Epiphany

RATING: PG-13
NOTES: For Darth Katzchen, whose fault the plotbunny was. A reply to Telanu’s first line challenge crept in of its own accord.
WARNING: Silliness.


Harry jerked bolt upright in his bed. It was all so clear now. All of a sudden he knew why he’d been drawn to Professor Snape all these years. How could he have been such an idiot as to not have seen it before? It was blindingly obvious, and clearly Snape felt the same way. What other possible reason could there be for all the attention Snape had paid him in the last six and a half years?

Then he realised he had detention – with Snape – later that day. Joy! Clearly the world loved him. Everything was falling perfectly into place. He hummed happily to himself as he went about his daily routine.

“Snape, Snape,” he sang cheerfully in the shower after casting a cautious silencing charm. Not everyone would be overjoyed by his revelation, he knew, were he to share the news with them.

The clang of cutlery on plates sounded an awful lot like ‘Snape’, he thought to himself at breakfast (and at lunch and dinner).

The shadows in the armour niches in the walls looked an awful lot like black robes, he mused as he walked to his Charms lesson.

And it went like that for the rest of the day. Nothing it seemed was too trivial for his notice, or so unique as not to remind him of Snape.

After dinner Harry practically ran up to the dorms. He changed quickly, doing his robes up carefully. Then he half-danced his way down to the dungeons, barely noticing the look his friends gave each other as he blatantly ignored their greetings and commiserations. Nothing mattered except that he was going to see Snape – Severus.

He knocked on the door of the Potions master’s office, stepping inside when he received the command to ‘Come’. Soon, he thought. Ignoring the jars and bottles lining the walls, he fixed his eyes on the one thing worth seeing in all that expanse of stone floor and walls and loaded shelves.

Severus Snape… you sexy bitch, he caught himself thinking, and laughed out loud. It sounded so wrong, and yet so right.

Snape gave him a completely bemused look. “You’ve never found detention with me something to laugh at before, Potter.” The poor man sounded almost hurt. Harry strove to put the required oppressed expression on his face. Whatever it took to make him happy.

He hummed his way through the detention, almost physically incapable of the patience required to look like he didn’t want to be there and to survive the detention without doing something… unexpected.

Finally the clock on the wall ticked its painstaking way to nine. “You may go,” said Severus, seeming almost glad to be getting rid of him. Harry didn’t let it get to him. He knew what the man really felt. It was a glowing certainty inside him – or maybe that was the anticipation, the knowledge of what would come next.

Snape had stood and walked over to the door, ready to let him out. He stood too, as if he were about to obey the unspoken command. “Oh, just one thing,” he said as if in passing, taking one step towards the desk.

“Yes?” Snape’s impatience was eminently clear. Bet you won’t be nearly so impatient in a minute, thought Harry gleefully.

“I… well,” said Harry, beginning to unbutton his robes.

“What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing, boy?!” He sounded perfectly scandalised.

“What do you think I’m doing?” retorted Harry inventively. There was precious little blood left in his brain to allow him to think of witty comebacks. It had all gone… somewhere else. Shrugging out of his robes, he left himself clad only in a pair of briefs a size too small.

Snape seemed only capable of staring in what was supposed to be shock and Harry rather thought was desire.

He spread himself out over Snape’s abandoned desk like a sacrifice to his personal dark god and allowed one hand to drift caressingly over his body. Then, just in case he hadn’t made his message completely clear, he said “I love you. Fuck me now. Please.” More of a command than a request.

Snape’s jaw dropped.

“Very funny,” he said after some minutes of utter bemusement and some horror. “Now get dressed and get out and perhaps I will refrain from reporting this to the Headmaster.”

“Oh, Albus? He won’t mind,” replied Harry, with perfect confidence. “Now, I know you want me, so why don’t you stop pretending, hmm?” He was starting to become exasperated by Snape’s denial of what was so plainly obvious.

“Pretending?!” He sounded half-strangled, the word coming out in a hoarse croak.

Harry sighed. Clearly the man had better resistance than he’d expected. He peeled himself off the desk and prowled over to the object of his affections, who still had one hand on the doorknob, frozen in the attitude he’d been in before Harry started his display.

“Well, if you don’t want me,” Harry allowed a strategic pout. “At least let me have one thing from you.” He pounced before the man had time to move or resist.

Snape made some sort of garbled sound as the (clearly quite insane) boy pressed himself against him. And kissed him.

Harry rejoiced in the success of this latest ploy as Snape stuck his tongue into his mouth and swirled it around. After a few moments, he broke away. Harry whined and tried to pull him back. “Stay right there, Potter. And for God’s sake, put your robe back on!” growled Snape as he moved towards a shelf of neatly labelled vials.

Harry pouted again, but Severus had just kissed him, so he decided he could afford to give in on this one point. For now.

“Here. Take this,” ordered Snape when Harry was ‘dressed’ once more, handing him a vial containing a rather pleasantly blue solution.

“What? Why?”

“Just take it, Potter.”

“Harry.”

Snape glared.

“Harry, or I don’t take it.”

“Fine. Take it. Harry.”

“Please.”

“What?”

“Say please. I know how you feel now, so you don’t need to be horrible to me.”

Snape rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Take it. Please. Harry.”

Harry grinned triumphantly and downed the potion.

Then he sat down abruptly on the floor and convulsed as Snape watched dispassionately.

Finally Harry managed to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position on the hard stone floor. His eyes landed on Snape and he visibly winced. “Oh god,” he murmured, hiding his face in his hands. “What did I do?”

Snape allowed himself a smirk. “I have no idea how ‘Cupiditates Celata’ found its way into your system, but I suggest you find out.”

“Oh god.” Nothing else could describe his utter mortification. Please, just let me die. He just knew he was blushing tomato-red, and he couldn’t really blame himself for that. The rest of it was another story…

Snape’s smirk grew wider. “Now, Mr Potter,” he said, moving towards the door again, “Perhaps you will relieve me of the unbearable pleasure of your company.”

Yes. Get out. Good idea. Harry levered himself off the ground and stood up, aching all over, and not in a good way. He shuffled towards the door, hanging his head and unsure what he could do or say. He’d never be able to look Snape in the face again, and no doubt the man would get some bizarre satisfaction out of telling the entire class in their next Potions lesson.

“I’m very sorry,” he muttered, still looking intently at the ground. “I mean… You know I’d never have done it otherwise, right?”

“Oh, I’m convinced of that,” replied Snape. Harry thought he could hear amusement in his tone, but couldn’t make himself look at the man.

Snape opened the door for him, and Harry crept into the corridor, looking guiltily both ways before stepping out. “Oh, just one more thing, Potter,” came that deadly silken voice from behind him.

“Mmf?” said Harry articulately, turning and looking unwillingly up at the man.

Snape swooped down on him and kissed him. Thoroughly.

Harry kissed him back, shocked but enthusiastic.

“What… I… you… what?” he got out when they broke apart.

“I would have thought you knew enough Latin by now, Harry, to realise that ‘Cupiditates Celata’ translates to Hidden Desires.”

“Oh.”

Snape smirked once more and shut the door very definitely in his face.

Harry trudged back to the dormitory, wondering what all that had been about. He rather suspected that come the end of the year, assuming he survived both Voldemort and the NEWTs, he would have a rather… pressing… engagement with his professor.