“Hon-e-e-ey, I’m ho-o-o-me!”
Harry could not help but smirk when he sing-songed his favourite saying, which was always quick to fire up his hot-blooded wife’s temper.
“So very funny, Harry. Have you ever considered a side job as a comedian? The Ministry must not keep you busy enough-“Ginny had barely finished her sentence when she was pulled up into a forceful hug. Well, as forceful as one could be, when maneuvering around the bulk of a seven-and-a-half month pregnancy. “Hmmmm.” She returned the hug, and whispered, “I missed you today.”
“I miss you every day.” Harry gave her that special smile, reserved just for her, as he reached out his hand to cup his wife’s protruding belly. Then he bent down and whispered, “And I missed you too, little guy.”
Ginny smiled at her husband of just over a year, ruffling his messy black hair, still much unchanged since the first time she saw him. “Go clean up,” she shooed him away with her hands. “Supper’s waiting.”
Harry rolled his eyes, thinking of Molly, and went off to do just that, changing out of his Auror robes as well. After had finished eating, while having tea in the sitting room, he gently reminded his wife he had an appointment this evening.
“I’ve got to see Snape tonight, luv.”
Ginny sighed, “Again, Harry? You met with him last week, and the week before that...”
“I know, Gin. But we have to finish this project. It’s important,” Harry ran his hand through his hair. “You know if I could stay home, I would. You think I want to spend time with that greasy git?” Harry muttered. He then gave his wife that particular smile again, and knew by her face that she had relented.
“Well, fine. But don’t be too late. You’re going to need your rest for New Year’s Eve at the Burrow tomorrow night.” Ginny took a sip of her tea, her forehead wrinkled with displeasure.
“I won’t, I promise,” he said. “Why don’t you have your mother come ‘round for a visit? I’m sure she would love to fuss over you for a couple of hours, hmmm?”
Ginny made a noncommittal sound, and Harry raised his eyebrow. “I’m okay,” she waved off his protest, “I just don’t know if I could stand to have her ‘fuss’ over me any more than she has. Go, I‘ll be fine.” She raised her cheek to him for his goodbye kiss.
And then he was off, grabbing his wand and cloak on his way out the door. “See you soon, Gin. Love you!” he called out as he closed the door, double-checking the wards before he went out to the street to Apparate. One could not be too careful, even if he was currently the most powerful wizard in the world.
Picturing the place where he needed to be, Harry Disapparated with a pop.
He had an appointment to keep.
- *~*~*~*~ -
After arriving at his destination, Harry double-checked the darkened perimeter in a methodical manner, his old war habits still hard to break. Satisfied he was alone and had not been followed; he walked up to the small, dilapidated cottage and knocked.
The door swung open almost immediately, a tall man cut a shadow against the firelight coming from the back of the room.
“Potter.”
“Snape.”
Severus Snape backed away from the door, allowing Harry to walk over the threshold. “Drink?” Snape’s voice was quiet, something Harry appreciated. That voice conjured many memories, most of which Harry hated.
“No. No time for drinks tonight. My wife wants me back soon,” Harry said and Severus frowned.
“Very well.” Leaving his own drink untouched on the table, Snape swept away from Harry, down the hallway to the last room on the left. Pausing at the door when Harry did not follow him immediately, he waited with his back turned until Harry dropped his cloak and wand on the table and stepped into the hallway.
Every time Harry entered this room, his body would throb in anticipation. His mind was churning furiously with ideas, new ideas, and he barely registered anything else until he heard Snape whisper his name.
Then suddenly, Harry’s mind was still and calm. “What did you just call me?” he said coldly, turning to glare into the suddenly nervous black eyes set in the hard face. “What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?” Harry hissed, moving forward as Snape backed up and hit the far wall with a thump.
“I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to-Master.” Snape’s eyes were closed and he seemed to shrink, as if he expected a blow.
“Once we are in this room,” said Harry as he backed off slightly, giving Snape some room, “I am your Master. Do not forget that again.”
“Yes, Master. I am sorry,” Snape whispered, stepping away from the wall and straightening himself, still tense, but relieved.
Harry took note of the moment of weakness and smirked. “You know the drill, Snape: strip.” he turned around, moving to the other side of the room while Snape disrobed, and went to the armoire and swung the doors open. Whips, of all shapes and sizes, ranging from small floggers and flails to large riding crops and biting crops, hung neatly on the back. Ropes, clips and O-rings hung on the left door, handcuffs, hogties, leashes and chains on the right. “What shall it be tonight?” Harry closed his eyes and sniffed. Merlin, how he loved the smell of freshly oiled leather.
He didn’t really even consider the selection, because he had decided on a specific item the minute Snape had transgressed. It was on the inside floor, in an indented space made specifically for it. Harry pulled it out and ran his hand along it appreciatively, before he turned around to show it to Snape. He couldn’t help but smile when Snape gasped at the sight.
It was a medium sized round paddle, made of very thick cowhide leather, dyed blood red. Permeated with small holes, barely large enough to let a pinkie finger through. To the untrained eye, it was not very threatening, considering some of the frightening items still left in the armoire. But to Snape, it meant the very worst of humiliating punishments. Harry took note of the shudder that went through the other man’s naked body as he swung the paddle through the air, making a whistling, whooshing sound.
Suddenly impatient, Harry snarled, “Get on the bench kneeler-NOW!”
He watched how quickly Snape moved over to the padded, down-tilted bench, throwing himself down over it, his arms over the sides, his arse sticking straight up in the air and his knees resting on the back step. No magic was allowed in this room, so Harry strolled over, slowly, still swishing the paddle through the air to get a feel for it, and knelt beside Snape. Putting the paddle down, he quickly restrained Snape’s wrists with the leather cuffs attached on each side of the bench. Then he did the same to Snape’s ankles, spreading his legs out at the knee on the padded resting step. Picking the paddle back up; he stood, then he came around to Snape’s front, lifting the man’s chin up with the toe of his boot to look him in the eye.
“You know why I chose this tool tonight, Snape?” Harry said quietly. Snape’s face crumpled for a brief moment then went back to its normal, stony visage as he answered.
“Yes, Master. I’m being punished for forgetting my place,” Snape said.
“Is that all, Snape?”
Harry let his foot drop, and Snape’s head went back to leaning over the edge of the bench. He waited for a moment, and just as his foot came back up to lift Snape’s chin again, Snape whispered, “No, Master. I need—I need to be punished for my crimes. Carried out in the name of The Dark L-of Voldemort.”
Harry smiled and moved around to the back of the bench. He ran his hand lightly over Snape’s exposed buttocks and Snape shivered. “Very good.” Harry said. “You’ll list the crimes you have committed, counting every strike. If you lose count, we’ll start again. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Master.”
Harry saw Snape tense as he waited for the first blow. Harry waited for a very long moment before he struck hard, the impact of paddle against Snape's right buttock making a very satisfying thwack.
Snape jumped and let out a breath, and said, “One. For joining the Death Eaters.”
Harry swung again, hitting the very same spot.
“Two, for passing along the information I overheard about the Prophecy that led to the deaths of the Potters and the torture of the Longbottoms.”
Harry gave him a silent three-count, then swung and hit the other buttock. Best to keep him on edge.
Snape gasped out, “Three, for brewing potions in Voldemort’s service that caused many to suffer.”
Harry waited a few seconds before swinging again.
On and on it went, Harry alternating between hard blows and even harder ones. He never stayed in one spot for very long, but did particularly like to revisit those places on the backs of Snape’s thighs and the tops of his arse cheeks where the man’s reaction was most pronounced. Snape's backside and upper legs were practically purple by the time fifteen minutes had passed, and Snape had lost count twice already, so he was on his third attempt to get his list of crimes correct.
“What was that?” Harry stopped his swing, slightly breathless.
Snape was sobbing now, his hiccoughing voice thin. "Twen-twenty. For killing Albus Dumbledore. Oh, Merlin…Albus.” Snape broke down completely.
A part of Harry was glad it was over. He dropped the paddle and quickly undid all of Snape’s restraints, pulling him up to lead him towards the bed. He grabbed the warm, wet flannel that Snape had put out earlier on the table, and gently cleaned Snape’s face as the older man’s sobs quieted and his shaking body relaxed.
“Shhh. It’s all right. It’s all right,” Harry held Snape in his arms, and stroked his back soothingly. He never dared ask Snape about his relationship with Dumbledore, but Harry knew that it must have been more than just mentor and student. Much, much more. Harry did not wish to know the details, but the pain that ravaged the ex-Potions Master’s face whenever the Headmaster’s name was brought up would probably resemble Harry’s if he were to lose Ginny. Especially if he had been the cause.
After a few minutes, Harry laid Snape down on the bed; careful to mind the abused flesh, then carefully rolled Snape on to his stomach. He reached over to the nightstand to grab the healing salve they kept on hand. He poured some of it on Snape’s back and buttocks, and the man hissed in pain as the cold ointment hit his inflamed and reddened skin.
Harry ignored it, kneeling to straddle Snape’s knees, and began to work the salve in.
Slowly the hissing stopped, and was replaced with appreciative groaning. Harry had finished with the areas that required tending, and now began to massage Snape’s back and shoulders. His mind wandered to the circumstances that led to him being here, in this position.
During the final days of the war, just before Harry had defeated Voldemort, the truth about Severus Snape had been realized, and none too late. Despite his fervent protestations, Harry had finally accepted the various forms of proof, which plainly showed Snape was still loyal to the Order. Dumbledore had known of his impending death, and had left pensieves full of evidence exonerating Snape. Secret anonymous missives started trickling, and then pouring in about Voldemort’s plans. The Order had been extremely pleased at the success rate of actions based on this information, and Snape was eventually revealed as the author. However, no one ever saw him, or knew where he was.
Just before Christmas of last year, in the final confrontation with Voldemort, Harry, his friends, and the Order of the Phoenix were in a dirty and vicious fight with the Death Eaters, and Severus Snape finally materialized in person. It was here that his fealty was revealed in all its glory, as he began shooting off curses against his fellow Death Eaters to protect Harry and his friends.
In the ensuing battle, Snape was mortally injured, protecting Hermione and Ron from Bellatrix Lestrange, who perished at his hand. Harry could not recall much from the battle, only that his power seemed to grow exponentially while his comrades put their lives on the line time and again during his struggle to get to Voldemort. By the time they faced off, Harry felt like he was invincible; the emotions he was feeling for those that were at risk or had fallen (like Snape) made his heart swell to such a point that his scar didn’t even twinge when he neared the monster. It was over quickly.
Then the oddest thing happened. Once Harry had established that Riddle was dead for good, he instinctively knew the tide had turned in the battle, and was no longer worried about the safety of his friends. He ran directly to where Severus Snape lay dying, gathered him up in his arms and Apparated directly to the nearest hospital, where the Healers worked for nearly ten hours straight to save his life, if only at the insistence of The Boy Who Defeated Voldemort. Harry was rather certain that had he not been…so motivated to see Snape live, they would have allowed the man to die in peace.
Harry didn’t know why he did it at the time. Many people had questioned him about his reasoning: why did he leave his friends, why did he want Snape saved so desperately?
Eventually, Harry faced the truth. In a fit of selfishness, he prolonged Snape’s life because he wanted answers, truths that only Snape could provide. Unfortunately for him, Snape knew it, too. Once the man had physically recovered from his injuries, he threw a temper tantrum worthy of the Dark Lord himself.
“What did you think you were doing, you imbecile? What makes you think that I WANTED TO LIVE? DAMN YOU, POTTER!!!” Snape had spat at him, and Harry knew he was lucky the man didn’t have his wand with him in the hospital room.
Eventually, Snape had calmed down, but he managed to get Harry to swear a vow with him, as a result of Harry’s interference. It was that vow that had him coming here, often weekly; to ‘punish’ Snape for his supposed crimes. Harry had to admit that the idea had initially held a great deal of promise. Despite all Severus Snape had done for him, the Order, and the war effort, Harry had still wanted him to suffer. Some debts could never be paid.
Now, over a year later, these ‘sessions’ had become something more. One particularly powerful day had ended with Snape on his knees on the floor, trussed up in rope. Harry had just finished flogging him, when Snape had leaned forward, nuzzled Harry’s crotch, then licked a swath up the front of Harry’s robe. It had been evident that Harry was hard, and in a fit of spontaneous lunacy, Harry had pulled his cock out and let Snape blow him.
Afterwards, Harry had been sickened and angry at himself, avoiding Snape for over a month.
When he finally returned, Harry had taken his anger out on Severus’ hide.
This, naturally, had turned him on even more. That night had been one of the most sexually satisfying of his young life. Harry hadn’t even known you could pass out from the pleasure of coming.
Now, whenever Snape gave him overtures of a sexual nature, Harry used it to his advantage, and considered it another part of fulfilling the vow. With his wife nearing the end of her pregnancy, he was being denied at home and his needs had become all that more urgent. Consequently, the visits had been more frequent.
The Snape’s groans had become more urgent during Harry’s musings, and he discovered that he had been grinding his clothed cock up against Snape’s tender arse while he was massaging him with the healing ointment.
Snape didn’t seem to mind.
Harry stopped his ministrations, and stood up to pull off his robes and boots. He wore nothing underneath; he never did anymore when he came here. Now naked, he grabbed a different bottle from the nightstand, and climbed back on top of Snape.
“Your arse is still hot from the paddle, Snape.” Harry hissed in his ear from behind, threading his free hand through greasy, sweaty grey and black hair and yanking his head up. Snape gasped, his body going from relaxed back to tense in an instant. Harry was not in the mood to be gentle.
“I intend to make it burn. And you’ll love that, won’t you, slut?” Harry snickered, releasing Snape’s hair, and scooted back to his previous kneeling position on Snape’s legs. He uncorked the bottle, poured the lubricating oil on his hand, and then dribbled some on the crack of Snape’s arse. Then he stroked his own rock-hard cock, coating it well. Then Harry quickly inserted an oiled finger into Snape’s anus, giving the man no time to adjust. But Snape still groaned in obvious pleasure.
“Oh, you like it rough, don’t you, Snape?” Harry jabbed a second finger in, scissoring the two as rapidly as could. He wanted in that tight hole as soon as possible. “You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.” Snape’s answer was to try to spread his legs to give Harry more access. Harry opened his legs to allow it and then brought his free hand down with a hard slap on Snape’s arse. Snape jumped and howled. Harry smirked, and then he slapped Snape again, still not stopping the frenzied scissoring action of his fingers. Harry knew the sting must be terrible, especially after having the respite for last fifteen minutes, with the healing salve only just beginning to work.
Snape suddenly cried out, and pushed back on Harry’s hand, jerking up his hips. Harry must have hit his prostate. Not that he ever tried to. His purpose here was not to give pleasure. But accidents do happen.
To make up for it, Harry gave him another hard slap, much to Snape’s distress, and he quickly pulled his fingers out, then maneuvered his knees between Snape’s legs and spread them further apart. He grabbed Snape’s bruised hips, pulled them up roughly, and lined his cock up with Snape’s hole.
“This one’s for Albus, you fucking bastard!” Harry hissed, and Snape choked on a howl of despair as Harry slammed himself home.
Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying to keep control while sighing in pleasure at the tight heat. Snape’s arse contracted around him with every shudder of distress. Harry pulled out slightly, and pounded back in again, yanking Snape’s hips up brutally to meet his thrusts. The sweat rolled off his brow and dripped down onto Snape’s equally sweaty back.
“Oh, fucking hell.” Harry groaned.
Knowing he wouldn’t last long, he began to fuck Snape in earnest. Harry was quick and brutal. In only a few minutes, he felt his balls tighten, and his groin felt like a tightly coiled ball of fire that was soon spiraling up his back and down to his toes.
Harry let go of one of Snape’s hips and reached up and grabbed Snape’s hair once again. He leaned over the man, and snarled, “Remember, you asked for this, Snape!”
One more particularly violent snap of his hips, and he was shouting, coming so hard he forgot to breathe until he saw black spots beneath his eyelids. He collapsed on Snape’s sweat-slicked back, nearly blacking out, panting like a racehorse.
Several minutes passed, and when Harry’s breathing returned to somewhat normal, he pushed himself up with jelly-like arms and pulled his softened cock out of Snape’s arse. He fell over to the side, throwing his arm over his face and moaning.
Harry could never look Snape in the eye afterwards.
He felt Snape move, off the bed. He lay there, and felt the warm flannel being laid on his chest. He listened while Snape dressed. He waited until he heard the door open and close with a click before he removed his arm from his eyes. Grabbing the flannel, he cleaned off his hands and cock as best he could, knowing he would cast a cleaning spell on himself when he got back out to his wand.
Harry sighed heavily, and got up out of the bed to find his robes and boots. He dressed quickly, not looking around the room at all, knowing that whatever disarray it was in now, Snape would take care of it when he left. It was always pristine when he came back.
Harry left the room without looking back.
Snape was standing in front of the fire, sipping the drink he’d abandoned when Harry had arrived. Harry grabbed his wand, uttered his cleaning spell, and straightened out his robes before putting his cloak back on. He looked into the large mirror hanging above the mantelpiece to check his appearance, and ran his fingers through his messy hair. It didn’t seem to help.
The look of consternation on his face seemed to amuse Snape, who had been watching him in the same mirror. Snape sneered in his usual, familiar way, as if to say, “You’ll never win with that mop, Potter.” And then he raised his drink in salute. Harry lifted his eyebrow, and with a small smile, shook his head in defeat. It was definitely a lost cause.
Then Harry hazarded another look up, staring at Snape in the mirror. No words were spoken, but the question in his eyes was always the same: “Are you going to be okay?”
Snape’s answering nod was always the same. It said, “I’ll be fine.”
Harry turned to leave, walking towards the front door.
“Potter.”
He turned back around. Snape was still facing the mirror, looking at Harry's reflection.
“Yes?”
Snape cleared his throat. Then he nodded again. “Thank you.”
Harry just tilted his head in understanding. Then he turned back around and strode swiftly out of the cottage, shutting the door behind him.
He had to get home to his wife.
-Fin-
Author's Chapter Notes:
For the lj fest naughty_newyear.
Betas: The wonderful Nenyaentwhistle, Rosesanguina, and thanks to Reddwarfer for the support.
For Snapetoy who wanted Snape/Harry, Snape/Dumbledore, and BDSM/dark fic/bottom!Snape/spanking. I hope you enjoy. Happy New Year!
Betas: The wonderful Nenyaentwhistle, Rosesanguina, and thanks to Reddwarfer for the support.
For Snapetoy who wanted Snape/Harry, Snape/Dumbledore, and BDSM/dark fic/bottom!Snape/spanking. I hope you enjoy. Happy New Year!
