Title:

I just wanted to ask

Author:

evil minded

Timeframe:

Sixth year at Hogwarts

Summary:

With Voldemort on his back and some other things that always nearly killed him, Harry hadn't had many experiences when it came to – sex. So whom will he ask anything about it when he begins to get interested?

Disclaimer:

Well – I surely would love to own Severus … but as it is … I do not … J. K. Rowling does … regrettably …

Rating:

M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

However, this is not a continue to "Tears falling in darkness" … it is a story by its own … I just have to write something different from time to time to get my mind off the other story … so, in this story I will not update as often as I do with "Tears falling in darkness" … don't skin me for it … I guess once or twice a month maybe …

Added author's note:

Yes, I really would appreciate it, if you would honour my work with a short review as I always will honour your comments with an answer on said site - the review-site … and even if it is just so I know if I should continue with this story or abandon it …

Warning:

Story contains references to child abuse:

Child abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Story contains adult stuff:

Especially sex between two men … as there is Harry Potter – a male – having sex with Severus Snape – another male … what means those gay things … not to mention that the relationship between the two of them is one based on BDSM …

Don't like it, don't read it …


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I just wanted to ask

Chapter one

Prologue

Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry and head of Slytherin house – in other words, the dark, tough, cold-hearted and evil dungeon bastard, the one Professor that caused every first and second year student who dared to cross his line of path to wet themselves and every third and fourth year student to burst into tears with his snarky and sarcastic comments and his cold and dark gazes currently was sitting at his desk correcting the first years potions essays on the use of powdered root of asphodel and wormwood, complaining on how insufferable and insolent the brats were. And how stupid.

Well, at least it wasn't Longbottom's essay. He would either die of boredom or of annoyance. There was no single student in this school that managed to write as bad an essay as Longbottom. Not even Potter was as bad at potions as Longbottom was. And that meant something. Even the first years were more talented than Longbottom was. And Longbottom was in his sixth year after all, however he had managed it to get thus far. However he had managed to land himself in his - Snape's - NEWT class in the first place. It really was a riddle to him.

A soft knock on his door cut through the line of his thoughts and he sighed in annoyance. It probably was one of the blasted first-years, carrying a teddy bear in his – or her – arms, crying in a hysteric because he – or she – missed his – or her – blasted mummy – or daddy. Those brats only lived to destroy his life, he was sure of this and after another annoyed sigh he called "enter", desperately hoping his tone of voice would not send the little brat into convulsive sobs. That would be the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. It had been a tiring enough day already.

Well, it wasn't a blasted first-year who was crying because … yes, well, this blasted homesickness-thing.

Yet – by seeing who actually entered his office, he wished it would have been one of them and he groaned inwardly at his lack of luck today. Not even had he had to deal with Potter during class this morning. No. He had to deal with him just right now as well. Ok, at least the teddy bear wasn't in his arms and he wasn't sobbing.

"What is it, Potter?" He asked, annoyance clearly present in his voice.

Potter stood there, in front of his desk for a few moments and he could tell that the brat definitely was uncomfortable. He smirked inwardly and his mood rose a few steps at the knowledge that not only he had to suffer.

"Uhm …" Potter made a none-coherent sound.

"Eloquent as always, I see." Snape drawled in his usual manner.

"Well, sir …" Potter tried again. "I just wanted to ask you something …" He said, but then stopped again.

"Well?" Snape snapped, gazing impatiently at the sixth year student.

"Well … I … I just …" Snape lifted his eyebrow, clearly irritated at the stuttering Potter gave away. "I just wanted to ask …"

"As much as I love to listen to your incoherent stuttering, Potter, I do not have all evening." Snape growled, casting the most threatening glare at the brat he could master.

"Well, I just wanted to ask you … well, if you knew anything about …" Again Potter broke off, not daring to look into his eyes and Snape growled again in annoyance.

"About what, Potter?" He snapped. "You may ask your question, or you may leave my office. Now!"

"Well, about … about … sex." Potter finished still stammering.

For a moment Snape wasn't sure if he should laugh at the brat or if he should be angry at him, grasp him at the front of his shirt and throw him out of his office with enough force to ensure he never again would dare to enter it by free will. He nearly missed when Potter continued his stammering.

"I mean … well … of course you know … what I actually meant was … uhm … if you could tell me … well … if you knew anything about … about being … uhm … well … being gay …"

"I suggest you leave, Potter. Now!" Snape hissed, leaning forwards and giving Potter his best death glare. He wouldn't deal with some stupid Gryffindor prank, nor with a stupid Gryffindor bet. Well, luckily it had been Potter who had happened to ask him instead of Longbottom. Longbottom would have fainted even before he had knocked onto his door. Then they wouldn't have his answer and no one would have won the bet. Not that he would give them the satisfaction of answering this stupid question anyway. He would not partake in this stupid prank or bet or whatever it was.

"Please, sir." Potter had the nerve to not only stay but to continue with his speech. "I don't know whom to ask otherwise." He said. "Well, I can't ask Ron. He would not take it that well. He is no friend of such things. He doesn't even kiss Hermione. Not even in privacy. And the others in my dormitory, well, they are just too young. They only would laugh and they wouldn't take it seriously."

So, Potter was quite serious about this? He snorted. As if!

"Wouldn't your relatives be more sufficient for such a conversation?" He drawled. Well, he could play this game as well. And he soon enough would find out what exactly was behind this question. He was a spy after all.

"Would I have chosen the teacher who hates me the most to ask this question if I could have gone to my relatives with this?" Potter asked and Snape had to admit that it was quite a reasonable answer. Who would – by free will – ask the teacher who hated him the most about something like this? It wasn't as if Potter had asked him about how to brew a potion correctly for a change. It was about sex. Nothing a teenager would really be comfortable with, even if he had asked a teacher who wouldn't have hated him as he hated Potter.

"Apparently not." He drawled. "Then maybe Professor McGonagall? As she is your head of house after all?"

"Uhm … well … I don't think this is such a good idea either." Potter answered, a flush crossing his face. "I mean, what would she know about being gay?"

Snape lifted his eyebrow and Potter seemed to take the hint, his flush deepening a shade. "Not that I want to say you … well …" He stammered. "I just meant … as she is a woman … she wouldn't know anything about … well …"

"Then perhaps the headmaster?" Snape suggested, his voice as cold as ice.

"Sure." Potter answered while lowering his gaze towards the floor. "I can imagine this conversation. 'Don't worry, my boy, we will figure it out for you'. No thank you, sir, but at least this part of my life I wish to decide by myself without his interfering."

Ok. So Potter knew that the headmaster was an interfering old coot and he didn't want to ask him because he feared he would interfere there as well, into a subject that was quite private and should be his own decision. Quite understandable.

Potter seemed at least serious about this. It didn't sound as if it would be a prank the Gryffindors tried to pull. Yet – he couldn't be sure about it now.

"So, pray tell, Mr. Potter, why would you ask – of all teachers – me about such a thing?" He asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, watching Potter with a slightly lifted eyebrow.

"Well …" Potter again stammered. "You are … you are the one who already … who already has a low view of me. I can't run any lower in your opinion, now, can I?"

"You have quite a point, Potter." Snape drawled, knowing well that he just put him down. Yet – as he didn't like Potter – he didn't care.

Potter shrugged his shoulders. "You see what I mean?"

"I quite see it, Potter." Snape snarled. "Yet – it wasn't an answer I am satisfied with."

Again Potter just shrugged his shoulders. "I can't give you another one, sir." He said. "I had to ask someone. And as there isn't any other one whom I actually could ask …"

"So, you think I would waste my time on some stupid teenage hormones and discuss a private subject such as sexuality with a student I actually am loath to teach in the subject that regrettably is already scheduled to me?"

"I don't think so, sir. No." Potter answered with quite a defeated look on his face. "Yet, I just had to ask. I wouldn't have known for sure if I hadn't."

"Well, in this case, good evening, Mr. Potter." Snape drawled. "I am sure you know how to find the door by yourself."

Potter didn't answer to this comment. He just turned and left the office with bent shoulders, the defeated look that had crossed his face earlier now visible in his entire features.

Snape drew his wand when Potter had his back on him and cast a silent spell onto the brat just before he left the office and silently closed the door behind him. Well, at least he now would know what kind of prank Potter tried to pull on him. Not even Potter's father had been as low as to resort to such a prank, about sexuality, nor had any other student thus far. The nerve Potter had!

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Harry went back to the Gryffindor common room, shuffling his feet all along his way and he wasn't really aware of where he was going until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and gave the password to gain entrance.

Ron and Hermione were sitting on one of the sofas and he at once could tell that they had been fighting – again. Maybe Hermione had tried to kiss him and he had refused. Most likely with a comment like 'we are not of age yet' or 'we are not married yet'. Really, sometimes Ron was as bad as a priest in the medieval times. So how was he supposed to ask him?

"Hi Harry." Ron said, sounding quite relieved at his presence. "Where have you been?"

"Just outside a bit." He answered, not really happy that Ron took him for an excuse to get away from his upset girlfriend.

"Why didn't you ask me, mate?" Ron asked. "I would have come with you."

"I wanted to be on my own for a bit." Harry said, watching the both of them for a few seconds. He really couldn't understand them. He couldn't understand Hermione. How could she be with a person that was as reserved when it came to sexuality as was Ron? There were enough others around at Hogwarts who would have been willing to kiss her. Not that he would do so. Absolutely never.

First, he wasn't interested in Hermione in that way. They were friends. Nothing more.

And second, he wasn't even sure if he was interested in girls at all.

And the only one he could have asked – well, he should have known that Snape would say no. He had been lucky that he had not grabbed him at the front of his shirt and thrown him out of his office.

And Ron – well, he couldn't understand him either. It wasn't that there weren't any others where he could get ideas from of what to do with a girl. There were other couples in the castle after all. And really, he had older brothers. In fact, Ron had a lot of older brothers. And they surely had girlfriends as well. So Ron surely had seen once or twice what to do with them. Yet – he acted as if it was something, well, forbidden. Something that was off limits.

Every one had someone else. And every one was snogging in the corridors or in abandoned classrooms.

Sometimes he thought he was the only one without someone.

But then – what exactly would he do with some fellow students?

He might not have the experience when it came to sex like others, just because he had a maniac hovering at his back who wanted to kill him since he was an infant. And then there was the thing with the philosopher's stone, and then the chamber of secrets. And in third year there had been a murderer on the run who wanted to kill him. Just to turn out to be his godfather. Then the werewolf incident and the shrieking shack. In fourth year there had been the triwizard tournament. In which he didn't want to partake but was forced to, even if he wasn't of age then. And back to last year, well, there had been all those stuff with his nightmares, with his visions, with Dumbledore who wouldn't look at him, the DA and then the fight at the ministry and Sirius dying.

So, when, in Merlin's name, was he supposed to have had any experiences about sex?

Well, ok. There had been the kiss with Cho last year. But really it hadn't been more than a date and a kiss. And really, it hadn't been that nice either. Cho had been crying all the times because of Cederic. And then she had been angry with him. It had gone pretty wrong he had to admit.

However – somehow he just knew that someone his own age would not be what he needed. That he needed someone who was a bit older than he was. Because he just had been forced to grow up a bit earlier than the rest of his fellow students. Because he had been forced to endure much more than some of the others his age.

But how should he get someone who was older if he knew nothing about sex? If he didn't even know which gender he preferred? No one would want to have a damn, stupid virgin that knew nothing about – sex. Well, if someone would want to have someone younger in the first place, that was.

And the only one he could have asked had refused to help him.

Shaking his head in frustration he turned and went upstairs to enter his dormitory. He was tired.

Not really bodily tired, but merely mentally tired.

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Snape again sighed in annoyance while he went to the shower to get ready for bed. And he had to admit, yes, he was really frustrated now. He had been wrong and that was something he wasn't pleased with. He never was wrong about something. Especially not when it came to Potter.

Yet – he had been wrong.

The brat really seemed to be serious about it.

Potter had entered the Gryffindor common room and instead of the question how his conversation with him – Snape – had gone, if he had found out if he was gay or not, Weasley only had asked where he had been. And when Potter had answered that he had been out for a while, Weasley had wanted to know why he hadn't asked for his company.

Well, all in all, they hadn't known where Potter had been. Thus – whether it hadn't been a prank, or it was a prank that Potter tried to pull alone.

Yet – he somehow doubted this. The feelings he had received were, well, quite disturbing. It had been frustration, mixed with self loath and something like isolation, feeling alone. And unsureness. Even something akin to fear and pain he had received. However, Potter felt quite insecure when it came to sexuality.

Well, of course he felt insecure in this area. He was a teenager after all. And they all felt that way in the beginning.

But no. There was more. He just knew it. It wasn't the typical insecurity he had felt. It had been more. The damn brat knew that he was inexperienced. Thinking about the past years, well, he had to admit that Potter maybe hadn't had much time to really get any ideas about sexuality and such things.

He remembered that there had been rumours about Potter and Chang being together last year. But he never had seen them together. And the rumours soon had died down.

But really. What would cause Potter to ask him of all people?

Ok, Potter had told him that he couldn't fall any lower in his opinion.

And well, he'd had quite a point in that. But did he think being gay was something that was – disgraceful and outrageous? Something that was despicable? There were much more gay couples in the wizarding world than there were in the muggle world. Here in the wizarding world they even could bond. It was quite a normal thing.

And then. Somehow he had to admit that it disturbed him that Potter felt he couldn't fall any lower in his opinion. It wasn't quite like Potter.

James Potter would have thought that he was the most popular student within the castle, never mind if it concerned the opinion of the students or the opinion of the teachers. James Potter never would have thought that there might have been a teacher – or a student – who thought low of him. James Potter had even been sure that he – Snape – who openly despised him, secretly thought high of him.

But Harry Potter not only thought that he loathed him – with which he was quite right about – but he also thought that he thought low of him, so low, that he could not fall any lower if asking such a question. And that quite disturbed him. He might not like Potter, he really might even loath him, but that was something different.

Giving away sarcastic comments to frighten the little snots was one thing, and growling at them during lessons was one thing too, but adding to their insecurities – that was another thing. He wouldn't have had it if a teacher would do so with his Slytherins, and he shouldn't have done so with Potter either.

And thus - sighing in frustration he went to bed to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day. Tomorrow would be Friday, and that always was a long day as he had double potions with the first years Gryffindors and Slytherins and then with the first years Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the morning and then double potions with the same groups just second years. And really, the first and second years were the worst of all.

Well, he at least tried to go to get some sleep.

But whenever he closed his eyes he felt something coming from Potter.

Fear. Raw and pure fear. Terror. Frustration. And – insecurity. Even pain.

Damn! Wasn't the brat meant to sleep by now? It was half past midnight. Why didn't the brat sleep? He was supposed to have classes tomorrow. He should sleep now! And what in Merlin's name was he doing? Was he banging his head against the wall in his dormitory?

Turning in his bed he sighed in frustration, just when he realized that Potter indeed was sleeping. The damn brat was sleeping, he just was dreaming and he shot up in his bed.

But how was that possible? The spell should have ended by the time the brat had fallen asleep. He should be free of Potter's feelings and thoughts by now. This spell was not supposed to follow into the unconsciousness of sleep. So – why did it anyway? How was he supposed to get some sleep if he was plagued by Potter's dreams? And such unwelcomed dreams after all? Dreams that contained fear and frustration and pain? Why couldn't Potter have drams like every other teenager had?

Well, ok, maybe it was better this way. He didn't want to feel Potter … no, surely not.

Yet - he wondered why the spell had not stopped when Potter had fallen asleep. It normally should have done. It never went into a sleeping, nor into a dreaming state of mind.

He couldn't see what exactly Potter was dreaming. It was like before, he only could feel what Potter felt. He could even hear what Potter heard. And see what Potter saw. But nothing more. And right now Potter wasn't hearing anything, nor was he seeing anything, he was just dreaming. But what he dreamed of, or better, what he felt in his dreams, was just disturbing.

Damn, the entire brat was disturbing.

Maybe he should get up and wake Potter, give him a dreamless sleep potion, just to ensure that he himself could get a few hours of sleep. But then, no. it would bring up some unpleasant questions. As to how exactly he knew that Potter had a nightmare right now - just for example. He better didn't risk such.

Well, he just as well could get up and some work done in his laboratory.

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The next morning came and found a tired Harry Potter and a grumpy Potions Master.

Harry went down the stairs from the Gryffindor tower and into the great hall for breakfast. Not that he really was hungry.
Well, yes, he was. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to stomach anything now. He never was at the beginning of a new term. And he knew he just would throw up if he ate anything now. What he always hated. So, better not risking anything.

But he also knew that Ron and Hermione would ask him were he had been if he didn't show up for breakfast. Even if he wouldn't eat anything anyway. But this didn't bother the both of them. They just seemed to notice if he wasn't present. As if they really cared. They were much too absorbed in their quarrelling as if they would notice him just drinking his tea and he sighed. Why had he to be the famous Harry Potter? Why couldn't he be just Harry? Why couldn't he be a normal boy that had no other problems than his homework, his next classes and when he would be able to snog his girlfriend next time?

Shaking his head he went over to the Gryffindor table and seated himself next to Ron and Hermione, trying to ignore their quarrelling and trying to ignore the head table, knowing that Snape was sitting there as always.

He was angry at himself. Why had he gone down into the dungeons yesterday evening to ask Snape of all people such an embarrassing question? Well, of course he really couldn't fall any lower in Snape's opinion and he knew it. But really, now he had to deal with a Snape that not only loathed and despised him but who would laugh at him now too.

He really should have known better.

Snape on the other hand was sitting at the head table, watching the students as always. But this morning his eyes were drawn more than just once towards the Gryffindor table. Just to search out one Potter. He had felt those disturbing fear and pain the entire night coming from the brat. And if he was honest with himself, then he wanted to know why.

He had been angry at first because Potter now had not only disturbed his lessons with his presence but his sleep as well. But then – well, it had been him who had cast this spell onto the insufferable brat. It really wasn't Potter's fault at all, not this time at least.

But that was not the only reason for his uneasy this morning. He felt quite guilty for his words yesterday, when he had confirmed Potter of being right about him being not able to fall any lower in his opinion. It really wasn't anything he should have said. But when it came to Potter, he just lost his temper much too easily.

And – well, it had been a simple question Potter had asked of him. About sexuality, yes, but he was a teacher after all. And he was supposed to be able to handle such. Even if it came from Potter. And if Potter really hadn't anyone else to ask such about – well, why should he refuse? It wasn't as if Potter had asked him to invite him into his bed.

He shook his head at his thoughts. As if he ever would.

Well, he would see the brat's reaction when the owls arrived. He had made up his mind during his first cup of tea this morning before he got ready for breakfast and he had written him a note.

Watching Potter again he noticed that the brat wasn't eating anything for breakfast. He just sat there, his shoulders slumped as always and both his hands curled around the cup of tea as if they were cold. The brat looked tired and exhausted and he snorted. Of course he looked tired. He hadn't had a really healthy sleep from what he had felt coming from the boy.

And he looked thin too. Again he snorted. Of course he looked thin if he didn't eat three full meals a day. Going to classes without breakfast wasn't what he considered healthy either.

But somehow he had a feeling that there was more. Well, Potter surely could not be exhausted from classes as the term had started just yesterday. Nor could he be exhausted from learning in the first place as Potter refused to learn anything during the year anyway. And yet – he definitely was exhausted. And tired. And well, he couldn't put a name to it, but somehow he knew this look. He had seen it before. He just couldn't remember where. But it somehow disturbed him.

Even if he never would admit it.

The sound of owls delivering the morning post got him out of his thoughts and he watched Potter's startled face when his – Snape's – dark owl delivered the note he had sent to the brat.

'Mr. Potter,

if you still are serious about your question, then meet me tonight at eight in my office.

S. Snape'

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To be continued

Next time in I just wanted to ask

Snape will have 'the talk' with Harry. At least he begins with it …

Added author's note

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you