a_carnal_mink (a_carnal_mink) wrote in bottomsnape,
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Fantasy Fest Fic: "Above & Below" (Snarry) NC17

Title: Above & Below
Author/Artist: a_carnal_mink (a.k.a. anal_cram_ink)
Kink(s): um, a potion that makes people intensely desirous of being dominated?
Pairings: HP/SS
Rating: NC17 for language, graphic sex, hints of threesome fun
Words: 6,024
Prompt: lothy requested – "Snape really isn't happy to be under anyone else's authority. Especially when it's somebody he really hates."
Disclaimer: JKR owns the Potterverse. I'm just playing in her sandpit.
Beta: f13tch3r with much thanks!




The owl was one of those grumpy Australian fellows that Snape had never been able to help rather admiring. The sort that looked perpetually disturbed from a slumber it would MUCH rather get back to than deal with you, thankyouverymuch.

He unclipped the letter from the owl's leg and offered it a chunk of wholemeal bun from his bread plate. The large tawny bird took the offering, spread his great wings and hastened away. Snape looked down at the missive in his hand; clearly not from a letter-writer that was eager for or expecting a reply, then.

The Occupier
3 / 90 Diagon Alley
London

Re: Changes To Rental Agreement

Due to the above property's owner wishing to take part-occupancy within the building at 90 Diagon Alley, all renting occupiers are hereby informed that rental payments will heretofore be collected by the landlord personally. Agents Moore & Stringer will continue to administer to the building's requirements and insurances. Kindly be ready to pay all future rents to the landlord on the last Friday of each month, effective immediately.

Thanking you for your cooperation,

Moore & Stringer
Realtors, Shade Alley, London


Just marvellous, thought Snape. The changes in rent payment were of no import, of course. As if he could care about such details! But having one's landlord living in the same building might certainly feel… claustrophobic.

Still. Little to be done about it at this point. If things became interminable, he could always up digs and find another abode. He did rather like this one, though, it must be said – close to everything, including a passable apothecary, a dwelling which occupied the full length and breadth of an entire floor, and such a grand old building, too…

'Oh, snap out of it,' he ordered himself in a rasping murmur. It had been a couple of days since he had last had occasion to speak with people and his voice was a little rough for lack of use. 'It's just a rented fucking flat!' Snape set the letter aside and went back to his lunch, determinedly putting his mind back to the more useful task of pondering the afternoon's brewing and sending out of mail orders. He didn't give the new rental arrangements another thought until two Fridays later, when a loud knock just after six in the evening interrupted him during the most delicate stage of mixing a special order of Noxious Neuroses Vapour. Whichever prize IDIOT was responsible for the interruption had better have a damned good reason!

Snape stalked over to the door and flung it open, black eyes already glaring at the time-thief who had dared to knock.

'Snape!'

Snape actually gaped in shock. Harry fucking Potter, the Saviour of the world himself, was standing there on the landing, right fist raised ludicrously in the air as though still in mid-knock. 'Potter,' Snape growled, recovering himself swiftly and masking the shock he had just experienced. 'Dare I demand to know why you, of all people, should be darkening my doorstep?'

Potter fiddled nervously with his spectacles. 'Um… rent?'

Snape peered down his long nose and gave his former student and reluctant ally his most imperious look. 'Indeed? Well, I am sorry to inform you, Mister Potter, but I have no use for a rent boy at this time.'

'Wha – ? Hey!' The pale cheeks flushed prettily for a brief moment. 'I'm here for the RENT, Snape! I own the building. Your rent's due.'

Oh, Circe's cunt.

'You own THIS building?' Snape queried. 'This ENTIRE building? Including the entirety of this third floor upon which I live and work?'

Potter nodded dumbly. 'I'm er, I guess I'm your landlord, Snape.'

'Absolutely preposterous!'

'Sorry,' was the mumbled reply. 'I didn't know you were one of the tenants. Should we just… I mean, maybe you might prefer to keep paying through the estate agent instead?' The young man looked almost as though he were set to make a run for it at any moment.

'The agent,' Snape repeated slowly, recalling the wording of the letter the firm had sent a couple of weeks prior, 'they said the landlord was taking up residence in the building.'

Potter seemed to pale a little further. Big green eyes flickered upward briefly. 'Fourth floor,' he murmured. 'I've moved in right over the top of you.'

'Just gets better and better,' Snape deadpanned and jabbed his wand into the air at his right side. With a tiny "Pop!", a small coin bag appeared out of thin air and Snape batted it toward Potter. Ever the talented Seeker, Potter's reflexes grabbed the bag before it could smack him in the face. He looked up at Snape with a slightly wounded expression. 'The rent,' Snape practically spat and slammed the door in his landlord's face.





'Right below you, Harry?'

'Right below me, Ron.' Harry stared glumly into his pint glass in the Leaky Cauldron.

'That's too bad, mate,' Ron said in a sympathetic tone. 'I mean, really. Quite a coincidence though, innit?'

'Complete… and utter… fucking chance.' Harry sighed heavily enough to move his fringe a little. 'I should've asked the agents for a list of tenants before I went moving all my stuff in there.'

'Yeah, but you weren't to know though, were you? I mean, who knew? You'd think Fred'n'George would've noticed him around Diagon Alley or something, wouldn't you? But nothing, Harry. Maybe he's not been there long?'

Harry gave a heavy nod. 'Just a few months, apparently.'

'It's too bad, mate,' Ron said again and the two friends sat in companionably miserable silence for a couple of minutes. 'Did you ever say anything to him at all?' Ron ventured at last. Harry just stared at the table and shook his head a bit. 'Not even after the war ended and you had to spend all that time around him during his trial and all?' Harry shook his head again, shoulders slumping steadily forward. 'So, he doesn't know that you fancied the fuck out of him?'

Harry winced. 'I never let on,' he said in a small voice. 'How was I supposed to tell him? "Oh, by the way, Snape, you know how I've hated you all these years? Well, it actually turns out that I really want to shag you senseless – oh, the irony, eh?" Can just imagine how well that would've gone down.'

Ron nodded in agreement. 'You'd probably still have the hex marks, I reckon.'

'Or the gravestone,' Harry added, with no humour in his tone.

The Diagon Alley side door of the Leaky Cauldron suddenly banged wide open and two redheads strode into the bar. 'Drinks on us!' one of them shouted. 'Guess which business topped the Diagon Alley earners for a record-breaking twenty-sixth month in a row?' shouted the other.

Ron grinned up at his brothers and gestured them over to where he and Harry were sitting. 'Twenty-six months?' he asked incredulously as Fred and George pulled a couple of chairs up to the table and plonked themselves down. 'That's bloody marvellous!'

'Course it's bloody marvellous, Ronnikins,' George beamed.

'It's called genius,' Fred added, with a wink.

'Congratulations, you two,' Harry smiled. 'Doesn't surprise me in the least, though. Every time I look out my front windows, I've seen people piling in and out of your shop.'

'Your shop, too, Harry – '

' – don't you forget it.'

Harry's smile got a little wider at that. It was so hard to be a moody git when Fred and George were around.

'Harry doesn't want to be reminded 'bout his investments right now, guys,' Ron informed them.

'Oh?' George fixed Harry with an interested look as he leant back in his chair a short way, waiting for the two pints that were hovering above them to lower themselves to the table. 'And why might that be?'

Harry tried to give a nonchalant shrug, but it was no use. 'I met all of my tenants in number Ninety today.'

Fred set his pint back down on the table after swallowing about a third in one go. 'Any worth mentioning?'

'Yeah…' Harry stared down at the condensation forming on the outside of his pint glass. 'The bloke who's under me. He, um… Well…'

'It's Snape,' Ron finished for him.

Fred and George simultaneously raised their eyebrows and exclaimed, 'No way!'

''Fraid so,' Harry replied. 'I swear I didn't know. I wouldn't've moved in there if I knew! Certainly wouldn't've taken the floor that's right on top of him…'

'Well,' Fred said ponderingly, 'I didn't think you'd quite mind the idea of being on top of Snape, Harry!'

Harry blanched and tried to hide behind his pint.

Beneath the table, George gently kicked his foot against Harry's. 'Not exactly the way you'd had in mind, I suppose?'

Harry lifted his gaze to meet George's and managed a weak smile. 'Not exactly, no.'





Just because The Boy Who Refused To Go Away was living directly above him, Snape figured, that didn't mean his enjoyment of his abode had to change. There were laws about how much access a landlord could have to a tenanted property, after all, so it wasn't like Potter could come flouncing in and throw Snape's world into chaos. A monthly glare over the threshold whilst money changed hands could be handled, surely?

But then the noises began.

Snape took a few minutes to work out what it was, the first time he heard it. Some time around four in the morning, it was, though Snape had not been cognisant of the hour at the time, engrossed as he was in a Rivea corymbosa experiment. His eyes had snapped open wide when the realisation hit him though – sex noises. Sex noises permeating through the floor of the dwelling above and the ceiling of his own. Sex noises being produced by the Saviour and an unknown visitor. It was beyond the pale. Snape had flung a silencing charm at his ceiling and fumed until daylight.

Around eight the next morning, Snape had charmed a peep hole into his front door when he heard the door on the landing above close loudly, and had waited to see who or what descended the stairs on their way out.

One eyebrow arched slightly to see one of the Weasley twins – George, he discerned, after plumbing his memory for finer detail – stomping downstairs and looking happily rumpled.

So the Saviour was queer? What an interesting, and potentially useful, item of information…





Harry tried in vain to smooth his hair down a bit, then took a deep breath and knocked solidly on the door on the third floor landing. Just a split second later, the door was flung open dramatically to reveal a glowering Severus Snape thrusting another coin bag at his face. Caught off-guard by the suddenness of it all, Harry barely even managed a "Thank-you" before the door began to close once more. So much for hoping he might try engaging his former adversary in a spot of conversation this month. But then Snape seemed to change his mind and allowed the door to open a little further again.

'I have a complaint,' the deep voice informed him.

'Oh?' Harry squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. 'Oh? What is it?'

'The tenant above me,' Snape said pointedly, with a clipped tone, 'is noisy. Most especially when one of his redheaded friends from across the road is… visiting for the night.'

Harry just stared for a moment, feeling small beneath Snape's glare, trying to remember if he'd played music too loud or had shared in too raucous a laughing session or –

Ohfuckinggod, no!

Snape couldn't mean –

Could he? Was he referring to –

Oh, shit.


Eyebrow. 'Are you going to do anything about it, Mister Landlord?'

'I'll, um… sorry. Yes. Yes, of course I will. Absolutely. Sorry.'

'See that you do.' And the door slammed shut in Harry's face.





Such a beautifully delicate potion, the Servitium fervidus. Such depth of colour and complexity of structure. So aromatic. So volatile. So potent. So – spilling fucking everywhere.

Snape had always been quick with a well-aimed cleaning spell; a successful mastery of the unpredictable and sometimes hazardous art and science of potions-making rather required it. But the volatility of such a sublime brew as Servitium fervidus was almost too much, even for Snape. He banished his drenched robes immediately, barely pausing to sweep a hasty Tergeo over the spills on the floor and bench, and began to take in a relieved deep breath when he realised he had not been quite quick enough.

His flesh prickled with magic. Everywhere where the potion had soaked his robes, the skin beneath was coming hyper-alive to the merest sensation. A light dose, thank Merlin, but a dose nonetheless. Snape had experienced the effects of this draft just once before, many years back when he had been barely nineteen. The three days of sensual distress that ensued had never faded in his memory. He knew what to expect. He knew what torment to expect if he attempted to fight against the effects. This was… a predicament.

Breathing already becoming heavier, face already flushing, body already reacting – what could he do? Knockturn Alley was close by, he reasoned. A gigolo may well be available… even if one wasn't, perhaps one of those slightly terrifying female whores might do? The lower drawer of Snape's bedroom dresser contained an accoutrement or two that would help her get the job done… How much might a professional cost these days? Did he have enough galleons stashed around his rooms to cover such a luxury impulse-buy at this late hour?

Perhaps the dose was slight enough that he could manage it on his own with the contents of his dresser? A tremor of heightened sensual longing, strong and virile and demanding satisfaction, passed through his body, straight into his cock, and made his knees tremble. No, his body was telling him in no uncertain terms, autoeroticism would NOT do! Servitium fervidus was specifically formulated to demand appeasement of a submissive variety; it produced an exigency for being taken, for being under the attentions of another, for being the focus of another's dynamism and erotic intent. For being – in a word – fucked.

The Saviour is queer, the only impish area of his entire brain suddenly felt inspired to remind him.

Merlin and Morgana - NO!





Harry was lying in his bed, feeling sleepy as he watched the steady rise and fall of a freckled chest beside him, when a knock came at his front door. It was the middle of the night! Who on earth…

He eased his arm out from under a shock of red hair and got up quietly and carefully, so as not to disturb restful slumbers, and wrestled his way into his dressing gown as he shuffled through his darkened flat. He set a non-verbal spell to illuminate the room just the tiniest bit and then, wand held protectively in front of him, Harry paused at the door and tentatively called, 'Who's there?'

'Potter!' an unmistakable voice called from the other side. 'Let me in this moment!'

Stunned, Harry opened the door and a wild-looking Snape barged into the room. The bottom hem of the man's robe revealed naked legs and bare feet. Harry's gaze swept over him – was he ill or injured and needing help? 'Snape?'

'I require something of you, Potter. I require it NOW and I may require it more than once.' The black eyes were huge in the dim light of the livingroom. 'I will also require your absolute guarantee of confidentiality afterward. Failure to do so – make no mistake – will result in great harm. I can assure you of that.'

'Oookaaaay,' Harry frowned, wondering what the bloody hell this could be about.

Snape paused, staring deep into Harry's eyes as though wanting to Legilimens him but deciding at the last moment not to do so. 'I need you to take me.'

'Where?' was Harry's automatic and, as was almost immediately obvious, stupid question.

'In the arse, you imbecile!'

Harry's brain couldn't decide if its response should be a "Yay!" or a "Noooo!". This was hardly the most appropriate time, or the way his fantasies over the years had allowed him to hope for. Harry's gaze flickered toward the half-open bedroom door. 'Can't we do this another time, Snape? I've got visit – '

'I DON'T CARE!'

'Shhh!' Harry hissed in a loud whisper. 'Shut up with the shouting, will you?!' He glanced back toward his bedroom, fully expecting to see tousled red hair framed by the doorjamb and the open gap by now.

'Whomever you've got in there, Potter,' said Snape, his voice thankfully lowered from an all-out yell now, 'I'm sure they'll cope with you performing an act of mercy for a former comrade-at-arms.'

'Act of mercy? What're you on about?'

Snape was starting to look even wilder than he had when he first barged in. 'A potions mishap,' he ground out.

'I didn't think you ever had "mishaps", Snape.' After years spent in misery in Snape's classes, Harry could hardly resist a slight smirk at the thought.

'You may chortle over it later, if you wish, but right now, boy, I need what I came here for.' And with that, Snape ripped his robe open and let it drop to the floor.

Harry gaped. Severus Snape was standing stark bollock naked in Harry's livingroom, his pale body almost luminescent in the slight illumination, his prick standing fully at attention, his entire form and expression demanding that Harry carry out what had been asked of him. Beneath his dressing gown, Harry felt his own body reacting to the situation. This couldn't be happening! Had he fallen asleep after the previous few hours' bedroom activities and was right now dreaming all this? That certainly made more sense than if this was reality… Still, if it WAS a dream, then he could just go with it, couldn't he?

Harry lifted his right hand into the air, palm facing toward his bedroom, and quietly intoned, 'Accio glasses. Accio lube.'

Snape seemed to heave a sigh of relief at that.





There was a nice enough couch close by, a long one with a suede-like fabric covering it. Snape transfigured it into a suede-like bed while Potter busied himself with his spectacles, his bedroom door and, thank Merlin, his dressing gown. Snape successfully hid the fact that he was staring – at least, he was nine-tenths sure he was successful. The younger man had kept himself in good shape since the end of the war. He had grown taller, thankfully, and his shoulders and chest had broadened. His arms had good definition but didn't bulge. He had hair where men should. Snape felt compelled to get on his hands and knees on the newly-formed bed.

'Not like that, Snape,' came a soft voice from behind him. 'Not for the first time. Please.'

Snape's body told him he didn't care how it happened, just as long as he got it. Heavily, he turned over and lay on his back, watching surreptitiously as Potter put first one knee onto the edge of the bed and then began to crawl toward him.

'What was this potion you had a mishap with, anyhow?'

Snape's cock twitched at the sight of Potter looming above him. His mind was so fevered, he actually had to think a moment before answering the boy's question. 'A thing of rare beauty called Servitium fervidus.'

The eyes behind the spectacles widened. 'That's an aphrodisiac! Bloody powerful one, too!'

The brat had heard of it? Snape was begrudgingly impressed, but quickly hid it. 'I brew rare potions on mail order,' was all he gave away.

'Of course you do.' Potter's smile was… genuine and… fond?

'Enough chatter, Potter,' Snape snarled. 'Or does it amuse you to keep me in torment?'

Potter's hands were on him immediately. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured down at him, and set about helping Snape get his legs wider and higher. He sucked two of his own fingers and applied them to Snape's arse without any other messing about, his entire expression full of concern. Gryffindor that he was.

The first invasion of finger sliding into him was almost enough to make Snape whimper in gratitude. But he wasn't the sort of man to do any such thing, of course. He felt his body grasping greedily at the digit, wanting and needing more. So much more. Potter applied another slowly and Snape's breathing hitched.

'Enough!' Snape was appalled to hear his own voice sounding so desperate. 'In me, Potter! Now, for fuck's sake!'

The boy seemed to be about to disagree, no doubt on the verge of reminding him how important a proper preparation was and all that rot, but then he obviously saw the look in Snape's eyes and intelligently thought better of it. Wordlessly, he smothered his erection with ample lubricant and placed his glistening knob against the entrance to Snape's demanding body. For a split second, he gazed down into Snape's face, his expression so uncharacteristically guarded that Snape couldn't work out anything that was going on in the brat's head. Then he pressed forward in one smooth, unrepentant thrust, sinking a good three inches or so into Snape's arse with just one push.

Snape very nearly thanked him.

It was rough and inelegant, and at first it hurt so exquisitely that Snape couldn't help a quiet keening sound at the back of his throat. But Potter appeared to be a practiced lover, at least, and seemed to know precisely when the burn began to fade, for he started moving without waiting for the order that Snape had almost been about to make.

Fingernails pressing into Potter's smooth back, Snape grunted in appreciation and let his mind drift away on a heightened wave of erotic intensity. It was a good stretch, a good fit, and this young cock rammed him good and hard and deep, making Snape's intimacy-starved body buck and writhe. He forced his eyelids up and drank in the sight of a man moving above him, tight biceps firm as the arms braced over him, Adam's apple sliding as Potter swallowed down a gulp for air. For a couple of seconds their gazes locked, just like their bodies were, and all of the sensations of their fucking intensified three-fold.

'Ohshit,' Potter gasped, pushing his cock so deep his balls pressed tight against the curve of Snape's arse. 'Tell me you're horny for me, Snape. Say it.'

Snape's eyes narrowed with automatic suspicion, but the potion in his bloodstream delighted in the command.

'Say it!' Potter ordered him again, his voice set at a low pitch that sent a thrum of near-orgasm pulsing through Snape's tense prick.

'Horny for you… Horny for… Potter.' Snape would've preferred it to come out sounding like he was disgusted with the situation, but his words were fuelled by forces beyond himself right now and they sounded nothing but grateful and breathless and very, very randy.

'Good,' Potter growled down at him. 'Now get your legs wider.'

Snape's mouth fell open in ecstasy. Scrambling to obey, his hands left Potter's back and grabbed at the backs of his own knees, pulling himself open wide to take more fucking. Neither of them lasted more than another thirty seconds like that – what Potter's excuse was for coming so quick, Snape neither knew nor cared – and they collapsed together in a sweaty, heaving mess, Snape's emission sticking them together.

'You okay?' Potter asked softly after letting his spent cock slip out of Snape's body.

'Of course not,' Snape snarled, 'I'm still hard!'

The green eyes were concerned behind the slightly askew spectacles. 'I, I'm sorry. I've just come, I need a little while…'

Snape glanced toward the bedroom door and back again. 'I assume your visitor is male?'

Understanding flashed swiftly through Potter's expression this time. 'No! I mean – yes, they are, but no, that's not happening!'

'Need I remind you of my torment again, Potter?'

'I'm sorry, alright?! But no. I'm not allowing that. I can still do this for you.'

Snape managed a half-arsed glare downward at Potter's limp dick. 'Not with THAT you can't.'

'I have hands, don't I?' Potter glared back.

'If I was after a mere fingering, I'd go looking for a fumbling teenager. I need to be possessed, Potter.'

'Well, you'd best shut up and take it, then, hadn't you?' And Potter surprised the hell out of him by leaning over and bracing himself again, this time on just one arm, simultaneously shoving two fingers hard into Snape's come-wet and well-fucked hole.

Snape stared up at him, trying to work him out. It annoyed him that a Gryffindor should be so inscrutable, and this Gryffindor especially so. He reminded himself that the boy had known about the Servitium fervidus, though, so perhaps he was also aware of what someone afflicted actually needed? The indications certainly… appeared to point to such… OhfuckingGODS.

'Taking a third one, Snape?'

The boy's voice sounded amazing like that. Snape nodded roughly and welcomed the addition of a third finger. Potter was managing to replicate as much of a fucking as he could without the use of a prick, even appearing to take some pleasure in the approximation himself. For long minutes Potter worked him, staring down at him lustily as he frigged him astoundingly well.

'You've got half my hand in there,' the Saviour murmured over him hotly. 'I could fist you right now and you'd love it, wouldn't you?'

Snape mumbled obediently in the positive and flexed his fingers in the crooks of his knees as he held them. Some long-neglected, animalistic part of his psyche was almost wishing this effect would never wear off.

'Just look what you've done,' Potter told him quietly, intimately, and knelt up a little higher. His horny young prick was hard again, leaking and obviously eager to get some more fucking done. Potter nodded down at Snape. 'Yeah. Don't worry. It's all for you.' And he began pushing his dick into Snape's arse while his fingers were still in there, slowly sliding them out around it as he stuck it in deeper and deeper. When he re-braced both arms over Snape this time and began thrusting solidly into his body, he locked his gaze with Snape's unwaveringly, as though he'd never even heard of the concept or possibility of Legilimency. 'Wrap your legs around me,' he instructed. 'Now – fuck with me like you really mean it.'

Snape's mind whited-out to a shining plane of bliss on bliss.





Harry set a second mug of tea down on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the transfigured couch. The rising sun was throwing its first strong rays into the room, but Harry hunkered down into his dressing gown anyway and held his cuppa with both hands whilst blowing steam from it. He'd thought it'd be nice to watch Snape sleeping for a little while, but that plan had to change when his former Professor stirred lightly and blinked up at him.

'Good morning,' Harry tried softly, uncertain as to which Snape he was about to encounter – his snarling ex-Professor and nemesis, perhaps, or the agitated ex-comrade who had sought his help last night? His very intimate help, at that… 'There's a cuppa there, if you want it.'

'Hm.' Snape pushed up onto one elbow and reached for the mug on the table. 'Thank-you.' He drank quietly for a moment, staring into the middle distance, then glanced up at Harry. He looked tired. 'Did you sleep here?' he queried in a low tone.

Harry nodded. 'You don't mind, do you?'

'It's your home, Potter,' Snape reminded him over a nonchalant shrug.

'Is it safe to come out there yet, Harry?!' came George's voice from beyond the closed bedroom door.

Harry considered Snape with a level look before calling back, 'Just give me a minute!' Still not breaking eye contact, he blindly summoned Snape's robe from near the door. 'You might want to get dressed.'

'I might want to Apparate through the floor,' Snape countered.

Harry moved to one of the armchairs with his cuppa so as to give Snape a little more room. 'You can finish your tea first.'

Snape put his tea aside and swung his legs over the edge of the makeshift bed, his knees creaking as he stood up and pulled on his robe. When he sat again, he barely seemed to give a thought to the fact that the bed was now no longer a bed; Harry having cast a non-verbal Finite Incantatem over the item of furniture in the meantime.

'You ready for this?' Harry asked quietly, tilting his head toward the bedroom door.

Snape lifted his tea again and took a long drink. 'I already know about your Weasley, Potter. However…' Another, smaller, drink of tea then he set the mug down on the table. 'I shall leave you to make your apologies and explanations in private.' He stood up and seemed to try to give Harry a steady look, but something made him glance away again. 'My emergency last night is sure to have thrown your coupledom into a quandary of some sort.'

'It's not a couple thing – ' Harry started to explain, but Snape held a hand up for him to stop.

'It's none of my business, Mister Potter. Your assistance last night…' Just briefly, the jet eyes met Harry's. '…is appreciated.'

Harry opened his mouth to say something but Snape Disapparated before he could even get a word out. Glumly, Harry waved the bedroom door open. 'Sorry about that!' he called. 'Leaving you alone all night, I mean.' He glanced up into warm brown eyes, loving, as he always did, the way the red hair fell into them so casually. 'Hope you found something to do in there…'





Snape didn't fully understand why he was charming a peep hole into his front door again. He already knew it was George Weasley who had slept in Potter's bed last night. Why was he wanting to see the young businessman leave?

On the landing above, Snape heard Potter's door open and, a few moments later, close again. Footsteps could be heard coming down the staircase.

Two sets of footsteps.

'But, you're not George,' Snape murmured to himself at the sight of the first redhead to come into view. 'You are,' he murmured at the second.

Hmph. Potter did have a busy night!

Snape cleared the spell from the door and decided to give his mind over to a proper change of clothes, some breakfast and the day's work ahead of him. Thoughts of Potter vigorously enjoying an identical Weasley sandwich could just wait for some other time. As could the thought, Snape considered, that he now had something quite intimate in common with the Weasley twins. His dark sense of humour felt the need to give a melodramatic shudder at that thought, but it was rather half-arsed, frankly.

Midway through his breakfast – and gods, wasn't he positively starving? – Snape found himself pondering a most intriguing fact. Harry Potter, an ex-student with whom he had shared a most turbulent and abrasive acquaintance over the years, had forfeited a three-way romp with the admittedly fucking gorgeous Weasley twins in order to respond to Snape's needs.

Severus Snape, having lived the life he had and always looking the way he did, was not a man easily given to feeling flattered. How else, though, was he supposed to feel about what Potter had done?





Harry knocked and had a hand ready to catch a coin bag, just in case one was unceremoniously thrown at him. In response to his knock, the door to number Three inched open carefully and one impossibly-dark eye peered out at him.

'Hi,' Harry said lamely, immediately wishing he could think of something better. 'Last Friday of the month. Rent day. Sorry.'

'Indeed, Mister Potter.' The door opened a few feet more and Snape produced a coin bag out of thin air yet again. Instead of batting it or thrusting it or otherwise attacking Harry with it this time, though, he weighed it in his right hand for a moment, then silently held it out for Harry to take.

Harry merely looked at it for a little while, then lifted his gaze to meet Snape's. 'You've been quiet,' he tried.

'I am always quiet.'

'Haven't seen you 'round lately…'

'Potter. The only times you have "seen me 'round" since you moved here have been rent days and my one visit to you. You don't expect me to come borrowing a cup of sugar or some such, do you?'

'Well, no, but I – '

'I keep to myself, Potter. You should know this.'

'Yeah, I know, but I just thought, y'know, after – '

'Don't.'

Harry frowned a bit. 'Don't what?'

'Don't mistake what it was. Are you going to take this?' Snape shook the coin bag containing the month's rent at him.

Harry reluctantly took the payment, standing there for a few seconds, just looking down at the bag in his hands and feeling stupid and uncomfortable. 'So, what was it, then?'

'It was… gallant of you,' Snape said slowly, 'to help me in that situation. I trust…' He paused a moment. 'I trust your friends are still your friends?'

Harry couldn't help a tiny smile. 'My friends stick by me through everything. And if you're meaning Fred and George especially then, yeah. Yeah, we're still… friendly.' His tiny smile widened tentatively. Snape actually looked as though he were battling against returning it. Harry decided to dredge up some of that good ol' fashioned Gryffindor pluck and see where it might get him. 'Remember I tried to tell you in the morning, just before you left, that it's not a couple-thing?'

Snape snorted in bemusement. 'Well, of course it isn't! I CAN count to three, you know, Potter.'

'That's not what I meant!' Harry laughed. 'I just mean that it's not a serious thing thing. If you get my meaning.'

For a second or two, Snape merely contemplated him and then, slowly, he gave him a nod. 'I believe I do, at that.'

Was that a breakthrough? Harry didn't want to push it… 'Well. Good, then.' He gave Snape a nod back. 'Soooo,' he took a deep breath, 'if you have any more of those mishaps of yours, you know you can, erm, come to me. I don't mind. I don't mind at all. Glad to help, really. You might be surprised just how glad I am, really.'

Was that almost a grin?

'Mister Potter – '

'Do you have to call me that? This isn't school anymore, Snape.'

'Potter, then. Perhaps I should warn you and your helpful nature, that I am not much in the habit of being…' He seemed to make an effort to stop himself there, as though he'd only just realised that he and Harry were flirting with each other and he was accordingly appalled at himself for it.

Damn! Well, maybe just a LITTLE Gryffindor push…

'Not much in the habit of being what, Snape?' Harry asked as innocently as he could manage.

Snape peered regally down his nose at him for a second. 'Not much in the habit of being underneath my landlord.'

Mentally examining the statement, Harry tried another smile. 'Number Five's becoming vacant in two weeks,' he announced. 'You could move up there. Your landlord's fairly much in the habit of being underneath.' And before he royally bollocksed everything up by sticking around too long or grinning like too much of an idiot, Harry hefted the coin bag in his hand jauntily and strode away toward the staircase.





Snape watched the trim figure of the Saviour walk away with a spring in his step. He had heard that correctly, had he not? Harry bloody Potter had just invited him to go fuck him some time?

Snape closed his front door before the smile that had been threatening for the past five minutes could be seen by the outside world.

Oh, Circe's cunt…



~fin~
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  • Fic search

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