With a loud yawn, Harry stretched himself out over the large king sized mattress. He groaned softly, his lower back and arse throbbing in pain. Harry's eyes cracked open and he found himself on his stomach, cheek pressed into a deep, forest-green pillow. "How strange…"Harry thought before turning onto his back and sitting up. Upon first glance, the room was normal. There was a window on the left wall that was covered with wooden blinds and heavy, luxurious drapes. There was a dresser, two nightstands on both sides of the bed and a desk strewn with papers tucked into the corner of the room. There were two silver snakes adorning the headboard of the bed.

A faint pink blush dusted Harry's cheeks at the thought of the night he had spent with his professor. The blush on Harry's cheeks grew brighter.Harry kicked the blankets back, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. His lower back and hips protested but he brushed the pain off.

Harry glanced around the bedroom floor and his eyes settled on his underwear. He took a moment to recall exactly what had happened last night. He was going to serve a detention when… when Severus came onto him? When the potions professor's voice made him want to touch every inch of skin available on the elder's body (yes)? He remembered he was all too eager to oblige to the older man's wishes. Either that or he melted into a puddle of goo. Honestly, it was most likely the former and latter combined.

He pulled his boxers on, stumbling slightly. When Harry opened the door, the smell of eggs, bacon, and freshly brewed coffee greeted his nose warmly. Running his fingers through his already unruly hair, Harry exited the room slowly, one step at a time.

Harry entered a large kitchen with granite countertops and eggs sizzling on the stove. The kitchen led off into a pretty living room. What caught Harry's eyes weren't the countertops, the eggs, or the nice living room, but the boxer-clad Severus Snape sitting at the kitchen table, paper and coffee mug in hand. He peered at Harry over the tip of the Daily Prophet.So, his teacher was a boxers person. Harry coughed and had to avert his eyes.

"Close your mouth or the flies will get in," Severus grumbled before resuming reading the paper, leaving Harry standing, dumbfounded. Taking the man's advice, Harry shut his mouth and instead feasted his eyes on the potions professor seated at the kitchen table. His signature crooked nose buried in the paper, his broad chest covered in scars from hundreds of battles, his hips dipping into his underwear. The lines of his abdomen and muscled torso looked tantalizingly delicious to the teenage boy whose hormones were raging.

Strolling over to the granite counters, Harry plucked a muffin from a plate and a glass of orange juice that had been waiting for him. Wandering back to the kitchen table, Harry sat cross-legged in one of the wooden chairs and nibbled on his muffin, watching Severus intently. After a few moments of awkward that was only interrupting with the occasional rustle of paper, Severus rolled his eyes and sighed before looking across at Harry, "Yes, Potter? What is the reason you're staring at me?"

Harry took a moment to consider his response, "You didn't call me Potter last night. You called me Harry," he finally said quietly, averting his gaze shyly to the muffin he was holding.

"The present is not last night, Potter. Calling you Potter seems much more appropriate, especially due to the fact that I've regained what little sanity I've been able to maintain in my ripe age," Severus said, his voice monotone while he resumed his newspaper reading.

"Oh," Harry said at a loss of words. Severus wanted to talk about appropriate? He had a seventeen year old boy in only underwear standing in his kitchen. Yes, he's much more appropriate with a mug of coffee and some bullshit newspaper.

The auburn haired boy set his half-eaten muffin down and drained his glass of orange juice. "Well, I guess I'll leave then. Where are my clothes?" Harry asked, though he was silently begging for Snape to tell him to stay.

"They're somewhere in the room," Snape said, waving his hand dismissively. Harry sighed, defeated.

"Thanks," he muttered ungratefully, dragging himself up and out of the kitchen seat, sauntering past Snape and into the bedroom to find his jeans and his T-shirt. He wondered where his cloak was but didn't question it.

After pulling his jeans on and tugging his shirt over his head, Harry exited the bedroom and found Snape stillreading the freaking paper. Harry sighed and grabbed the muffin off the kitchen table. "Mind if I take this?" Harry asked, trying to bide for more time. Snape dismissed Harry again with a, "Sure, whatever," the whole time, Snape had not made eye contact with Harry.

Harry grunted and took a bite out of it, frowning, "I'll see you in class on Monday," Harry grumbled. Who did Snape think he was? Some one-night stand? How stupid! What a greasy old g–

"You can come back tonight if you'd like," Snape said, interrupting Harry's thoughts while nonchalantly sipping his coffee. Relief lit up Harry's eyes and a grin colored his features, "Yeah, alright. Sounds great."

"Okay. Seven o' clock would be fine. I love you, see you then," Snape said, briefly glancing up at Harry then back down at his paper. Harry almost missed them – the three words. He was so very glad he had been paying attention.

"Hold on. Snape, would you mind saying that again? I didn't, uh… I didn't quite hear you..."

Snape pressed his lips together tightly, his eyebrow twitching in irritation, "I said, 'seven o' clock would be fine. See you then.' You ought to get your hearing checked, Potter. And since when were you allowed to call me Snape?" Snape grumbled, taking another drink of his coffee.

Harry's grin widened. "No, Snape," Harry added emphasis to Snape's name, "you said something else. What was it I heard? 'I love you'? I think that was it," Harry taunted, making his way back toward Snape as seductively as he could manage.

"I don't recall saying such a preposterous thing. I'm quite certain I would remember if I had, which I obviously didn't," Severus objected, setting down his newspaper and glaring at Harry over the rim of his coffee mug.

Harry was feeling bold, though. "Yes. You did, Severus."

"I did not."

"Ah, but you did."

"I did not, Potter."

"You did, Severus."

"Potter."

"Severus."

Harry stood in front of Severus now. Feeling daring, Harry placed his knees on both sides of Snape's legs and straddled the older man's thighs. He sank onto his hips – his barely covered hips, Harry was happy to add. Severus pursed his thin lips, his eyes momentarily becoming glossy from the added pressure on his groin.

"Say it again, Severus, I didn't quite catch it," Harry teased, rocking his hips once, earning a grunt of surprise from his professor's throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Potter," Severus said, remaining indignant. Snape's hands had somehow found their way to Harry's backside, giving him a gentle squeeze, kneading the male's cheeks softly with his calloused hands.

"Well, Severus, do you want to know something?" Harry asked, grinding himself against Severus. The action emitted a suppressed growl of approval. Harry struggled to keep a straight face as he ground into Snape's lap. He could feel the elder man's hardening member press against the inside of his thigh.

"Do enlighten me, Potter." Severus said, his snarky voice losing its snide touch. Instead a moan laced his sentence with pleasure.

"I love you, too, you greasy old git," Harry purred before he swooped down to seal Snape's thin lips with his own plump ones, his eyelids dropping shut.