Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling and I don't own these characters.

Warnings: This story is Snape/Harry.

Author's notes: Originally posted at SeverusSighs' IJ. Thanks to whitecotton for help with the making of this story, and also for an excellent beta job. This fic is long, long, long overdue. Months and months ago, lovetoseverus helped to make our IJ home the loveliness it is today. This fic was made especially in thanks to her. Thank you so much, darling! You asked for Snape and Harry having sex without knowing who the other was. I hope this fits your requirement.


Contrary to popular belief, Severus rarely imbibed alcohol. Drunkenness had always been a luxury he simply couldn't afford. When he'd first been of age, there had been university and his studies to consider, and then there had been his involvement with the Dark Lord. After that, he'd been a professor at Hogwarts and needed to be available to the students at all hours, and Merlin knew he was never safe from Albus poking his head in the Floo at all hours of the night.

And then when the Dark Lord returned...no, Severus had needed every ounce of his wits and control about him during that time. He'd simply had no opportunity whatsoever to relax and enjoy a good drink.

It was with that thought in mind that he walked over to the crystal decanter—smirking as he saw the Black family insignia—and poured four fingers of scotch into his glass. Looking around the room, he realized he might regret his actions tomorrow—Merlin help him if he made a fool of himself in front of the Weasley twins—but he was going to enjoy this victory party. He, of all the people currently in Grimmauld Place, deserved it.

Taking a sip, the drink burned his throat and sinus passage, but Severus had formed a career on keeping a straight face. That came in handy as he took a look around the room, forcing himself not to sneer at the people who'd congregated around him.

Everyone was talking and laughing with each other, and several were paired off. Severus had always felt the absence that came with not having a partner, someone to share his life with, but he'd put it aside in the name of the cause. And though his sins had been committed a long time ago, he had not forgotten that the war was his path to redemption—a path he'd had to walk alone.

Not that the knowledge had made it any easier, and he somehow doubted that with his personality and looks his situation would change now that the war was over and his redemption won. He sighed into his drink, then rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and resolved not to allow himself to become a maudlin drunk.

He finished what was left in his glass and poured another, throwing a hand off his shoulder as someone came up behind him.

"Hey, slow down there, Snape!" one of the Weasley twins said to him.

"Yeah, save some for us," said the other.

"The two of you," Severus said, his head already spinning slightly, "cause enough trouble on your own. Neither of you require another stimulant to further your antics."

They both laughed and Severus used their distraction to finish off his second drink.

"In case you didn't notice, this is a celebration!" said one of them.

"Yeah, no hogging the party favors!"

When Severus frowned and took another drink, they looked between themselves, then at him, and frowned. It was an odd look for them.

"Hey, there are a few girls here, Snape! Why don't you go find a nice one?"

"Or a boy. Nothing wrong with a boy, if you'd like."

"Yeah, we won't judge you."

"Yeah, no judging."

When Severus turned his glare towards them, they fell silent, a conspiratorial look passing between the two of them.

"On second thought, maybe you should relax a bit."

"Yeah, kick back, Snape. Go ahead, take the bottle."

Scowling at how sudden they acquiesced, Severus tucked the decanter under an arm and went in search of a dark corner where he could get pleasantly drunk in peace.


Harry had no desire to celebrate. Sure, he'd opened up his home to everyone, but that was mostly because he felt he should feel like celebrating when all he wanted was to sleep for about a week.

He knew the war had affected everyone, and he knew that he should feel happy or relieved or...something.

But he didn't. All he felt was exhausted, and watching all his friends and professors standing around drinking and enjoying themselves wasn't helping.

Mostly, he didn't feel anything. Voldemort was dead and he and (most) of his friends were still alive, but Harry felt like a walking corpse, a shell of the person he'd once been and there was no one around who would understand.

His heart heavy and his eyelids falling, Harry excused himself from the crowd with a forced smile and began to walk to one of the ground floor bedrooms. He'd just take a short nap, just a little time to himself and maybe he'd feel up to pretending to laugh and joke and be happy in half an hour.

"Hey there, Harry."

"You look like crap, Harry."

"Oh," Harry said, using his emergency smile reserves on Fred and George. "Hey, guys."

"Not feeling good?"

"Yeah, maybe you should have some vitamins."

"Or a drink."

"Yeah, a drink would probably help even better!"

Harry faked a laugh and said, "I'm just tired. Think I might lie down for a minute."

Fred looked at George, something silent passing between them. Harry knew that look, but he was too tired to be as frightened as he knew he should be.

"Yeah, you do that," one of them—George, he thought—said. He was too tired to pay much attention.

"You'll feel loads better when you get up. And we'll make sure no one misses you."

"Thanks," Harry said, then silently made his way to the downstairs guest room. Just a few minutes to himself, he thought, and he'd somehow muster up the strength to fake it through the day.


Severus was sulking in a corner with his new friend, the decanter, when he suddenly had enough of everyone else's good time. Here he was, surrounded by people who pretended to welcome him back into the fold when really they'd all hated and distrusted him for the better part of the last two years.

The fact that he had been a spy and had himself sown the seeds of distrust eluded him at the moment, which only made his anger grow. Not willing to let the elephant charge about the room any longer, he went into the happy bridge that was his colleagues, armed with the proverbial match.

"You!" he said as he staggered over to Minerva, pointing a long, potion-stained finger in her face. "How dare you!"

She frowned at his finger, then turned her glare on him, squaring her shoulders as she sniffed his breath. "How much have you had to drink, Severus?"

"Oh, that's right," he said, the room swaying about. "Undermine me, the way you did in front of the students, especially the—hic—Gryffindors. You went behind my back at every turn!"

"I thought, at the time, that you had murdered Albus in cold blood and had turned the school into a training ground for He-Who—Voldemort! And I've already apologized," she said, her tone cold and without remorse. "I won't do it again."

"I think you'd better go, Snape," said Moody, his face so monstrous Severus took a step back in horror before he remembered that it was always like that.

"I have every right to—hic—be here as you, you miserable excuse for an Auror. What exactly did you contribute to the war effort, aside from being locked in a trunk for an entire year?"

"All right, Severus," said a voice from behind him and Severus whirled around—then regretted it as his head swam—and saw the annoyingly cheerful face of Remus Lupin.

"And you," he hissed, "you...wolf!" Lupin's smile only increased at the accusation, so Severus spat on his shoes.

"All right now, Snape!" one of the Weasley twins said, taking him by the arm.

"That's a bad Snape!"

"Yeah, maybe you need to rest your head a bit before you head home."

"Right, ignore him, everyone! He's just had a bit too much!"

"Unhand me...whichever you are!" Severus shouted as he attempted to twist out of a firm grip. He was pulled from the crowd of treacherous bastards and taken down the hallway, stopping in front of a back room.

"Right, I think maybe you should rest a bit, Snape," one of the twins said, moving to open the door.

"Just get into bed for a minute and you'll feel much better!" said the other, pushing him towards it.

"Would you stop moving!" Severus said, then closed his eyes and moaned, "There are four of you."

They both hummed and said in unison, "Even we wouldn't want that."


A mutinous chair conspired against Severus as he entered the room with a 'oof!' and nearly fell to the floor. He grumbled as he stumbled around the room for a few minutes, his anger and irritation at the situation only growing, before his legs bumped into something soft.

Bending over carefully—surely the world hadn't always tilted quite so much—he inspected the obstruction, and was happy to find soft blankets and sheets. Suddenly very tired, he sat down on the edge of the bed and laid down to make himself comfortable. He'd just lie still until the room decided to stop spinning so much, then he'd return to the party and his friend, Mr. Decanter.

Tossing an arm and leg over one side, he encountered something firm, something that was definitely not a pillow. And though his thoughts were murky, a part of Severus became instantly aware that he could possibly be in danger. On his guard now, he removed his wand from its holster and poked the oddly shaped lump in the middle of the bed. When it didn't attack him, he lowered his wand and fumbled to remove the blankets.

The room was completely dark, and he didn't dare light a candle lest the lump suddenly come to life and attack him. Slowly, and with great care, he placed his hands on the lump beside him, touching what he thought might a long-haired guinea pig.

The rodent's hair was indeed long and very soft, and—having had such an animal when he'd been younger—Severus rubbed his face against it, amazed at how clean and fresh it smelled. He petted the creature for another moment before his hand trailed downward and he felt flesh, soft but for the stubble, like that of a man who had shaved that morning.

What an odd creature indeed!

Curious now, Severus reached lower, touching a firm chest and broad shoulders that were, for some reason, covered up by something made of cotton. Not understanding why any creature so fascinating would want to cover itself, Severus quickly lifted the shirt from around the creature's arms and took it off.

Oh, very nice.

As quickly as he could with the room still spinning, Severus lowered himself gently onto the bed-man—for there was now no doubt in his mind that his previous assumption was incorrect, guinea pigs were nice but not this kind of nice—and laid a gentle kiss to a firm jaw. His hand lifted and he let his fingers idly trail hard lines and muscles, following a path up a smooth, fine cheekbone and along an angled brow. Beneath his body, Severus felt the lean planes of a muscular form, youthful and eager. It suddenly occurred to Severus that this man had been here waiting for him, that he was meant for Severus. Never before had he had such a partner and Severus thanked the stars that he had one for this night.

It would seem his earlier bemoaning of his lot in life had finally been heard, for what else could the appearance of a man in his bed mean? No, this was definitely a thank you present. His head was still swimming, but Severus knew that he should show his appreciation, that whatever deity had given him such a gift in such a perfect environment, would want him to be grateful for what he had given. There, in the cover of darkness, Severus allowed himself to smile, delighted beyond belief at his good fortune, and his heart felt lighter than it had in decades.

Pausing, he strained his eyes, and tried to make out the face of his gift, but could only make out the hard lines of his jaw and chin, the fluffiness of his hair.

Not willing to let this moment pass him by, he lifted himself up slightly and slowly circled his hips, raining kisses on the arched throat, feeling a moan shiver against his lips. He bit down—a touch too hard, perhaps—and whimpered when he felt hips buck up into his.

"Merlin!" Severus said, mid-groan, his hands quickly removing his own clothing before starting on the bed-man's trousers. His hands encountered a firm stomach, hairy legs, and a soft inner thigh. "Oh," he sighed, and did not stop his hands as they slowly trailed the soft flesh, allowing them to worship as they would.

Both of them now naked, he lay down on top of this man, this gift, and slowly, reverently, ran his hands through the soft hair and kissed his lips.

They were unresponsive for a moment, and Severus grew distressed, before he felt a quickly drawn gasp and then surprised lips were kissing him back.

Severus would have sworn he'd stumbled into a dream if his stomach wasn't set on staging an open rebellion against the rest of him.


Harry had been having the most wonderful dream. It had been hazy, but then most of his dreams were. He'd been sitting in well-lighted room, talking with a man with no face. The fact that he'd had no face hadn't bothered Harry in the slightest, not when he considered how he made him feel.

They were talking, really talking, and Harry felt his soul's burdens lighten even as the sun shone down to warm them. And just when he thought he couldn't be happier, that he couldn't possibly feel more relieved, the man drew up close to him and touched him. He petted Harry's hair and touched his face, the man's hands ghosting over his flesh with such adoration that Harry felt his body reawaken from the haze of fatigue he'd felt since the war ended.

In the cloud between sleep and awake, Harry felt a jolt of arousal and then hands were touching him, pulling him out of his blankets and sliding over him with such wonder that he leaned into the touch without a second thought.

The hands, as it turned out, were connected to a body and a mouth, and Harry allowed both to embrace him, amazed at how his body began to sing at the touches this man was giving him.

By the time he realized he wasn't dreaming, he couldn't be bothered to care about who this was or what this person was doing in bed with him. He knew in the back of his mind that it had to be a guest at his party, and that things could be incredibly awkward in the morning. But as the hands flew down his thighs and wrapped around his hardening cock, he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt alive again for the first time since he'd killed Voldemort and he never wanted this to end.

"Yes," he whispered, not caring in the least that he sounded so desperate, his body arching up into tender caresses. "Yes."

He ran his hands down the man's back, pleased with the smooth skin he found there, and reached lower, eager to touch as he was being touched. Thin lips tongued his right nipple, and he moaned loudly as soft hair fell over his chest. Fully awake now, he ran his hands through the long strands as the man paid kind attention to his chest, and confirmed his bedmate's identity.

He'd known it hadn't been Ron or Kingsley—they were both much taller and broader (not to mention straighter) than his mystery partner—and he'd been almost certain it wasn't Moody (thank God). If it had been Fred or George it would have been both Fred and George, and there was just the one of him.

And he'd prayed to God it hadn't been Remus. That would have been awkward in the extreme.

But this...this was a surprise. A very pleasant, very sexy, very interesting surprise.

He was just about to start contemplating how he felt about being in bed with Severus Snape when he felt hot breath ghost down his stomach, the little hairs from his navel to groin standing at attention.

"Such a lovely gift," Snape said, kissing Harry's hipbone, his scotch-scented breath reaching Harry's nostrils immediately. "So...lovely," Snape said, his nose traveling down the length of Harry's erection before his tongue darted out to lick the precome that had no doubt accumulated there. "I'm going to keep you," he said, and for the first time Harry noticed how slurred his speech was. "Beautiful man, all for me...keep you."

Smiling, Harry put a hand down to pet Snape's hair, his heart swelling at the sentiment. He thought back on how Snape had looked at the party, how he always seemed to be in a corner, alone. All the time Harry had known him, he'd thought it'd been by choice. But the drunken slur of words Snape was speaking into his cock said something else.

"Yes," Harry whispered, then gasped as Snape's mouth descended on his cock as his fingers began stroking his perineum, the pleasure from both sensations making his body sing.

"Oh God, yes!" Harry shouted, then felt around the bed for his trousers and then his wand. Snape tongued the thick vein on the underside of his cock and he moaned out, "Oh! Accio lubricant!" A jar zoomed out of the adjoining bathroom and he caught it, then spread his legs wider as he peeled Snape's hand off his thigh.

"I—um—" Harry stuttered as Snape gave one last long lick to his cock, "I want—" But he couldn't force the words out. He felt the weight that had been on his shoulders lift, and he knew that it was because of Snape. He didn't know if Snape's sentiment towards him would last beyond this night, but Harry knew he couldn't let this pass him by. He felt alive, and he would find a way to embrace life, if only in this moment.

The words were still not coming to him, so he opened the jar of lubricant and placed it in Snape's hand, then grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up.

A slender, firm body covered his own, and Harry swore he had never felt his heart soar as it did when Snape's lips kissed his.


Severus couldn't believe his good fortune. He rubbed some of the lubricant onto his fingers and began to circle his gift's—this beautiful man's—entrance, all the while kissing and licking every spare bit of flesh he could find.

The moans and gasps the man was bestowing upon him were nothing short of magnificent, and Severus worked hard to give this beautiful body the worship it deserved. He slipped a finger inside the man's opening, patiently coaxing the muscles to relax, not wanting to harm or take for granted what had been given to him.

"Oh, fuck," the man gasped as Severus inserted another finger inside, leaning down to taste that lovely, thick cock once again.

A third finger was inserted, and then the man was writhing beautifully beneath Severus, pawing at him with his hands, his feet rubbing against Severus' arse to push him upward.

"You are so," Severus said, his thoughts still thick and murky, but his body not feeling as sluggish as it had earlier, "amazing." He lifted slender, hairy legs onto his shoulders and draped his body over a slightly smaller one. "I've wanted you for so long," he breathed and slowly pushed his cock inside the man's tight heat, the joy of joining with another human being after so long nearly overwhelming him.

He leaned down and placed a kiss on the man's mouth, feeling a smile against his lips. His thrust his hips in a slow rhythm, encouraged by the soft gasps and heavy breathing, the feel of calloused hands on his back.

"Faster...please!" the man gasped, gripping Severus with his legs and using his inner muscles to squeeze his cock. Severus groaned and increased his thrusts, gripping that lovely cock in his hand and pumping it in time with his thrusts. He snapped his hips, pulling louder and louder groans from the man, his gift, as he met his prostate with each stroke, both of them nearing completion.

Severus bit his lip and forced himself not to come until he heard a loud shout, the man coming in his hand, hot, thick liquid shooting onto him. He pumped it until he felt the body under him calm, then thrust his hips harder, coming with a shout on the fifth stroke, his body singing its release as he came hard.

His head throbbed and he groaned, feeling absolutely spent. The room tilted and his stomach churned, but then strong arms found him and pulled him down into a warm embrace.

"God, I hope you don't regret this in the morning," the man said, his soft hair tickling Severus nose. "That was amazing."

Severus' head was throbbing so loudly he wasn't sure he understood. "Why would I regret this?" He gathered his strength and laid down on his back, gathering his gift, this miracle, into his arms.

"Even if you do, even—God, I hope you remember this. Even if you do regret it...I don't."

"Mmm," Severus said, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his body pleasantly exhausted for once, as he fell asleep.


"Well," Fred said as he peaked into the guest bedroom, "that worked out a lot better than we planned."

"Quite a lot. Poor Harry and Snape. They must have needed a good shag," George said, taking a quick peak before closing the door.

"That looked like a bit more than a shag," Fred said, crossing his arms and hoping they hadn't set Harry up for an enormous fall in a few hours.

"Yeah," George said, "well we did all we can. Hopefully Snape doesn't bollocks it up in the morning."

They were quiet for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts before George looked up at Fred.

"You still got that decanter?"

"Well, Snape doesn't need it anymore, does he?"


The first thing Severus became aware of upon waking was the Muggle rock musician who thought he was Keith bloody Moon practicing about two feet away from his head.

The second thing he became aware of was that he appeared to have run ten miles last night, with weights on his feet and back, while carrying a giant through a vermin-infested forest.

He groaned and attempted to move, but was stopped by the pounding in his head and a firm weight across his chest.

Suddenly, he recalled getting very familiar with a bottle of scotch last night, which explained why his brain was about to burst through his ears. But as for the weight on his chest...

He tilted his face, and a faint wisp of soft hair tickled his cheek, a sense memory returning to him through the misty haze of his drunken thoughts.

His anger at the Order members, the Weasley twins thrusting him into a room, something about a guinea pig, and then a man...

As though he only then remembered his body, he realized his hand was splayed across the small of someone's back, his fingers finding the slope of his hip quickly enough before he drew his hand away in a panic.

He remembered now. Or at least he remembered most of it. There was a man on the bed in the room in which he'd been tossed, and in his drunken state Severus had been convinced that the man had been there waiting for him. That the damn loneliness he'd felt nearly all his life was coming to an end, that he was receiving some grand reward for everything he'd accomplished.

A gift. He'd thought the man had been a gift.

"Mmm," the man said as he shifted in his arms. Severus held his breath as he resolved himself to look down, to discover who he had slept with last night. Whoever it was—please, please not Lupin—he would try to salvage his dignity as best he could before making a quick escape.

He slowly inched his shoulders up the bed, then lowered his eyes, trying to see the man's face through that messy bird's nest of—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Merlin.

His head throbbed as he began to panic, as he began to think of the consequences of his drunken bout of insanity. What had he been thinking? Had he—no, Potter was lying in his arms, curled up against him, and the images from last night told him that this had been something mutually desired.

But why would Potter...?

Strong arms gripped him and Potter nuzzled against his cheek, his hair causing pleasant sensations as it tickled the side of his neck.

Had Potter also been intoxicated?

His body betrayed him, Severus arms enfolding Potter firmly, his nose coming to meet Potter's soft hair.

He closed his eyes and inhaled, and could not help the soft moan that was pulled from him as the scent of Potter assailed him. The moan must have awoken him, because Potter suddenly went stiff in his arms, and Severus wished he'd had a few more moments before all this had to end.

"Um...good morning?" Potter said as he leaned up and gave Severus a cautious smile.

Severus tried to respond. Really, he did, but the lessons of acting casually in life-or-death situations that he'd spent a lifetime learning suddenly left him as Potter's eyes met his. He called into action every skill his panicked mind recalled, and was fairly sure his face revealed only a mild anxiety and not the absolute terror he was feeling. Ridiculous, he thought, and yet he still couldn't call up even the polite response to Potter's greeting.

His body stiffened and his fists clenched as he lay there, waiting to be ridiculed. But something in his expression must have pleased Potter because his smile widened and he covered Severus' lips with his own.

Not able to comprehend what was happening, Severus allowed himself to be kissed for a moment before becoming a full participant, letting his hands roam areas that felt familiar and forcing down the headache that was threatening to ruin his good fortune. They kissed for a moment, until Potter suddenly pulled back and studied Severus.

"Um," he said, with obvious hesitation. "I know I probably shouldn't ask. I mean, no intelligent man would, but you've always said..." he trailed off and ran a hand through his hair before steeling himself. "Why last night? Why now? I mean, is this something new or something you've wanted...for a while now? To be honest," Potter said, rambling, "I never really thought of you that way, but things seem different now. But what about you? I mean, I know you were drunk, but what made you come find me?"

Potter's cheeks shouldn't be so red when he was naked in bed with a man, his erection a firm heat against Severus' thigh.

"I, er—" Severus started, but stopped to gather his words, unwilling to make more of a fool of himself. He cleared his throat and waited for some intelligent thought to squeeze through the pounding in his head.

He closed his eyes and thought back on last night, on the man that he'd thought was some gift from the gods, on how badly he'd wanted him. And in a flash, Severus realized he did want Potter, that he was tired of being alone and if memories of Potter since the Final Battle were anything to go by, Potter might be as well.

He took another breath as the silence became more than awkward, as Potter began to squirm in his embrace. He opened his mouth, hoping some eloquent lie would rush to his aid as it had in the past.

He should have known not to trust himself to a bottle of Black's scotch.

"I was actually rather intoxicated at the time," he looked up into Potter's eyes and saw a tentative fear there, but for some reason the truth wouldn't stop coming, "and I didn't know who you were. I thought—" but thankfully his brain must have come to his rescue, because he stopped before he revealed all. Still, he mentally replayed what he'd just said, and realized Potter might take it the wrong way, and that Severus was more than likely a few seconds away from being cast out into the hallway, naked.

"I know what you thought," Potter said, the fear gone now. "You didn't realize it was me. You just wanted someone, and I was there."

"Really, Potter, that's an oversimplification—"

"It's okay," Potter said, leaning over and kissing him again. "I didn't know I wanted you either. But here we are. I don't regret it. Do you?"

Severus ignored the pounding in his head in favor of the blood that was rushing to his cock. He thrust it against Potter's thigh in response.

"Good," Potter said. "It's my turn on top. And call me Harry, please. I don't think I want to be called Potter in bed."

He was fairly sure he hid his exhale and the moment of quiet happiness his face must have revealed in the area between Harry's neck and hair. Still, he grabbed hold of him tightly, not willing to let go.

"If you'd like," he said as he ran his hands down Harry's back, "then Harry it is. Feel free to call me sir."

He thought Harry's laugh might be the sweetest sound in the world, if only John Bonham would put down his sticks.