I stormed into my rooms in a foul temper as was always my custom on a Friday afternoon after a week of melted cauldrons and several close calls that could have killed us all. It didn't help that my last class of the week was always third year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Third years were the worst. New teenagers. Old enough that my scare tactics that had the first and second years nearly peeing themselves from fright didn't work anymore. Young enough that the OWLS and NEWTS weren't looming on the horizon and making them think about buckling down and actually learning something. Not to mention that Gryffindors and Slytherins in the same room was always a recipe for disaster. Dumbledore had a sick sense of humor when he paired up those two houses for classes.

Fighting off a terrible headache, I slammed the door behind me and sank down onto my leather couch by the fire. I threw the stack of essays that I had carried with me from my office on the coffee table to be graded later. If I tackled them at that moment, I was most likely going to just give everyone a "T". As mean as the student body thought I was, even I knew that some of the better students deserved an honest grading. It was the weekend. The essays could wait.

I closed my eyes and leaned back, resting my head on the back of the couch. It was blissfully quiet in my rooms. Maybe too quiet. As much as I loathe to admit it, I had gotten used to being greeted Friday afternoons when classes were done. That's when he usually made an appearance. He would just let himself into my rooms and wait for me to return. He would greet me in his overenthusiastic way of his and then we would fuck like hippogriffs all weekend.

He was a good distraction.

Where was he?

I pushed myself up off the couch and shuffled through a drawer in my desk to find that sheet of paper he insisted I have. I distinctly remember sneering and saying "Why would I care where you are and when?" before stuffing it in the desk when he handed it to me a couple of months back. I'd never tell him, but I was glad that I did have it now. It would be good to know if he was dead in a ditch somewhere or supposed to be missing. Not that I cared, but there were plenty of others who might like to know.

I scanned the page once I found it. Oh, yes. He had a match in Sweden the next morning. The team would have left that afternoon so they could have a bit of practice time on the opponent's field and a good night's sleep. He wouldn't come that weekend. I told myself that I was not feeling disappointment. In fact, I was glad to have the weekend to myself. Right?

There was another paper attached to his Quidditch schedule. A short note with his messy scribble:


I knew that you'd find use for my schedule even when you mocked the fact that I thought you cared where I'd be. Well, you do, don't you? I'll see you next weekend. Try not to miss me too much. Enjoy your quiet weekend without my "excessive chattering and annoying Gryffindor ways".


The little brat! I shoved the schedule and attached note back into the drawer and slammed it shut. I was angry but couldn't figure out why. Best not to dwell on it too deeply.

I pushed down any feelings or thoughts on Potter and instead focused on what I would do with my free weekend. I could finally start working on that research project that had kept being pushed off. Or maybe I could catch up on the stack of potions journals that I had been neglecting. Unfortunately, none of that sounded particularly enticing, especially since my weekend of lots of sex turned into one of reading or mindless brewing.

And I was definitely disappointed only because I needed to let off some steam. Not because that sex happened to include Potter. Sex was sex. It would have been enjoyable with anyone. The fact that Potter was an extremely fit and flexible and attentive and gorgeous Quidditch star was only an added bonus.

I sank down onto the couch again. Sex with Potter? How had I gotten myself into this mess?

Well, I know exactly how it started, but why had I allowed it to continue? The first couple of times I could understand. The first because it was the night before the Final Battle and we both were so sure we'd die and just needed a little comfort. Well, the amount of alcohol we consumed may have been a factor there, too. The second because he had saved my life and the entire wizarding world. That deserved another roll in the hay. He did save my life and defeat Voldemort. How else was I to repay him? The third because saving my life was worth at least one more time.

But after the third? I should have stopped it. The fourth time he had showed up to my door on a Friday afternoon after classes were finished and I just let him in. No questions. And that started our weekend ritual of crazy, wild, uninhibited, amazing sex. Who was I to deny myself a willing and warm body in my bed? He came on his own accord. It was his decision to show up Friday after Friday. He was a big boy who could make his own decisions.

I often found myself wondering, "Why me?" I mean, I was Severus Snape. Bat of the dungeons. Greasy git. Despite my war medals and Witch Weekly nomination for one of the top ten most eligible bachelors, I knew I wasn't much of a catch. And he was Harry Potter. Golden boy. The Man-Who-Saved-Us-All. It just didn't make sense!

But took what I could get, before the inevitable came and he opened his eyes and realized who he had chosen to spend his weekends with. After all, he came to me every week.

Sighing, I released myself from my mental wanderings and forced myself to at least be productive. I made some extra potions for the infirmary, I skimmed through at least six journals, and I even went to the Great Hall for dinner to endure the company of the entire school. I never went to meals during the weekend, opting instead to have meals delivered to my rooms. I usually had better things to do.

I finished the stack of neglected journals before I decided to call it an early night. I went into the bathroom and opened my medicine cabinet to grab my toothbrush when Potter's fell out and clattered to the floor. I picked up the offending item and stuck it back on the shelf. I then paused and panicked. When had Potter started keeping a toothbrush in my bathroom? Why had I picked it up and put it back, thinking it was the most natural thing in the world? Also, when had he taken over a whole shelf in my medicine cabinet? Not only did he have a toothbrush here, apparently he also kept a razor, deodorant, and some aftershave.

I pulled back the shower curtain to find that he had his own set of shampoo and conditioner. Two washcloths hung on the little rod in the back of the tub. I turned around to see two towels hung on the rack. One was a Slytherin green. The other was a Gryffindor maroon. Completely alarmed now, I went to "his" side of the bed and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand. Oh Merlin… He had several clean shirts, pants, and underwear stored in there.

I ran about my rooms, discovering several things of Potter's had somehow made their way into my space: a book on Quidditch maneuvers lay on the coffee table next to my forgotten essays, a mug that wasn't mine but I remembered Harry always using sat on my tea service, his cloak hung next to mine by the door.

It's not like I hadn't noticed these things before. In fact, I remembered telling him to bring clean clothes so he wasn't wearing the same thing all weekend. I knew that these things were there, that they had been there for awhile. It was just at that moment that I was realizing how many things he had in my rooms. He had been slowly encroaching upon my space and I had just let him do it! Sometimes I even encouraged him to! He was slowly moving in!

What if he thought it was more than just sex? Was he expecting to move in full-time in the future? What if he thought I was becoming attached to him? Because that was just ridiculous. All I wanted from him was sex. Anything more would be impossible.

Impossible because we wouldn't be able to keep anything more a secret. No one knew of our little… arrangement. I'd have an angry mob at my door. But anything more and Potter would want to tell the world like an idiotic romantic.

Anything more might lead to marriage… kids… growing old together. Purely Gryffindor notions. I certainly didn't want that.

Marriage to Potter! I snorted at the thought. We'd move to a little cottage in the country. Our daughter would be a potions genius like me. Our son would be an athlete like Potter. I'd retire from teaching to watch the kids so Potter could continue being the Quidditch star. Maybe I'd start a little potions business from our basement. We'd have the Weasleys over for Sunday dinner.

Sometime during my sarcastic representation of our fake and impossible future, I found myself smiling. Surprisingly, it was a wistful smile and the bitter sneer at the sheer ridiculousness that I expected it to be. It sounded… nice. Tolerable.

Damnit! My brain was just catching up to my heart it seemed. How long had I been denying the fact that I was utterly and irreversibly… attached… to Potter? This was not good. Although Potter had for all intents and purposes moved in to my rooms, who said that he wanted anything more than just our current arrangement?

I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. I should end it. Stop this madness before one of us got hurt or further tangled up in feelings that wouldn't be wise to unleash. Because even if we both felt the same way (and how likely was that considering fate seemed to hate me?), no one would ever accept us as a legitimate couple.

Pulling on my pajama bottoms, I got under the covers, hoping to stop the thoughts racing through my mind by slipping into unconsciousness for eight hours or so. Unfortunately, I spent several hours staring at the ceiling and cursing the Potter brat.

I must have fallen asleep eventually because when I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, I had a warm body wrapped around my back that wasn't there before. I turned to come face to face with the peaceful sleeping form of Harry Potter. Apparently, he could get in without activating my wards and get into my bed without waking me up. It definitely said something about my comfort level with him and my magic's acceptance of him in my life.

My shifting caused him to seek out my warmth and he snuggled into my chest. Automatically, I wrapped my arms around him. It was a position we must have slept in hundreds of times, but that night it seemed so much more intimate. It seemed to mean so much more.

"Did I wake you when I came in?" he mumbled into my chest, his voice thick with sleep.

"No. You must have kept your stumbling and slamming down to a minimum."

"I tried my best. It was really hard not to wake you up deliberately and let you have your way with me. You looked so sexy curled up half-naked."

I raised an eyebrow, realized he couldn't see me in the dark and with his head buried in my chest, and said, "Indeed?"

"Of course, I always find you downright shaggable, but there's just something about you when you're asleep that sets my blood afire."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I wasn't used to compliments or flattery. It made me feel awkward, especially since I knew I didn't deserve such praise. Instead I asked, "Aren't you supposed to be in Sweden?"

Potter leaned up on an elbow to gaze down at me. "You looked at my schedule! You do care!" He gave me a wide smile. I pushed him over. He curled up against me again. "I was in Sweden. We were practicing this afternoon when a blizzard hit. It's supposed to last three days and they were going to make us play through it tomorrow, but it was so bad that our scrimmage ended in disaster. We lost three Snitches, a Bludger, and Nadine's favorite Quaffle to the wind. We kept running into the stands because of poor visibility. Our keeper wasn't even in front of the goal by the end. Somehow she got confused and had veered off about 20 feet to the left. Coach was so mad that he made the Swedish team agree to postpone the match until Wednesday. It took hours to get international Portkeys back home, but I came here as soon as I returned. You don't mind, do you?"

"I am not adverse to your company. It would hardly seem like a weekend without you around to bother me."

"Well, then," Potter murmured seductively, "I should do my duty and bother you." He leaned the length of his body against me, his intent made clear by the bulge pressing against my hip. "After all, you've already got me hot and bothered."

My breath hitched as he climbed on top of me and pressed his mouth to mine, grinding his arousal against my body that was becoming rapidly interested. It was when his tongue traced my lips to gain access to my mouth that I remembered the issue that had distracted me earlier that evening. We needed to talk. I needed to figure out what we actually had between us.

In one smooth move, I swung him off me and rolled on top of him. He wiggled underneath me and it was all I could do to not just ravage him like he wanted. "Mr. Potter, before you attack my person, we need to talk." I rolled off him again and sat up.

He sat up as well and looked at me warily. "Is everything ok?"

I didn't know where to start. It was awkward. What if he laughed in my face when I asked if what we had had turned into more than just sex? Could I take the rejection if he left? Could I take the major change in my way of life if he stayed?

"Harry, are you happy with our arrangement?"

His eyes widened at the use of his first name. It was something I reserved for shouting out in the peak of passion. Any other time I simply called him Potter. He always called me Severus. He stopped calling me Snape long before we even got together that first time.

"Something's wrong. You used my first name." His eyes again widened but in fear this time. "Are you ok? Is the venom acting up? The Healers said it might but…"

"I'm fine," I snapped, cutting him off. I forced my tone to become gentler. "Nothing's wrong, per se, I just need some things cleared up."

"Like what?"

"Like when exactly did you basically move into my rooms?"

He cocked his head, giving me a curious look. "I've had some stuff here for months now. I always asked before bringing anything new in. You were always ok with it. Are you not ok with it anymore? Do you want me to remove it all?"

"No. I don't want you to."

"Oh good. It would make being here every weekend a lot harder if I didn't have my stuff here." He flopped back against the pillows. "Is that all that's bothering you?"

"Why do you keep coming back every weekend?" I blurted out.

He sat up again and scooted until we were face to face. He stared into my eyes, looking for something. "Why do you keep letting me come back?" he countered. "You could have kicked me out at any time."

"It's not in a Slytherin's nature to turn down something given so freely to them."

"And it's not in a Gryffindor's nature to let go of something that means a lot to them."

"The sex means a lot to you?"

"It isn't just sex anymore, Severus. It hasn't been just sex for awhile."

"What is this then if it isn't 'just sex'?"

He laughed and stroked a hand down my cheek. "You poor, thick Slytherin. Like it or not, we've been in a relationship for months now."

"And when, pray tell, did that happen?" I drawled with my usual sneer when really inside I was jumping for joy like some dumb love-sick first year Hufflepuff.

"September." He laughed again when my eyes bulged out. "Yup, that long. Five months of you not knowing that we were exclusive."

"I certainly don't remember having a talk about being exclusive. What made this go from sex to a relationship?"

"When you started asking about my week. When we would sit in a comfortable silence by the fire and read for hours together. When you made room to put a towel out for me. When I told Ron and Hermione and they had already figured it out because every time I said your name I'd get this goofy grin. When I figured that I'd be here every day of the week if it wasn't for my Quidditch schedule or your heavy work and class load. When you started sending me short notes during the week to tell me something stupid a Gryffindor did because it reminded you of me when I was in school."

I sat in stunned silence as he kept listing reasons. When laid out plain like that, I could see that we obviously had something more than just casual sex going on. And the stupid Gryffindor caught on quicker than me. I shamed my house.

"What makes you think that I even want a relationship with you?" I asked, trying to gain back some control of the situation.

He straddled my lap and softly kissed my nose. "Because at night when I am awake and just staring at your sleeping form, you reach out for me and pull me close and whisper my name and get a goofy smile."

"And you want to be with me?" I whispered softly against his lips, scared that it was all some practical joke and he would run off laughing any second.

"As crazy as it may sound I don't keep coming back just for the mind-blowing sex. I come back for you. And I am amazed every time that you allow me in without hesitation. Not only in your home but also in your heart."

Overcome with emotion and unable to talk, I showed him my approval by grabbing the back of his head and crushing his lips to mine. The small cry of surprise at the sudden movement quickly turned into a moan of desire as I stroked his tongue with mine. Still straddled on my lap, he pushed his body forward to create friction between our erections and attempted to slip his hand under the elastic of my pajama bottoms.

With a growl, I flipped him over and loomed over him. "Gryffindors are so impatient," I said in my lecturing voice, the voice I knew drove him completely wild. Ignoring his huffs of eagerness and irritation, I trailed a slow line of kisses down his jaw and fixed my mouth securely on his neck.

"Please, Severus! It's been a week. I know we've basically just made vows of undying love for each other, but can we speed this up a bit?"

"It seems that even though you've graduated, I still have a lot to teach you. Mainly in the areas of restraint and self-control." I silenced what was bound to be another whiney tirade by sliding my hands under his t-shirt and gently grazing his nipples. His body arched into my palms and he swallowed any complaint that had been on the tip of his tongue.

I pulled off his shirt and marveled at the well-toned chest and abdomen which lay before me. His chest heaved with each breath he pulled in and his muscles rippled with the effort I knew he was putting in to not jumping up and taking what he wanted. Sneaking a peek at his lust-filled eyes and cherry-red lips, I decided that I needed to taste him again. I covered his body with my own and nearly purred at the skin to skin contact. Starting with his lips, I kissed my way downwards, leaving small marks here and there to claim what was and what would always be mine.

I stopped at the top of his sweatpants, teasing him with feather-light touches along the band. He groaned in frustration. "Please, Severus! I need more!"

Wanting to reward him for his uncharacteristic show of restraint, I pulled off his pants and released him to the cool air of the dungeons. He hissed in a mix of surprise and approval. I lingered mere centimeters over the head of his cock, not touching but letting my breath graze it as I breathed. Waiting until I knew I had his full attention, I then licked from base to head while keeping eye contact the whole time. His hands blindly grabbed onto the bedspread as I took him into my mouth and sucked hard. There was no teasing here, just me focusing on giving him total and complete pleasure. I knew what he liked and I pulled out every trick in the book. Soon I had Harry Potter melted into a puddle of whimpering, moaning mush.

I caught words as my mouth danced up and down his shaft, but he wasn't making any coherent statements. Most of what I did manage to decipher consisted of "fuck", "yes", "Merlin", and "please". He did manage to pull enough brain cells together to cry out "Oh gods, I think I'm gunna…" before spilling his seed into my awaiting mouth.

When he was finished, he laid back against the mattress, boneless and satiated. I hardly let him recuperate at all before pushing up on his legs so he bended at the knee and pulled them against his chest. Laid bare beneath my roving eyes was a delicious view of his slightly rounded ass and puckered hole which was just waiting to be filled.

I lifted my hand to summon the jar of lube from my nightstand drawer, when Harry grabbed my wrist to get my attention. "No time," he panted. "I need you now."

"Potter, don't be ridiculous. I don't want to hurt you."

"Use the lubrication spell, then, but, Sev, please please please don't take the time to prepare me."

"Oh, yeah, cause the spell is oh so romantic."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Severus Snape, are you trying to be romantic and make this special?"

I rolled my eyes. "Merlin forbid that I try and mark this occasion by making it something other than the quick and dirty coupling we usually do."

"That's really sweet of you and I promise to accommodate you some other time, but could you please put your glorious cock up my ass already?"

"Brat." He gave a triumphant smile as the spell I cast wandlessly spread throughout his channel. "Just know that you are paying for this later." His eyes closed in ecstasy as I pushed into his hot tightness. "Masochist," I bit out as filled him. The smirk he gave in return was eerily similar to my own.

When I was fully sheathed, I leaned over to place a kiss on his lips before starting at a rapid pace that drove both of us wild. I was rewarded with a wanton moan with every thrust. He writhed beneath me, the perfect picture of passionate abandon.

We didn't last long, the pace quickly pulling him over the edge to orgasm. The visual image of Harry Potter climaxing beneath me, coupled with the feeling of his tight channel quivering around me, forced me to follow a few moments later. I held myself above him for a few extra seconds to relish every last tremor of his body before gently pulling out and collapsing beside him on the mattress. With a nudge from him, I rearranged my limbs so he could comfortably snuggle up beside me to wait out the post-coital daze.

"Wow," he sighed a few minutes later.


I felt the bed shift as he sat up and cracked open an eye to see what he was doing. I cocked an eyebrow in question when he just stared at me. "I want to tell people," he informed me.

"The sex was good but there's no need to blabber to anyone about it."

"You know what I mean."

I groaned at the thought of a serious talk so soon after sex, but sat up as well to get it over with. "You realize that people are going to judge."

"I don't care what other people say."

"It's going to be a difficult beginning to our public relationship."

He grinned. "After what we've been through, it'll be manageable."

"Fine, then. As long as you understand and don't come whining to me about people being mean, you can tell whoever you want. Alert the papers if needed."

"I was thinking we start with Minerva and maybe the rest of the Weasley clan. Maybe be seen in public together. No need to alert Rita Skeeter."

"That's acceptable."

He looped his arms around me and pulled me back down. "And what will I introduce you as? My boyfriend?"

I made a face. "We're not teenage boys using Hogsmeade trips as dates."

"Significant other?"

I fluffed my pillow and settled into the blankets, getting ready to go back to sleep. "How about fiancé?" I asked nonchalantly.


I gave a genuine chuckle as Harry launched himself into my arms and kissed me thoroughly.