VII. Physical Therapy

Severus Snape rolled over to check the time. He didn't think he'd slept more than two or three hours, and even that was intermittent at best. He wasn't complaining. What--ahem, who--he was doing in lieu of sleep was much more appealing anyway. If he thought about it, he was amazed he'd had so much energy--he was no longer a young and vital teenager like his current bedmate, but Harry somehow managed to make his body forget that for long stretches of time.

Speaking of, he watched as the boy yawned and stretched languidly. "Get back here," Harry complained.

"What's the matter?" Snape replied, "Cold?"

"Mmn, so fix it," Harry answered blearily, pulling Severus down against him again and tilting his chin up for a kiss. Snape had long since given up on hesitating and this time followed the younger man down to the mattress, claiming the lips he so readily offered. The way their tongues tangled now was familiar--they'd tangled enough in such a short time that the clumsiness was gone, and when the kiss broke, Severus trailed his lips down the column of Harry's throat, grazed his teeth over his collarbone, and continued onward. He knew what the boy really wanted, even if they were both nearly half asleep. He didn't feel any pressing need to protest.

Harry moaned softly as Snape's tongue made a path down his torso. "Ahn, Sev..." he moaned. He'd never dreamed when he first tried to seduce Severus Snape last night that the man would be such easy prey. No, he wasn't complaining, not in the slightest. Every time Harry had teased Snape, thinking 'maybe I'll be able to get one more round out of him', he'd ended up with two, and was glad to accept both of them. They'd fucked, slept, fucked again, slept again. Harry was pretty confident there had been a lot more fucking than sleeping involved, and that's just how he liked it. Snape must let off some kind of pheromone meant only for him, because Harry was certain he had never been this wanton before. Every kiss and soft caress seemed to set his entire body aflame with desire. And Snape was so sensitive that he was sure it had to work both ways.

Well, that was fine. The weekend had begun, and they would have two whole days to try to get it out of their system enough to leave the bed. And if Harry couldn't walk when it was over, well, Snape probably knew a few good potions for that. He figured if it turned out that he had a permanent limp, he could just blame it on a Quidditch injury and keep coming back for more.

Snape's head disappeared beneath the comforter. Harry had a feeling he knew what the man was up to, but before they could get anywhere the door opened unexpectedly. Under the covers, Snape didn't notice, but Harry's head turned quickly toward the sound. His face heated instantly. He tried to claw at Snape's shoulders to give him some warning but the man didn't quite get the message right: "You could try for a little patience, Harry," Snape complained, but the voice that hit his eardrum next was not Harry's.

"Oh my," Minerva McGonagall said.

Snape's eyes widened and he very nearly choked on his own oxygen. His bed rumpled head poked up urgently from under the sheets. Harry could only cover his face and look away, cheeks burning.

Snape, more annoyed at being interrupted than concerned at being caught--against all sense of logic, which tended to evaporate when one was about to get lucky--snapped at the woman. "What do you want?"

McGonagall 'tutted' at the rude address, but had a hard time hiding a bit of amusement at her colleague's predicament. "I was bringing you more medicine from Poppy, Severus. However, it seems...Mr. Potter's...very unique form of treatment has made you energetic enough that we no longer need concern ourselves over such a small matter as your health."

He stared sullenly at her. This was bad. Absolutely mortifying, really. But Snape's natural reaction to such things tended to be anger. "If you know that, then hurry up and leave," he griped. Meddlesome woman.

"Yes, well, of course," McGonagall replied. "I wouldn't want to interrupt the muggles would call it, physical therapy."

Snape couldn't help but wince a little. Damn the woman and her sharp tongue. She always managed to get the last word in. His brain froze before he could retort and she had already turned smartly on her heel, but paused a moment to say, "I will tell Poppy that her concern for your health is no longer warranted, but, Severus, I suggest in the future, you remember to lock the door."

As it snapped tightly shut behind her, Severus turned red up to the ears. Harry, initial shock relieved now that his Head of House was gone, couldn't help but chortle and peek at his lover through his fingers.

"What?" Severus complained, getting up and sitting beside the young man, arms crossing his chest. The mood had been destroyed, there was no sense trying to get it back now.

"...physical therapy," Harry said at last.

Snape glowered.

"Oh come on, it's a little funny," Harry nudged.

"Hardly," Snape answered. Merlin, that was devastating. To be caught in such a state!...

"Hey, no scowling," Harry declared, straddling Snape's lap and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another on the lips, which Snape returned grudgingly. His mood had soured, but Harry was determined to cheer him up. "She's gone now. And I don't think she'll tell anyone."

"That won't stop her from teasing me incessantly about it when no one is listening," Severus complained.

"Well, that's your fault, really," Harry said. And when Snape gave him a sharp look he added, "...for being so cute when you're embarrassed."

Snape couldn't quite find an appropriately biting reply, so Harry continued. "Now, where were we?"

"You can't be serious," Snape protested.

Harry chuckled and planted a sweet kiss on Severus's mouth. "It's fine, isn't it? You're so easy to rile up," he teased.

"And your hormones are insatiable," Snape replied.

"Yeah," Harry answered between planting soft kisses along the older man's jaw. "They are. But I'm an eighteen year old boy, and you're keeping up with me just fine. What kind of lecher does that make you?"

Severus sighed and let the boy win, tilting his head and allowing Harry access to move the kisses down his throat and add a few marks to his collarbone. "I suppose the kind that doesn't know where to draw the line when the one he loves is being unreasonable," he answered.

Harry's eyes widened a moment, and he smirked, lifting himself to plant the most engaging kiss yet on the older man's lips. Severus Snape had just called him 'the one he loves'. The admission was a precious gem he wouldn't soon forget. "Then I guess that makes me the kind of person who can't bear to be separated from the one he loves, even for a second."

"I suppose that's convenient," Severus answered between hungry kisses, wrapping his arms around Harry's slender back. "Seeing as I've grown awfully tired of being alone."

He flipped them over, lowering Harry to the mattress and beginning to trail kisses down the young man's body once again, intent to pick up where they'd left off before they were interrupted. The day, he imagined, would be spent much like the previous night--alternating between sleeping, cuddling, and humoring the complete inability to keep their hands and mouths off one another. He couldn't even begin to imagine where all the lust and love between them might lead, but at least he could be certain that the road ahead was one they would walk together.

That, Severus decided, was as good a reason to live as any.

~The End~