angelina Johnson. Harry hadn’t even realized they were dating.

Charlie had come alone, and Bill had come of course with Fleur. Percy was there, and Hermione as well.

“Harry!” Hermione jumped up immediately as she saw him and gave him a hug.

“When did you get in?” Harry asked in surprise. “I’d have thought you’d be with your parents on Christmas Eve.”

“Well Ron invited me.” she said with a blush. He knew that Ron and Hermione were dating rather seriously these days, but they always seemed reluctant to admit to it. Well, Harry wouldn’t rush them, but he gave her a knowing look. “I only just got in. You know we had my house added to the floo network over the summer when we thought my parents might become targets. They’re still not really fans of it but anyway, I’m staying until around mid-afternoon and then I’ll floo home to have supper and Christmas with them.”

“Maybe next year you’ll get them to come along.” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. Surely it was only a matter of time before Ron and Hermione made it official, and then they’d surely want to blend the families a bit more. Hermione simply blushed and was saved from responding as Molly had come over to greet him too. Harry saw that Snape had already found himself a comfortable chair and some tea and was fully engaged in a conversation with Mr. Weasley and Percy. Well, he’d certainly made himself at home quickly.

It warmed Harry to see it. There was a time when he couldn’t imagine anyone in his life accepting his choice in mate, or even his creature status. Now everything was so normal and domestic it was almost ridiculous, and he loved it.

Though he’d only just had breakfast, Harry soon found himself surrounded by his chosen family and piled high with breakfast foods, Christmas sweets, and endless tea. Molly Weasley was a force to be reckoned with on an ordinary day; she was unstoppable at the holidays.

Soon enough, Ron and Ginny joined them. With breakfast done, there were games to play in the sitting room and more conversations to be had. Mrs. Weasley ran the wireless, filling the house with cheery music. Harry barely recognized a single song, but apparently the Wizarding world had its own share of Christmas music. He’d never grow tired of it. Harry looked forward to the day when such songs would sound as familiar to him as the classics he’d grown up with.

The presents had already been sent ahead days ago, since Harry’d thought he’d be spending the holidays away from family. Now they were all piled under the tree and waiting for distribution. Everyone it seemed had been a bit more generous than usual this year, regardless of whether they had the funds to spare. Seeing the end of the Dark Lord had put everyone into a rather giving spirit, and it was reflected in all of the packages they exchanged. Even Snape had been made a part of it -- both giving and exchanging his own gifts equally. Harry wondered whether there would come a time when the two of them sent joint gifts out from the both of them. Already Snape was more a part of the family than ever before.

Over Christmas lunch, Hermione prattled on to him about her plans. “I really was considering a Muggle university quite seriously.” she told him. “But then of course there’s that Transfiguration apprenticeship I’d heard about in Bulgaria.”

“So you’re going to Bulgaria?” Harry asked in confusion. Somewhere, he’d lost the thread.

“No, Harry.” Hermione corrected, rolling her eyes. “It was just something that I’d been considering. I’m taking up an apprenticeship in the Ministry itself.” she informed him. “I’ve decided that I’d really rather stay in Britain’s Wizarding community, and I want to go into politics. It makes sense.” she said. “I’ve really been interested in it all along. And if I stay here, I can continue my work with the house elves and other creatures like yourself.”

“Thanks.” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Harry you deserve to have equal rights --” she began.

“I don’t want equal rights.” he told her, and he marvelled at how easily these conversations came now. In the beginning everyone had been walking on eggshells at all times. Now they argued back and forth about whether Harry should be legally considered to be Snape’s property, and no one got uncomfortable or upset.

“You may as well give up, mate.” Ron said quietly, raising his brows. “You know how she gets.”

Harry hid his grin by eating some more food, and let Hermione continue to prattle on.

“So what’re you going to do then while Hermione’s at the Ministry?” Harry asked his friend. “Will you go there too, like your dad and Percy?”

Ron made a face. “Ugh. No thanks. For now, I’m probably going to go help Fred and George out at their shop. What about you?”

Harry shrugged. “Snape’ll pick something out for me.” he said simply.

“You’re just going to let him choose a job for you?” Ron asked curiously.

“I don’t see why not. He seems to make good decisions.”

“Harry that’s completely irresponsible.” Hermione complained. “You’ve got your own likes and dislikes to consider.”

“He always takes those into account.” Harry defended.

“To be honest, I’m a bit jealous. I wish I didn’t have to figure out what I was doing.” Ron admitted.

“If you’re that desperate for advice then take up a respectable job at the Ministry.” Hermione said with a smirk.

“Nevermind.” Ron revised, making a face again. “I’ll stick to the joke shop.”

“To be honest, it’s a relief.” Harry told Hermione. “I don’t know the first thing about what I want.”

“But Harry, what have you and Professor McGonagall even been talking about for the last three years then during our career check-ins?” she asked incredulously.

He shrugged. “Defeating Voldemort mostly.” he answered honestly. “After that, the Auror Corps or Quidditch came up.”

“Those are both brilliant ideas!” she enthused with a smile.

“They’re the two things I absolutely don’t want.” he said, and watched as she deflated.

“Oh.”

“I think I’m already doing what I want to do.”

“But you’re not doing anything!” Hermione said in confusion.

“I do whatever Snape tells me to do.” Harry told her.

Hermione blushed furiously, no doubt thinking he meant sexually. Which was of course true. Just, not only sexually. Harry smirked with amusement and continued to eat, letting her assume whatever she wanted. If she really wanted to advocate for Incubus rights, she’d have to get the hang of things eventually.

~~~

Soon enough, it was afternoon, and Snape informed him it was time they take their leave. Hermione as well was anxious to get back to the rest of her family. So goodbyes were said, and gifts were gathered and shrunk for easy transport. In a flash of green flames, Harry was home.

“Clothes.” Snape told him as soon as they were through to the sitting room. Harry continued on into their bedroom and began to strip off, putting things in their rightful place. Had had also to empty his pockets and unshrink his gifts to put them away as well. Snape was doing the same with his own things, and though he wasn’t undressing fully as he expected Harry to, he was still removing robes, waistcoat, and boots, and retrieving some slippers. He rolled up the cuffs of his shirt and opened a few of the top buttons. For Snape, it was practically the height of casual dress.

Snape was warmed by how welcoming the Weasley family had turned out to be. He’d never had the most loving family himself, and he’d never put much stock in the idea of one. It simply wasn’t for him. But now by pure chance he’d lucked into one, it seemed, and he was touched by their thoughtfulness. Like the previous year, Molly had knit him a sweater as she did the rest of her brood. That at least he’d been expecting this time around. But the Weasley generosity hadn’t stopped there.

Arthur had gifted him a bit of alcohol, and the twins had given him a few of their new products designed with teachers in mind -- including for example a quill that didn’t allow cheating from one’s neighbour. Bill had given him a kind but impersonal gift of some nice chocolates, signed from him and his wife. And Charlie had been gracious enough to give him a few dragon scales that might come in handy for potions.

He put his things away slowly, appreciating each one. Out in the sitting room, he’d even gone so far as to have the elves set up a very small Christmas tree by the fire this year. He could tell Harry was surprised and delighted by it, and the boy wisely hadn’t said a thing. Even now, the lights were twinkling with magic and more gifts lay under its boughs. A conspicuously whiskey-shaped gift from Minerva as usual. Something for him from Filius. As well as a gift for Harry from Snape, and vice versa. Snape wondered idly what his boy might have gotten him.

Now he tinkered in the kitchen, fixing himself some tea to relax with as he watched Harry join him in the sitting room out of the corner of his eye. The naked youth would never lose his appeal. Now the boy was spread out in his chair as per usual, idly flipping through the Quidditch section of the Prophet.

He recalled how arrogant and self-centred he’d thought Harry to be at the beginning. It was such a contrast to the boy he knew now, sitting so quietly and content to entertain himself. Snape was grateful for the peace after the chaos of the Weasleys. While he might appreciate the warm welcome, he’d always been more of an introvert, and welcomed the time to decompress now with his tea and a good book.

“Is there anything else today?” Harry asked curiously as he continued to skim the paper.

“No. We have the rest of Christmas Eve to ourselves.” Snape said with a relaxed smile. “I’d thought to take our supper in here tonight. No doubt the elves have outdone themselves, not that we really need more food after Molly’s feast. Tomorrow for lunch we’ll visit Grimmauld Place, and we’ve Christmas dinner with Minerva in the Great Hall. I imagine Hagrid might make a showing as well.”

“Really?” Harry asked excitedly. “You’re going all out this year.” he remarked. “I’ve never seen you so social.”

“Perhaps I’ve mellowed out in my old age.”

Harry snorted. “You’re not that old.”

“I’m delighted to hear you say it.” Snape said dryly. “Nevertheless, you seem to have come with quite an extensive family and if we are to spend the rest of our lives together it only makes sense that I find a way to integrate. And besides, I did not survive as a spy all these years without learning some measure of flexibility.”

“If you’ve been flexible all these years I’d hate to see you rigid.” Harry commented.

“Watch it.” Snape warned him. “Or I’ll show you just how rigid I can be.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to try to prevent his smile, but his eyes sparkled nonetheless. He almost wanted to tempt fate, because that Snape had made the threat it sounded quite exciting, but he restrained himself.

“So, busy Christmas day.”

“Busy enough.” Snape agreed. “As well as a busy Boxing Day.”

“What’s on Boxing Day?” Harry asked curiously. They’d never done anything for it before, and he’d thought they’d just be doing more school work and potions.

“I’ve decided to take you to Spinner’s End.” he announced. “I want to sort through my belongings and retrieve anything I wish to keep. After that, I intend to sell the place along with what’s left inside of it.”

Harry didn’t bother to hide his shock. That certainly was a quick decision since their conversation. “Really?” he asked. “How much stuff will there be? Where are you going to put it? Here? Or Gringotts? Or are you going to buy some place else --”

Snape held up his hand to put a halt to the questions, and Harry stopped talking though he was practically vibrating with excitement. “I shall figure all of that out in due time.” He heaved a sigh. “For now, perhaps in spite of my better judgement, I’d like to bring as much of it as is practical back here so that I may sort through it at my leisure. It’s mostly books, and it’ll make the floors a bit cramped for a few days, but I’ll decide what I want to do with it after I’ve made certain I’ve gone through the lot.”

“So we might get a new place?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“We might.” Snape said with a warning edge in his voice that Harry wasn’t to get his hopes up, but he knew that Harry would anyway.

Harry had thought he’d been excited enough about Christmas, but now he couldn’t wait to get through the holiday to get to this newest project. How was he even going to be able to concentrate on school work for the rest of break -- the rest of the school year even! -- if Snape was going to be looking for a house? Or would it be an apartment? Would they buy or rent? Would it be in Hogsmeade?

And what was Spinner’s End like? There was so much he didn’t know about Snape, so much he wanted to know about the man but Snape was always so secretive and quiet. He didn’t like to talk about his past, and for the most part Harry respected that. But now he’d get to see his house and all the stuff in it, good memories and bad. And while he might not know the significance of the things around them, perhaps it would be enough for him to gain some sort of insight.

Especially when it came to what Snape wanted to bring home. Books mostly, the man had said. How many books? The sitting room wall was already packed with them. And what kinds of books? What subjects? How old were they? Harry pictured the massive library at Grimmauld Place and the collection of ancient spell books and grimoires. Would Snape have things like that? He tried to picture the chaos of the sitting room filled with Snape’s things, and felt his excitement rise.

Snape watched Harry narrowly over the top of his book. He could tell that the boy could hardly contain himself. “I suppose now you’ve wound yourself up again, in spite of a day full of Weasleys.” Snape said tiredly. He was exhausted just looking at such exuberance.

“Er....” Harry said, biting his lip a bit sheepishly. He really could entertain himself.

Snape heaved a sigh. “As it’s the holiday, I’ll indulge you.” he said with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “You may as well set up the chess board.” he said, setting aside his book and making more room on the sofa. Harry grinned and hurried to comply. “And you may as well bring those chocolates Bill sent along while you’re up.” Snape called to him. Soon enough they were relaxing with tea and chocolates and a chess board. Snape thought he very well could get used to this, and for the first time in his life he had the ability to do so. A future spread out before him, with many future Christmases to look forward to. After so long living under a shadow, it was almost incomprehensible.

Chess was followed by checkers, and checkers degraded into exploding snap by the time supper rolled around. As predicted, the elves had entirely outdone themselves. And though Snape and Harry had eaten too much already at the Weasleys for lunch, they somehow managed to find additional room in their stomachs for the Christmas Eve feast which they continued eating well past normal meal time, talking comfortably all the while about inconsequential things.

They talked about some of Snape’s potions experiments, which led into a discussion of what sort of garden Snape would keep if he had time and space for himself. At Hogwarts he did have the extensive availability of the greenhouses, but only for school-related potions. He’d never really given serious consideration to the myriad of plants he could grow on his own if he actually had the time to tend to the plants. And though Harry had never been particularly interested in Herbology, he was interested enough now to make mental notes of the sorts of plants Snape mentioned. It sounded like he could do rather a lot without much work or knowledge of the subject.

They spoke of the foods they were eating, and Harry found out that Snape loved fancy chocolates and hated cranberry sauce. Snape found that Harry loved nearly everything he tried but had (understandably) had very little exposure to a variety of foods. Not that Snape himself had very fancy tastes. Traditional comfort foods such as what Hogwarts regularly provided, as well as the Weasleys, were his foods of choice, even after having tried a number of more adventurous dishes. So it was fortunate to learn that Harry knew how to make a lot of the basics, should he ever require that service of him.

“Well.” Snape said with satisfaction. “I’m certain I’ve gained several pounds from today’s meals alone.” He tapped the coffee table twice with his wand and the various dishes all disappeared back to the kitchens.

“You’re hardly what I’d call fat.” Harry snorted.

“A ringing endorsement.” Snape commented dryly. “Though I suppose the holidays are worth an occasional indulgence. And speaking of, I believe a bath will do nicely for tonight in place of our usual shower. You go and get the water started while I undress.” he instructed and moved toward the bedroom to finish taking off his clothes. Harry, having only his jewellery to remove, ran on ahead and started the water, then got fully naked while the bath ran.

It was a luxury that they rarely enjoyed. Thus far, Harry had only used the bath twice, both times when he’d been upset or ill in some way. It was nice to just be able to enjoy it this time with his mate. Snape settled into the water first and then settled Harry into the V of his legs. Magic was lovely, as the tub expanded to accommodate them both, as well as the water -- and a convenient spell slowed the cooling of the water significantly.

Snape took his time gently washing Harry, and as it wasn’t particularly sexual Harry relaxed against him. “After the bath, I thought perhaps we could exchange our gifts a bit early. We can wait until morning if you like as we did last year, but I always thought it was rather special to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve.”

“Whatever you want.” Harry said with an easy smile.

“You are allowed to have input, you know.” Snape teased him gently and pressed a kiss into his neck.

“I know.” Harry answered simply. “I just really don’t mind either way. I am curious what you got me though.” he admitted. “I saw the box under the tree, but I wasn’t expecting anything. Especially after you spent so much on the collar charms.”

“Nonsense.” Snape admonished him. “Those charms were something I should have taken care of long ago as a matter of course. I wanted to get you something just for the holiday.”

“You’ve gone soft.” Harry teased.

“Watch it, brat, or I’ll take my gift back. I must say, I’m equally curious about what you got for me. I’ve been told that I’m notoriously difficult to purchase for.”

“Who told you that?” Harry asked curiously.

“Oh, the small few who’ve given me gifts over the years. Albus always bought me socks. Minerva gets me some sort of alcohol, usually whiskey. Filius at least changes it up every year, though it’s often potions related, which you have to admit is a bit predictable.” he said with a smile.

“And Mrs. Weasley gave you one of the usual sweaters. Plus you got more alcohol, a bit of chocolate, more potions things....” Harry rattled off.

“You’re picking up on the pattern.”

“So I guess if I got you one of those things you’d be terribly disappointed.”

“Not at all. They’re good gifts, which is why people stick to them. I simply wouldn’t be particularly surprised.”

“Hmm.” Harry hummed, giving nothing away. Snape would see soon enough. “I suppose I should keep all of this in mind next month as well.” he said slyly.

“Next month?”

“Your birthday. You never mentioned when it actually was, you know. And since you never mentioned it I didn’t think you’d want to tell me so I asked Professor McGonagall.”

“I don’t mention my birthday because it’s a pointless holiday.” Snape dismissed.

“You celebrate mine.”

“You’re not old.”

“You’re not either.” Harry argued. “If you keep mentioning how old and fat you’re getting I’m going to start worrying about your self esteem.” Snape snorted at that. “If I have to I’ll be forced to try and brew a cheering potion.”

“And likely poison me instead.” Snape returned.

“A cheering potion probably would poison you.”

“Mm. Now that you mention it, I am likely allergic.”

Now that Snape had finished washing him, Harry turned around a bit awkwardly in the tub to begin washing Snape in turn. As he washed an arm, his fingers traced over what was left of the Dark Mark. “It’s so much lighter now.” he said, staring at it.

“I’m not certain if it will dissipate entirely this time or not. I suppose only time will tell.”

“Does it bother you?” Harry asked, moving on to wash other areas and leaving the Mark alone.

“No.” Snape said easily. “There was a time when it did bother me, quite apart from any pain it produced. It was a constant reminder of mistakes I’d made. But I’ve been at peace with it for some time now.”

“Since you changed sides?” Harry asked curiously.

“Not immediately. I’m not certain when I came to accept it.” he shrugged. “But as you get older, I’m sure you’ll understand more of what I see now. You’ll make mistakes, and they’ll be a part of you, but life has a way of moving on anyway. I suppose I’ve just grown a bit older and have seen a larger context for it all. The world seems to me now to be so much larger than it did to me then.”

Harry was quiet while he worked, Snape turning cooperatively under his hands. He tried to think about what Snape was saying to him, but he supposed there were some things he’d just have to see for himself. He saw the world as he saw the world, and he couldn’t objectively say whether that view were narrow or broad. “It all seems a bit overwhelming to me, to be honest.” he admitted, not for the first time.

“It’s understandable. You’re young, and you know so very little of the world. First the Dursleys sequestered you apart from the Muggle world. And being Muggle-raised you’re at somewhat of a disadvantage in this world. This business with the Dark Lord did you no favours, and now you’re about to venture from a very close-knit school to a much larger society. But only so much larger, Harry. You’ll still be in Wizarding Britain. You’ll still see Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and I’m personally not leaving Hogwarts any time soon so you’ll continue to spend much of your time here, in these rooms, regardless of whatever else I manage to set up for you.”

“That sounds nice.” Harry said with a small smile. He’d moved on to washing Snape’s cock, and was trying not to linger, or become distracted. Thus far the bath hadn’t been sexual between them (though Harry was aroused as usual). But Snape was starting to erect in his hand, and it was very difficult to turn his attention away; he couldn’t help himself. He let go and moved on, casting his gaze away a bit to focus on the legs and feet. Snape, however, reached out to stroke him, and Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet his gaze which was now smouldering.

Harry stuttered to a halt momentarily, struggling to continue with his task while Snape’s skilful hand teased him. With his mate touching him this way and with the absence of the cock ring, he was certain he’d cum soon and he knew that wasn’t Snape’s style. As soon as he’d finished washing the man, Snape spoke.

“Out of the tub.” he said quietly, his voice a bit husky.

Harry rushed to comply, and the tub drained behind them as they dried off quickly, moving then toward the bedroom still damp. Snape herded him in easily with his body, his presence, and pushed Harry to the bed. He fell compliantly and was more than happy to feel Snape’s body looming over him, pressing him down and pinning him in place. He sighed contentedly as Snape kissed him full on the mouth and opened willingly to his tongue. It was so rare that they kissed, but he’d never tire of it.

Harry smiled into the kiss and moaned as he felt slick fingers pressing into his arse. When had Snape grabbed lube? In his fog, he’d been entirely unaware of the manoeuvre. Now he spread his legs and tilted his pelvis accommodatingly. Was he really going to be fucked without any sort of jewellery in place? And from the front? This was a first. What was the catch?

All thoughts of a catch flew from Harry’s mind as he felt Snape’s cock slide deliciously inside of him, stretching him more fully than fingers ever could. He gripped Snape’s shoulders and threw his head back, eyes closed, just revelling in the sensations. It was difficult to kiss now, with how much he was moaning, and the position, he soon realized, was perfect for trapping his cock against Snape’s stomach and creating delicious friction. Before he knew it, his orgasm was nearly upon him.

“Sir!” he gasped out. “I -- can I -- please!” he choked, failing to make a coherent sentence as his nails dug into Snape’s skin to stave his orgasm off.

“Yes.” Snape whispered harshly, thrusting even harder and faster than before, on his own way toward completion. “Come for me.” he instructed, and Harry didn’t need more permission than that. His back arched and he came more satisfyingly than he ever had before, and felt Snape’s cock twitch as he was filled from behind as well. It was blissful, utterly blissful. And intimate. Harry hadn’t been prepared for just how intimate an act it would be. After all of the strange and physically demanding things they’d done, this was by far the most emotionally shattering. He stared up at the man above him through the curtain of black hair, and saw Snape’s own face twisted with release as he panted and sweat.

He felt Snape shift minutely, and instinctively gripped on tighter with arms and legs. He didn’t want it to end, didn’t want him to pull out, to pull away. Not yet. Not after that.

Snape chuckled a bit. “Relax.” he murmured to him and pressed a kiss against Harry’s neck, adjusting slightly but continuing to lie on top of him for now.

“Why?” Harry asked after a time. He couldn’t make sense of what had happened.

“Because I wanted to.” Snape answered.

And Harry supposed that that made sense enough. “I love you.” he said in lieu of more questions.

“I love you too.” Snape said, and then he did pull away and sat up. He sighed at the mess between them and on them. It rather had defeated the bath somewhat, but he grabbed his wand anyway and cleaned up cursorily with a cleansing spell. Then he moved to get dressed.

“Put your jewellery back on.” Snape instructed. “Then we’ve still got our presents to open.”

Harry had almost forgotten. Now he grinned and rushed to comply.

In the sitting room by the tree, Harry fished out two gifts from the rest, the ones they’d picked out for each other, and he handed his gift to Snape as they sat on the couch. “You first.” he said, restraining his own eagerness to see what was in the gift Snape had gotten him. He wanted even more to see the man’s reaction to his own present.

Curiously, Snape pulled off the wrapping on the small rectangle. There was a bit of weight to it, but it fit in the palm of his hand. The wrapping pulled away to reveal a metal box with a crank, and he glanced up curiously to Harry, but the boy was giving nothing away except quiet excitement. Curious, he opened the lid on the little music box, and wound the crank. His eyes widened in startled wonder when he recognized the tune: Here comes the Sun by the Beatles. “Ha!” he huffed a surprised laugh. “Wherever did you get this?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” Harry asked with a grin.

“No, I suppose not.” Snape said, winding it again. He felt a bit like a child with a new toy, but he was delighted.

“You like it then?” Harry asked.

“I love it.” Snape said with a sincere smile.

“I remembered you saying you liked the Beatles, and I know that electronics don’t work so well around large concentrations of magic, so I couldn’t get you any sort of Muggle music devices for here, or even to play in Hogsmeade. Too much ambient magic to make them work -- or at least that’s what some of the Muggleborns have said when they’ve tried. So I thought an old-fashioned mechanical music box. I know it’s not much....”

“It’s wonderful.” Snape assured him. “And it’s more special that you’ve remembered such a trivial detail about me that I’d simply mentioned once in passing. I doubt even Minerva would recall such a thing and she’s known me for years.”

“Does she even know who the Beatles are?” Harry mused. Not only was she old, but she was also raised in the Wizarding world if Harry recalled correctly.

Snape snorted. “I doubt it.” he admitted. “If she listens to any Muggle music at all it would be classical or bagpipes.”

Harry choked on his own laughter a bit at the comment. It felt a bit irreverent to talk about his prior Head of House that way, but he supposed he would need to get used to thinking of her as a person soon, instead of just an authority figure. After all, she was one of Snape’s oldest remaining friends, and Harry himself would soon graduate.

“Now yours.” Snape encouraged, nodding at the remaining gift.

Harry pulled the wrapping paper off the small gift in his hands as well, and stared down at what was revealed with wonder. He felt his throat tighten with emotion. Because in his hands was a small framed photo of what could only be his mother during her Hogwarts years. He recalled the photo he’d found months ago in Snape’s bedside table, and how distraught he’d been to find out that Snape had known her all along and hadn’t said anything. This photo, however, was different from that one. He must have had more, or perhaps he’d gone out of his way to acquire one.

He looked up at Snape and opened his mouth to say something, but no sound immediately came out.

“I thought you should have something of her.” Snape said quietly. “You can feel free to set it up somewhere in our rooms if you’d like to have it out, or just keep it tucked away somewhere for when you need it. Either is fine with me.” Snape told him.

“Thank you.” Harry said quietly as he looked down at the photo again. What else could he possibly say? He had so few photos of his family. This one was sure to be a treasure for a long time. Reverently, he moved it up to the mantelpiece and set it among a few other old photos Snape had assembled there, that the man had once enigmatically told him were “family” without elaborating. Well, now his mother could join the cast of family as well.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” Snape said quietly.

“Happy Christmas.” Harry returned, and sat back down on the sofa.

Snape was already moving the little music box to a side table within reach, and pulling out a deck of cards. “We’ve still plenty of time before we need to turn in.” he said. “We may as well play a few more rounds of cards, and perhaps send for some cider and biscuits from the kitchens.”

Harry grinned. Snape never let them have something to eat past supper time, citing everything from health concerns to self discipline to indigestion. The man really was going all out with relaxation and fun this holiday.

So without further need for discussion, they settled in to enjoy the rest of their Christmas Eve.

Chapter Text

Christmas morning began like every morning, really. The enchanted candles and wall sconces flickered to life, dimly at first and with growing strength, and Harry awoke at the first signs of light. He was warm and comfortable under the covers, but he remembered first that a) it was Christmas (yay!) and b) he’d better get up because Snape had said they were to visit Grimmauld Place that morning and stay for lunch. So he braved the icy floors yet again.

He put on clothes in anticipation of their outing, and heard Snape stirring in the bedroom by the time he’d moved on to making tea.

By the time the bleary-eyed professor had sat himself on the sofa, Harry had tea and a stack of gifts at the ready. “You’re rather eager this morning.” Snape commented with a tired smile. He tapped the coffee table to call breakfast and saw a ridiculously large spread again that the elves had provided for the holiday.

“It’s Christmas.” Harry said with a smile. He pulled out a gift from Neville and began to open it, his own tea and breakfast abandoned.

As they ate and had their tea, they opened the few gifts left from friends. Harry had one from Neville and one from Luna. Snape had one from Minerva and one from Filius. Harry had gotten an assortment of candies from Neville, which were always a safe bet, and some sort of weird glass sphere from Luna that he couldn’t be sure whether it was meant to do something or not. He snorted as he saw what Snape had gotten -- the whiskey from McGonagall and potions ingredients from Flitwick. Exactly as predicted.

Once their breakfasts were finished and the gifts set aside, Harry sucked Snape off rather efficiently that morning, and then it was time to be on their way. They Apparated outside of Grimmauld Place and were soon stepping into a warm if still rather dreary home, taking off boots and cloaks in the entryway. Mrs. Black’s portrait was screaming in no time.

“Happy Christmas, Mrs. Black.” Harry told her with a cheeky grin as he made his way into the kitchen where he’d heard voices. Remus was still at the kitchen with his morning coffee and Tonks was having some porridge and tea. Tonks’ porridge had more bits of fruit and spices and things than grains.

“Harry!” Remus said with a grin as he saw him walk in. “Happy Christmas.”

Holiday greetings were exchanged all around, and soon they were seated at the table to converse as the members of the household finished their food. While Harry was clearly the centre of attention, Harry was pleased to note that soon they involved Snape as well. Talk turned to the end of the war, and then school, and then everything the two of them had been up to thus far over the holiday. Well, perhaps not everything, but everything worthy of mentioning in public.

Breakfast moved to the sitting room for games and music and more gifts, and before Harry knew it they’d even finished their light lunch of sandwiches. and other odds and ends. The morning had passed in a pleasant blur, but it was time to be going.

“Are you sure you won’t stay?” Remus asked Harry as he had moved to shrink his gifts and put on his cloak and boots.

“We really must be getting back.” Snape interjected. “We’ve already agreed to Christmas dinner with Minerva later today.”

Remus looked like he wanted to argue, as always, but Tonks put a placating hand on his arm. More well wishes were exchanged, and soon they were Apparating back to the front gates.

Harry took a deep breath of the cold air and began the trudge through the snow back to the castle doors. “You know, Remus was actually rather civil this holiday. I’m beginning to think this relationship might actually work.” he said cheekily.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Snape dismissed. “He’s only mellow now because of the baby on the way.”

“Tonks is pregnant?!” Harry exclaimed. “How do you know? Wait, why didn’t anyone say anything?” he asked. “Or does everyone know but me?”

“I’m not aware of any announcement they’ve made, but I could tell the signs. She’s at least three months pregnant.” Snape said with certainty. “She’s starting to show.”

“Huh.” Harry mused. “I hadn’t really noticed.” he admitted. “Tonks always looks a bit different so I guess I don’t pay attention to the details with her.” Then he grinned. “This is brilliant. Remus is having a baby!”

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. “Merlin save us.” he muttered dramatically as he led the way back to their cambers to drop off some things and have a few hours of rest before heading out again that evening.

~~~

Minerva was waiting for them, the head table already spread with more food than was strictly necessary -- or even possible to eat. Hagrid was there as well, Harry was pleased to see, as well as Olympe. So, apparently their relationship was moving along nicely. It warmed Harry to see that Olympe was here rather than Hagrid in France. He recalled Snape telling him at one point that sooner or later, something would have to give, and Harry was reluctant to say goodbye to one of his earliest friends.

There was so much food that Harry knew he’d need to begin an exercise regimen immediately after the holidays, though he didn’t hold back on eating now. Good conversation and Christmas crackers that in the Wizarding world rained galleons and produced music or little zooming lights. He really, truly loved magic.

“So Harry,” McGonagall said as they started in on dessert. “Have you decided what you’re going to pursue outside of Hogwarts?” she asked. It seemed that everyone wanted to know his plans these days. “I realize that I’m no longer your Head of House, but I find I can’t entirely let go of my lions after so many years.”

Harry shifted a bit uncomfortably and Snape interjected. “Actually, Minerva, I’ll be deciding upon Harry’s future for him. I intend to speak to Professor Wainwright after break about it.”

“Oh I see.” McGonagall said. Her eyes widened slightly at the news, but she took it all in stride. She’d had plenty of time to get used to their unusual relationship, and plenty of time to decide that it did them both good, even if she couldn’t fully understand it. “Well, you’ll let me know then when you’ve decided?” she asked Snape instead.

“Of course.” Snape rolled his eyes. “Merlin forbid you not keep track of one of your cubs.”

“As if you’re not the same way with your snakes.” Minerva chided with a smile.

Snape heaved a sigh. “They’ll need me now more than ever, I believe. This war certainly hasn’t been kind to Slytherin.”

“Were a lot of their parents Death Eaters?” Harry asked carefully. He’d heard rumours and he knew for a fact that some of their parents were, but he didn’t actually have any numbers to go by, and no one ever asked such questions directly.

“A good number of them.” Snape said heavily. “You must understand, Harry, that there’s nothing at all inherently wrong with Slytherin. But for whatever reason, a disproportionate number of Slytherins have always been purebloods, and the pureblood mentality has somewhat predominated the House. Voldemort’s plans, his promises were... alluring in a way.” he struggled to explain. “We really will have to rewrite much of the History of Magic curriculum for the coming years, Minerva.” he said. “The students must understand exactly how these movements are sparked to begin with, so that they’ll know the signs.”

“I completely agree.” McGonagall said. “And in fact I already have Professor Binns working on it.”

“I thought he mostly was a megalomaniac who wanted power.” Harry said frowning. “And he was only a half-blood himself! A bit hypocritical to court the purebloods.”

“Aye, Harry.” Hagrid interjected. “But it’s not all about blood purity. Not exactly.” he said sadly. “It’s about whether the Wizarding World should come out of hiding, and how the power should be distributed between us and the Muggles.”

“Not to mention,” Snape said, “the fact that the blood becomes diluted when mixed with Muggle blood.” he said.

Harry gaped at him, and glanced at McGonagall, Hagrid, and Olympe to see whether anyone would correct him. “That’s a lie!” he said. “There’s nothing at all wrong with Muggle blood.”

“Not as such, Harry.” McGonagall explained softly. “But there are rare magical traits that have a much higher chance of being passed on through pureblood families. Such as Nymphadora Tonks’ metamorphmagus abilities. Or even your own creature traits would be less likely to emerge with every additional Muggle added to your line. That doesn’t mean there’s anything bad or wrong about it, and indeed we know that there are extremely magical Witches and Wizards born of Muggle families every day. But there are real, true problems that spark the sort of dogmatic thinking that Voldemort’s followers subscribed to.”

“There is also the cultural aspect.” Snape continued to explain. “The fact that the culture of Wizarding society is weathered away a bit more with every additional Muggle-raised who joins it as well. You’ve surely noticed by now that the culture is ancient and long established, with a richness to it that can take a lifetime to fully understand and appreciate. Often-times, the viewpoints held within it are completely at odds with Muggle society as well. To those who are raised within this culture, seeing the complete irreverence and disregard that comes from the Muggle-borns can seem quite a threat to their way of life.”

“But it’s not a threat.” Harry argued. “There are great things in both cultures!” It all seemed so ludicrous. How could anyone possibly get caught up in the politics of it? In some ways, the Wizarding World had failed to advance entirely and the Muggles had an edge. It should be a competition as far as he was concerned. But then again, he was Muggle-raised, and he struggled to see it all from another perspective.

“Perhaps it is, perhaps not.” Snape shrugged. “My point is that Voldemort’s followers weren’t all evil or crazy. They had beliefs that ran deep and strong and touched upon real world problems, however faulty those beliefs may or may not have been. And yes, perhaps a disproportionate number of his followers were Slytherins, due to the pureblood connections I’ve just described.

“However his Hufflepuff followers I assure you were his most loyal, and his Gryffindor followers were his most brave, to say nothing of the genius behind the Ravenclaws. As well there are a number of my snakes who weren’t involved in the war at all. Not every pureblood subscribed to his dogma, as you well know from your association with the Weasleys.”

Harry picked at his food for a moment, trying to take it all in. He’d never given the politics of it all much thought, and seeing as how Hermione was going to work for the Ministry when she graduated he wondered how much she knew about the lot of it. Everything he’d thought he’d known had been turned on its head. Well. Pettigrew was a nasty Gryffindor, he supposed, but he’d always thought of that as an exception.

“Well, what a dour topic for Christmas dinner discussion.” McGonagall said after a moment of silence. “Hagrid, what’s the news on the crups you had coming in?” she asked, fishing for a cheerier topic. Apparently it was the right one, because Hagrid gave a great big grin and went on about the crups for the next ten straight minutes.

Soon enough the party was splitting up to get on with the rest of their holiday, all of them now in high spirits. Harry was exhausted from the past two days and was relieved to throw off his clothes and relax in their rooms for the remainder of Christmas. He felt like he could sleep for the rest of winter break but he knew that tomorrow there’d be plenty of work to do going through Snape’s house at Spinner’s End, not to mention the backlog of school work he still had waiting for him. Well, not today. He had to draw the line somewhere, and today was Christmas.

The rest of the evening called for reading books and drawing and staring at the fire for long periods. The silence wasn’t boring to Harry at all. It was comfortable. It was nice in a way for his time with Snape not to be special sometimes -- for it just to be normal, just there. He pet Hedwig from the corner of the room, feeding her too many owl treats. From there he could see the stretch of the sitting room, the kitchenette, the front door. This was home.

His things were spread out over the tables and chairs, a photo of his now sat on the mantelpiece as well. And Snape here wasn’t the immaculate man that he presented to the outside world. Here he was in his socks instead of his leather boots, his sleeves rolled to the elbow and the top button of his shirt undone. Here he didn’t sit straight but rather sprawled and slumped like anyone else on his sofa. Here he left half drunk cups of tea around when he became too engrossed in a book to notice he’d not finished his drink.

Even now, the man in question was sitting with a glass of McGonagall’s whiskey and a thick book of some sort in his lap. He tried to imagine abstractly the fact that he’d be coming home to this every night next year as well. Not to Gryffindor tower or to classes, but to these rooms all the same. It was a comforting thought. Hogwarts was his first home, and he wasn’t in any hurry to leave it permanently.

Chapter Text

After the usual morning routine, Snape and Harry trudged through the snowy, bitingly cold morning to the front gates of Hogwarts. Then Snape Apparated them to a little dingy corner of a little dingy street that did nothing to inspire. After the beauty of Hogwarts it was all the more starkly depressing, though Harry thought it would likely be depressing here even on a sunny, beautiful day. No wonder Snape hadn’t been eager to return to the area.

They walked down the rows of dilapidated houses to the very last one on the street, the saddest of the bunch, and to Harry’s dismay they began to walk toward it. This was Snape’s home? And for how long? He’d said it was full of bad memories, and he rather had gotten the impression over time that it was Snape’s childhood home. He didn’t know much about Snape’s childhood, but what he did know didn’t sound particularly happy.

There was a time when he’d seen Snape as the great bat of the dungeons, and he wouldn’t have been surprised at all to learn that the man lived in a place like this. Now, though, he knew the best parts of Snape as well, and the thought depressed him. The house loomed over them, and felt like a sickness that could seep into the soul after a time, like the effects of a Dementor. He felt a sudden need for chocolate.

When they entered, Harry saw that the house wasn’t in any better repair here. Like Grimmauld Place, it was dark and dirty. It hadn’t been cleaned properly in ages. The paint was peeling, the china was all chipped and old, the furniture banged up and the wood cloudy and dark. Not that Harry had need of perfect china or furniture; the Weasleys’ home was a testament to that. Everything there was old and a bit banged up, but everything there was cheerful and clean, well cared for in spite of its age. Not so here.

Snape gave only the most cursory tour, then led the way back to the sitting room. He conjured some boxes into the middle of the floor. Conjured material wouldn’t hold indefinitely but they only needed the boxes long enough to transport things back to Hogwarts, really. “We’ll start in here.” he announced. “I’d like all the books you can find in the house. Most are here but we’ll have to look around -- some are scattered. While you’re in here packing books I’m going to have a look at my old room and see what I can find there that’s of interest, if anything.”

Harry didn’t bother to respond as he looked at the wall of books surrounding the fireplace. He wondered idly whether Snape had made his dungeon home to echo this set-up on purpose or if it was just a fairly common design. At any rate, there were a great number of books to pack up. He was glad for the use of his wand as he performed numerous cleaning spells to dispel some of the dust. He made a mental note to ask Mrs. Weasley for more specific household cleaning spells, because as it was he was afraid of damaging the books with too much Scourgify and the dust was clouding up his air.

He coughed and began piling them away. When he got to the upper shelves he levitated them down into place, which was fussy work but at least he could reach them that way. He wondered whether Snape had found anything in his room and kind of wanted to look in at him, but he’d been given a task so he kept to it.

An hour later and Snape’s bedroom and the sitting room had been deemed complete. They moved on to the kitchen where Snape set about banishing food items regardless of their expiration date. Anything that was still good at this point was some disgusting tinned item that he wouldn’t eat anyway. Harry rescued the tea and some potions ingredients that had migrated to the kitchen instead of the lab. For a man who was fastidious about safety in his labs, he certainly left potions ingredients everywhere.

“What in Merlin’s name is this?” Harry asked with disgust at a jar with something sloshing inside of it.

Snape glanced up from where he was stacking certain bits of china and other kitchenware into a box. “It’s not labelled?” he asked.

Harry squinted. “It looks like it was once but it’s rubbed off.”

“I’ll need to test it but it looks like Grindylow slime.” Snape said, going back to his task of setting all the kitchenware into two piles -- keep and get rid of. Harry couldn’t discern what differentiated the two by visual inspection, so it must just have been a matter of Snape’s tastes or sentimentality. “It doesn’t go off easily. Keep it for now.”

“What else is left to go through?” Harry asked as they finished up in the kitchen. He didn’t relish the thought of taking all of these filthy things back to their rooms at Hogwarts but there was nothing to be done for it. Perhaps he’d find spare time to begin cleaning things more thoroughly. And unless he could find some rather specific spells, that meant doing things the Muggle way, by hand. He sighed.

“The bathroom and my parents’ old room. The potions lab in the basement, as well as a crawl space in the attic.”

Though Snape did in fact abandon most of what was in the house, there were still an impressive amount of things being packed away to bring back with them. Harry wondered where it would all go. They were definitely going to have to get a new place soon. Snape would go batty trying to walk around all these boxes. There was a blanket here, a portrait there. Trinkets, cookware, potions supplies. Harry had never owned much himself and he was struck by the fact that Snape had lived twice as long as him -- plenty of time to develop quite the collection. Especially considering he’d inherited.

The potions lab was nearly as bad as the sitting room. Nearly everything had to come along with them, regardless of whether it looked expired or was in bad repair. Harry wasn’t really surprised. Snape was both a frugal man and a Potions Master. He’d find a use for nearly everything. But it did mean even more boxes, as well as new spells Snape had to teach him to keep fragile things from moving around and breaking. Magic helped with a lot, but it was still tedious work, and after a third hour had passed them by Harry was tired, sore, and filthy.

They still had the bathroom, a bedroom, and the attic crawl space remaining. “If we keep our pace we should be able to finish everything by lunch.” Snape commented, and Harry was exhausted just thinking about it. He longed for a break. Something to drink maybe. A snack. But he didn’t trust even the tap water here without a clean glass to drink it.

“We’ll head back to the castle for lunch to wash up and get something to eat, then come back in the afternoon to begin transporting the boxes.”

“How long will that take?” Harry asked dubiously. “Can’t we just shrink them?”

“We can shrink them to a point but as you know, after a certain point the contents can become damaged.” He looked around at some of the boxes surrounding them in the lab. “There’s nothing for it. It’ll probably still take several hours of transport, once we factor in the fact that we can’t Apparate into Hogwarts directly, so we’ll need to walk the front path as well as down to the dungeons with every trip, then back up. I can drop the wards for the house at least so we can pop directly in here.”

“Is all of this going to fit?” Harry asked dubiously. They couldn’t keep it shrunk for more than a few hours or a) the shrinking spell might degrade and the boxes revert on their own or b) the strain of it might begin to damage some of the contents. Which meant they would have to stack these things around the rooms.

“It’ll fit.” Snape assured him. “It simply won’t be comfortable.”

“I suppose I could help clean and organize it over the next few weeks to make it a little easier.” Harry mused, already trying to fit the task into his schedule.

“You’ll do no such thing.” Snape dismissed, leading the way back up the stairs and on to the next task. “You’ve got your studies to catch up on for the rest of Christmas break, and I want you making a clean start this semester. I know you’ve been staying with me during your recovery but I expect you back in Gryffindor tower for your last months as a student. You can come down on weekends as usual, and study.”

Harry frowned. “I have to go back up?” he asked a bit sadly. He’d gotten used to being back in their shared rooms again.

“We’ve been over this already.” Snape reminded him. “You’ll be glad of it one day to have spent your final bit of time with your friends before you all scatter.”

“I know.” Harry said with a sigh. “I’ve just gotten used to my time with you, I suppose.” he smiled a bit.

“Well. You’ll have plenty of that when you graduate.” They’d arrived in the bathroom and Harry stood around uselessly while Snape began peering into the medicine cabinet, squinting at various jars and phials to determine whether he wanted anything to do with the contents.

No. Anything worth having from here was old and home-made, and he could easily make again if he decided he wanted more of it. He braced himself for his parents’ room next. He’d cleaned it out before somewhat, of course, years ago. But it was still filled with things of theirs that he hadn’t been able to part with at the time, and it had been easier to just hide them away here than deal with them.

Much of this he decided would go to his Gringotts vault to be hidden away again until some point in the future when he could really deal with it, if he ever did. Screw it. Everyone else had vaults piled up with family junk. He may as well join the crowd. He conjured another box and began to dump in anything he was ambivalent about.

Harry quirked a brow but said nothing. It was clear Snape wasn’t in a good mood about this room, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what some of this stuff might bring up for him. Harry wondered what he would do if the Dursleys all died and he inherited the house and everything in it. Probably burn the place to the ground. Perhaps it wasn’t a fair comparison.

A little figurine. A knife. Folders of mystery papers. Some books. Photos. Jewellery. An apron. Harry watched all sorts of things get pulled off of shelves or out of the closet and stuffed into a box. He knew better than to ask anything about it, or to try to help. At this point he’d just get in the way.

The bedroom thankfully didn’t take long, and then Snape mostly had to pull boxes out of the attic crawl space. They were already packed, and he’d go through them later. He figured it was more efficient to just bring them home with the rest. For now, he just wanted to get clean and have something to eat.

~~~

Harry’s body ached as they made their way back up the path to Hogwarts. Since they were going to just get dirty again, a few spells were all that was used on their dirty clothes, and they took a moment to wash their hands. So it wasn’t the most comfortable lunch, but he was hungry and it would do. The elves sent down some sandwiches. and leftover Christmas cookies for them to fuel up on in their sitting room. As soon as they’d eaten their fill, it was back to work.

It was a bit after three o’clock when they finally piled the last of the boxes in the living room. Snape had re-warded his home and locked it up to keep it safe until it could be properly dealt with. The boxes had all been unshrunk in their shared dungeon rooms and stacked up along walls and into corners as neatly as was possible. It would have to do.

“We are having a shower now.” Snape said shortly, already striding toward the bedroom at a quick clip. “And then we shall relax. And by relax I mean to say you’d better work toward finishing your school work.” he clarified. “But you may sit comfortably to do so.”

“I’ll take it.” Harry said tiredly. He wasn’t sure how well he’d concentrate but he wanted to sit down more than anything at the moment. Well, showering was perhaps tied with that wish. He was filthy, and all too happy to throw his dirty clothes in the laundry. Spinner’s End had that same constantly grimy feeling of Grimmauld Place -- only it was even worse, because at least there were people living at Grimmauld Place and constantly making efforts toward improving it.

They took their time in the shower, relaxing and washing each other. Harry marvelled at how easy and intimate it seemed now. He looked forward to this little ritual at the end of each day that he spent with Snape. He recalled in the beginning how awkward it had felt. Neither one of them was the same person now that they’d been then.

Out of the shower, Harry relaxed in his comfortable chair, a blanket draped around his shoulders and the fire stoked as he really put an effort into finishing his school work. It was such a relief to have something so normal to focus on for perhaps the first time in his life.

Snape was absent at the moment. He’d re-dressed in fresh clothes and gone to the potions lab to spend the last bit of time before supper doing last minute checks and making certain he was caught up in everything for the new year.

Soon enough, classes would start again, and Harry would move back to Gryffindor tower for the remainder of the year, spending his weekends with Snape as usual. And soon after that -- they’d build a future.

Chapter Text

It was mid-March. They’d fallen back into their usual schedule, except for the fact that Snape was typically cranky these days. Firstly because of the boxes taking up perpetual space in his rooms. Not only were they just generally a disruption, but the memories that some of them contained made him even harder to be around than normal. Secondly, he was in a perpetually agitated state because he was working on the sale of Spinner’s End. Harry knew enough not to ask too much about how that was progressing. It was made clear that Snape didn’t really want to talk about it, though he made enough comments here and there that Harry got the general idea.

There were things to be banished, things to be gotten rid of. Fees for listing the property, fees for repair work that Snape had no real interest in completing, and cleaning fees as well. Plus the sale of his childhood home, although a good thing, gave him tremendous anxiety. He was constantly making trips to the property over the weekend, and he forbade Harry from coming along with him. He always came back in a worse mood than when he’d left.

Throughout it all, Harry tired to prepare for his N.E.W.T.s and remain a steady source of comfort. He cleaned boots and fixed tea and above all offered himself freely.

Today though, a Saturday in mid-March, things were different. Harry woke up and went out to tend to the fire as usual. It was fiercely frigid outside and the floors reflected that fact. Snape roused himself and began moving around in the bedroom and called out to him. “Put some clothes on today, Harry.” he instructed. “We’re going to Hogsmeade.”

That in and of itself wasn’t completely unprecedented. Snape regularly had some sort of errand to run there. After breakfast and morning rituals were finished, however, Snape let him know the real reason.

“We’re going to see a house.” he told him, and Harry’s mouth dropped open in surprise, his eyes widening. Already he could feel his heart speeding in excitement. A house? Were they buying a house? Renting? How big was it? Where was it? What was it like? When would they get it?

“I may or may not choose to purchase it.” Snape warned him. “You will be quiet and you will be respectful as the realtor shows us around. I’ll ask any questions. Afterwards, when we’ve returned to our rooms, I’ll want to know what you thought of the place. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said eagerly, itching to ask questions but understanding that Snape was in no mood for them now.

They dressed in their winter gear quickly then and were soon on their way. Snape was in no mood to trudge through snow, so they took a rare carriage ride with one of the thestrals instead of walking or Apparating, and stationed it in a barn near the Three Broomsticks. From there they did walk, down to the river and across the little bridge to a more residential area. Snape headed south to an area Harry had never had reason to be before. There were no shops in that direction, only houses, which grew further apart the longer they walked.

Soon they came upon a little cottage that looked much like the others and Snape turned in. Harry took in the look of it.

It looked to be two stories tall, though it was small in general. It had a little yard with a fence around it. There were a few trees, though he couldn’t make out much of anything else with all the snow on the ground. Outside, the home was shingled with wood on its walls and with tiles on its roof. A curl of smoke came out of the chimney, and he was more than happy to step into the light and warmth when someone -- the realtor, presumably -- stepped up to the door.

Snape and the other man exchanged pleasantries as Harry looked curiously around. The place was empty, so whoever had lived there previously had already gone. Everything was clean and in good repair, and bright. The floors were wood, the walls white. They stepped from the foyer into a cosy sitting room with a full sized fireplace, and though Harry wasn’t really listening to the man talk he did hear him say it was able to be connected to the Floo Network. The kitchen had grey tile floors and a cast iron cook stove that ran on wood. Harry hadn’t the slightest idea how to make such a thing work, but Snape seemed to think it was perfectly normal.

The bathroom was all white tile, white toilet, white sink and white shower, along with a lovely cast iron claw-foot tub. It was cramped but it had everything one could possibly hope for in a bathroom. Only one bedroom upstairs, which was fine considering it would just be the two of them. And a little storage space where the roof met the floor in the upstairs bedroom. What couldn’t be seen from outside was the fact that there was a basement as well, and though Harry thought it was cold and dingy it seemed to meet Snape’s standards for a potions lab.

Harry had a million questions, and wanted to know Snape’s honest impression of all of it as well, but he held his tongue and let Snape handle talking to the realtor about all the different facets of the house, until finally Snape told him he’d be in touch and they left. As they walked back through the village Harry again could hardly restrain himself from speaking about it, but he’d promised not to until they were back home. A walk, a carriage ride, settling in the thestral back at Hogwarts, and then another walk up to the school and down to the dungeons. Harry couldn’t take off his wet, cold clothes fast enough.

“You might as well take them all off.” Snape told him. “But get yourself a robe or a blanket. You’re surely cold after all of that.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry rushed to comply, though he noted with annoyance that Snape continued to take his time. First changing his clothes out, and then fixing them both some tea and biscuits while Harry tended to the fire and then their boots.

Finally, Snape settled down on the sofa. “I know it’s killing you.” he said with a dramatic eye roll. “Impressions? Questions?”

“How do wizards do their laundry?” was the first thing out of Harry’s mouth. It wasn’t perhaps the most intelligent thing to have asked, or the most pertinent, but until today he’d never once considered what the elves did to make the clothes clean again, and he’d never actually seen Mrs. Weasley tend to things either.

Snape snorted in amusement. “Typically with spells that wash it in a tub with a wash board the old fashioned way, what’s called a mangle to wring it out, and then it’s hung on a line to dry or spelled dry. Something near enough those parameters though it varies a bit by household and of course the elves take care of those tasks here.”

Harry blinked in surprise. It was old fashioned, but with spellwork there was no reason to have some sort of machine to do it. In fact, the Wizarding world didn’t really have machines, so he supposed that was normal enough. “Oh.” he said simply.

“There was a clothes line out back, I don’t know if you noticed.” Snape continued on. “I expect we’d have to set up the laundry in the basement over the winter to make dealing with it at all tolerable.” he sighed. “That means my potions lab, the root cellar, and the laundry would all be tied together.”

Harry wisely held in his laughter at Snape’s expression. The man was practically pouting. Well, it figured he’d be so put out about his precious lab. As if he wouldn’t still have several labs at Hogwarts to use if he needed to.

Snape rallied himself back onto the topic at hand. “Name one thing you liked best and one thing you liked least about the property.” he directed.

“I liked the fireplace the best.” Harry confessed. “A proper Wizarding fireplace that we could floo from.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly that helpful in making purchasing decisions, Snape thought, but it was in keeping with Harry’s character. But of course all proper Wizarding homes would have a similar fireplace. “And least?” he pressed.

“I haven’t the slightest idea how to use a wood burning kitchen stove.” he confessed.

“Unfortunately for you, those are relatively standard in Wizarding homes.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t really mind. I just don’t know how to use one yet. But really, I’m not that hard to please. There seemed to be room enough for the three of us --” He paused, noticing Snape’s puzzled look, “Hedwig.” he explained and saw Snape roll his eyes. “There’s a bedroom and a fireplace and plenty of room for bookshelves and potions supplies. Was there something I was supposed to be looking out for?”

“Perhaps not, as you’re easy to please. I, however, remain unconvinced about this one.”

“Will another house open up in Hogsmeade then?” Harry asked curiously. “Or were you looking at properties all over the place?”

“I’m keeping my options open for now.” Snape said enigmatically.

“What didn’t you like about the cottage?” Harry asked curiously, hoping Snape wouldn’t snap at him for asking questions while he was in a bad mood.

“First of all, the configuration.” he said unhesitatingly. “It was awkward. The bedroom is alone on the top floor, but the bathroom is on the first floor? Awkward. The foyer is strangely walled off from the sitting room, the kitchen is crammed into the back, the basement is dank. The rooms felt cramped. It’s not necessarily their size entirely either, but rather the configuration of them. If, for example, I were to add a significant amount of bookshelves to the sitting room, it would make the already cramped room feel even more claustrophobic. There was no obvious place for shelves, in spite of there being wall space.

“And I’m sure you noticed how crammed together bathroom was as well. Aside from all of that, it was a bit of a walk from town, without any of the benefits of the countryside. A sort of irritating middle ground between the two ends of the spectrum.”

“Hmm.” Harry mused. “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. But then, I’ve never given much thought to where I live.”

Snape sighed. “I suppose anything is an upgrade from a cupboard.” he said, and Harry would have been uncomfortable at that statement if not for the soft voice it had been said in. “I suppose I ought also to inform you that we’ll have plenty of time in the coming months to view homes. I’ve closed on Spinner’s End.”

“Oh.” Harry said, blinking in surprise. He hadn’t even known anyone was interested in the place. The last Snape had mentioned, it was still being repaired, but that was weeks ago. He didn’t know exactly what was involved in “closing” as Snape had put it just now, but he got the impression it was gone forever. Final. Should he congratulate him? The man didn’t seem exactly happy.

“Wednesday.” Snape continued as he stared into the fire, trying to come to terms with the fact that that home was finally out of his life. Forever. On Wednesday he’d had a panic attack after the papers were signed, then he’d gotten himself good and drunk that night and had been absolutely vile to the first years Thursday morning. Not that they probably noticed any difference. He was a grown man, he admonished himself. He really needed to get a handle on his emotions. Perhaps it would be easier though, if he had something bright to look forward to. Now all options looked to have dark shadows and leaky faucets that irrationally reminded him of the dump he’d left.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Harry asked after an uncomfortable silence. Snape turned his sharp eyes onto him and Harry felt himself squirming internally as those eyes took on a certain spark.

“Yes....” Snape said silkily. “Perhaps you can. On the bed.” he directed, and led the way into their bedroom, straight for the toy box. Harry was curious what they’d play with, and his curiosity only increased when Snape took longer than usual to rummage through the box. So, none of the usual toys then.

The first thing that Snape revealed was a tremendous pile of rope. He crawled onto the bed with Harry and sat behind him. “Hands behind your back.” Snape said, and arranged him as he wanted him. Palm to palm in a sort of prayer position, the hands centred on the back, fingers upward. It was uncomfortable and pulled at his shoulders, but Harry did his best to hold the position. Then he felt the rough texture of the rope as Snape began to systematically work it over him, locking his hands and arms into their uncomfortable position.

Harry had been restrained before, a bit, but never extensively. This was still very new for them, and the inherent discomfort of the position was a new element. It was uncomfortable, but tolerable, and Snape worked slowly and in silence, as meticulous with this as he was with all things. Then he laid Harry down on his back, easing him down so as to not jar his shoulders too much.

Harry stared up at the ceiling as he felt Snape press one of his legs back, calf to thigh, and begin binding them together that way. It wasn’t technically that uncomfortable, but now that his thigh and calf were pressed inextricably together he felt the sudden urge to flex them apart. It was all he could do to take slow, even breaths and relax onto the bed, letting Snape arrange him however he pleased. The left leg was bound first, then the right, and he had no choice but to let them fall awkwardly open, exposing himself vulnerably to Snape’s attentions. And all the while, it was sensual in a way as well. Snape’s body pressed close to his, the rough scratch of the robe against his skin, hands caressing and smoothing carefully.

Seeing the strain it placed on his hips, Snape kindly arranged some pillows under his knees, and Harry settled in as comfortably as was possible with the ropes pulling at him and twisting him into such an awkward position.

Harry turned his head to follow Snape as the man moved back toward the toy box where he’d set out other items, though he couldn’t really get a good look at it until Snape moved back to him. Harry swallowed nervously as he saw the ball gag. “Open.” Snape said gently, and Harry complied, his heart hammering wildly. Snape pressed the rubber ball into Harry’s open mouth and closed the leather straps around his head.

“Grunt three times.” Snape commanded him, and a bit uncertainly Harry complied. “Good. Should you need my immediate attention for any reason -- to stop, to change something, anything -- you are to grunt thrice as you’ve just done.” He pet Harry’s hair out of his face gently for a moment, staring down at him reassuringly, then moved back to his toys.

Whatever it was, it was small. Harry couldn’t make it out whatsoever as Snape set something beside him on the bed, and then settled himself in to sit comfortably next to him. What was it? Not any sort of spanking toy, most likely. Bad angle. Harry’s mind raced as he wondered what new thing Snape was about to introduce him to. A thrill of concern shot through him as he heard Snape murmur a disinfecting spell.

Snape pressed one hand to Harry’s flank soothingly, as Harry strained his neck to try and see. “I am going to pierce you, Harry.” Snape told him, as Harry felt a wave of cold terror engulf him. He immediately tensed and started breathing faster, but Snape just gently rubbed his side, soothing and grounding him. “It should not hurt very much, but if it does, you know how to get my attention. Do it for me now.” he instructed calmly.

It took Harry a moment through his racing thoughts to remember, though he’d only just been told, and he grunted three times.

“Very good.” Snape praised. “These needles are very thin, and very sharp. They’re meant for decorative play. Nothing we do here will be permanent.” Snape assured him. “Take slow breaths, please, and relax.”

Carefully then, Snape inserted the first needle into Harry’s abdomen, just under the skin and out through to open air again so that it laid flat and caused minimal discomfort. Harry felt a sharp pinch and his breathing stuttered again as he stared up at the ceiling... but then, not much at all. He could feel that the needle was there, and it was very odd, but it wasn’t nearly so painful as he’d imagined it might be.

For Snape’s part, he felt a tremendous surge of gratitude for Harry’s trust in him. Receiving that sort of trust was like a drug. And in a world where he had very little control, he had such absolute control over just this moment, with just this man. He watched the play of emotions across Harry’s face after the first needle had gone in, and the minute relaxation of his body. He gave him a moment to process before reaching for the second needle and placing it near the first -- piercing into the yielding flesh and then out again. He wasn’t much of an artist most of the time, but this would be a form of art.

Again a prick of pain, then a sort of strange... something... under the skin. Harry relaxed into it, focusing on his breathing. He knew he was utterly safe here with Snape -- he always was. And really, it didn’t hurt, exactly. Not nearly as much as many other things Snape had done to him already and he’d liked. It was just the idea of the needles that made him a bit light headed. Good thing he was already lying down, staring up and away from the procedure. All he had to do was breathe.

Strange tingles shot through his skin any time one of the needles was jostled even the slightest bit, and his breath would hitch. He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad feeling, but it was certainly a new sensation. It seemed an eternity he laid there, and he felt the slow bloom of endorphins flooding his system. It was very rare that Snape could induce that experience in him, but when he started to feel a bit giddy he realized that must be it. Those small prick, prick, pricks into his skin added up over time and an age later he was lying bonelessly on the bed feeling comfortably fuzzy.

Snape noticed the relaxed posture, and knew that it would be hell on Harry’s limbs later once he unwound the rope. But that was all part of the ordeal of it. It wouldn’t be as satisfying if it were easy.

It had been so long since he’d done this with anyone. It required so much trust, as well as a certain stomach for this sort of play. Not everyone was keen on needles, and in fact so many had a strict prohibition against breaking the skin in any way. But Harry was his entirely, and it calmed him to know it so viscerally. Some things in his life were entirely within his control, and he felt his own tension slipping away as he worked across his canvass -- a smooth expanse of white skin.

He arranged the needles carefully in little sunbursts and winding lines. It was abstract, but there was a beauty in the symmetry of the parts, the even spaces between each needle. The occasional slight trickle of blood that escaped.

Soon he’d have to stop, of course. By now, Harry’s body and mind were flooded with good feelings, but such a high would drop. Not only mentally, but physically. He felt Harry carefully for signs of coldness. Was there still blood flow to his limbs? The rope was biting into him, straining his joints and muscles and surely cutting off a bit of the flow. And his body temperature would drop precipitously when their play ended.

“Harry.” he said gently, laying a hand against Harry’s cheek. Harry turned unfocused eyes toward him. “Look down.” he urged, and helped prop Harry up very carefully enough to see what had been done, but not enough to jostle anything so delicate.

Harry’s head swam as he saw the sharp metal piercing him all over his torso, but he looked at it wonderingly. Snape had done this. To him. And he’d let him, and it felt sort of good. It was hard for him to really take in and process, and he wasn’t sure if he felt a little ill looking at it. He closed his eyes and took in a slow deep breath through his nose, his jaw aching from the ball gag. Snape sensed Harry’s discomfort and laid his head back down.

“I’m going to remove them now.” Snape told him. “Just continue to breathe, and let me know if you have any special discomfort. Do you remember how?” he prompted, checking in, and Harry nodded emphatically. “Good.”

Carefully and efficiently, Snape began to dismantle his art, setting each needle into a porcelain bowl beside him. He would clean them later before carefully storing them in a special box where they wouldn’t get dirty or damaged. For now, Harry was his priority.

More blood spread across Harry’s torso as the needles came out, which was expected. As he bared a new patch of skin, he gently pressed a warm damp cloth to the pattern of pin-pricks to clean the blood without agitating the skin. Soon enough, Harry was needle free, and Snape moved next to his legs and began the process of unwinding the ropes. Blood flowed back into sore limbs and he massaged them back into a straight position as Harry winced and hissed in discomfort.

He moved up to help Harry carefully into a sitting position, leaning Harry against him subtly from the side as he worked on freeing his hands and arms from their strenuous posture. Harry’s shoulders were a mass of tension, which was unsurprising. Slowly, carefully he massaged the worst of the knots out of muscle, working blood back into the free limbs that hung limply at Harry’s sides. Lastly, he unlatched the ball gag and pulled it away, and Harry instinctively began to work his mouth open and closed a bit against the stiffness.

“All right?” Snape asked him quietly, and felt Harry nod against him.

Harry felt utterly drained, and more than a bit out of it. He looked down at his torso easily now, and saw the slight rivulets of blood and the lingering pattern Snape had created on his skin. He felt disconnected from the reality of it somehow, floating away.

Snape waved his wand toward the bathroom and Harry heard the tub begin to fill with water, and then to his surprise and delight Snape scooped him up off the bed bridal style to carry him. He normally might have protested that he could walk but upon reflection he wasn’t certain that he could at present. His feet had pins and needles and his hips and knees were screaming at him, besides his whole body felt a bit shaky.

Gently, Snape eased him into the hot water and poured in a solution of something that wasn’t bubbles. Harry frowned in confusion at it.

“Healing potion.” Snape told him. “It should close up the pin pricks while you soak. Do you think you can keep from slipping under the water while I leave the room for a moment?” he asked, eyeing him critically.

“I’m fine.” Harry said softly, sitting up a bit straighter and propping his arms on the rim of the tub for good measure. Snape continued to inspect him for a moment before he was convinced, and with a nod he left the room, leaving Harry to soak in the hot water. Now that he felt the heat, Harry began to realize that he was actually a bit cold, which was unusual for him.

Soon Snape was back with a mug of hot chocolate he’d no doubt ordered from the elves, and it was being pressed into Harry’s hands as Snape helped him hold it for a moment. Only when he was convinced Harry wouldn’t spill it did he let go and allow Harry to drink on his own. “You need the sugar.” Snape explained. “We’ve rarely played so hard, and you’ll need heat and sugar to help when you start to drop.”

“Hmm.” Harry mused, feeling a bit too floaty to worry about what Snape meant by “drop”. He could imagine well enough anyway, as he was experiencing it first hand. He didn’t need a long explanation of how or why. A hot bath and some chocolate were explanation enough. He settled back in comfort as Snape washed away blood where he could easily reach. It was nice being fussed over so carefully.

It seemed like only the blink of an eye, but Snape was taking the mug out of his hands and setting it aside. He began to drain the tub, and Harry realized that the water had cooled. “Let’s get you out.” Snape said gently, and helped him to stand. His legs were working now, though he felt a bit shaky and parts of him were sore and stiff. Still, Snape was there with a big fluffy towel, and after that his jewellery was being fixed on him again. When had it come off? His memory of events was a bit fuzzy.

He wasn’t left naked either, but instead was clothed in his boxers and pyjamas, socks, slippers, robe. Snape really was going all out, and Harry smiled fondly up at him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Snape said with a small smile. “Though I do believe you’re still a bit out of it.” He led Harry into the sitting room, on the couch in front of the fire. For a while, Snape just held him.

“I am so lucky to have you.” he confessed after a time.

“Hmm.” Harry answered vaguely, snuggling in to cuddle more.

“Do you feel up to eating something? It’s nearly lunch.”

“I guess so.” Harry answered, realizing that he did feel a bit more himself now. How long had they laid there on the couch together? How long had he laid on the bed? It was lunch already? He blinked a bit at the room as he sat up and Snape tapped the coffee table with his wand to summon lunch. It was a fitting Hogwarts meal this time. Roast beef, candied yams, green beans, a buttered roll. Pumpkin juice, as ever.

They sat up and began to tuck in.

“Would you do it again?” Snape asked Harry partway into their lunch. “I am curious what you made of the experience.”

“I suppose so.” Harry said vaguely. “It was... different.”

“Different?” Snape prompted.

“Not really arousing like a lot of the other things we’ve done.” he admitted. “Not explicitly sexual. But it was... something.” he shrugged helplessly, at a loss for words to describe it.

“It certainly was something.” Snape agreed with a small smile. “It isn’t something I will want to do with regularity, but I very much enjoy such play.” Snape told him. “It takes a tremendous amount of trust, and it’s just lovely to see the needles in you.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Harry laughed a bit nervously. “Just the memory of it makes me feel a bit dizzy. But I didn’t mind the sensation that much. I thought it would hurt more.”

“It can.” Snape told him. “Depending on needle type and technique. But I wasn’t aiming to cause pain.”

“I think I’d prefer it not to hurt. I’m not sure about pain without something intensely erotic to counter it.”

“You may be surprised to know this, but I quite find myself in agreement.” Snape told him. “I admit to having somewhat sadistic tendencies, but for me there must be a certain balance. I spent years having to cause pain expressly for pain’s sake, and I don’t find the experience of that appealing at all.”

Snape was silent a moment at the unpleasant memories he’d called up. He pushed them aside. “You may be interested to note that some find needle play to be intensely erotic. Not just in the giving, but in the receiving. It seems you’re not one of them.” he mused. He hadn’t really been able to tell either way, during. Harry was nearly always aroused to some degree, and it really hadn’t been important to him to make the act sexual. That wasn’t the sort of release he was after at the time. Still, it was interesting to note.

Harry shrugged. “Not really. But it wasn’t terrible. Intense, though. Although a lot of that might have been psychological.” he admitted. “I’m also not used to floating away like that.” he smiled sheepishly.

“Endorphins.” Snape supplied.

Harry nodded. “I know. Just not used to it.” Harry went back to his food. He was actually very hungry, now that he’d started eating it. And tired. How could he be so exhausted from lying still? He’d had plenty of energy in him after his trip to Hogsmeade. “Do you feel any better now?” he asked curiously. After all, it occurred to him that the reason they’d played to begin with was because of Snape’s foul mood.

“I do indeed.” Snape answered warmly. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Harry flushed with warmth and wasn’t sure what to say.

“Are you tired?” Snape prompted him.

“A bit.” he admitted. “But I don’t think I need to lie down. Maybe just do my homework here, slowly, instead of braving the common room.”

“That is acceptable. I’ve my own share of grading to complete. We’ll just take the rest of the day easy.” he proclaimed, and that sounded fine to Harry. He was always more than willing to just spend a relaxing day at home.

Chapter Text

March became April. April was heading in toward May, and Snape still hadn’t secured a house, and Harry still hadn’t heard anything from the man about what he’d be doing when he graduated. The N.E.W.T. exams were right around the corner, and though Harry was fairly practised at following Snape’s lead, he was getting a bit nervous. He needed some structure to keep him grounded, and he just didn’t know what was coming.

After the first cottage they’d seen in March, Snape had taken them to a larger home out in the countryside somewhere. Harry had liked it well enough. It had reminded him of the Weasleys’ home in a way -- not in design, but in the fact that it was so remote. He could well imagine planting a large garden and maybe some fruit trees that would take time to produce, perhaps flying his broom around the property in his spare time. But it turned out that Snape hadn’t cared for how remote it was. Though they’d be on the Floo Network and would always have Apparition, nothing was “convenient”, the house was too big and draughty, and so on.

On another weekend, they’d viewed an apartment in Diagon Alley. Well, it had been advertised as being in Diagon Alley, but it was much closer to Knockturn Alley than either of them was comfortable with. And though Harry absolutely loved Diagon Alley and being so close to so much of Wizarding society, even he was forced to admit that the space was tiny and cramped, the street below noisy, and there was no green space available.

Harry slipped in after supper Friday evening as was his habit and began to shed his clothes in the sitting room as soon as the door shut. He headed toward the bedroom as he undressed.

“Are you terribly busy this weekend?” Snape asked him. The man in question was in his socks, his robes and waistcoat removed and his sleeves rolled up in casual style, the top button of his shirt undone. His feet were up on the sofa and he was completely surrounded by parchments, a red inked quill in one hand and a half-eaten bowl of ice cream in the other.

“You could say that.” Harry said with a stressed sigh. “With N.E.W.T.s coming, everyone seems to want to torture us.”

“Hm.” Snape grunted, uninterested in whinging. “Organize you work to be available tomorrow morning.” he instructed.

Harry came back out to the sitting room naked and wrapped his favourite blanket around his shoulders as he settled into his chair. It may have been spring but it was still cold in Scotland and the fire was still burning merrily. He pulled out some of his homework and settled back to at least get a start on his Herbology essay before his brain turned off entirely for the night. “Are we going to view a house again?” he asked curiously.

“Yes. Another cottage in Hogsmeade.”

“That’s lucky. I thought they didn’t become available very often.”

“Well, one has, and I intend to give it a chance.” Snape heaved a sigh. “I’ve certainly grown tired of these bloody boxes.”

Harry snorted a bit. It wasn’t often Snape took to swearing, but the man really had become irritable about the over-crowded rooms. It had been months now, and though they’d gotten used to working around the clutter in a way, it did feel a bit claustrophobic at times. Not exactly soothing. “I don’t suppose you could help me with my Potions homework so I have more free time for the viewing?”

“I ought to double yours.” Snape told him. “You already live with a Potions Master. Surely it’s an unfair advantage.”

“If only.” Harry said with a sigh. “I’d take an unfair advantage about now.”

“I know perfectly well what you’re capable of at this point.” Snape told him. “So I expect you to score well in my subject. As added incentive,” he added with a smile, “just imagine how helpful you could be to me in our future home if you were able to brew basic household potions.”

“As if you’d let me do it unsupervised anyway.”

“I might.” Snape said vaguely. “What if I threatened to beat you soundly if you failed?”

“You’ll do that anyway.”

Snape sighed dramatically. “Whatever did I do to deserve such an impetuous brat of a mate?”

Harry smiled quietly but wisely kept his mouth shut. They both knew how Snape had ended up with him. From those first commands given and received to the easy rapport they shared now. It was surreal to think on how far their relationship had developed. He wanted a relationship with this man -- a shared home and a future.

His N.E.W.T.s still loomed ahead of him, but Harry settled comfortably into his chair and focused on his work. Tomorrow, they’d see about another house. Things seemed hopeful.

~~~

It was late April, and technically spring. The snow had begun to melt but it still clung to the muddy, frozen ground in slushy puddles that their boots sunk into. They’d walked to Hogsmeade, and Harry’s nose and fingers were a bit frozen from the early morning chill. He might have put it out of his head if he’d been on a broom but the slow slog through mud wasn’t exactly inspiring. It got onto his trousers and chilled his legs, and he winced at the amount of work awaiting him when he got home and had to tend to their boots. He shrugged his cloak tighter around him as he followed his stoic mate. The sky had a glaring overcast to it and the air was damp, suggesting rain, or perhaps flurries if the temperature didn’t improve.

“Where are we meeting the realtor this time?” Harry asked curiously as they made their way into the village.

“No realtor this time.” Snape told him. “A woman, Mrs. Dosset, is selling her cottage to move into smaller quarters in her old age, as I understand it. It’s even on this side of the river -- close to everything.”

“That’s lucky.” Harry remarked. He’d learned that available residences were at a premium in Hogsmeade. People simply didn’t leave often once they’d moved in. And people were least likely to move if they were close to all of the most well-known businesses.

“It is. I dare say I’ve almost developed hope about this property.” Snape admitted in a voice that sounded anything but hopeful. More like disgusted with himself. “But we shall see.”

A relatively short walk later brought Harry to a small cottage on a cobblestone street. The houses were technically separate from one another, though they didn’t appear to have much of a yard. Just the smallest strip of green between them, often separated by a neat fence. It was two-story, and a bit bigger than the original cottage they’d looked at, though not by much. The most brilliant thing for Harry though was the general whimsical aesthetic of the place. Sharp angles followed by dropping slopes, everything a bit asymmetrical. Like something out of a fairy tale, just what he’d come to love about this world.

Snape knocked on the heavy wooden door and a sweet old woman came to greet them. Harry’d gotten so used to being ignored when in public with Snape that he almost didn’t know what to make of her warm greeting to him as well.

They wiped their feet vigorously on the entry rug and murmured a few cleaning spells to get off the bulk of the mud, as Harry looked around.

It was perfect, he thought to himself. Everything was warm and cosy here. The floors were a dark, worn wood. The entrance led directly into the sitting room which was arranged with a sofa and chairs, just like their place back at Hogwarts. There were already plenty of built-in shelves along the walls surrounding the large fireplace, and he could see how more could be added easily without disrupting the flow of the room.

There were knick-knacks on all the shelves and end tables, homey rugs and blankets to warm the place up. It smelled of tea and fresh-baked bread. He realized that Mrs. Dosset and Snape were still talking about something, but he didn’t pay them any mind as he scanned what he could see of the area. He knew that it wouldn’t come with all of this stuff inside of it, and really a lot of it wasn’t their style anyway, but it certainly helped him imagine what might be.

The tour started in earnest, and he saw that the sitting room turned into the kitchen and dining area that ran along the back of the home. There was the requisite cast iron cook stove that Harry had now come to expect in a Wizarding residence, as well as a trestle table that reminded him of the Weasleys. He and Snape just ate on their sofa currently, but he could see the appeal of having a table for it, or for more cook space or even just for projects.

The kitchen was also full of light from many windows facing the back. When he peered out, he could see there was a decent little plot of land in which he could plant a small garden. It was still covered in snow and slush, but he could see where there would be flowerbeds, that there was a large tree and several bushes, and what looked to be a stone path of some sort. Not a huge space, but a comfortable one.

Oh, and there in the kitchen along the wall next to the table Harry could see what he now recognized as a wash tub. Snape would be pleased that it didn’t take over his potions lab. And speaking of, the basement was next on the list.

The cellar was nice enough to turn into a lab, and even Mrs. Dosset had a small set-up in one corner to brew the most basic household potions. Nothing fancy, and it looked as if it hadn’t been used in ages. Still, there was a storage cupboard and it wasn’t tremendously damp. Along the far wall were foodstuffs and old junk, so it also served as a general storage space and a root cellar.

Back up to the sitting room, where the stairs led to the second story. Just a bedroom and a bathroom, but Harry noted that Snape would be pleased they were on the same floor, remembering the first-floor bathroom of the first cottage. Nothing was remarkable, but nothing too cramped. The bedroom had the same storage along the eaves as the first house and Harry hoped that Snape wouldn’t be too picky about that because he was starting to fall in love with the space.

Mrs. Dosset rambled on about little things -- the history of the home, the creaky stair that had always been that way but the new leak in the roof that would need to be repaired. Her reasons for leaving, something about her kids. He wasn’t sure how much of it Snape took in but all Harry could think on was where Snape’s books would go and what he’d grow in the back garden and how the bedroom would look with less of an old lady vibe and more of the dark, rich colours Snape preferred, and a sturdier more masculine bed.

“Are you sure you won’t stay for tea, Mr. Snape?” Mrs. Dosset was asking as they made their way back to the front door.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.” Snape assured her. “I’ve got my grading to keep up with and Mister Potter has his studies, you understand.”

She nodded. “Seventh year, isn’t it, Mister Potter?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Harry answered. It was strange and refreshing to be treated more like a grandson than a hero.

“I may be old but I well remember. You keep to your studies.” she instructed sternly. “You never know when you’ll need some bit of knowledge.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” he answered again, trying to hide a smile. She really did seem a likeable old lady.

A few more pleasantries were exchanged and they were soon on their way back through the village. It was such a shorter walk than the original cottage had been. Harry walked with a bounce in his step, barely able to contain his excitement and questions. But Snape tended to want to wait until they reached their home before starting any discussion. He was surprised then when Snape spoke first.

“I take it you liked the place then?” he asked. “You’re practically bursting with it.”

“Yes.” Harry answered emphatically, with a grin. He cast his glance sideways, wondering if he dared ask. “Did you like it?”

“In spite of my reservations, it does seem to be an acceptable residence.”

“Really?” Harry burst out. “So are we getting it?” He turned his head to look behind them, as if they should rush back to the cottage and make an immediate offer.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Snape told him. “All that I’ve decided thus far is that none of it was particularly offensive, and nothing is ruled immediately out. I will reluctantly concede though that I could see myself living there quite comfortably.”

“I knew it!” Harry said excitedly. “There was plenty of room for your books, and for a lab. It was bigger than the first place.” he listed off. “And we could put in a garden. It’s close to town.”

“I am aware.” Snape said with some amusement. “You will recall I was present for the tour.”

“Sorry.” Harry said a bit sheepishly.

“I’ll take a few days to reflect and consider, and if I still want it then I’ll begin the process. In the meantime, I believe you’ve a considerable amount of school work to occupy yourself.”

“How am I supposed to concentrate with something this huge happening?”

“I am certain you’ll find some way. You’ve still two months of school before N.E.W.T.s, and with any luck we’ll be able to move in somewhere by the end of the school year.”

This brought up the uncertain questions in Harry’s mind. “Then what?” he asked cautiously.

“I should have known you’d still be worried about such things, in spite of my reassurances. Rest assured I’m pursuing several avenues at present, but a lot of it depends on our lifestyle at the time. Correct me if I am wrong but I understand that you’d like time to tend to our house and grow a garden, as well as enjoy the idea of working somewhere in Hogsmeade?”

Harry imagined both scenarios. They were close to the vague ideas he’d had himself. “Pretty much.” he admitted. “Did you have something specific in mind?” he asked. Because it was the specifics where he always got completely tripped up.

“I have several things in mind. But it will depend on where we live and how you score on your N.E.W.T.s, so you’ll simply have to live in suspense.”

“Yes, Sir.” he acquiesced, and followed Snape home.

Chapter Text

Harry was a frazzled wreck as he joined Snape in their quarters that Friday evening. Monday would start his N.E.W.T.s, and he’d done nothing but study in every spare second of his time for the last two weeks. And while he’d normally enjoy spending the weekend with Snape, he itched to head back to the library or common room or wherever Hermione had gotten off to in order to get some last minute cramming done with Ron. He set his heavy bag down on the floor. It was practically bursting with textbooks and notes.

“Sir --” he started as he’d arrived, intent on asking Snape for special permission to leave.

Snape interrupted him. “Take your clothes off and leave your books where they are.” he directed.

“But --” Harry started a bit desperately, and cut himself off at a look from Snape. Of course. He felt the urge to obey Snape trump the urge to argue or study. He took a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a second to ground himself, and then moved to the bedroom to strip, leaving his bag where it was.

“Come sit by me.” Snape instructed, making room for Harry on the sofa and setting aside his own work. He arranged Harry to lie against him and reached down to stroke Harry’s ever-erect cock as Harry sighed and leaned back. “Tell me about your week.” Snape coaxed, and Harry recalled warmly how Snape had always used to ask about this when he’d come down to visit. Soon enough, he was unloading all of his concerns: about the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, the end of the school year, the fact that Snape had closed the deal on their new cottage just recently and they’d have to begin moving soon after exams, about his future.

Snape twirled the plug in the head of Harry’s cock, enjoying the look and feel of the jewellery. He reached a hand down to rub at Harry’s heavy bollocks, as always pushed forward by the ring. As Harry talked he began to squeeze and knead them more firmly, and delighted at the flush of Harry’s skin, the slight breathlessness and wriggling that told him Harry was becoming less comfortable. Good. Harry needed this distraction to take him out of his own head.

Harry’s monologue stuttered as he got distracted. He gasped as Snape’s fondling moved beyond a pleasant distraction toward a painful ache.

“Continue.” Snape urged him. Harry struggled to figure out where he’d left off, then continued to recount his week’s activities and his various worries.

Snape wasn’t being gentle any longer, and Harry was right on that edge between arousal and discomfort continually. He squirmed for both reasons and struggled to stay still, his breathing becoming more erratic and his monologue falling apart entirely.

“Have you continued your play time every evening?” Snape asked him.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry gasped out. “An hour each night. I alternate between the sound, the clamps, and the prostate massager.” he confirmed.

“Very good. And you’re eating well and sleeping enough?” Those were a few more of their standing rules.

“Y-yes.” Harry writhed.

“Relax.” Snape warned him, and held his hand firmly but still as Harry struggled to regulate his breathing and relax his body into the fierce grip on his sore bollocks. Finally, Snape felt the tension slip out of Harry’s body a bit, and Harry gave a moan. Or was it a groan of discomfort? This sort of play continued to drive him mad. He wasn’t certain he’d ever adjust to it, which was perhaps the appeal for Snape.

“I realize that you’ve been working very hard to prepare for your N.E.W.T.s.” Snape told him. “But at this point, you know what you need to know. I am therefore putting a stop to further study for the weekend and demand that you find a way to relax instead. You’ve worked yourself into the ground, and I intend for you to take your exams with a clear head on Monday.” All the while he manipulated Harry’s bollocks, pulling, squeezing, tugging, pressing them lower in the sack, stretching them down or squeezing them firmly in his fist. Harry’s thighs trembled as he struggled to remain passive.

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said with a shaking voice.

“Now, I wonder what would help my Incubus relax.” Snape mused aloud, halting his rough treatment to caress the sore bollocks ever so gently.

Harry was at a loss for words. Firstly, because he was terribly aroused, and all higher brain function had ceased. Secondly, because he wasn’t certain that the things Snape had in mind were relaxing, exactly.

Snape squeezed gently, and then more firmly, and Harry moaned under the renewed pressure. “Does that feel good, my Harry?” Snape asked silkily.

And it did feel good. Harry could admit to that now, after having had at least some experience with these intense sensations by now. He nodded affirmatively, and felt Snape renew his more rough kneading. The ache spread to deep in his gut even as the arousal tingled across his skin, his cock hard and straining. Snape delighted in the sounds he wrung from Harry, tortured sounds of pleasure/pain as the boy fell apart under his attentions.

Once the bollocks were sore and swollen and more accustomed to the rough treatment, Snape began a steady slap, slap, slap that was familiar to Harry now, though no less jarring and unnerving than it had been the first time. He kept his thighs spread submissively as he groaned and grunted at the impacts which ramped up much more quickly than before. His fingers curled into fists and he bit his lip against the pain even as he remained tremendously aroused and his whole body trembled a bit for need of release.

“Ow, ow please.” Harry began to beg brokenly. He could feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. It was too much, all of it too much to handle, to process.

Snape gave another hard slap and received a satisfying grunt. He gripped the tender bollocks punishingly. “Do you want me to stop or keep going?” he asked teasingly as Harry whined and whimpered.

“I don’t --” Harry said breathlessly, “I don’t know. Please, please.” he begged again, nearly sobbing and not knowing what he was even asking for.

“I’ll take care of you.” Snape reassured him. “I always do. Just relax, my Harry, while I care for you.” he murmured and began hitting in earnest again as Harry wailed and thrashed. Whenever the intensity reached a certain point, Harry seemed incapable of displaying himself properly, something that Snape would work on long term. For now, it was easy enough to hook a leg over one of Harry’s to pull his thigh out at a wide angle and give him easy access to his target even as Harry squirmed instinctively in his arms. Soon tears glistened on those precious cheeks, and then Harry went taut. Here was the dry orgasm Snape had been aiming for, no real satisfaction to it but Harry’s overwrought body responding nonetheless as it trembled and shuddered in his arms. He continued to work Harry over through the process even as Harry fought him and sobbed a bit brokenly.

Then all at once Harry went limp against him, his body tired of fighting it, and sapped of energy from cumming, even if it had been without true release. Now he floated a bit, his mind flooded with endorphins, and Snape took advantage of that fact to continue his steady slap, slap, slap while Harry relaxed, his body more accepting now of the pain, with less tension and an endorphin high.

Harry’s tears were quiet now and more peaceful. Snape resumed his kneading and pulling at the reddened, aching bollocks. He could feel the slight swell of them in his palm and knew that they’d be sore for the weekend. “That’s it, Harry.” Snape soothed him. “Just relax against me. Doesn’t it feel better to relax?” he prompted.

Harry reluctantly nodded. It did feel better being boneless and a bit floaty, though his gut and his bollocks ached fiercely and he did feel just the slightest bit queasy. But the ache was grounding in a way and the fight had gone out of him. It was nice to just lie passively and allow Snape’s attentions. It was almost like a massage now, Snape’s thumb pressing against one testicle then the other, as if he were trying to work a non-existent knot out of the supple flesh as he pulled and rubbed.

When Harry was breathing evenly and his tears had stopped, Snape stopped as well. “I want you to go to the bed and spend an hour playing with the large dildo.” he said. “Don’t aim for orgasm. I just want you feeling relaxed and full. When your hour is up you may join me for some light reading until we shower, and by the time we shower you’ll have shrunk back enough to put back your plug.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully. It felt marvellous to be pampered after so much studying. It was a relief to be forced to do something else for the duration of the weekend. He groggily got off the sofa and went into the bedroom to settle in with his toy and pot of lube, using his wand to set a one hour timer before he began.

His cock and bollocks were heavy between his legs but he ignored them and focused on working the overly large toy into his arse. He always enjoyed the stretch of it and the fullness, the challenge of getting something so long so deep inside. And the fact that Snape had ordered him to do it in the bedroom, away from his gaze showed Harry that it really was about relaxing him, not about Snape watching a bit of a show.

Harry made himself as comfortable as possible for his hour, lying back on the bed, turned partway on his side. One knee pulled up and his arm reached back to fuck himself slowly, deeply. At times he was tempted to go harder, faster, but Snape had made it clear that he wasn’t to chase down an orgasm this time, he was to relax. Some of his tension drained away from the experience, while another tension mounted in his sore bollocks, begging for release. He did his best to ignore it.

Before he knew it, Harry was pulled out of his slight trance by a soft chime, his alarm charm going off. He swiped his wand to cancel it and blinked his eyes as he came back to reality. Had it already been a full hour? He flexed his stiff fingers, and then pulled the dildo out of his over-stretched arse. He carefully cleaned it and put it away, then went out into the sitting room to join Snape for some relaxing reading. A book had been picked out and set aside for him. Something trivial that had nothing to do with spells or wand work or study of any sort.

Harry curled up on the sofa on the other end from Snape and picked up the book, settling in to read as instructed. And for a time, he was content.

Soon enough, Snape had deemed it time to have their evening shower. Harry removed his cock cap and ring and set them aside with his plug, all his jewellery clean and awaiting him for after the shower. He always enjoyed this ritualistic washing of one another in the shower. Usually it was efficient, without any lingering touches, and was merely a way for them to connect. Tonight, Harry was certain that Snape took extra time on his genitals, tugging at his sore bollocks again and working a finger into his arse. But as there was nothing preventing Harry from cumming and he was already on edge, the touches didn’t extend much beyond that.

Clean and dry, they returned to the sitting room for a bit more relaxation before bed. They’d been taking their showers earlier of late, followed by a bit more reading quietly in the dim room. This night, however, Harry’s eyes began sliding from his work of fiction to his school bag across the room. His N.E.W.T.s were right around the corner, and he just knew Gryffindor common room would be up all night revising.

“Harry.” Snape drew his attention from where it was fixated.

“Hm?”

“If you’re not going to read your book, you’re going to go to bed.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said dutifully, drawing his attention back to his reading. But he couldn’t quite seem to follow the plot, now that his mind was on other more stressful things. He sighed and shifted unconsciously a few times as Snape watched him carefully.

“All right.” Snape interrupted again, a few minutes later. “I can see it’s past time for you to be in bed.” he announced.

“But it’s still so early.” Harry said with a pout.

“If you don’t go brush your teeth and ready yourself, you’ll have a sore bottom to sleep with as well.” Snape warned.

Harry shut his mouth and tried not to scowl as he got off the sofa and moved to the bathroom to prepare for bed. He didn’t think he was the least bit tired. Was Snape really going to punish him this way for being the slightest bit distracted from his reading?

When he’d finished his nightly rituals, he was still a bit disbelieving that Snape would send him off to bed early, but Snape was waiting for him in the bedroom. The lights had been turned quite low already, and the blanket was turned down on his side. “Get in.” Snape urged gently.

Reluctantly, Harry crawled under the covers and blushed as Snape tucked him in as if he were a child. Even more so when Snape pressed a kiss to his forehead. He held his tongue and tried very hard to keep from sulking or trying to convince his mate otherwise. “Sleep well.” Snape told him, then moved from the bedroom and back to the sitting room, closing the door all but the slightest crack, and Nox-ing the lights of the bedroom entirely on his way out.

Harry laid for a few minutes with his thoughts and emotions racing frantically in his mind. But he wasn’t allowed to get up from the bed, and there was very little he could do about his situation. Soon, the comfort and the darkness got to him in spite of his feelings, and he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Harry blinked open his eyes at the first flickers of light in the room, as usual, and marvelled at how long he’d slept. He really hadn’t thought he’d be able to fall asleep so early, but the evidence was now in front of him. Even so, he didn’t want to brave the cold floors of the dungeon just yet.

What did he have to do today? His mind went immediately to school work, as it usually did on the weekend. But no, he wasn’t allowed to do any more work, though now that he’d recalled it his stomach tied itself in knots at the thought of the upcoming exams. Then there was the final Quidditch match of the year that afternoon: Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw. He would like to go see it, but wasn’t sure Snape would allow it.

He heaved a sigh as the lights brightened a bit more. He’d have to get up sooner or later and brave the icy floors. And without clothes today, unless Snape told him otherwise. Now that it was spring, the fire wasn’t very necessary during the day, so there was little reason to tend it in the morning. Rather, he’d just have to drink his tea and curl his feet onto his chair and off the cold floor.

Snape was waking now, since Harry had dawdled in getting up. As Harry finally shifted to leave the bed, Snape’s hand came to clamp down on his hip, holding him still, then pulling him closer. Harry felt the metal plug being removed from his arse and without any further preparation, Snape thrust his morning erection fully into him.

He hissed at the stretch of it, his body tensing a bit. It had been a while since they’d done this with no prep., though his arse was able to take it and there was still some oil left over from the plug. Snape paid his discomfort no mind, and got down to the business of a leisurely morning fuck. Snape didn’t have the energy for a vigorous pounding, nor did he have the patience for anything refined. He simply wanted some early morning release, and a warm body was conveniently still in his bed.

Soon enough, he sped up his thrusts enough to cum, then pulled out to spell away the mess and press the plug back home.

“Good morning.” Harry said with a smile as he finally sat up.

Snape grunted in response. He may have had a decent start to his day, but it was still morning and he was always grumpy until after breakfast.

Harry took the hint and got out of the bed to go start tea. Snape would take the bathroom first so that he wouldn’t have to wait. That was the consequence of lying in bed later than usual. Though it was definitely worth it, he thought to himself, as he flexed his well used hole around his plug.

When Snape emerged, dressed and finished with the bathroom, he took his tea and called for breakfast while Harry took care of his own ablutions. Soon they were eating in amicable silence, though Harry wondered at their plans for the day.

“How are your bollocks?” Snape asked after they’d both finished eating.

Harry gently rolled them in his palm. “Still a bit sore.” he confessed. They felt quite tender, but there didn’t seem to be any bruising or serious damage to them. Snape gestured for him to come over so that he could perform his own inspection, so Harry moved to stand in front of him by the sofa.

Snape reached to cradle them in his palm and gave a few tugs, judging both Harry’s reaction and whether he could feel any damage in the tissue. He inspected them visually for any bruising or swelling, and gave them a few gentle squeezes, though with more pressure than Harry had done. Harry winced and hissed a bit but didn’t flinch away. It was uncomfortable but tolerable.

“I am going to be working on some banking and correspondence. You, however, are going to get the phial of warming massage oil from the bedroom, then sit on your chair where I can see you and massage these bollocks for the next hour.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said a bit uncertainly. This was certainly new. He wondered how much it would hurt, and exactly what Snape would consider a massage. When Snape let him go, he moved to comply while Snape summoned his own work and set himself up.

Harry sprawled in his comfortable chair and poured a bit of the warming oil in his palm, then set the phial aside. He carefully took his sack in his left hand and held it while smearing it with the oil on his right. It was a bit odd, but he sighed as the pleasant warmth began to spread into his skin. He was uncertain what to do next, as he rarely played with his own bollocks, and he didn’t want to hurt them, as Snape sometimes did. He rolled them in the sack a bit, and very gently pulled them lower in the sack, just gently smoothing his hand over the skin, barely tugging.

Snape watched Harry out of he corner of his eye. The experimental motions were a bit delicate but a good start, so he allowed Harry to experiment for a few minutes to see where he’d go himself.

Harry relaxed into the motions. There was a slight residual ache, but the soothing strokes and warm oil felt nice. He wasn’t personally inclined to take it much further.

“You can do more, Harry.” Snape told him from the sofa. “Gather your testicles lower in the sack.” he instructed. “Then place your thumb atop one and press it gently while rubbing in small circles.”

Harry did as he was bid and gasped a bit at the strong sensation. It wasn’t bad, though, and did feel rather nice as he gently rolled his thumb over the orb. First one, then the other.

“I want this to feel relaxing and pleasant for you.” Snape told him. “But I also would like for you to feel that ache again as well. Work slowly toward pressing more firmly, as if coaxing a knot from a muscle with your thumb. And work slowly toward pulling them lower in the sac, stretching them a bit further from your body while you work. I understand that it’s delicate work, but you’ll find that you will relax to accommodate more after a time.”

Harry was always hesitant to push his body in new ways, and now was no different. But he did as he was instructed, and put the slightest bit more pressure on his thumb. He groaned softly as he immediately felt a gentle ache spread into his gut. Uncomfortable, but not intolerable. He tried to keep in mind what Snape had said, working as if to work out tension. After long minutes had passed, it only seemed more difficult, not easier, but he was surprised to note how firmly he was able to press now. Perhaps he was adjusting after all, as the rest of his body was able to remain relaxed and receptive. He tugged his bollocks lower, the skin growing taut and red, and he felt the stretch from his body adding to that ache. He smoothed the oil the length of the sack with his fingers as he tugged. And all the while there was the added constriction of his ring, trapping blood into his bollocks as they were already stretched slightly and pressed forward against his erection. They swelled prettily while he worked, the warm oil keeping the tension loose and relaxed so that he could gradually do a bit more.

“Now, feel how freely they move in the sack.” Snape told him. “Roll them around a bit. You’ve stretched the skin a bit by now and you should feel the ease with which they slip around.”

Harry sighed with relief at the feeling as he let off the pressure for a bit to recover. They did seem to slip around under his skin with ease, and the ache in his gut dissipated a bit as he gently rolled them in his palm.

Once Snape had given Harry a bit of a reprieve, it was time for the next step. “This next part will work on training your endurance.” he told him. “So it won’t be as comfortable or relaxing. I’d like you to take your bollocks in your hand, and gently but firmly give them a squeeze. Increase the pressure until it’s about as much of an ache as you can sustain. I don’t want you to damage yourself or cause outright pain. Once you’ve reached that firm grip, take slow breaths and count to ten mentally, then you can gently ease off the pressure again for another count of ten.”

If the massage thus far had been the comfortable part, Harry was a bit worried about the next step. He nervously bit his lip but he did as he was told, increasing the strength of his grip until he didn’t think he could take more and then counting to ten while enduring the torturous ache in his bollocks and deep in his guts. He groaned a bit in discomfort and struggled to keep his breathing deep and even until the end of the ten count, and was trembling slightly as he counted to ten during his recovery.

“That’s good.” Snape encouraged him. “I assure you, it’s possible to train bollocks to accept quite a bit of abuse. Your technique is good and you’ve very little chance of actually damaging them. Continue.”

Harry was at least intellectually reassured by Snape’s words -- that he wouldn’t do actual damage, and that the human body could take more. Emotionally, however, viscerally, his body begged to differ. Still, he had his counting to focus on. Counting and breathing as he continued to crush his poor tortured bollocks, as they continued to slowly swell. He groaned softly and continually, but his higher brain functions steadily checked out as he focused on the intense sensations and the instructions he’d been given.

Snape allowed Harry to continue the exercise for long minutes, and finished some of his paperwork as well, keeping only half an eye on Harry’s progress. By now, he knew that Harry would be feeling a continual ache, as endorphins began to release in his brain. The sustained discomfort would allow him to build a tolerance for the abuse over time.

“You may rest.” Snape told him after a time. The hour wasn’t up, but Harry was sweating from exertion and the tortured bollocks were swollen and rosy. He made quite the picture. “How do they feel now?” Snape asked him. By having Harry perform this exercise on himself, he’d become closer acquainted with all the sensations his body was capable of feeling. “Roll them in your palm and describe it to me.”

“Everything hurts.” Harry said first. “Aches. Deep inside.” He rolled the swollen orbs gently in their sack. It helped to ease the ache a bit. “They’re so heavy.” he remarked. “Swollen and full. And they’re so warm.”

“You’ve still got several minutes left.” Snape told him. “I want you to go back to massaging them with your thumbs as before, as well as the stretching exercises.”

Harry took a shaky but deep breath to steady himself and nodded. He was a bit overwrought, and so early in the morning. But then, that was part of Snape’s aim. He knew that left to his own devices Harry would just get in his head again and fret about the upcoming exams. He wanted Harry to be in his body today, not his head.

Everything felt more intense this time around. More painful, though he was still incredibly aroused. Harry realized distantly he’d lost a lot of his hesitance and inhibitions about treating his poor testicles so harshly as his thumb pressed firmly down, rubbing gentle but insistent circles into the swollen flesh. Stretching his sack from his body felt good now, a sort of relief like when he worked to stretch his muscles, though it still maintained that uncomfortable ache. The world was an ache to him now, and he sat hazily in that sensation.

Harry was drifting in another world, still working himself over when Snape told him he could stop. He blinked up at his mate as he finally ceased his self torture. Warmth and pain throbbed between his legs, but he felt heavy and a bit drugged.

“Come over here.” Snape told him. “And let me see.”

Harry moved sluggishly to the sofa and Snape settled him on it, leaning his back against Snape’s chest. He could see already they were beautifully red and swollen from two days of torture. Gently at first he caressed the warm flesh and weighed them in his hand. Harry moaned with arousal or discomfort, perhaps both. It was difficult to say. Yes, they were certainly sensitized now, much more so than his earlier inspection. He gave them a few firm squeezes and tugs as Harry laid passively in his arms. He could feel how plump they were and delighted in the groans of pain Harry gave. Delighted more at the subtle stretch to the sack, everything relaxed and pliant.

He gave the gentlest little tap, tap, taps with the flat of his hand to the sack and Harry howled with pain, writhing in his arms as tears came to his eyes. With all of the working over from the last hour, they were beautifully sensitized and would take very little to cause them pain. “That’s it, Harry.” Snape soothed him. “Just let it out. It’s all right to cry if it hurts you. You’ll feel better for the release.”

It didn’t take long gently spanking his bollocks until Harry started sobbing in earnest, muttering through his sobs that it hurt. “I know it hurts, precious boy.” Snape told him, pressing a kiss into his hair as Harry released some of his pent up emotions. He would never hurt Harry simply to cause pain. The intense sensations would be good for his Incubus to experience, and the training would lead to more intense and fulfilling play for both of them in the future. And in the moment, the sensations would take Harry out of his head and the emotional release would be good for his psyche after weeks of stress.

It was possible to bruise the bollocks without actually damaging them, though Snape didn’t think that they would bruise visibly from all of this. Just remain swollen and tender for a few days, a bit red. The swelling would even decrease after a few hours and Incubi were notoriously resilient, so he wasn’t too worried about the carrying on Harry was doing as he cried in his arms.

Snape increased the intensity of his slaps, sending the shock of impact deep into Harry’s gut. Though Harry’s cock was hard and straining, he didn’t expect he’d be able to give Harry an orgasm today as he had the previous night. Harry was simply too sore at the moment, but that was fine. What was particularly lovely was that Harry was so wrung out he didn’t even attempt to shield himself with his legs this time. He simply lay passively while he cried and groaned.

Snape had only really worked up to a medium intensity, but because Harry’s bollocks were already so tender the pain was much stronger. Snape finished the thorough spanking and then simply gently caressed the sore testes while Harry’s crying wound down and his breathing evened out.

“Now then.” Snape said. “Do you think you’re able to concentrate on your book?” he asked.

“I think so.” Harry said shakily, wiping his tears off his face.

“Go on then.” Snape urged him. “Get cleaned up and put the massage oil away, then spend some time relaxing with a book. I don’t want any stress for you today.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said. He was so drained that he really wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on school work anyway. And his bollocks radiated heat and pain, feeling heavy between his legs. He was continually pulled back into his body, into the moment, and he supposed Snape had really thought all of this through when he’d started Harry’s morning with such an ordeal.

Harry still felt shaky and overwrought, still aching between his legs, but he managed to settle comfortably with his book in his lap and a blanket around his shoulders. And for the next hour or so, he was utterly content.

It was mid-morning when Harry was getting a bit tired of reading. He set his book in his lap to stretch out his spine and his arms, stretching them overhead and taking a deep breath. The ache in his bollocks had dulled and was mostly ignorable.

Snape, too, had quite finished with paperwork and was tired of sitting still. “I’m going to take care of some things around the castle.” he told Harry. “And in so doing, stretch my legs. I don’t want you getting involved with the others as you’ll no doubt get sucked back into the exam fervour, but I do want you to get some exercise. Go put some clothes on, as well as your trainers. You’ll be going for a run.”

“A run?” Harry asked curiously. He set his book aside and moved to the bedroom to begin getting dressed, and Snape followed him.

“Indeed. With the lack of regular Quidditch in the near future, I’ve decided to develop an exercise regimen of sorts for you. You’re young, you’re fit, and you’ve lots of energy you need to burn off, so for now it’ll be mostly running, I’m afraid.” Snape went on to describe the path he wanted Harry to take around the castle grounds. He’d worked it out earlier so that it would be easy enough to run an unbroken path, for a total of about five kilometres. As Harry pictured the route in his mind, he could tell instinctively it would be utterly exhausting. Up and down hills and stairs, out toward Hagrid’s hut and down at the Quidditch pitch, near the greenhouses, the path went everywhere.

“I believe you know the meaning of the word run, but I mean what I say.” Snape told him. “It neither means walk nor jog. For it to be a real workout, you’re to push yourself.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully. He wasn’t in the habit of running much. Every now and then they did some jogging drills for Quidditch. But then again, how hard could it be? He was often completely physically exhausted after the demands of flying.

It turned out, it could be quite difficult, as Harry soon found out. His lungs were screaming in his chest as he sucked in the cold spring air, and his shoes squelched in the mud, causing even further resistance. Still, whenever he felt himself flagging and threatening to jog or even slow to a stop, he renewed his efforts and pushed himself to run, run, run.

Snape was back in the room before Harry was. He’d only had to stop at a few places, and he knew very well that the orders he’d given Harry would take a while to fulfil. And so he was fussing in the kitchen, completely cool and collected when Harry finally dragged himself back to their rooms. He was soaked with sweat, still somewhat catching his breath, and his shoes and the bottoms of his trousers were caked with mud. “Shoes off.” Snape directed sharply, and Harry struggled to toe them off as he leaned on the wall tiredly. “I’ll expect you to clean your mess after you’ve had a shower.” he instructed.

Harry nodded tiredly and wisely took his muddy trousers off at the door before making his way to the bedroom to put his clothes in the laundry and head for a shower.

When he removed his cock ring, he couldn’t decide whether that made his bollocks feel better or worse. Now they were out of their accustomed, supported position. They hung freely between his legs and he could feel the tendons stretching differently, the blood pooling differently as he showered. First cool water to cool down, then hot water as he began to chill. His bollocks ached between his legs and felt heavy. First they’d been gently crushed by trousers that were snug even when he wasn’t swollen, and then he’d felt them bounce and shift throughout the workout. And there was nothing like a change in blood pressure to really highlight the swelling now.

When he put the ring back, again he couldn’t tell if that was an improvement or made it less comfortable. Not that it mattered either way.

When Harry emerged, Snape moved to inspect the still rosy. bollocks, rubbing them with his palm and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Still sore?” he asked.

“A bit.” Harry admitted. In fact, there was a low level constant ache now, but then Snape knew that and had rather counted on it. Harry was expecting more pain from Snape by now, but the man surprised him by pulling away after very little touching.

“We’ve about a half an hour until lunch. I thought we’d use it to go through some catalogues and choose furniture for the new house.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with excitement, though it did set his nerves on edge a bit to think about his new home and all the coming change and everything that would need to be done. Still, it was an exciting time. He wasn’t sure whether he’d even have a say in the purchases, and was curious what Snape planned to get.

Snape settled them on the sofa and handed over the first catalogue, which displayed numerous beds and mattress specifications in a mad scrawl that reminded Harry of the Daily Prophet, though there did seem to be some sort of system to it all. Snape had used his wand to highlight several options somehow.

“Of the five I’ve selected, let me know if you have a preference for or against any of them and why. I’ll be sure to take it under advisement.”

“Not much of a selection, is it?” Harry asked with a cheeky grin. All of the options Snape had highlighted had a similar style to them. They were all made of heavy, dark wood, and all seemed both classic and masculine. The differences were in the details. One was squat and square-seeming, one was all curves. Two of the five were proper four posters with curtains.

“I like the two with curtains.” he said, handing the catalogue back. “They remind me of Hogwarts.”

“Hmm.” Snape said vaguely. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He wasn’t surprised that Harry would have some sentimental opinion. It was fortunate that such sentimentality lined up with his own preferences anyway. The four posters had a distinguished look to them, and he was already leaning more toward one of them than the other.

“Next up are the sofas.” he said, handing Harry another booklet that was similarly highlighted.

This time, there were many more highlights than before, across a wide range of styles. Harry paged through them quickly to try and get an idea of the whole selection. “Oh, not leather.” he said scornfully. “Who would want to actually sit on leather every day?”

“I’ll have you know that the Slytherin common room has several leather chairs and sofas. If the leather is fine enough quality it is a perfectly comfortable material.”

Harry made a face and held his tongue. He wasn’t sure a Slytherin would know comfort from discomfort, honestly. Leather couches in his mind were more about show than actual use.

“What about this one?” he asked, pointing to something that hadn’t been highlighted. It was plush and red and reminded him of Gryffindor common room.

“Absolutely not. Stick to the highlighted items, if you please.”

Out of Snape’s thirteen selections Harry chose three that he preferred, on the grounds that they looked comfortable and weren’t hideous.

“Is that all?” Harry asked as Snape put the catalogues away.

“The bookshelves are built-in. I’ll choose chairs based on the final sofa selection. The trestle table stayed behind. Everything else is minor.” he waved the thought away.

“When are we going to move our things?” Harry asked, looking at all the boxes still stacked along the walls, taking up space.

“When it is time.” Snape said with a note of finality, and Harry got the hint. He was working himself up again when he was supposed to be relaxing. Worrying about the future when he was supposed to remain in the here and now. He bit the inside of his cheek and wisely stopped with the questions.

Snape watched Harry carefully and sighed at what he saw. “You’re stressing again, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Only a little.” Harry said carefully, not wanting to disappoint him.

Snape checked the time. “You’ve twenty minutes until lunch. Kneel.” he pointed to the ground at his feet. He was still wearing his polished leather boots from his trip through the school to run errands. Harry knelt on the floor on his knees, facing Snape, uncertain where this was going as Snape wasn’t rearranging any of his clothes. “Hands on the floor, forehead to the toe of my boot please.”

Awkwardly, Harry assumed the required position. This was certainly a new one for him. He felt very small, and very subservient bowing before Snape like this, his forehead resting against the cool leather. He awaited further instructions or information, but none were forthcoming. From the couch above him, Snape was filling out order forms for the final furniture selections. He’d go see Hedwig in the owlery later. Bed, sofa, some chairs, end tables.... He concentrated on his work, being sure to specify colours and materials where applicable. It was only twenty minutes to lunch. Harry would be fine where he was, and hopefully the change in posture would induce a change in mind set.

On the floor, Harry certainly had shifted his thinking away from the future, and back to the present. The rug warded off the worst of the chill and cushioned him somewhat, but the floor was still hard on his knees and the position stretched his back uncomfortably. He kept shifting minutely to settle more naturally into the pose. The spring chill of the underground dungeons worked its way into his legs and palms. He had to spread his knees to keep his bollocks from being crushed between thigh and torso, so now his cock and bollocks hung from between his spread legs, the tip of his cock cap resting awkwardly on the floor. He certainly felt all he more vulnerable with his legs spread, and the slight stretch also caused his arse to flex around his plug.

His forehead resting on Snape’s toe was what prevented Harry from shifting his position much at all. Though he knew it was only twenty minutes until lunch, it felt like he’d already been on the floor for an eternity. He felt his neck and shoulders start to cramp and consciously relaxed them, letting his body droop and settle more fully into the posture. That felt much better, and he could feel his breathing deepen and slow as he focused on relaxing all the various cramps in his body.

“Time’s up.” A voice interrupted Harry’s meditation an eternity later. “You may come back up to eat.” Snape told him, and Harry carefully unfolded himself, taking deep breaths as the blood rushed from his head and he felt a bit dizzy. Soon, though, he worked out the kinks from his muscles and sat beside Snape as he called for lunch. It seemed it was a sort of stew today with chicken, wild rice, and a variety of vegetables. Hearty and plentiful, and served with bread and juice as usual.

As they ate, Snape asked him a question. “If I allow you to go to the Quidditch game this afternoon, what are the odds you’ll have your mind on upcoming exams? Your honest assessment.”

Harry considered the question carefully. He’d given up hope at seeing the last match of his school career, and now that he had the possible opportunity he wanted to jump at it. But he forced himself to think carefully. Would there be anyone at the game studying instead of watching? He would be surprised if there were. Would his mind be on anything but the excitement? No. He was nearly certain of it. “I don’t think I’d think much about exams at all.” he answered after he’d considered it thoroughly.

“Very well. When you’ve finished eating, get dressed and go find your friends at the pitch. Though I’m sorry to say you’ll have to forego any post-game celebrations. I expect you back in these rooms immediately after.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said with a wide grin. Though it wasn’t Gryffindor’s year this time around, he was still happy to see whether it would go to Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. The Ravenclaws were crafty but the Hufflepuffs were hard workers and he thought it really was anyone’s game. Before he knew it, he was on his way back across the muddy grounds to see for himself.

Chapter Text

When Harry returned roughly two hours later he was in high spirits. It had been a fantastic game and he’d really needed to unwind with his friends. It had been Hufflepuff in the end that had won the game, but a close match meant excitement the whole way through. Afterwards, it was time to return to Snape, even though Ron wanted to celebrate and Hermione wanted to study. He was almost glad for the solace that Snape’s rooms could offer to him.

He stripped off his muddy clothes again at the door and moved into the bedroom to put them away. Snape had his personal potions notes open and was doing some sort of work Harry didn’t entirely understand. He’d taken some of the time Harry had been gone to check on one of his ongoing experiments and was making a few more notes about what he’d observed and would try next.

“There’s a large jar of shrivelfigs on the counter.” Snape called to him. “Peel them and put them in the empty jar.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully, though inwardly he sighed a bit. Being mated to a Potions Master meant he often was assigned tedious but simple tasks at random -- anything Snape didn’t feel like doing but could trust him with. He supposed he’d better get used to a lot more of it in his future. The little fruits were small and slippery but he made do and set to work peeling them and dropping the peeled shrivelfigs into a fresh jar one after another, setting the peels aside in a bowl in case Snape wanted to use those for something as well.

When he’d finally finished and had washed his hands, Snape had gotten up off the sofa and set his writing aside. “I’ve come up with another way for you to relax.” Snape told him, wrapping his arms around Harry from behind.

“Oh?” Harry asked curiously.

“I think a nice retention enema is in order.” Snape felt Harry tense. “You’ve had one before, a moderate amount of water for a small amount of time in your bath.” Snape’s hand rubbed small circles into Harry’s abdomen as they both recalled the event, all those months ago. Harry still wasn’t sure he was comfortable with it. It wasn’t exactly soothing at the time.

“We’ll do this one on the bed. And I intend to add a Calming Draught to it which will slowly be absorbed and leave you feeling nice and cosy. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Harry wasn’t sure it did, but he answered as expected. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Come wait on the bed, then, while I gather the needed supplies.”

Harry waited nervously on the bed as Snape moved to the toy box, then the bathroom, rummaging here and there for more things. When he returned, he first laid down a plush towel on the bed where Harry’s bum would rest, just in case there were any small leaks, though he didn’t anticipate any. Then he spelled down the lights to a soothing dimness, and set things up on the end table.

“Please lie down on your side facing the edge of the bed.” Snape instructed and Harry complied. He really didn’t think he wanted an enema at all but he knew better than to argue. Snape pulled Harry’s top knee up to expose his arse, then pulled out the metal plug and set it aside. He replaced it with a wide rubber one with a hole at the base. Harry remembered the rubber tubing from before and it was just as disturbing now as then. It was so tremendously long, so even though it didn’t actually hurt him and it was well oiled, it made him nervous to see Snape feed it into the end of the plug and deep into his bowels.

“You know I don’t like to do these very often.” Snape told him. “But on occasion it can be a wonderful tool. You’ll eventually learn to administer one to yourself.” he assured.

Finally, the tubing was deep inside of him, and only then did Harry notice the size of the enema bag. “You only took a moderate amount of fluid last time.” Snape told him. “But as you can see we’re going for a much fuller feeling today. Last time was your first experience and was about getting clean. This is about filling you up, and later draining you out so all that yucky tension can leave you along with the water.”

“Are you sure it’ll fit?” Harry asked nervously, his voice quavering.

“I dare say you could handle more over time.” Snape told him. “But this should suit nicely for now.” The bag was suspended magically in the air, and the tubing was attached. Snape poured a phial of Calming Draught into the mix as promised, and then released the clamp.

Immediately Harry felt a pressure in his guts and a spreading warmth as the water began to enter him. Snape took out the warming massage oil and applied it to his hands, then began gently but firmly massaging Harry’s abdomen as it slowly expanded, easing any cramps away as they came. It made Harry intensely uncomfortable to see his stomach bloated out like that, and even more mentally uncomfortable for Snape to be rubbing so firmly right into the sloshing paunch.

He didn’t want to admit that it did help the cramping. He didn’t want to think about what was happening to him much at all, so he closed his eyes to it and tried not to think. He couldn’t help but open them and look down at himself after a time though as he felt his stomach stretch. He was sweating from just the exercise of taking so much in.

Finally, at long last, the bag was empty, and Snape murmured something while pointing his wand at the plug. Then he began to slowly extract the tubing from Harry, assured that nothing would leak out as he did so.

“I’m going to to back out to the other room while you rest.” Snape told him, stroking Harry’s hair out of his face as Harry looked at him with a bit of panic. “Over the next hour the Calming Draught will be absorbed and you should feel quite languid. But while you rest, I want you to continue the abdominal massage.” He could see how uncomfortable the experience was making Harry, but he wanted him to confront it and learn to enjoy the sensations. Harry looked at him pleadingly, but hesitantly rested his hands on his bloated belly.

Snape poured a bit more of the warming oil onto him and encouraged him. “Go on and rub as I was.” he said, and Harry started to very gingerly rub the oil across his stretched skin. He knew that wasn’t what Snape was looking for, but he had to ease himself into it. Under Snape’s watchful stare, he pressed his fingers in a bit more insistently and closed his eyes to shut out the reality of the situation. Finally, he continued the firm, kneading massage as Snape had done.

“This massage is very important, Harry.” Snape told him. “It will loosen waste in your intestines, ease cramps, and help you to relax. Try to let yourself enjoy it.” he said, and with no further instructions, he left the room, shutting the door most of the way to leave Harry in the dim twilight of the bedroom.

At first, Harry just forced himself to continue on as Snape had instructed, and felt a bit disconnected from his body as he did so. But after a time, the automatic motions flowed a bit more naturally, and he sighed aloud as he actually started enjoying the sensation. He felt heavy and full and a bit sleepy, and wondered if the Calming Draught was starting to kick in.

It was gently sexual as well, with the water pressing internally against his prostate. But then again, Harry was nearly always at a low level of arousal, so it only added to a pleasant experience now without becoming distracting. It wasn’t long until he lost himself in the sensations, drifting off as his massage faltered, stopped, started again as he eased in and out of semi-consciousness. And over time, his colon absorbed more and more of the Draught, calming him all the more thoroughly. He felt heavy and comfortable in the bed, his full stomach weighing him down and grounding him.

Snape watched Harry for a short time when the hour was nearly up, enjoying the sight of his mate so relaxed and languid in the bed. Harry’s eyes were closed, and his fingers moved so much more naturally along his flesh now, completely at ease with the bloating and more than a little out of it. He sat on the edge of the bed and Harry’s eyes fluttered open to look at him.

“Has it been an hour already?” Harry asked softly, feeling disoriented. He must have drifted off.

“Yes, it has.” Snape told him. “You look just lovely like this. So languid.” He reached out and began to gently stroke Harry’s bollocks, and Harry moaned softly. “Are they still sore?” he asked.

“A bit.” Harry admitted, though the duel feeling of him rubbing his stomach while Snape rubbed at his bollocks was divine.

“How’s this?” Snape asked, giving a bit of a squeeze. Harry moaned in response and Snape smiled. “Good. We’ll be working on increasing your tolerance this weekend as you know. I think once we’re finished up with your enema, I’ll have you give them another massage like this morning while you’re still feeling good from the Calming Draught. It should ease your discomfort, though it will ache quite a bit later.”

“All right.” Harry agreed easily, feeling much too comfortable to argue.

“Let’s get you up and to the toilet.” Snape told him, and carefully helped Harry into a standing position, then led him to the toilet and eased him down. “Reach back and grasp the plug firmly. When you feel ready, pull it out quickly and allow yourself to release.”

Harry groaned as the first water hit the pot, and he felt his body trembling from the force of his evacuation. It seemed like it went on and on, taxing his body in new ways.

“Keep massaging your stomach as you release.” Snape told him, and Harry struggled to continue digging his fingers insistently against his flesh as it seemed to press out more water and more waste, even as it eased his cramping.

While Harry continued on with his ordeal, Snape cleaned up all of the tools they’d used in the process. He gave Harry a full ten minutes on the toilet before coming back for him. “Finished?” he asked.

“Merlin, I hope so.” Harry said shakily. His whole body was trembling and sweating from the experience.

“You can go again later.” Snape assured him. “Plug in.” he said, handing Harry the metal plug after he’d wiped thoroughly. He’d already oiled it, so Harry easily pressed it home with a sigh. Snape could tell from Harry’s slightly dilated. pupils and his languid movements that he was certainly still under the influence of the Calming Draught and would be for some time.

“Get the warming massage oil and get comfortable on your chair. You know what to do by now -- just the same as this morning. Another hour of working your sore bollocks while you’re relaxed should do it, though as I’ve warned you already they’ll be quite sore later tonight when the potion begins to wear off.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered. It was hard to feel very bothered by what Snape was saying when he was so calm and peaceful.

He settled into his spot and lost himself in wondrous sensations, working up to his earlier firm “massage” as he’d been instructed to. It did hurt, it ached terribly, but he only moaned through it. He was so deeply relaxed that he was able to focus on the pleasure through the ache of it all. By the end of an hour, Harry had a few tears on his cheeks and his moans were interspersed with pained whimpers. He was relieved to hear a gentle ‘time’s up’ from Snape, and he finally stopped.

“How do you feel now, my Harry?” Snape asked him gently.

“Hurts.” Harry said pathetically.

“I know it hurts. I did warn you.” Snape soothed him. “Come here.” He held open his arms and beckoned Harry to join him on the sofa. He held him gently for a moment, rubbing Harry’s arms and back. “Do you think your sore bollocks need another spanking?” he asked.

“Please don’t.” Harry said quaveringly. “They’re so sore now.” He looked up at Snape pathetically, tears still glistening in his eyes and threatening to fall.

“We do need to work you up to a higher pain tolerance.” Snape explained to him.

“But why? What is it you’d want to do to them?”

“Well, for starters I’d like to be able to administer a truly firm spanking to your bollocks if you misbehave.” Snape explained. “Or I’d like for you to be able to cum simply from my use of a paddle on them.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the possibility. It didn’t seem real. “R-really?” he asked.

“Really.” Snape assured him as his hand drifted down to begin squeezing and manipulating the swollen bollocks. “Some boys even enjoy having them bruised and purple for a short time, though you know I rarely bruise you.”

“I want to be able to take all of that for you.” Harry said hesitantly, wincing already at the discomfort. “You’ll help me?” he asked nervously.

“Of course.” Snape assured him. He was immensely pleased when Harry submissively widened his thighs and settled back, his body acquiescing to his request.

It didn’t take much this time to get Harry sobbing. Snape did feel a bit bad for him, but he had his eyes on the larger picture in the future. He continued his slaps, really not very hard at all, and Harry fell apart in his arms, muttering incoherently for him to please stop or that it hurt. That was certainly not the direction Snape wanted things to head.

“Harry.” he got his attention. “While I give you a gentle spanking I want you to thank me for it. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Harry sniffled. “Thank you, Sir.” he said quaveringly.

Snape began again and Harry sobbingly kept up his litany of thanks, and Snape was relieved to see that it had seemed to calm the hysterical boy considerably as he now laid much more passively in his arms. Once he’d worked Harry over for a few minutes, he eased Harry’s metal plug out of his arse and thrust in two of his fingers, immediately seeking out Harry’s prostate as Harry gave a small shout of surprise. He deserved an endorphin high after that, so Snape quickly and skilfully drove Harry to a dry orgasm.

Snape slid Harry’s plug back home, and carried him into the bedroom again, settling him in the bed under the covers. “I want you to take a nap now, Harry.” he told him. “I’ll wake you when it’s time for supper.”

Harry made no complaint as Snape doused the lights and shut the door all but a small crack.

Chapter Text

“Wake up, sleepy head.” Snape told him, stroking his hair back from his face and handing him his glasses.

Harry blinked blearily at the dim room. His eyes still felt sticky from tears and he was still groggy. He groaned when he felt the persistent ache between his legs, and curled in on himself, his hands going to his stomach. He felt vaguely nauseous. He distantly recalled that Snape had warned him it would hurt more later, and he certainly hadn’t been kidding.

“Come on.” Snape urged him. “Out of bed. It’s time to eat.”

“I’m really not hungry.” he said earnestly. He was too distracted by his own discomfort.

“What is our rule about meals?” Snape prompted him.

“Eat every meal, a full amount, unless I literally can’t keep it down.” Harry recited. Then he sighed and began pushing himself up to get out of the bed.

“Correct.” When Harry was standing, Snape inspected him for damage. “Let me see.” he said and hefted the red, swollen bollocks in his hand, noting Harry’s pained groan. “I would have liked to keep them like this for longer, but as you’re struggling I think I’ll allow some ice.” he said and let him go.

When Harry joined him in the sitting room, Snape had finished assembling a cold compress -- a sort of rubber bag filled with ice, then wrapped in a tea towel. “Sit down.” Snape motioned at the sofa as Harry watched curiously, so Harry sat. The meal had already been called so he took his plate and made himself comfortable. He hissed in a breath as Snape unceremoniously sat the frigid bag against his bollocks. No one, he was certain, wanted ice there.

“It should take down some of the swelling and therefore reduce your pain.” Snape told him. “Leave it in place, and don’t whinge on about it.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered, otherwise holding his tongue. It was difficult not to complain when he was experiencing multiple forms of pain and discomfort but he knew Snape wouldn’t tolerate a bad attitude.

The way the bag was positioned, Harry couldn’t help the fact that his cock also was lying against the ice, and he thought he would have shrunk entirely if not for the cock ring that kept him hard. Which, by the way, was metal, and distinctly uncomfortable from the new chill.

After supper, Harry curled up quietly with his book, the ice still in place as directed, and he tried not to sulk too much. He was simply feeling a bit uncomfortable, a bit sorry for himself, and subdued, so Snape left him alone. As long as he was calm and relatively content, Snape was satisfied.

The ice, however, couldn’t remain in place forever, and so when Snape thought Harry had had enough of it, he swooped over to remove it. “Time’s up.” he declared, and Harry winced again at the change in temperature, the slight jostle as the compress was removed. “How do they feel now?” Snape asked him.

“Still achy, though also a bit numb now.” he said, uncertain whether it could be considered an improvement. He’d come to expect by now that Snape wouldn’t be satisfied with a verbal description as the man was soon weighing and palpating his sore bollocks to judge for himself.

“The swelling has gone down.” Snape pronounced. “This should be a good level of discomfort to sustain for a while.” Harry sulked, going so far as to markedly pout, and Snape let him for now. At least he wasn’t arguing and he was sitting quietly with his book. He recalled a time when Harry was continually challenged with discomfort, though most of it was more mental than physical. He’d perhaps gotten lax with the boy’s training and it would do him good in the long run to become more accustomed to being uncomfortable.

For Harry, it wasn’t so much about the level of pain. It wasn’t what he’d characterize as torturous. But it was the fact that it was a constant, insistent sort of ache, and that he’d been stuck with it for hours -- since the previous night even. He wasn’t accustomed to anything like that taking his attention and he was having a difficult time trying to adjust.

He knew he was sulking a bit, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He did try for a time, while reading, to look at things more objectively. There was no damage, no bruising. Snape had been clear about his intended goals, and Harry desperately wanted to provide whatever Snape wanted, though he was a bit fearful. And really, he couldn’t argue with the aesthetic difference the rough treatment and swelling had made. As if he weren’t sexualized enough with his package trussed up in jewellery -- now his bollocks stood out all the more, and even he could admit that it looked lovely.

Harry recalled the first time Snape had worked his nipples over, and how much pain he’d been in. Then he’d begun his regular play with the clamps in the evenings. Now, months later, his nipples could take twice as much abuse, and he found the whole experience intensely arousing and satisfying. Perhaps he’d just need to give this some time.

Soon enough, it was time for their nightly shower. Harry was still subdued, but he was much less sulky, Snape was satisfied to note. Harry washed him reverently, and didn’t put up any fuss when Snape spent longer than usual cleaning and manipulating his sore bollocks.

After the shower, there was only about an hour left until it was time for bed. Although Harry had had a nap that day as well as a doze during his enema, Snape could tell that his ordeal had exhausted him. He could see Harry was going to settle in and try to read again, but he thought Harry deserved a bit of a reward and a pick me up.

“Use this last hour before bed to enjoy yourself, Harry.” Snape told him. “You’ve your pick of your regular sound or your clamps, but please come out to the sitting room to play once you’ve chosen.”

As expected, Harry’s eyes lit up a bit at that. Since Harry was already dealing with some pain, he chose his sound rather than his clamps, and settled into his chair comfortably. He was eager to give himself some more pleasant sensations to focus on, and there was no better way than wanking himself from the inside. He was practised at this now, and the oiled metal rod slipped into his cock with no trouble at all. He sighed softly at the feeling as he twisted it this way and that, fucking it into his shaft and working it further into his body. Harry couldn’t even imagine simply masturbating the old fashioned way any longer, with just his hand and the outside of his cock. He’d be missing out on so many sensations.

With this smaller sound, he could work it more vigorously in and out as Snape had taught him, or press it deep inside and rotate it as if stirring a cauldron. Harry worked his cock with practised ease. After all, he did this for roughly a third of his nights during his required masturbatory sessions these days -- the other two thirds split between his nipple clamps and prostate massager. It was easy now to lose himself in these sensations, the motions coming automatically.

It was rare for Harry to actually bring himself to a dry orgasm with his sound, and he didn’t that night either. But nonetheless, he was breathless and highly aroused by the time his hour was up and it was time to prepare for bed.

It had been quite a show for Snape, who had been partially aroused throughout the day from his interactions with Harry. He had planned all along to relieve himself before attempting sleep, and that was exactly what he did once they were settled in bed. He spooned up behind Harry as usual and then eased out his plug and set it aside. The sex was quick and rough, a means to an end as Snape chased down his release. Once sated, he cast a quick cleansing spell over himself and slid Harry’s plug back home, drifting quickly to sleep in his post orgasmic languor.

Chapter Text

Oh Sunday, Harry awoke feeling absolutely marvellous. His entire weekend had been overloaded with things involving sex, and his Incubus nature thanked him for it. He was buzzing with energy, bright and focused, as well as feeling tremendously subservient and grounded.

He got out of bed right away to take care of his bathroom routine and prepare the tea as Snape preferred, and everything was in place by the time Snape shuffled out of the bedroom. They had a quiet breakfast as usual, and Harry was delighted when he was ordered to suck Snape off afterwards.

“Get dressed and go for your run.” Snape instructed Harry. “When you come back, you may tend to the boots, then clean out the pantry.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry said, glad to have some direction for his day, lest he stress himself out again. He was also mildly relieved that Snape left his bollocks well alone. The ache was still there but it was finally starting to fade into the background a bit after a good night’s sleep. Or perhaps he was just becoming acclimated to the sensation. Either way, he was grateful not to have it aggravated just yet.

Harry tore across the Hogwarts grounds in the cold morning air, feeling exhilarated. While exhausting, this was a workout he could get behind continuing. It felt like such a positive start to his day. When he got back to their rooms, he stripped and had a quick rinse in the shower before tending to the mess he’d made. Then he finally settled on the rug to tend to their boots, noting that Hedwig had come down and Snape was busy perusing The Daily Prophet and responding to mail.

When the boots were immaculate, Harry moved on to the kitchenette, quietly working. There were crumbs in the cabinets and half empty tins of tea or biscuits that could be consolidated if still good, thrown out if stale. There were once again a few potions supplies that had migrated into the kitchen instead of the supply closet, so Harry moved them into their own little corner of the cupboard away from the food. There were potions phials to empty and wash, and phials to move into the bathroom medicine cabinet.

As Snape was busy when he finished, Harry curled up to read his book quietly and contentedly, feeling utterly settled.

An hour later, and Snape had finished with his own morning work and was ready to focus his attention on his plans for Harry. “It’s time we get back to your training.” Snape told him. “Which you’ll be pleased to note will begin with an hour of you playing with your clamps. I’d like to check your technique and level of tolerance. Then we’ll spend some time with the weights while taking care of a few other things.” Snape said ambiguously.

Harry was more than happy to spend some time at his regular masturbation, and eagerly got out his toy. Snape watched with satisfaction as Harry pinched, twisted, and pulled at his nipples. They were definitely much sturdier than they’d been at the start, and Harry moaned with pure pleasure as he worked himself over rather roughly. The little buds swelled with blood, turning rosy. and pert on Harry’s flat chest and Snape thought that he looked absolutely lovely that way. Knowing that Harry did this to himself regularly gave him a warm, satisfied feeling. He wanted Harry to feel these intense sensations regularly, and it was even better if the play left a little ache now and then for later.

Only once Harry had worked himself over thoroughly with just fingers did he attach his clamps to the sensitized nubs. Then he spent a good long time playing with the chain, tugging on it to feel the stretch and burn, to feel the deep ache as the clamps squeezed down as well. He had a good feel now for what intensity to aim for, and had learned at least with this activity not go to too easy on himself. Rather, he sunk into the sensations and let them envelop him.

When he removed the chain toward the end of his play time, Harry roughly twisted and rubbed the circulation back to the abused nipples. They were quite puffy and red now from his ministrations, though he knew that when he normally performed this act before bed, the damage would be gone by morning.

Of course now there wasn’t the option to sleep off the discomfort. They’d attached weights to the nipple clamps once before and Harry recalled he’d become very sore. And sure enough, as soon as he’d finished, Snape was there reattaching the clamps as well as weights.

Harry was curious what else Snape had in store for him, and strangely enough next Snape conjured a plain, wooden chair and sat upon it. He patted his lap. “Over my knees, Harry.” he said. “I’d like to warm your backside.”

Harry always had such conflicting feelings about spankings. They were always so different, from erotic to purely painful. Always a different tool, different intensity. He arranged himself hesitantly over Snape’s legs, mindful of his clamps, and Snape adjusted him so that he bent at the waist, head hanging near the floor. The weights pulled his nipples uncomfortably toward his head and the floor in his inverted position, and Snape had easy access to his arse. Underneath of him, across Snape’s lap, Harry’s bollocks were still in their ring which thrust them forward, thereby crushing them against Snape’s thighs uncomfortably.

In a move that Harry wasn’t certain was merciful or not, Snape allowed his cock and bollocks to slip between his thighs, but then clamped his thighs against them top and bottom on either side, forcing Harry to remain immobile.

Snape summoned a paddle from the toy box to his hand and laid it flat against Harry’s arse so that he could get a feel for the size and material, the general feel of it. It wasn’t overly large, was made of smooth wood, and had a bit of heft to it. It would do nicely for making Harry’s arse nice and rosy. But first, he pulled Harry’s plug out of the way, and set it aside. Lovely.

Snape steadied Harry with one hand and with the grip of his thighs on Harry’s package and began a steady rhythm of gentle slaps with the paddle. Every little jostle jerked or swayed the weights on Harry’s nipples, and between all of the sensations coursing through him he moaned aloud, his body going lax against Snape’s body. Thus far, it was easy going, and that was as Snape had planned it. He gradually increased the force of his hits over time as he worked over Harry’s arse and thighs, watching the flesh heat and redden under his care. As he worked slowly enough, Harry was moaning delightfully even as the pain increased until he was finally giving Harry a thorough spanking.

Harry gripped the legs of the chair to steady himself and groaned continually at the fire and force of the impacts that shot through him. How could it feel so erotic, when he knew it would hurt later to sit on?

When Snape was convinced Harry was nicely warmed, he set aside the paddle and let his hand wander over the reddened flesh as Harry hissed. It was hot to the touch. Good. He was ready for the next step.

He arranged Harry in a new position now, one that was unfamiliar and awkward. It was basically the same, but with his thighs spread wide, his hole spread for easy viewing. It took a bit of adjusting his hips, but soon Harry relaxed into the new position. “I want you to relax, Harry.” Snape told him. “This will be a new sensation for you, but as always you can trust that I won’t damage you.”

Harry could feel something rubbing at his exposed hole, and wasn’t certain what to make of it. It was small-ish. Leather? In fact, it was a small riding crop that Snape had summoned and he was gently pressing it against Harry’s sweet hole. Taking careful aim, he thwacked it down solidly, directly on Harry’s anus.

Harry gasped in a breath and then let out a yelp of pain, his whole body tensing at the fire shooting into his arse, right into his sensitive centre. Merlin, nothing had ever stung like that, or hit him there. His thighs wanted to close but he couldn’t really without a lot of squirming, not from his new position. “Easy.” Snape soothed him, rubbing his back until he settled back into a relaxed position. He trembled in anticipation of the next strike.

It wasn’t long in coming. As soon as Snape had felt Harry relax, at least somewhat, he brought the crop down against his hole again. Harry grunted in pain and tensed again, but the reaction was more muted. Snape felt comfortable then that he could continue at will.

He worked slowly, with many pauses between strikes, giving Harry a chance to breathe through the shooting pain. Then he’d strike again, always firmly, always with perfect aim. It didn’t take many swats until the delicate flesh was inflamed, turning deep red. The soft lips of Harry’s arse swelled slightly, pushing out poutingly in the sweetest way. Snape caressed the inflamed flesh as Harry let out a pained hiss. Gently, Snape pressed a finger into the hole, fucking Harry gently with it as Harry trembled, unable to process and assimilate the new kind of pain.

“H-hurts.” Harry stammered in a trembling voice. Snape could hear that he was either near tears or had cried a little.

“Nonsense.” Snape proclaimed. “Just enough to keep it warm, I should think.” he said, still gently fucking at the sore flesh with a finger. He watched the pouting red lips with satisfaction. Harry would certainly be feeling that. They would work up to a greater tolerance over time. For now, he was satisfied with the progress, and pulled his finger out. Harry sighed with relief, only to tense as Snape unceremoniously pressed his metal plug back home, his sore arse stretching painfully around the intruder.

Finished with the wooden chair, Snape pulled Harry up to standing, supporting him carefully, as he banished the chair away. He moved them both to the sofa and arranged Harry to lean back against him comfortably as was his position of choice. Then he reached down to Harry’s chest to remove the nipple clamps and weights. As Harry had dangled for so long, the weights had certainly done their work on the already abused nubs. Harry called out painfully as the clamps were removed, and he buried his face against Snape’s body as Snape determinedly worked the circulation back into the swollen flesh.

“Almost done.” Snape proclaimed as he worked. “And then we can have some lunch.”

Harry flinched when he felt Snape’s hand move to his bollocks and begin to caress and tug. “No, please not more.” he whined sadly. They already had been hurt so much that weekend and they still ached now. And now his arse hole was on fire and his arse and thighs were stinging and hot and his nipples radiated pain. He didn’t want more torture to his poor, abused bollocks.

“Don’t be petulant, Harry. It’s not becoming.” Snape chided him. “I want you to focus on only one thing as I administer this spanking, and that is the newest sensation of the day. The stinging sensation in your hole. All the rest is old news for you, really. You’re simply allowing yourself to become overwhelmed at the moment. But if you focus on your hole, I think you’ll find it feels rather warm and nice around your plug.”

Harry settled against him more comfortably, eyes closed, as he did as he was told. It was difficult to keep his attention there in his centre, his arse stretched around his plug, while Snape had begun spanking his bollocks without preamble. But after a moment, he began to see what Snape meant. It was hot, bright hot, but that warmth filled his pelvis, no, his whole body. His arse was warm, his chest warm, his bollocks spreading warmth deep inside of him. And under it all, his stinging hole, stretched wide. The irritation made it feel as if he were spread wider than ever before.

Harry grunted in time with Snape’s swats, but they weren’t exactly painful sounds. Snape recognized those grunts. They were throaty and husky and dripped of sex. He could see Harry’s thighs relax further open even as his cock bobbed with need.

Snape smirked, but this wasn’t about getting Harry off. After only a short time, he’d finished what he’d set out to do, stopping when Harry’s bollocks were rosy. and warm to touch.

Harry continued to curl against Snape, seeking comfort, while Snape caressed his sore bollocks after the spanking. He knew he’d have to get up soon, that it was time for lunch and there was a whole day to be getting on with, but everything hurt and he just wanted to sulk, just for a little. He did his best to shut out all of the pains grabbing for his attention and focus only on the newest experience, his arsehole. It still felt like it was on fire, the abused flesh stretched around his plug.

When Harry seemed calm, Snape pushed him up to sit. “Come on.” he urged. “Lunch.” He tapped the coffee table twice with his wand to signal the elves, and the food appeared before them.

“What would you like to do for the rest of the day, Harry?” Snape asked. “I’d like you to have supper in the Great Hall with your friends and return to Gryffindor tonight as always, but you have until supper to choose something here if you like.”

Harry thought about it quietly for a moment while he ate. Normally on a weekend he might have suggested sex, but with the way everything ached right now he wasn’t sure he was that interested. A part of him wanted to ask for permission to study for N.E.W.T.s one last time, but he knew that was out of the question. But there was one thing they’d yet to do together, that he’d been wanting for some time. “Will you go flying with me?” Harry asked, eyes shining.

Snape blinked in surprise. He supposed it made sense though. Of course Harry would want to fly -- it was one of his favourite activities. It was simply that Snape very rarely flew, and he’d never considered going along with Harry for anything other than practical purposes. “Certainly.” he answered, feeling warmed that Harry would want to share his passion with him. Perhaps he could come to appreciate some of what Harry got from it. Or at the very least, he’d see Harry happy.

~~~

It was some relief that Harry was to always remove his jewellery before flying, lest he injure himself. His arsehole in particular thanked him, though he was never sure if the situation was improved or not for sore bollocks. What he hadn’t particularly accounted for was the fact that his arse would suffer anew from his position on a hard broom. But really, none of it mattered. Not when it was a beautiful spring day, and Snape was with him, mounted on his own broom and keeping up with his every turn and dive, no matter how fast he went.

He didn’t do anything particularly difficult, of course. This wasn’t the time for acrobatics or Quidditch winning moves, but it was a time to fly free and unburden himself. Being able to share it with Snape made flying feel just as magical as it had in the beginning.

Snape, for his part, was delighted to see Harry in his natural element. He’d watched Harry fly many times before, of course, but he’d never actually joined him, never seen him like this. And as Snape had never been much of a fan of flying simply for flying’s sake, it had been some time since he’d attempted any of the athleticism as he did now. He was pleased that even in his old age he could still keep up.

Now more than ever he was glad that he’d been persuaded to purchase a home in Hogsmeade. It was still strange to him sometimes to acknowledge that yes, he really had sold Spinner’s End for good. It seemed like a loss at times. Other times he felt almost guilty about it. But there was no reason to keep his childhood home. He had more bad memories there than good, and too much baggage. And what did the home offer him now? Certainly not a future. He was mature enough to know all of this intellectually of course, but emotional wounds still ran deep, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel totally resolved about his past, or his desire to build a future.

But he was starting to see his future take shape now. The N.E.W.T. exams would be over in a week, the school year finished, and then they would finally move in their belongings. Some belongings he’d long cherished, some he wasn’t ready to look through yet, if ever. Some were practical, and others he’d only just ordered and would have to get used to.

So many years of heading home to Spinner’s End for most of the summer, to sit in his filthy house or sequester himself in his lab. Trips to Hogwarts just to escape it. Death Eater drop-ins in more recent times. He tried to imagine the upcoming summer at their new cottage. Harry could fly there freely as much as he wanted, and continue his running regimen around the block. They’d plant a garden. He’d build his new lab.

And Harry. Harry would begin his new duties as well, assuming all went according to plan. Snape had several ventures lined up for him, that of course could be built upon or discarded as circumstance would dictate. It was strange to have such full control over another man. He’d flirted with the idea of an actual live-in slave for many years as he’d taken on various submissives, but there had always been barriers -- some his partner’s, some his own. Now his life with Harry felt entirely natural to him and fulfilling in a way no past relationship ever had been. And all because he’d taken an opportunity when it was presented to him. He couldn’t have anticipated then what their relationship would grow into.

Chilled and exhausted, they finally made their way back to the castle together. There were still a few hours left until supper time, and they spent the time warming up and relaxing, drinking hot tea and eating biscuits while they chatted or read. And both Snape and Harry were totally at ease.

Chapter Text

The morning of exams Harry was so nervous he wanted to throw up, and was not helped at all by Hermione’s frantic last minute studying and reminders to both he and Ron. The only thing that kept him from snapping was the fact that various intimate parts of him were still distinctly sore, and that kept some remaining fraction of his attention away from his panic. No doubt Snape had thought of that and planned it, and Harry was beginning to appreciate this sudden new desire his mate had to “train” him in such a painful manner.

In spite of his nerves, Harry forced down breakfast, and then they soldiered on to begin exams that were fittingly named Nastily Exhausting.

~~~

By the end of the week, any trace of soreness was long gone, but then so were most of Harry’s exams, so he figured there was a certain balance to it. He practically ached to go down to the dungeons and spend some time with Snape after such long days, but he knew that the end was in sight. At other times, he felt nearly like crying at the fact that they’d soon all be finished here, forever. It was at once intensely exciting and intensely sad. Really, he almost couldn’t understand how nearly everyone else seemed to be gearing up to leave so easily. The only thing that kept him sane at times were the facts that a) he’d be spending a great deal of his time at Hogwarts in the future due to Snape and b) his other home would be so close, in Hogsmeade. He could never simply walk away from this school, and knew that now.

The only other person that was really planning to stick around was Neville, and Harry was glad that he’d become closer with him over the past few years. Neville would be beginning his apprenticeship with Professor Sprout just after he had his N.E.W.T. results if all went well, which meant he’d be seeing a lot of his friend for the next three years.

Harry watched Neville throwing more things into his chest, combing over the room yet again, afraid he’d forget something. Tomorrow was the last day of N.E.W.T.s, and then they’d head home. Harry smiled at that thought. He and Snape would also head home, though not via the Hogwarts Express. He itched to take things to his new cottage and start unpacking.

“Why are you even packing?” he asked Neville. “I thought you were just going to move back to Hogwarts to start your apprenticeship.”

“I’ve got to actually pass my N.E.W.T.s before the apprenticeship starts.” he explained. “So I’ve got two weeks free. McGonagall offered to let me stay in the castle anyway, of course. It’s not as if it really matters. But Gran wanted me to come home, and since I’m about to really go out this time as an adult and everything I did feel a bit guilty.” he confessed. “I’m sure she’ll always keep a room for me at home but I suppose it is a bit different now.”

“I guess so.” Harry said vaguely. He hadn’t really thought about that sort of thing, since he didn’t have a family or home to go back to. His place was with Snape now, and he’d never really had a place with the Dursleys. But he supposed what Neville was saying made sense. The Weasleys still had space for all their children if they should come to visit, but there was a different feel to the house once someone had officially moved out.

“Where are you staying when you get back?” Harry asked curiously.

“Just at the base of the tower.” Neville grinned. “Professor Sprout offered me a set of rooms closer to the greenhouses, down by Hufflepuff, but I asked if I could be nearer to Gryffindor. It wouldn’t be right being with the students as an adult, and I don’t think I’d like it as much anyway.” he explained. “But I’ll always be a Gryffindor. And the rooms they set me up with are brilliant. The same sort of décor, a big fireplace. I’ll have to show you once I’m settled in.”

“Brilliant.” Harry grinned. “And of course you’ll have to come see our place in Hogsmeade, especially once we’ve started the garden.”

Neville hissed at him a bit. “It’s late June, Harry!” he admonished. “You’re way behind in starting a garden. But don’t worry there are still a number of plants that do well when started in summer.”

“See? This is why you should come over and help with it.” Harry smiled brightly.

“Of course I will.” Neville assured him. “What N.E.W.T.s do you have left tomorrow?” he asked.

“Just Potions.” Harry sighed.

“No pressure, eh?” Neville asked.

“You’ve no idea. Being in a relationship with my Potions professor comes with all the high expectations and no real perks.”

“I thought you said you got extra lab time with him.”

“Well, there’s that.” Harry conceded. “But I hardly think peeling shrivelfigs for the ump-teenth time is going to help me on a N.E.W.T.”

Neville laughed. “He has you peeling and chopping all of his ingredients?”

“Basically every step that seems tedious or distasteful but that he doesn’t think I can mess up.”

“I wish I could say I was surprised.” Neville said, amusement in his eyes.

Harry smiled. “He’s still Snape. I think he’s absolutely wonderful, you know, but it’s not as if he’s had a personality transplant.”

“No, I guess not.”

“What do you have left for exams?”

“Astronomy.” Neville made a face. “I’m really not very good at it at all.” he confessed. “But you sort of have to know about moon and star phases for quite a lot of magical plants.”

“Hopefully not all that Divination rot.” Harry said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“That’s the part I’m not so good at.” Neville admitted.

“Well, best of luck.” Harry told him and they shared a look of solidarity. One more exam, and they’d be finished with all of this. One more day, and the rest of their lives would begin.

Chapter Text

It was Saturday morning, and the Hogwarts Express was departing in front of his eyes. He’d had an exhausting exam on Friday, followed by an exhausting night wherein he’d stayed up most of the night celebrating with his friends. (He’d had to get special permission for that, too. As it turned out, Snape’s general rule about getting enough sleep was enough to provoke Harry into panic and nausea when he’d tried to ignore it.). Saturday morning brought with it an early, sleepy breakfast, a flurry of panicked last-minute packing, and a series of tearful goodbyes. Now, Harry was a bit jealous of his friends who had the duration of the train ride to have one last sit on the Express with each other. But in another way, he felt he was the fortunate one, because he got to stay here at the castle. Or well, close enough.

Once the train was out of sight, Harry sleepily made his way down to the dungeons, feeling more awake by the second even with his lack of proper rest. It was time. Today was the day.

Snape was waiting for him, packing last minute things from around his quarters and reinforcing the boxes he’d conjured so long ago. Many of them were near collapse from strained magic and had to be done over, along with more shrinking and feather-weight charms. “Fill your pockets.” Snape said without looking up. “I don’t want to have to do this more often than is necessary. We’ll Apparate from the Hogwarts gates directly into our new sitting room.”

“You can do that?” Harry asked with some surprise.

“I’ve been to the cottage more than you.” Snape offered by way of explanation. “There were deliveries to take care of, inspections, cleaning. I know the feel of it well enough by now.”

“Brilliant. I’m sure there’s enough unpacking to be done without adding walking through Hogsmeade to the list.” Harry said, filling the pockets of his summer robes with shrunken boxes, then stacking more in his arms.

They struggled their way to the gates, a bit over-burdened, and Harry tried not to think about how awkward the side-along Apparition would feel with all the boxes between them. In the end though, they made it and Harry blinked into the dusty sitting room that was so totally different from the last time he’d seen it.

Last time he’d been here, the cottage had still been occupied. Now, of course, it was totally devoid of personal touches. Every scrap of material belonging to the former occupant seemed to have been removed, and the place was jam-packed with new furniture with covers thrown over and various boxes of other practical items Snape had apparently ordered and not had time to sort through. Harry blinked around in surprise. “What’s all this stuff?” he asked.

Snape pointed around vaguely. “Kitchen supplies, potions lab, I think that box was gardening but it might be toiletries.” he shrugged, unburdening himself of boxes as he spoke. “You can begin unpacking things. Don’t worry about putting things in their rightful place. Just try to get them unshrunk, out of their boxes, and banish the packaging. Once we see what there is we can sort it by room. I’m going back for more.”

Without further instruction, he Disapparated on the spot, leaving Harry to stare bewildered at the mess around him. It was a bit daunting to look at it all, but there was nothing for it. Harry heaved a sigh, and dug in.

~~~

By lunch time nearly everything had been moved and unboxed, and now their home was a complete disaster, even more-so than before. Snape led the way out of it and toward the Three Broomsticks for lunch. “We’ll get out for a bit.” he said. “Order out, have our lunch, and recommence once I’ve had some time to unwind.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered dutifully, knowing Snape’s stress level must be serious if he were going to go out to eat rather than simply head back to Hogwarts again and have the elves prepare it. Harry was perfectly fine with the mess and the tedious work involved in sorting it, but he could tell that the usually fastidious Potions Master was about ready to snap. Snape was looking a bit frazzled.

“We’ll need groceries as well.” Snape went on. “The lab will need to be sorted. Not to mention we haven’t packed any of our personal things yet, which we’ll need to do if we’re to spend the summer at the cottage instead of our old rooms.”

“I really don’t mind putting things away.” Harry offered, doing his best to dispel the mounting tension. “If you want to get the groceries or something....” He hoped Snape took it as an offer to help, which it was -- but it was also a thinly veiled attempt to get Snape out of the house and out of the way. Harry was starting to stress out as well with Snape’s temper.

Snape gave him a bland look. “I thank you for your vote of confidence in my apparently fragile psyche.”

Harry winced and looked a bit sheepish. He filled the awkward moment with continuing to eat his fish and chips.

When they did return from their long lunch, Snape disappeared with a load of stuff into the basement, and stayed there. Harry smiled with amusement; Snape had once again escaped to his lab. Upstairs, Harry shoved books onto the built-in shelves at random. No doubt Snape would do over the entire thing later to his organisational standards, but for now Harry was taking the more practical route of getting things off the floor and making the house feel a bit more liveable.

Bathroom things in the bathroom, bedroom things in the bedroom, and so on. He left the dishes out for Snape to wash, or until he could ask for the spell Mrs. Weasley used. About half the kitchen supplies were things from Spinner’s End, and half were clearly new, though nondescript and of good quality. There wasn’t much in all, but what there was had clearly been thought through so that all the basics were accounted for. Harry hadn’t enjoyed cooking for the Dursleys very much, but now he was eager to make something for the two of them. He’d have to see about getting some recipe books.

Harry’d thought for certain that they would be living in their new home by nightfall, but it apparently wasn’t in the cards. Well, he would have been perfectly willing to push himself a bit and get late groceries, figure out the new stove, or maybe go out for food again... not to mention having to Apparate back to retrieve some things to wear, toiletries.... But Snape had other plans. By the time it was heading toward supper, the house was still a bit of a mess, only half put together, and apparently the potions lab had a ways to go, even though Snape had hid out in it for hours.

“We’ll head back to the castle and spend the night there.” Snape announced. Harry opened his mouth to protest, casting his gaze around at all of the things still to put away, including those in his hands. A decorate vase from Spinner’s End and some sort of nondescript white powder that Harry was attempting to categorize as potions ingredient, food, craft supply, or bath salts. He sighed and set them down on the rug for later.

“I believe you can Apparate yourself from here to the gates?” Snape asked rhetorically, though Harry nodded in confirmation. Without further ado, the two of them met up at the castle again and began to walk back to their quarters there. And as much as Harry was anxious to get the new house settled, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to come back home, which Hogwarts would always be.

They showered early, and Harry cast away his clothes for the duration of the evening. Not only did the shower and change help ease away the grime and tense muscles, but it also helped him switch context into a more relaxed setting. Snape ordered the food directly through the Floo this time, specifying the particulars instead of seeing what was sent up, and Harry could only guess at what might be delivered.

Comfort food was apparently the order of the day. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and rolls. Snape poured himself a rare glass of wine to have with his meal and unwind, and at the end, there was even chocolate cake.

Full and content, Snape spread his legs and beckoned Harry over. He leisurely sipped a second glass of wine while he indulged in simply letting the boy suck him off. It had been an exhausting day, both physically and emotionally, as he abhorred clutter and chaos. Now he simply enjoyed his relaxation. He was clean and comfortable, full of his favourite foods and very soon, Snape came satisfyingly down Harry’s willing throat.

He really ought to do something for Harry now, he knew, but he was absolutely knackered. Still, Harry’s N.E.W.T.s were finally over, and Harry had worked just as hard at the cottage all day.

“Settle back and stroke yourself.” Snape directed him, making himself comfortable to watch. Harry settled on the other end of the sofa and began stroking his always hard cock, his face a bit puzzled at the unusual directive. Snape smirked at that confusion. All would be made clear momentarily. “Now grip yourself more tightly.” he directed.

Harry’s hand grasped the shaft of his cock more firmly, but Snape encouraged more. No, more. Until his fist was punishingly tight on his cock and he hissed in a breath of discomfort. It was just on the edge of painful.

“Continue stroking.” Snape directed, and Harry swallowed thickly.

He kept his fierce grip and moved his hand minutely on his cock, the skin slipping over the shaft beneath while his palm was practically adhered to his flesh. Snape directed that he should move faster, then faster, until he was jerking himself in tight, furious motions. Tears sprung to his eyes as he worked himself, and with the jewellery still in place there was no way this could even lead to a satisfying conclusion. At present, he didn’t even think there was a chance of coming dry.

“Stop.” Snape told him simply and Harry released himself all at once, breathing harshly as his cock throbbed between his legs. “Now grip yourself very loosely. Barely touching. That’s right. And stroke yourself slowly, just ghosting over your flesh. Slower, slower.”

Harry continued the gruellingly slow progression of tickling, feather-light touches along his inflamed shaft. After minutes of that treatment he was trembling from need of a firmer touch. Which was when Snape ordered just such a thing. The punishing grip again. The fast rhythm. He let out a pained half-sob, and looked to Snape imploringly, but the man was impassive as ever.

Snape continued on with his directives for long minutes as he watched Harry slowly unravel before him. Harry was a mass of tension and sensation, his face a bit wet from tears and his body trembling with a need for release, as well as being overwrought from the periods of pain. Now Harry was stroking himself again with feather-light touches.

“Please, please, please....” Harry was whispering a constant litany now, needing something, anything. Needing it to stop, or needing it to change, or needing to cum. He really wanted to cum.

“Please what?” Snape asked with an indulgent smile.

“Please let me cum.” Harry pleaded to him.

“You’re welcome to have a dry orgasm whenever you feel you can.” Snape teased him.

But Harry was a ball of tension and he couldn’t. That was the problem. He hadn’t been able to, always walking that edge.

“Would you like me to help you?” Snape asked him, and Harry nodded immediately.

“Yes. Please.” he asked desperately.

Snape held out an arm. “Come here then.” he said, and settled Harry in against his chest. The boy now let go of his cock entirely but was shaking from need, his cock still throbbing, red and angry from the harsh treatment.

“I am going to slap your cock now until you come.” Snape informed him, and Harry trembled in his arms at the news. “But first I want you to tell me you want that, and to ask for it.”

“Please?” Harry asked plaintively, but his eyes were closed and his face was flushed with arousal and embarrassment in equal measure.

“Please what?” Snape encouraged.

“Please hit my cock.” Harry asked, going a shade redder and shuddering at his own words.

Snape would have to work on that in the future, but the request at least was clearly voiced and sounded sincere. Who was he to deny his Harry anything? He brought his hand down sharply against the already sore cock, causing a harsh smack. Harry whimpered and writhed a bit, burrowing more closely against Snape’s body as he continued to slap with crisp, firm swats. With how sore Harry already was, it didn’t take long until he was convulsing in a familiar way, mouth slack with pleasure as he finally shuddered through an unproductive orgasm.

Snape stopped his harsh treatment when he’d settled back down to catch his breath, and simply gently pet Harry’s sore member.

Harry took a moment to try and wrap his head around what they’d just done. He’d never considered that his cock could be in such pain. His bollocks, sure. That went without saying. It was an intuitive fact, and they’d played that way before. But the cock torture was entirely new.

He also realized after a long enough time had passed, that they were doing as they always had done, even though everything had changed. School was over, summer had started. N.E.W.T.s were past him, and they were in the midst of a move into a new place. And even after everything they’d tried, Snape seemed to be well of infinite creativity in ways to torture him. He relaxed against his mate in utter contentment. The future looked so bright.

Now that the ordeal was over, however, Harry was bone tired. Snape, it seemed, was not much better off. The man lazily wanded his book over rather than get off the sofa or even considerably stretch to reach it. Harry snorted in slight judgement and his eyes sparkled as Snape glared at him, shoving him off a bit so that he could read in peace. Harry simply scooted further down on the couch cushions to lay his head in the man’s lap and rest his eyes, and Snape didn’t shoo him away.

By the time they retired it was still early but Snape was exhausted and Harry was already half asleep on the sofa. They would need their rest for the next day.

Chapter Text

They got through their morning routine efficiently the next day and hurried back to the cottage. Snape actually took some time away from setting up his potions lab to help Harry sort through many of the remaining items and teach him some basic household spells, such as how to set the dishes to washing themselves. It was finicky to get going properly, and in the end Snape had to set the spell this time around so that Harry wouldn’t have to constantly supervise, lest it disintegrate partway through and the dishes break themselves instead.

By lunch time, miraculously the house was looking liveable. A short stop at Hogwarts for food, and they were packing up enough clothing and toiletries for an overnight stay. It was like taking a vacation in Hogsmeade and it was difficult to reconcile that no, they were actually just going home. Still, neither of them felt inclined to pack up everything, as if they’d still need to retreat back to the castle should something go wrong.

Snape took Harry grocery shopping that afternoon, and gave Harry a basic run down on how to shop for food in the Wizarding World. Like the rest of the area, there was no big box store like in the Muggle world. Meat was at the butcher’s, and bread at the bakery, and so on. The little shop officially called the grocery store had only a small portion of what Harry would have expected to find there.

He was also a bit shocked at how much money they ended up spending, and just how much food they’d had to buy, shrinking items and using featherweight charms as they added them to their basket. Apparently, there were a large number of things it took to build up a decent pantry. Things like flour and dry beans, herbs and spices, in addition to all the fresh produce and meat that Snape also tucked away. From now on, Snape told him, Harry would learn to keep track of their supplies, and he would begin training him on how to plan meals and prepare them for the week. In time, it would be entirely Harry’s responsibility.

A part of him was a bit overwhelmed, but another part of him glowed with pride. He recalled before how he wondered why the house elves were allowed to choose what Snape ate every day but he’d never been trusted with any such decisions. It felt sort of special for Snape so casually to mention that he’d be trained to be in charge of their meals. Overwhelming perhaps, but good.

Snape made them supper that evening. He showed Harry how to use the cast iron cook stove, making some simple pasta as it was too hot out and too late in the day for something more substantial.

That evening, they settled in the unfamiliar sitting room on their new sofa, staring at the disorganized wall of books surrounding their fireplace. There was a perfectly good table in the kitchen to eat at, but they’d grown so accustomed to eating in the sitting room instead, and in the foreign space it seemed comforting to do so now.

The candles were lit, casting the room in a cosy glow. “We’ll have to remember to Nox them.” Snape commented into the awkward silence as they ate. “At least until I have time to charm them to dim at a certain hour.”

“It’ll be different to wake up to the sun for once.” Harry commented with a slight smile. “I’m so used to the wall sconces in the basement when I’m with you. Though at least I’m still used to actual sunlight when I’m in the tower.”

“I shall adjust.” Snape said in a dramatic, put-upon way, eliciting a bit of laughter from Harry.

After they ate, Harry took their dishes back out to the kitchen and set about washing them, practising with the new charm Snape had taught him. In the meantime, Harry knew that Snape had settled himself into the other room with one of his old books that’d been tucked away for so long at Spinner’s End and was now ensconced on their new shelves. He’d even managed to get himself a glass of whiskey to relax with, though Harry hadn’t even seen the stuff enter the cottage. He suspected it was one of the many bottles McGonagall had sent through the years.

For his part, Harry wasn’t sure yet exactly how to properly relax in the new space. He puttered around the kitchen for a bit, cleaning and putting away all of the kitchen dishes. Fussing with the new cast iron stove. Tucking away a few more things into the pantries, though really most of it had been safely stowed as soon as they’d come home from their shopping. Unsurprisingly, Snape had a whole system for how he wanted things kept.

Snape knew Harry was dawdling in the kitchen, but let him. They would adjust to their new routine soon enough. Already he was making plans for the next day. He’d take Harry down to the cellar to work on setting up a proper lab, and perhaps get him brewing some of the potions on his list for summer work.

The evening ticked on, and Harry ran out of things to fuss with in the kitchen. Eventually, he doused the lights and came out to the sitting room to curl up on the sofa with Snape, laying his head in the man’s lap while he read. It was soothing there, and Snape idly stroked his hair now and again while Harry drifted. Lying there, some of the discomfort with his new life slipped away. He was too safe and content in the moment to be too concerned about trivialities like what tomorrow would entail.

When it was time for bed, they doused the lights in the sitting room and climbed the stairs to their new bedroom and bathroom. Outside, the streets were fairly quiet at this hour. Harry took a moment to peek out the little bedroom window at the other little houses on their street, the cobblestones lit here and there by street lights. Not too densely populated either, with greenery and trees dotting yards and the sound of summer bugs predominant. He shut the curtains and joined Snape in undressing for their shower.

Snape had certainly taken care of all the necessities, Harry noted. There was a little chair in the corner to drape clothes that were still in use. A large armoire with two sides to it to hang robes and settle extra shoes on the bottom. Dressers pushed against the wall as well, though for now they’d have to rely on their overnight bags for new clothes tomorrow. And a hamper set against one wall to receive their dirty items.

Nearly all the furniture was new, but it was all in good taste and in their preferred style. It was almost easy to believe Snape had always had that four poster bed stashed away somewhere, and Harry felt some more of his tension drain away at that realisation. It wouldn’t be hard to settle in at all, really. Not when everything was so perfectly chosen to represent them.

They followed their usual nightly routine, and curled up in the bed at last. Harry snuggled in close. The strange room, strange house, strange bed all fell away. He could feel and smell his mate. Home.

Snape fucked Harry leisurely that night, taking his time and drawing it out. After all, he reasoned, it was only fitting that they should break in their new bed as soon as possible. In that manner, they were both satisfied by the time they drifted off to sleep.

~~~

Harry woke up disoriented. The sunlight streaming onto his face reminded him of Gryffindor tower, but he didn’t hear the snoring or bustling of the other boys, and the light was coming at him from the wrong angle, leaving him momentarily confused. His sluggish brain tried to recall what time it was, what day of the week. Did he have classes? No, exams. Wait...

He stretched and blinked a bit, seeing Snape’s sleeping form passed out beside him and smiled. Outside, he could hear birds and distant voices. The ambiguous knocks and taps heard in seemingly every town as someone worked on something, though with the absence of motor vehicles that made the Wizarding world all the more charming.

Harry sat up in bed and pulled the curtains back to look out at the bright day below, and Snape roused to life, wincing at the sudden onslaught of light.

“Bugger.” he mumbled, and Harry snorted a laugh. Snape was an entirely different person for that first hour upon waking. His hair was in complete disarray and he blinked bleary-eyed, trying to wipe away the sand of sleep.

“Shall I take the bathroom first and go start tea?” Harry offered, and Snape made a vague gesture in response, still lying back on the pillows and glaring at the unwelcome morning light.

Harry bit his cheek against an amused smile and hurried into the bathroom to do his morning routine.

“Put some clothes on!” Snape called after him. “We’re working today.”

Harry came back to the bedroom long enough to dress and Snape was only just rousing himself from the bed. By the time Harry had gone down and made the tea, Snape was finally trudging down the stairs to join him. They sat together at the little trestle table in the kitchen sipping their morning brew while the light streamed in.

“Do you know how to make porridge?” Snape queried after he’d drunk about half his tea.

“Sort of?” Harry offered.

Snape sighed. “In time I’ll expect us to keep a store of crumpets or some such for a fast breakfast but for now, see if you can make something quickly.” he gestured vaguely toward the cook stove.

Harry got up and set about lighting the fire inside of it with his wand, then rummaged in the cupboards for ingredients and cookware. It was a slow morning to be sure. Slow of them to wake up since they’d slept later than normal with the curtains closed and no charmed wall sconces and candles to wake them up. Now they had yet to establish a new breakfast routine.

When they’d finally eaten, Harry was made to crawl under the table to service Snape, and it was so much raunchier than usual, at least to Harry. Snape was probably paying him plenty of attention, but the fact that he might not be... that he was above the table while Harry below, that he could just be drinking his tea as if Harry wasn’t worth the bother.... It was equal measures of erotic and slightly unsettling. But as Snape simply used him normally and moved them along, it wound up just turning Harry on rather than humiliating him too much.

“I’m going to the cellar.” Snape told him. “I’ll expect you to join me later. We’ve a full day of work to get the lab in order. But first you’re to map out a new running route in the area and get in some exercise. Then shower, change, and clean up the kitchen. Join me whenever you’ve finished.”

“Yes, Sir.” Harry answered with a blink as Snape swooped away to the cellar, leaving him alone in the kitchen. He summoned his trainers and tried to get his mind on the task at hand. Right. Running. And mapping out in greater detail the area in which he lived.

In the end, he didn’t exactly run, but he did make a passable effort at jogging as he turned down various side streets and tried to keep track of where his own house was in relation to the rest. He hated feeling a bit of a fool in public but enjoyed seeing the neighbourhood and new neighbours. It was hard to internalize that this was it. This would be what he did for the rest of summer, for the next many years.

Chapter Text

A strange owl was waiting for them on the kitchen table, and Harry’s eyes widened when he saw what the owl had brought. The results of his N.E.W.T.s. This was it! This was what he’d been waiting for these past two weeks as they’d settled into their new routine.

Harry itched to open the envelope, but Snape would be down in a minute and it was Harry’s job to see to the tea and warm some pastries, set out the butter and jam. He gave both Hedwig and the strange owl a treat after which the strange owl took its leave. Then he set about seeing to breakfast.

Snape sat himself down at the kitchen table, tolerating the morning sun and took up his tea. He also took up Harry’s unopened N.E.W.T. results with his own curiosity and unceremoniously opened the envelope to read what was inside. Harry was itching to see as he sat down at the table as well with breakfast.

“Well?” Harry asked excitedly.

“Unsurprisingly you’ve managed an Outstanding in Defence.” Snape told him. “Though I hardly think you’re interested in actually pursuing a career in the field.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled in distaste and he craned his neck to see the other classes, though Snape pulled the envelope away with a glare. He would take his own time.

“Transfiguration: Acceptable. Charms: Exceeds Expectations.” Snape read aloud. “Honestly, Harry.” Snape rolled his eyes at the next result. “I don’t see how you managed to keep on with Divination, though you managed a Poor, rather than Dreadful or Troll. Though Merlin knows how.”

“I wrote something about doom befalling me.” Harry answered distractedly. “What about Potions?” he pressed. “And Care of Magical Creatures?”

“Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures.” Snape answered, smirking at how worked up Harry was getting to know the results. He set the envelope aside and out of view as he took another long sip of his tea and fixed himself a scone with jam. He took his time having a few bites while Harry frantically stuffed his own mouth to distract himself.

“Herbology.” Snape said at length. “You received an Acceptable. I suppose that qualifies you to make something of a garden in the back yard.”

Harry looked ready to murder now. He had to know his Potions result. Snape would kill him if it was low enough to cause embarrassment.

“And finally, Potions. Exceeds Expectations.” he announced with a proud smile. “Well done, Harry.”

Harry beamed. It wasn’t an Outstanding, but it was still very good, and he hadn’t expected to get an O anyway. “Brilliant.” he breathed.

“This also means that you’ve scored well enough for me to proceed with several of my plans.” Snape told him.

“What plans?” Harry asked curiously. They’d done plenty of brewing and settling into their new home and routine over the past two weeks, but Harry still hadn’t heard a peep from the man on what he was to do with his future in general.

“Some of it we’ve already begun. You’ll continue to help me brew potions over the summer, some of which are commissioned by the local Apothecary and some of which are for the school. Given time, I’ll expect you to take over the more basic brews entirely, which you can continue on through winter without my aid. It will also be left to you to make deliveries and ingredient requisitions during your shopping trips.”

“Oh.” Harry said with a surprised blink. Then he smiled a bit at the thought of it. “It’s sort of like a mini apprenticeship.” he remarked.

“Indeed it is.” Snape confirmed. “In fact, if you take to the subject and decide you want to take it seriously, I would be pleased to apprentice you in it.” He held up a hand to forestall anything Harry would say in return. “But I don’t intend to force your hand in this. If you never want to brew more than basic draughts that is perfectly acceptable too. You’ve barely had time in your life to decide what it is you like and dislike. I intend for you to have the time to take now.”

“In addition to your home duties and brewing, you’ll soon begin working part time at The Bolt Hole.” Snape informed him, and saw Harry’s eyes widen a bit in alarm. “You’ll begin with cleaning floors and dishes, and will work up to seating people in the café over time.” he said with an amused smile. “That is all. But I believe you have a need for a sense of community. Not just with your chosen family and friends, but with others who share a relationship at least somewhat like yours. I’m hopeful that spending a few hours on Thursdays and Fridays there will serve its purpose.”

“Besides your part time jobs, you’ve the basic home duties, your exercise regimen, and that garden to occupy your time, so I do hope you’re a bit more productive than last summer.” he said with a smirk. “I take it you’re happy?” he prodded, noticing Harry’s growing grin.

“I’m thrilled.” Harry told him honestly, unable to stop smiling. “Really, it’s wonderful. It’s more than I’d even imagined or hoped for. And it’ll keep me busy in the winter when you’re back at the school.”

Snape nodded. “That is my intent.” he confirmed. “Though I think we’ll leave the house empty for most of the year. You’ll certainly be spending your nights in the dungeon at the least.”

Harry grinned at that. “It’ll be so weird spending all that time at the castle next year and not being a student. Especially since none of the other teachers have family there.”

“You’ll be at The Bolt Hole for some of the time.” Snape shrugged. “And either at our home or more likely in my private potions lab at Hogwarts to do the brewing. Plus there will still be trips to make to Hogsmeade and a fitness regimen to maintain. It’s not as if you’ll be sitting in in classes with the other students.”

“I suppose.” Harry agreed. “What about mealtimes do you think? Should I avoid the Great Hall entirely?”

“Certainly not. I believe it would be perfectly acceptable for you to take your meals at the head table, though really we’re getting ahead of ourselves.” Snape set the N.E.W.T. results aside. “First thing is first, and that’s getting a real start on your summer routine. You’ll start at The Bolt Hole on Thursday, and until then we’ve still got brewing and the usual shopping to attend to. Not to mention your other responsibilities.” he said with a meaningful look.

Harry grinned, swallowing down his last bite of breakfast before slipping under the table while Snape finally set to eating the rest of his own meal. Harry, meanwhile, set to obtaining some dessert.

Chapter Text

Harry pushed open the door to his cottage and was immediately overcome with the rich scent of stew. “You’re cooking?” he asked Snape with a grin. Snape looked up from his book where he sat in the sitting room in order to watch Harry strip off his clothes.

“It’s nearly time to head back to the castle. We may as well use up the last of our fresh ingredients if we can.” he said by way of explanation. “And besides, you had work at The Bolt Hole today.”

It was true. Harry left his things at the bottom of the stairs to take up to the bedroom later, but for now he was happy to relax on the sofa with Snape. He groaned as he sat down and writhed a bit.

“Sore?” Snape prompted him with a sparkle in his eyes. Harry had been wearing his prostate massager all day for his shifts at The Bolt Hole lately for both of their enjoyment, and considering the clientèle of the place no one was put off in the slightest if Harry had to excuse himself at random or would suddenly grip a counter top and shudder.

“You could say that.” Harry answered. Jason had been giving him a terrible time about it, though that mostly consisted of knowing looks and constant smirks. “When are we going back to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, changing the subject. Snape had already made several trips throughout the week to ensure everything was in order for the students’ return. The air was crisping up and fall was well on its way, and Harry could hardly believe that summer was at an end. He’d only just gotten started, it seemed. Finally settled in completely to his new space.

Now it was Friday night, and the students were slated to arrive Sunday and start classes Monday. Harry was honestly a little surprised that Snape had continued to come home at night for the past week with as often as he’d been at the castle to take care of one thing or another.

“Tonight.” Snape said, surprising him. Harry’s eyes darted to the clothes he’d left in a pile at the bottom of the stairs. Perhaps he’d undressed too soon?

Snape saw where his gaze was cast and smirked. “I rather prefer the view.” he told Harry. “At any rate, I’d like to finish cooking and eating supper, take a moment to let the food settle afterwards. And we’ll need to pack for the occasion. I don’t intend on running around like an imbecile for items left behind. We’ll likely not see much use of the cottage until Christmas time.”

Harry blew out a breath, thinking. “I suppose the garden is pretty well wrapped up for the year, though I should really stop by tomorrow one more time to make sure it’s ready for the weather change. I suppose if we forget anything I’ll get it then. Then there’s the potions supplies....”

“You can shift your work to my private lab at Hogwarts. Just leave the ingredients and equipment behind. Bring the list and any current work tomorrow I suppose when you make your last trip.”

“That’ll work.”

Snape rolled his eyes. “I do believe I know what I am doing.” he said testily and Harry tried to bite back a grin. Ineffectively.

Snape went back to his book while the stew continued to simmer in the kitchen, filling their home with warm smells, and Harry settled back on the sofa to watch the small fire Snape had going in the hearth. They’d only barely gotten to start using it, and used the excuse of being at Hogwarts most of the time as a reason to indulge in an early fire. Besides, it had cooled off lately, particularly at night.

Harry glanced around at the home that had become settled and comfortable over the past two months. Now scattered around the living room were a good number of books that would no doubt have to be re-gathered and taken back to their rooms at Hogwarts. He had the notion that the two libraries would be continually shifting from here on out.

The old blanket that had become his fast favourite. Wellies on a mat just inside the door. The ever-present basket he used for his frequent shopping trips and trips to the Apothecary. He tried to catalogue all of it and decide what would need to come along later tonight. Certainly the vast majority of his clothes would come along, as well as the toiletries. He’d have to put a few charms on the food that was left behind to ensure it wouldn’t spoil. Or perhaps he’d give it to Mrs. Widdlehearth, their elderly neighbour down the road. He added it to his mental list for the next day.

Soon enough they were eating their supper, in the sitting room as always in spite of the kitchen table’s availability. They’d do breakfast in the kitchen and once in a while lunch, but Snape drew the line at supper. He wanted to eat in comfort, and that meant on the sofa as he’d always done, and Harry couldn’t argue. In a way, he couldn’t wait to get back to the castle and the more intimate setting. Their tiny cottage held their things nicely but was almost too big for him at times, and he found himself missing the convenience of a house elf even as he got the hang of the cast iron stove.

They’d adjusted well enough to life above ground, however. Snape had charmed the wall sconces to react the same as those in the dungeons, thus regulating his sleep cycle to its norm once again. The windows had also been helpfully charmed not to allow outsiders to peek within -- a wise precaution considering just how often Harry was without clothes. Normally during the time after their supper had been cleared away and the kitchen cleaned, Harry would spend some time doing something sexy, but not tonight.

By the time Harry had the kitchen squared away, Snape was nearly finished packing his own things and had already started in on Harry’s. It took another half an hour to be certain they had everything and that the house was more or less shut up for the season. Anything that’d been missed Harry could get in the morning.

Returning to the dungeons that evening felt like home. Yes, it was different now that Harry’s life had changed and he’d grown. But Hogwarts would always be there for him, and as he unpacked his trunk back into his and Snape’s shared quarters, he couldn’t be happier.