Work Text:
“Ngh… hm,” Severus groaned as he bit his tongue, dark eyes narrowing at the ceiling where he laid.
This was not how his Thanksgiving was meant to unfold.
How did it even come to this?
It was supposed to be a quiet Thanksgiving. Students were off for the weekend. Professors stayed behind, catching up on grading. Severus had planned to be buried in paperwork and yet…
“Don’t stop on my account,” a voice said mildly.
Severus turned his head just enough to glare. Harry was sitting far too comfortably in the chair beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other, watching with an infuriating ease.
“Keep moving them.”
“I am,” Severus snapped, breathing unevenly. If only Potter would look anywhere else. “Don’t you have better things to do than leer at me? What, precisely, do you find so appealing about this?”
Harry’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re the one who made the wager, Severus. I simply won. Fair and square. Can’t blame me if Slytherin pulled through while Gryffindor fell short this time.”
Slytherin had taken the Cup by a narrow point. Slytherin being Severus’s house should make him happy but not at the moment. Severus had replayed it in his mind often enough already.
Harry leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Now,” he said, unhurried, “add a finger.”
Severus clenched his jaw and looked away, reaching stiffly for the lubricant at his side. The noise of the bottle breaking the silence made heat rise in his face. He coated his fingers again, slower this time, warming it up before promptly sliding the second one in, breath catching as he did.
The stretch was there, but so was the heat. It made his stiff cock throb.
He shifted uncomfortably.
It had been a long while since he’d done this himself. He had never had the time nor the need. Even with his “youthful” activities, it’s not like anyone would willingly lay with him if it were not but simple shag.
And if he had known this was what Potter intended, he never would have agreed to the bet.
It had started as banter. Mocking disputes over Quidditch Cup points over the professors table. A pastime and rivalry, all the same.
And then Potter had come back.
Back to Hogwarts.
After Slughorn’s retirement, Potter was brought in, recommended, somehow, as the next Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. And to Severus’s profound dismay, appointed Head of Slytherin as well, following Slughorn’s leave.
Ever since Severus had become Headmaster, he could not simply continue teaching DADA. Between the demands of the office, the apothecary, and maintaining the wards of Hogwarts itself, the position had demanded more than he could give.
What other choice had there been?
It should have been a disaster waiting to happen.
Yet, somehow… it wasn’t.
“I said curl them. Slowly,” Harry’s voice pulled him back. “I’ll know when you’ve found it.”
Severus gritted his teeth, swallowing the sound threatening to escape as he did what was asked. He knew what to expect but the infuriating creature was far too close, watching him, and that made him want to be all the more defiant.
He pressed in deeper, his fingers grazing something and his breath hitch.
His legs tensed.
“What are you thinking about?” Harry asked, his tone far too smug.
“How best to hex you into next year,” Severus muttered between clenched teeth.
Harry chuckled. “You’re welcome to try.. after you finish.”
Severus scoffed but a sudden jolt had him gasping, a sharp hiss torn from his throat. His head fell back against the pillow as his fingers curled reflexively.
He had grazed that spot again.
And then again.
Just because Potter was present did not mean Severus would deny himself pleasure. If this was what Potter wanted, then Severus would oblige… would even put on a show, stubbornness be damned. A trait he would never admit to possessing.
And despite himself, his hips shifted.
Harry’s smile widened. “Took your time. How does it feel?”
“S-shut it,” Severus breathed, heat rushing to his face. His fingers stilled briefly as he took in the sensation.
But that did not mean he would make this easy.
He could be a tease.
“Don’t stop now,” Harry cut in, voice softer, but firm. “Add more lube. Keep going.”
Despite the order, Severus could feel that heated gaze on him as he flexed his fingers deeper. Keeping it deliberately slow, dragging out the movement just to spite him.
“You don’t get to command me,” Severus spat only to choke on his words when Harry’s hand reached out and wrapped around his cock.
Severus bucked, groaning, as he sat up a bit. “Potter—!”
“You had something to say?” Harry asked calmly, beginning to pump with slow strokes. “Keep your hand straight.”
Severus glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it as he collapsed back again. He groaned as he felt Harry’s large, rough hand stroking him in unison as he began moving his fingers again.
Severus’s hips jolted as Harry gave a slight twist of his palm, making him clutch the pillow beside him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and continued his ministrations, adding another finger, grinding on them with repeated writhes, while also trying to follow into Harry’s wet wrist. His tip was being caressed with the thumb before it was gently dug into the inner opening.
He moaned softly as he slowly lost himself into the feeling, head turning into the pillow.
Harry leaned in closer. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Just like that.”
Severus opened his eyes with heavy pants.
Harry was hovering over him now, supporting himself with one arm beside Severus’s torso.
Severus’s gaze dragged helplessly to the very visible tent straining against Potter’s trousers.
“What about you?” Severus asked hoarsely, the question ending in a broken sound as Harry gave him a deliberate squeeze.
Harry tilted his head. “This is about you right now.”
“That’s not good enough,” Severus growled.
Before Harry could respond, Severus sat up abruptly, pulling his fingers free with a shudder. He moved to the edge of the bed, shoved Harry down, and dropped to his knees between his legs.
“Hey! I didn’t tell you to stop—” Harry began.
“And I didn’t ask you for your input,” Severus snapped, palming the hard bulge through Harry’s pants, slowly undoing the buttons.
The cock sprang free. Thick, flushed, and obviously aching. Severus licked his lips, then leaned in, running his tongue along the head before slowly engulfing it.
“Severus…” Harry hissed, one hand flying into Severus’ hair.
He hollowed his cheeks, sliding down inch by inch. His tongue curled under the shaft, dragging back up to taste the leaking slit before going back down again.
“Fuck…” Harry cursed, hips twitching.
Severus smirked around him.
He picked up a rhythm, moaning around the length, the vibrations making Harry groan loudly. The hand in his hair tightened, guiding him, encouraging it.
Harry’s other hand slid down, rubbing over Severus’s shoulders before trailing across his chest and slipping beneath his arm. The touch made Severus’s breath hitch, unexpectedly ticklish, as he lifted that arm to grip at the front of Harry’s shirt.
Then the hand moved lower, caressing his and gripping at his buttocks, before slipping in between Severus’s cheeks.
The fingers slipped in easily, aided by the earlier preparation. Severus gasped around the cock, choking slightly, and Harry bit back a curse.
“So responsive…” Harry murmured. “Look at you… on your knees, sucking my cock, clenching like that. Is this what you wanted, Hm? Wanted to be on your knees for me? You can tell me, Severus..”
Severus answered with another helpless moan, the pleasure blooming too fast.
“You like it when I say your name,” Harry whispered. Not a question.
Another muffled groan. Another desperate suck.
He withdrew his fingers, ignoring Severus’s broken whimper at the loss and the reflexive swallow as Severus tried to keep going, before gently pulling him back. Harry began stroking himself instead, keeping only the head in Severus’s mouth, his thumb dragging slowly across the slit.
“Open up, love.”
Severus’s lips tightened at once, cheeks hollowing as his fingers curled more firmly around Harry’s thighs.
A few more strokes and then warmth flooded his mouth, thick and musky. Severus took everything, swallowing on instinct, never breaking eye contact through the haze of heat and need.
Harry stood over him, breathing hard, sweat gathering in his temple. He brushed Severus’ hair away from his flushed cheeks with a trembling hand. He brushed Severus’s hair back from his flushed cheeks with a trembling hand, then leaned down, swiping the sensitive head of his softening cock over Severus’s lips.
Severus leaned into the touch as his tongue darted out, catching the last taste, teasing along the slit.
Harry groaned again, muttering a curse under his breath.
Without a word, he gripped Severus by the waist and hauled him back onto the bed, turning him so his chest and arms were draped over the edge, his legs parted.
Severus gasped as Harry pressed forward, slick and hard again, already, and slid inside him in one long, slow thrust.
His back arched, a helpless sound leaving his throat as he clawed at the sheets.
Harry stilled, barely holding himself together, hands gripping Severus’s hips. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Severus’s back.
“You’re so warm,” he breathed. “Guess all that preparation you called a waste of time wasn’t for nothing, huh?”
He gave a shallow thrust.
Severus moaned, voice strained. “Insufferable… smug.. Gryffindor—-”
Harry chuckled softly. “Is that supposed to make me back off?”
A shaky breath. Severus’s fingers dug into the sheets.
“Hardly,” he scoffed. “If anything, you seem to be enjoying your own restraint far too much.”
Another shallow thrust.
“Oh, I am.”
Severus hissed, hips betraying him as they pushed back just slightly before he stilled again. “Then by all means,” he drawled, “continue. But if you’re waiting for me to beg, you’ve profoundly misunderstood me.”
Harry leaned in closer, breath brushing Severus’s ear, biting it. “Still talking.”
“If you don’t get on with it and fuck me, Potter,” Severus snapped, breath breaking, “I will find other means of—”
He never finished.
Harry pulled all the way out and slammed back into him, drawing a cry from deep in Severus’s chest.
Any thought of restraint shattered.
If being fucked into the bed was what Severus wanted, who was Harry to deny him? He had meant to go slow but even Harry had limits. He pulled and pressed Severus down into the mattress, slipping out just enough to rub himself along him, one hand sliding up Severus’s neck, fingers squeezing lightly…
Then he pushed back in, fully sheathed, deep and hard.
After several relentless thrusts, Harry reached up and turned Severus’s flushed face to the side.
“Stay with me.”
Severus’s face was flushed crimson, eyes lidded and wet with overwhelmed arousal. More or less dizzy with it.
Harry smiled, fingers trailing up Severus’s spine. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me. You make me lose my goddamn mind.”
Then he pulled out, and thrust back in, slow and deep. The sound Severus made was halfway between a moan and a sob, toes curling instinctively.
Harry moved with measured force, drawing back and pressing in again, each stroke pushing Severus further up the bed. Severus’s fingers twisted in the sheets, trembling with the effort not to lose himself too fast.
“You can take it,” Harry whispered, leaning down until his chest brushed Severus’s back. “You’re doing so well.”
Severus whimpered—actually whimpered—and Harry’s heart stuttered at the sound.
He reached around, fingers wrapping around Severus’s cock. Still flushed, leaking, and so desperate for a touch.
“Oh gods—” Severus choked, hips jerking. “Don’t—don’t—”
“Shh,” Harry murmured into his shoulder. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”
He stroked him in time with his thrusts slow and firm, twisting on the upstroke just to watch Severus shiver as he clenched his eyes shut, brows furrowing with pleasure. His other hand found Severus’s nipple and rolled it gently between thumb and finger, drawing a gasping sob from him.
“Too much,” Severus whispered, shaking and breath hitching. “It’s—H-Harry—Harry—”
“I know,” Harry said softly. “That’s it. Let it happen.”
Severus couldn’t form words anymore. Just sounds as his voice cracked and his legs trembled. His body rocked between Harry’s thrusts and his own unraveling.
Harry tightened his hold, lips brushing Severus’s neck. “You have no idea what you look like,” he whispered. “Merlin… I’ve waited. So long. How I wanted you.. not just this. Everything. Anything you’re willing to give me.”
His hand slid over Severus’s, fingers threading together, holding him there.
Severus’s eyes widened and his body twitched in his arms. His head turned slightly just a shuddering cry as he tipped over the edge.
“Severus..”
He came with a wail, legs shaking, body arching back against Harry’s chest. His cock pulsed in Harry’s hand, spurting hot between his fingers. Tears spilled down his cheeks, eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling with overstimulation as his muscles gave out. Harry held him close, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder, still moving inside him in slow, grounding motions. “That’s it. Almost there, love.”
Severus could barely breathe. Every nerve in his body was on fire, but it was sweet. Gentle. His fingers never quite stilled.
Why had he made this bet in the first place?
The euphoria flew out, leaving him oversensitive and undone. He sobbed as Harry shifted them, lifting and drawing him back until he was seated again, deeper than he’d expected. At the loss of Harry’s grip, Severus reached back blindly and found his hand, pulling it tight to his chest.
He turned his head, searching, finding Harry, and their mouths met in a kiss that was intense yet careful, heated and tender.
Harry groaned softly against his lips, teeth catching at him just enough to draw a breathless sound.
Ah, yes.
He remembered now.
It was a Tuesday. Quiet. Nothing significant about the hour or the weather.
And yet, everything shifted.
Harry had kissed him.
Not in the heat of passion. Not after wine or celebration or some reckless moment Severus could later dismiss. But in the corridor. After a staff meeting. With intention.
It had been unhurried as if Harry had done nothing more than follow an inevitable thought to its conclusion, one he’d apparently been holding onto far longer than Severus had ever allowed himself to suspect or dwell in.
And Severus had panicked.
He shoved Harry back.
Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t even breathed properly.
He had simply stared, stunned, as though Potter had cast an Unforgivable rather than press his mouth gently to Severus’s.
For days afterward, Severus told himself it must have been a joke. Surely it was a joke. Some sort of game. A test. A dare. Thinking it was some kind of sick joke. Why would Potter kiss him, of all people?
So Severus had retreated. Walls up and got busy.
But Harry had been, infuriatingly, persistent.
He appeared more often than necessary. Lingered after meetings, chose nearby seats, even ate at the same table in the staff room. Always polite and casual as if whatever that happened did not occur at all.
Which, somehow, was worse.
Then, Severus sat at the far end of the staff lounge, a heavy book open on his lap, unread. He was too deep in his own thoughts to notice the minutes passing. The room was empty save for Harry, who stood by the window, arms folded as he watched the leaves dust the Hogwarts grounds after the rest had left.
He didn’t speak at first.
Severus knew he would.
Severus really should have retreated to his quarters instead of deciding against all better judgment to finish grading upper year Potions essays. Had he known this would be the consequence, he would have packed his bags, fled to the far side of the continent, and died quietly in a hermit’s hut where no one could ever find him again.
It had been weeks since that kiss.
It was all Severus could think about.
The brief press of lips.
“You know,” Harry said at last, turning from the window, “I don’t regret it.”
Severus didn’t answer.
“I’d do it again.”
Still nothing.
Harry walked slowly across the room, stopping a few paces away. “In fact… I think the only thing I do regret is letting you pretend it didn’t happen.”
Severus’s eyes remained fixed on the page in front of him. “You were foolish.”
Harry frowned. “I was honest.”
“You were mistaken.”
“I wasn’t.”
Severus exhaled sharply, snapping the book shut and finally meeting his gaze. “What is it you want from me, Potter?”
Harry stared back, unflinching. “I don’t want anything from you. I want you.”
That silence returned.
“I know you don’t believe that,” Harry continued, voice quieter now, but no less certain. “You can tell yourself whatever you like. But that kiss wasn’t a mistake. Not for me.”
Severus turned his eyes away, jaw tense. “You’re twenty eight.”
“So?” Harry said.
Severus shot him a look.
“I do not see what you think you gain from this,” Severus said coolly. “I am not young, Potter. Surely there are others who would—”
“No,” Harry interrupted, stepping closer. “There isn’t anyone else I want.”
“We are not discussing this. Forget it.” Severus rose to his feet.
Harry didn’t stop, he grabbed Severus’s arm. “Why do you keep pushing me away? Are you that scared?”
Severus scoffed, pulling his arm back. “Don’t flatter yourself, you—”
“You act like wanting something’s a weakness,” Harry went on. “Like if you let yourself have it, everything falls apart. Help me understand. Why is that?”
Severus turned away. “You presume too much.”
“Do I?” Harry said quietly. “Because if that's the case, why didn't you push me away immediately?”
Silence.
Harry sat on the couch seat where Severus had previously sat.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me and you didn’t stop me because you hated it,” he said certainly.
Severus said nothing. His hands clenched tightly on the book’s spine.
“I’m not asking you to explain it,” Harry said. “But don’t insult us both by pretending I imagined it.”
The silence stretched.’
“You’re persistent,” Severus muttered at last, bitter, worn down rather than angry.
Harry didn’t smile. “Because you know I’m right.”
The room fell still again, and Harry didn’t push, sighing through his nose as he ran his hand through his hair.
But then, as always, he couldn’t resist stirring the pot.
With a faint grin, he said. “The final match for Quidditch is coming up.”
Severus narrowed his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not,” Harry said lightly. “I think Slytherin’s got a real shot this year.”
Severus arched an eyebrow and then snorted. “Unlikely. They’ve not won in, what, two\ years?”
“True,” Harry said, unfazed. “But now they’ve got me as Head. That’s got to count for something.”
Severus rolled his eyes. “You’ve barely been here a term.”
“Still,” Harry said, casual to the point of provocation. “I’ve been giving them a few tips. A bit of encouragement. They adore me.”
“Merlin help us,” Severus muttered.
Harry leaned back, studying him. “Go on. Admit it — you’re worried.”
“I am not.”
“Afraid I’ll steal the Cup right out from under you?”
Severus’s eyes narrowed.
And Harry, quietly pleased, added, “Tell you what. If I win, you owe me a kiss.”
Severus stared.
“One you don’t walk away from,” Harry finished.
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” Harry tilted his head, standing up as he closed the distance, his fingers gently brushed Severus’s sleeve while his other hand settled on Severus’s waist. “You’re so sure Slytherin will lose,” he murmured. “What do you have to worry about?”
And there it was. The challenge. The line Severus had drawn, now closing around him like a noose. Harry’s hand at his hip burned like a brand.
So Severus did what he always did when emotion grew to overwhelm him.
He turned it into a game.
What else does he have left to lose?
“A kiss?” he said coolly, though his pulse had betrayed him. “That’s all?”
Harry’s mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Unless you’d like to offer something more… interesting.”
Severus looked at him long and hard. Then he spoke.
“If your house wins the Quidditch Cup, you may ask whatever you like. No questions. No refusal.”
Harry’s breath caught, just slightly.
“And if yours does?”
“Then you will do whatever I ask.”
Harry leaned in, close enough now that Severus could feel his warmth. His eyes were bright
“Deal.”
And that was the beginning of the end.
Severus had told himself it would be harmless. Slytherin hadn’t won in a while. Logic had been on his side.
But here he was, days after the final match, and a few days since their date, with the man curled up in his arms. One arm was looped around Severus’s middle, fingers resting at his back, possessive without pressure.
Severus threaded his fingers through dark hair and sighed softly.
He felt something in his chest give way.
He didn’t want this to end.
Harry stirred, lips brushing Severus’s skin as he spoke, voice still heavy with sleep. “You awake?”
“Regrettably,” Severus murmured, though there was no bite in it.
Harry shifted closer, smiling against him. “Good.”
Severus inhaled sharply as Harry’s grip tightened.
“I sincerely hope,” Severus said, attempting loftiness and missing it by a hair, “that you are not thinking what I suspect you are thinking.”
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
“Depends,” he said lightly. “What do you suspect I’m thinking?”
Severus opened his mouth to retort and was instead rewarded with a startled sound as Harry tugged him closer by the legs, utterly unapologetic about it. His balance went and dignity followed shortly after.
“Potter..!” Severus hissed, flustered despite himself, fingers clutching instinctively at what was nearest to him.
Harry only laughed softly, pressing a grin against Severus’s inner thigh, respectful and mischievous all at once. “Like you didn’t see this coming.”
“I most certainly did not—”
“Mm. Sure you didn’t.” Harry’s mouth brushed along the inside of his thigh, unhurried, while his other hand traced slow grounding circles at Severus’s hip.
Severus’s eyes narrowed, heat blooming low in his stomach even though he knew that he should not be giving in so easily. A soft sound escaped him anyway.
“Oh,” Harry added lightly, as if sharing a harmless secret, “I’m only getting started.”
Severus turned his face to the side, one hand lifting to cover his eyes as an involuntary moan escaped him followed by a small, content smile he made no effort to hide.