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 Where the Apple Falls “Well, did you find out what you wanted to know?” a voice asked as Harry fell from the pensieve onto his dormitory floor. “Why didn’t you tell me my father was a prat, Remus?” Harry said, picking himself up off the floor and promptly collapsing upon his bed. “Ah, so it’s Snape’s pensieve, is it?” Remus chuckled. “I should have guessed when I noticed you sneaking about after him tonight.” “You can see me with the cloak? I thought only Dumbledore could do that,” Harry frowned. “I smelled you, Harry. Werewolf, remember? Why do you want to see Snape’s thoughts?” “Everyone constantly tells me how perfect my dad was. I want to know the truth.” “Snape’s memories of James aren’t the truth, Harry. They’re just part of it. Your dad really was a great guy, but definitely not perfect. There was something about Snape that brought out the worst in him, and Sirius didn’t help much there either.” “I noticed. Sirius was always the instigator,” Harry rolled over to look at Remus. “He betrayed you to try to get Snape killed.” “That was why it was so easy to believe that he was a murderer. That, and other things,” Remus leaned back on his elbows and looked the boy in the eyes. “Did you happen to notice a theme to Siri’s insults?” “He always called Snape queer, or made some reference to his, erm, preferences,” Harry said. He thought a moment, frowning. “He would have hated me too, wouldn’t he?” he whispered, and then realizing what he had said, he buried his head in his pillow. “No, he wouldn’t have hated you. Not now, anyway. Sirius spent much of his early life in denial. He shagged every girl he could,” Remus smiled at Harry, leaning over him slightly. “After Azkaban, he admitted his feelings. He realized that he was in love with someone.” Harry had been gazing into the gold-flecked eyes above him in a daze, but missed none of the sadness flitting across Remus’s face. Pieces were beginning to fall into place. “You,” Harry said. “You were together.” Remus nodded, but was able to stifle the tears that appeared in his eyes. Harry was having enough trouble without having to deal with his own grief. “Enough about the past. You belong in bed, young man. I, on the other hand, should go. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Shack for lunch. I’ve fixed the place up a bit, you’ll be surprised.” “Okay,” Harry yawned, “see you then.” “Sweet dreams.” Harry dreamed of Snape in the shower. It wasn’t the younger version that he had seen in the pensieve, but the older version he knew. The only difference was that the Snape in his dream had a peaceful expression on his face. Like the young Snape in the memory, this Snape was stroking himself. This time, when he came, it was Harry’s name on his lips. Harry was aware the moment that the real Snape entered his dream, sharing his body. He was aware of him fighting to escape the dream first, then to escape the body he was sharing. He was aware of protests that Snape would not dream of shagging himself. There were promises to kill the boy if he didn’t wake up soon and end the dream. Then, Snape realized that he didn’t have to stay in Harry’s body with him. Not when his own was standing only a few feet away. So, he moved into his own body, only to wish that he hadn’t. Potter was nude, and what Snape saw made him realize that he would never be able to call him a boy again. The person standing there was undoubtedly a man. That didn’t change the fact that he was still a student, and even if this was a dream, it was inappropriate. “Potter, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but…” Snape said. “I’m not thinking, Professor. I’m dreaming,” Harry interrupted. Snape saw that he knew that he was speaking to the real Snape and not the fantasy. He knew that his professor really was experiencing all of this with him, but that wasn’t going to make him stop. “It’s just a dream. My dream.” It was Harry’s dream, and Harry was in control. How else could Snape explain the intensity of his own feelings when Potter kissed him? How else could he explain his arousal when the boy pressed their bodies together? It was Harry’s dream, and he was being manipulated to fit into the fantasy. It was the only possible explanation.
It would
also have to explain why he kissed the boy back, their tongues battling
for
supremacy. It would explain why he
reached up and held the boy’s head, pulling him closer.
But then, the boy ground himself into Snape’s
hip, and the professor gave up all attempts at rationalization. Snarling, he pushed the boy back against the
tile wall and began to feast upon him. Using
a skilled tongue, he kissed every inch of Harry’s
chest before
moving lower. He kissed Harry’s hips and
inner thighs, avoiding the area that the hands tangled in his hair
urged him
to. Finally, he kissed the cock bobbing
before his face. Just a light kiss on
the tip was enough to make Harry moan, knees buckling beneath him. When Snape finally took Harry into his mouth,
he looked up into green eyes. At that
moment, he realized that this wasn’t only James Potter’s son. Those were Lily's eyes. Then the eyes closed, and Snape swallowed the boy entirely, eliciting some of the most amazing sounds he had ever heard. He carefully massaged Harry’s sac, one finger venturing back to tickle slightly at the pucker of his ass, and that was all that it took. He worked his throat around Harry’s cock, draining him entirely before standing to kiss the boy once more on the lips. “We’ll not speak of this in daylight, Harry,” Snape whispered before the boy awoke and left him holding empty air. Harry groaned and rolled over in his bed, burying his head in the pillow. He had dreamed of Snape, and Snape had really been there. He should have stopped things immediately, but then the fantasy had responded and he was lost. He didn’t think he could face the Potions Master again. Fortunately, he would be spending the day out of the castle. He got out of bed and dressed comfortably in Muggle clothes. There was no need for his school uniform at the Shack. Fortunately, Seamus and Hermione had forced him to buy some new clothes recently, and he had a number of outfits that fit well and looked good on him. He chose a green silk shirt that matched his eyes and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t even attempt to tame his hair any longer. No amount of styling products could correct that problem. He wondered what Remus had done to fix the interior of the Shack. The exterior would have to remain run down to perpetuate the fear that protected the citizens of Hogsmeade from the werewolf within, even if that werewolf was more like a playful puppy thanks to the Wolfsbane. Looking briefly at the calendar, he realized that he had only four days until Christmas. He would have to buy his gifts soon. Hedwig would have to deliver Hermione’s and Ron’s by Christmas morning, and she hated to be rushed. Remus Lupin leaned against the wall just inside Snape’s private lab, watching him work on a potion. He had never been insensible to Snape’s grace when doing the work that he loved. He had laughed to himself when Harry had warned him several years ago that Snape wanted the Defense against the Dark Arts position. As if he would ever give up his beloved potions. “Are you going to just sit there and watch me all night, Lupin?” he asked as he bottled the potion and extinguished the flame beneath the cauldron. “I do not take kindly to animals in my lab.” “You’ve never seen me change, have you? Not since you invented that potion. You don’t realize what it does for me.” “I have no wish to see you in that form, Lupin. I have very little desire to see you as you are now,” Snape sneered. “I’ll deliver the potion as I usually do, and then take my leave.” “I’m making a nice dinner tonight. I would appreciate it if you would stay and eat,” Remus said. “Let me express my thanks.” “And spend the evening with a canine? I think not.” “It’s better than spending the evening alone. Believe me, I know,” Remus sat on the corner of Snape’s desk. “Besides, you can take advantage of my liquor cabinet while I’m indisposed.” “I really don’t understand how you can afford all of that when you can’t afford decent robes. Oh, very well. Just make sure you don’t hump my leg or something equally disgusting.” Remus looked only mildly offended. He’d had a long time to develop an immunity to Snape’s insults. “Come along then, and be nice!” Snape’s eyes widened. “Nice! Who do I have to be nice to? Lupin, wait! Who else is going to be there?” Lupin, however, ignored Snape and sauntered down the hallway. He had smelled Harry underneath that cloak when he’d followed Snape to steal the pensieve, and what he had smelled was interesting indeed. His suspicions had been confirmed by their discussion the evening before. He knew that Harry had a slight crush on him, but it was nothing compared to what his wolf-senses detected when Harry discussed Snape. He had also noticed certain signs that the reserved Potions Master may have a similar secret of his own. He was determined that this night would be entertaining and it would be, but not for his guests. Review<< Previous | Next >>
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