The Merryweather Hotel

Part Four

Harry woke up feeling refreshed and rested, the cloud of exhaustion that had been with him for days finally lifted.

He tried to reclaim the detached attitude he had had just days before about a possible future relationship with Snape, but had to face the fact that his feelings for the man were different now than they had been then. The casual attraction was gone.

Harry was now hopelessly and deeply in love with him. Through the effect of the curse and the resulting completely unguarded time together, he had gotten to know Snape better than he knew anyone else, from the inside out, and he loved everything about him: his intelligence, his cold logic, his quirky and biting humor, his insecurities and the artfulness of his carefully manufactured public persona.

Whether these feelings were responsible for his current arousal or whether being around Snape so much had made Harry appreciate his physique more, he wasn’t sure. It was ironic though that while they had been forced close together for hours on end by the curse, his body had been so uninterested. Now that two doors and the full length of the suite separated them, the thought of Snape had Harry’s cock at full mast and throbbing with need.

What he wanted most in that moment was to get up and cross that distance, take back his space in Snape’s bed, and make both of them forget the outside world for a very long time.

But he didn’t dare. When he had first arrived back at the Hotel, Snape had blurted out that he found Harry attractive and enjoyed his company. However, that had been before their time together. Harry was painfully aware from past relationships that, alas, in his case, familiarity did breed contempt.

The few boyfriends he had had through the years seemed to have all left him for the same reasons. After the novelty of the glamour of being with Harry Potter had worn out, there hadn’t seemed to be anything left to keep them interested. Neither his moderate good looks nor his good nature had been enough to make up for the fact that behind it all, he was perfectly ordinary, with limited interests outside of his extremely demanding job. Snape would probably be relieved to see the back of him and grateful he had not had to bother to date him to find that out.

His arousal resisted these sobering thoughts. His mind wandered to the man across the suite, and he imagined what it would be like to make love to him, to tell him through his caresses everything he felt.

There was still a remnant of Snape’s scent on his shirt and a clear memory of how it had felt to be held in Snape’s arms. He took off the shirt, laid it on the pillow next to him, and lightly running his hand down his chest and stomach, slid it under the waistband of his boxers. He was very hard and started stroking himself slowly, knowing he was already close.

He remembered Snape’s fine ass in the transfigured jeans, his deep rumbling laugh, the smooth white skin he had admired in the pool, with its trail of dark hair, the erotic quality of Snape’s voice, the warmth of Snape’s body against his own, and the impressive cock he had seen in repose in the shower and he came helplessly, in long spurts of exquisite pleasure, his nose deep in his shirt, breathing in the scent of the man he loved.

He lay there for a while, letting his heartbeat return to normal, enjoying his wellbeing. But he could not stay there forever. To motivate himself to get up and face reality, he decided that before leaving he would take advantage of The Merryweather’s magnificent pool one more time. He transfigured his silk boxers into swimming trunks, put on a hotel robe, and left his room.

Snape was up, sitting by the fire and reading, dressed in black, of course. Harry could not help a spontaneous smile at the sight, while his heart decided that beating faster was better.

“Going for a swim?” Snape asked, looking up from his book.

“Yes. I decided to take advantage of the pool while I still could. Would you like to join me?”

“I was counting on it. I held off until you were up. I won’t be a minute.”

Harry was pleased beyond reason that Snape had waited for him for his workout. It meant nothing, really, but he couldn’t help himself.

In the elevator, Harry could not remember how to talk to the man with whom, just a few hours ago, he had exchanged more personal stories than with anyone else before in his life. It reminded him of the morning after one night stands (and why he avoided them strenuously). He was scouring his brain for something to say when he noticed that Snape, also wearing one of the hotel’s bathrobes, was holding a small box in his hands.

“Are these your ear plugs?”

“Yes.” Snape opened the container to show the clear silicone plugs. “I use them for bathing and swimming. Childhood ear infections left my eardrums irreversibly tattered, magic or not. There is such a separation between our British magical world and Muggle technology, I had ever only used cotton wrapped in beeswax as plugs, which left an unpleasant residue in my ear canals, until I discovered these in America.” He closed up the box. “I used to have a phobia of getting my head wet, which resulted in my washing my hair far less often than I should have.”

He suspected that Snape’s detailed answer might be hiding feelings of uneasiness similar to his, which relaxed him somewhat.

“Really? I’m sure no one noticed,” he answered, deadpan.

Snape chuckled. “Of course not."

Though he felt a little easier, Harry did not want to have to face Snape in the shower. He was quite sure that even after his pleasant wank an hour before, his body would betray him. He got out of the pool earlier than usual and waited for Snape in the atrium.

The ride back to the suite was completely silent, and Harry became more miserable every moment. He felt as if a deep chasm had opened between them, confirming his worst fear. He shouldn’t have stayed.

He wanted to go home and lick his wounds, knowing Snape would be relieved if he left quickly. He went back to his room, dried his togs with a charm, transfigured them back to boxers, and dressed as rapidly as he could. His black clothes felt like a bad joke now, but he couldn’t be bothered to transfigure them.

He put his stupid overdressed black cloak over his arm and walked out. Snape was just getting out of his room as well. He looked troubled, and Harry was sure he was trying to find a diplomatic way to get rid of him. Snape was about to say something, but Harry cut him off, wanting to save himself the humiliation.

“Well, it’s getting on. I’ve got to go,” he said. “I have a lot of things to catch up with today, and then it will be back to work tomorrow…”

Snape’s face was now completely expressionless, no doubt hiding his relief at getting off so easily. “Potter…”

“It’s been an interesting few days, that’s for sure,” Harry added with an inane and mortifying giggle. He swallowed hard. “I’ll see you around.” One last nod in Snape’s direction, and he was opening the door.

Snape’s hand appeared above his shoulder and slammed the door shut again.

“Where in the hell do you imagine you are going, Potter?” Snape's voice was dangerously low. “Do you sincerely believe that after what we have been through together these past forty-eight hours, you can just leave and pretend none of it ever happened?”

His back still to Snape, Harry started, “I just don’t see what there is to be gained…”

“Would you at least extend me the courtesy of looking at me when you tell me that it has meant nothing to you?”

Harry’s heart started beating very strongly in his chest. He had been so blinded by his desire to spare his own feelings, he was being unbelievably rude to a man who had every right to expect his friendship.

Just because there was no chance that Snape’s feelings might mirror his own did not mean he was unaffected by their strange experience. Running off like a coward was incredibly selfish on his part.

Harry took a deep breath and turned to face Snape, who had stepped back from the door. “I’m sorry, Snape. I’m feeling… overwhelmed, and I’m acting like an ass.”

Snape’s eyes were questioning. Harry did not know what he made of his expression, but he seemed to relax a little.

“What makes you think you are the only one feeling overwhelmed?” he asked gently.

Harry felt his pathetic defenses crumble. He had never been good at hiding his feelings and was sure that now that he was forced to look at Snape, they were written all over his face. His hand came up automatically to adjust his glasses, but even that small protection had been taken away. He felt totally exposed.

Snape took a step forward and caught his hand before it finished the useless gesture.

“I am sorry, Harry,” he said, sounding truly repentant.

Then he looked in Harry’s eyes and very deliberately brought the hand he had just caught to his mouth, touching the knuckles to his lips, all the while gauging Harry’s reaction. Harry could not resist. He ran the back of his fingers tentatively along Snape’s jaw and caressed his cheek. Snape leaned into his touch, never dropping his gaze, and stepped forward again, his body now only inches away.

Harry’s control was rapidly slipping. His body was shaking with want, and his heart was thundering in his chest so strongly, he was quite sure that Snape could hear it. He cupped the back of Snape’s head and gently pulled him downward.

Snape spoke against his lips. “Please do not leave”, he said, his breath warm on Harry’s mouth. “I do not want you to go.”

“Then I won’t,” answered Harry simply and he pressed their lips together. Because Harry was wearing boots and Snape was barefoot, it was not as awkward as it could have been. Harry stood on his toes, and Snape spread his feet apart a little, reducing their inconvenient height difference, allowing the kiss to deepen.

Snape’s kiss was surprisingly soft and gentle, his tongue pliant, caressing, and almost tentative. It held such tenderness, Harry’s own feelings rushed to the surface, his love sweeping him away. It was a marvelous kiss, the focus of his entire being, alive with words unsaid, each stroke of Snape’s tongue a declaration, and the trembling of his lips a plea and a promise.

Snape’s arms encircled him tightly, and Harry responded by melting against the tall and lean body. His mind was swirling in the sensations and the overwhelming emotions. He hardly noticed the brief Apparation that put them in Snape’s bedroom at the side of the bed where they had spent hours holding tightly onto each other.

“Can we?” asked Snape.

It was wonderful to be asked so pleadingly for what he wanted most in the world.

“Oh, yes,” Harry answered. “Yes, please.”

They stepped away from each other. How quickly can a person disrobe, given the proper motivation? Evidently quite fast, since one minute they had both been dressed and the next they were lying facing each other in bed, pressed against one another, hands roaming, without a stitch on.

They were kissing again, the same soft and loving kiss as before, but this time their eyes were open, neither of them hiding from what that kiss was saying.

Snape slid a leg between Harry’s and his hands to his backside, getting them that much closer, and then effortlessly rolled Harry on top of him. The change in pressure brought a change in the quality of the kiss. As they started sliding deliciously against each other, it became full of heat and urgency.

Harry knew what he wanted, what he liked, what he craved. His heartbeat became faster and more erratic at the thought of it. But he was worried. So many times his desire to be taken had been answered with enthusiasm in the heat of the moment only to be mocked later. He understood his body well enough to know that once anything touched him there, his need would reduce him to do anything, say anything to be satisfied.

He thought of Snape’s soft tender kiss. Maybe this time, it would be different. Maybe he would get what he wanted so desperately and not see disdain in Snape’s eyes afterwards.

Harry sucked in Snape’s tongue, letting it retreat, and sucking it in again, as their hips started grinding against each other in earnest. A light of understanding came into the dark eyes and Snape started fucking Harry’s mouth with his tongue, his silent question answered by the needy moan Harry could not hold back.

“Oh God, yes,” Snape growled, his own want loud and clear, making Harry shiver with anticipation. They rolled again, and Snape was on top. He started kissing his way down Harry’s body, with a determination that was the right answer to Harry’s need, sparking heady sensations on the way with kisses and licks and bites.

Harry watched with helpless arousal as the elegant hands he had always noticed pushed his knees further apart, and he arched helplessly as one of them took his cock and squeezed rhythmically, unmoving. Unexpectedly, Snape’s eager mouth took both his balls in its moist heat as his tongue darted to the sensitive area behind them. It was startling and so delicious, Harry’s orgasm exploded out in hot jets even as he was trying with everything he had to hold it off, a cry of both incredulous pleasure and utter frustration on his lips.

He opened his eyes to give an apologetic look to Snape, only to find an appreciative light in the dark, dark eyes. With a feral smile on his lips, Snape bent down and eagerly slurped the come off Harry's stomach, taking in his sensitized cock’s head to draw out and swallow the last possible drop.

To his grateful disbelief, Harry felt his cock twitching under Snape’s sloppy ministrations and starting to fill again.

Snape slipped both hands under his ass and raised it off the bed, spreading his cheeks with his thumbs. Anticipating the exquisite pleasure of a probing finger, Harry closed his eyes. The delight of a warm wetness sweeping over his entrance followed by a warm breath blowing on it sent his senses whirling. Before Harry’s mind could adjust, Snape’s tongue was circling Harry’s hole, his lips sucking, his tongue getting closer and closer to that moment of perfection when it hardened and stabbed, penetrating Harry’s anus, hot and moist and perfect, making Harry scream in pleasure, his cock gloriously back to full hardness.

For an eternity, it seemed rimming his hole was Snape’s reason for living, and mewling in helpless wonder was Harry’s destiny. His empty hands were fisting the sheets, his head thrashing on the pillow, and he was panting, begging incoherently, arching with shattered cries.

The long thumbs kept opening him further, massaging the outer ring of muscles, the tongue was following in, warming, soothing, relaxing his sphincter, and Snape’s prominent nose was pushing in his perineum, applying external pressure to his prostate, making him see sparks and stars. From a glazed distance, he watched, barely aware, as Snape transfigured all the wetness left by his saliva into something much slicker, raised his hips with a bolster and, pushing Harry’s knees up and apart against his chest, guided himself into him in one smooth motion.

Filling him completely, his balls pressed tight against Harry’s ass, Snape looked at him with jealous possessive greed. Harry loved that Snape’s expression should be so unguarded, so nakedly needy. Then Snape started to move, slowly at first, never looking away, and the world flipped again. Harry felt open, body and soul, and absolutely certain that only Snape could fill that void.

The pain from the entry of Snape’s imposing cock eased and pleasure returned tenfold. Harry held on tight to his knees, as Snape’s rhythm increased, his hips snapping, his balls slapping Harry cheeks, the pumping cock rubbing Harry prostate at each pass, its motion pulling the sensitive rim of his hole in and out, making red flowers of pleasure bloom behind his lids.

Snape’s noises of bliss, first low purring growls, then deep rhythmic grunts, could have, alone, brought Harry to the brink, but his entire body was already singing in rapture, each thrust bringing him higher and higher. Finally Snape arched back and pushed into Harry one last time, as deep as he could go, his whole body pulsing with his release, his guttural cries filling the room, and Harry came again, hard, his eyes locked on the white skin of his lover’s neck, on his Adam’s apple and the curve of his jaw, in his orgasmic delirium the most gorgeous sight he had ever seen.

Their eyes met again, as Snape gently pulled out of him. Though his whole body was shaking, Snape pushed himself to his knees, removed the bolster from under Harry’s hips, and helped him unfold his cramping legs, caressing them lovingly from hips to feet. He finally collapsed on his side next to Harry and held him close. Harry turned his body slightly to face him, nuzzle his chin and lick his lips. Snape opened his mouth and his tongue met Harry’s in a lazy and messy kiss, both their heads resting on the same pillow. At the last possible moment, Harry remembered the cleaning charms, and they dozed off, breathing each other’s air.


Severus woke up, his nose buried in his lover’s soft hair. The feeling was intensely gratifying, especially after he had feared, for a short while, that he had been mistaken, that Harry did not share his feelings.

He had not been surprised at the awkwardness that had existed between them at first. After the intensity of the experience they had shared, it was probably to be expected, though had he been left to his own devices, he would have been kissing Harry the second he came out of his room.

But Harry had been dressed for a swim, and Severus had taken that as a signal that he wished to take things slower. He had only started worrying when Harry had not stayed in the shower long enough for Severus to join him. He had pictured at least some sensuous soaping, even if some slow lovemaking in the hot water was not yet on offer.

Harry’s distant stance on the elevator ride back had definitively raised his doubts. He had dressed quickly, wanting to discuss things, only to be faced with the realization that Harry was leaving, without a word of explanation. Which obviously was not acceptable. Once Harry had turned to look at him, however, Severus had known he had been right.

Harry’s face was suffused with love and yearning, but the brave Gryffindor had been too afraid to act on it. And whose fault was that? Severus’ of course. With Harry feeling so vulnerable, was it any wonder Severus’ past abuse, humiliation and ridicule had tainted the younger man’s perception? Severus had made the decision to open himself to rejection, to give Harry control of the situation. He had begged him to stay and would never regret trusting in Harry’s forgiving nature.

One never knew what to expect with a new lover. There, it was Harry’s trust in him that had left him shattered. That he should offer himself, open himself so completely to Severus had been the most wonderful surprise. Never had Severus felt so wholly welcome and wanted as when he had entered Harry’s body.

“Mine,” he had thought, “you are mine,” barely resisting the need to say it aloud, only to see his thoughts echoed on Harry’s face as Harry felt the power his surrender gave him over Severus. Moving inside Harry had been heavenly bliss, the look of intense pleasure on his lover’s face the most beautiful thing of all.

He had lost himself in his orgasm, only to feel Harry follow him in his ecstasy, his channel pulsing around him. He had never felt in such harmony with another, had never felt love overwhelm him in such a way before. Yet, when he had helped Harry stretch after their joining, he had felt so filled with love, his heart might have burst.

Now he held his love against his heart. The intensity of it would have been frightening had the man in his arms been anyone but Harry, his Harry.


Unsurprisingly, when Harry woke up, Snape was spooning him. It was immeasurably more pleasant than waking up alone as he had that morning, especially now that he knew his feelings were returned. Snape’s arms tightened possessively around him, signaling he was awake as well.

“Harry,” he whispered in his ear, “Harry…”

Harry found Snape’s hand and entwined their fingers. “Severus,” he sighed and smiled at the utter sentimentality of the moment. He didn’t care. He was ridiculously happy.

“You would have left,” said Severus, still speaking softly.

“I was scared,” he answered honestly, “that because you really knew me now, you would find me wanting.”

Before answering, Severus gave him a reassuring squeeze. “For better or for worse, Harry, I have never looked at you as ‘The Boy Who Lived’ or ‘The Man Who Killed Voldemort’. I have always only seen you.”

“And you didn’t always like what you saw…”

A deep chuckle rumbled in Severus’s chest, so close to his own he felt its vibrations inside.

“Actually, from the first day of your sixth year, Harry, I have quite liked what I ‘saw’…”

“Pervert.”

The deep chuckle again, and Severus went on.

“Meeting you for the first time, people see an exalted being, not who you really are. Meeting you again, I just saw the man you have become and liked him, very much indeed.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of Harry’s head. “And now…now that I know you better than anyone else ever will, now that I have had an opportunity to be you to some small extent…Harry, I do not find you wanting. In any way.”

He moved his hips forward a little, pressing his erection against Harry’s cleft, in emphasis.

Harry smiled and pressed back.

Severus disentwined their fingers, and he took hold of Harry’s hardening cock, stroking him lazily, in rhythm with his rocking hips. Then Severus’ other hand retreated from Harry's side and slipped under his thigh. A finger found his entrance and started pressing it slightly. Oh, God. That was so good. Harry bit his lips, trying to contain his reaction.

“And this is like a wondrous gift, Harry,” whispered Snape, his breath hot in Harry’s ear, his words heat in his heart. “That you should so like to receive what I so like to give.”

The feeling of complete acceptance, the warm tongue in his ear, the quickening hand on his cock were heaven. Then the knowing finger breached him and he came, unresisting, sighing his lover’s name, “Severusssss…”

Severus’s arms came around to hold him tight again, as he kissed and nuzzled Harry’s neck. Harry turned into the embrace, captured his mouth, and explored its depth lovingly, enjoying their amazing kiss. He sucked the lower lip, lightly bit the jaw, and left a searing trail of kisses down the neck, triggering his own memory of Severus’ orgasm that morning, which sent shivers down his spine. He kept his downward journey, acquainting himself with the lovely (and deliciously sensitive) brown nipples, the ticklish ribs, and finally the downy trail of hair that was leading him to his goal.

Harry had no illusions about himself and was all too aware of his own limitations. But there were a few things he was very good at, like teaching, being an Auror, or cooking. Some he even excelled at, like flying. There was one area, however, where his skills approached absolute perfection so closely as to be indistinguishable from it, and poor unsuspecting Severus was about to find out what that was.

Severus’s cock, fully erect, was gorgeous. He was circumcised, long and moderately thick, with an impressive head. Severus made himself comfortable, lying flat on his back, with his hands behind his head, obviously looking forward to the coming sight. Harry smiled at him innocently as he lay down between his parted legs.

Then he proceeded to do to Severus what could best be described as the direct exact opposite of a well-applied Cruciatus curse - though, from the screaming, writhing, and flailing that occurred during the process, a casual observer would be hard-pressed to tell the difference.

By the time Harry rejoined Severus at the head of the bed, licking his reddened lips with relish, the only sign of life in his lover’s slackened body were his eyes, which followed Harry with something very near awe. As Harry cuddled his side and brought up the duvet, Severus licked his dried lips and said in a roughened voice:

“I shall never be able to move again.”

“There, there,” answered Harry, kissing his shoulder lightly. “A month or two, and you will be as good as new.”

Severus chuckled. “You might warn a fellow. So he could make sure his affairs are in order.”

“No worries. I just found you. I intend to keep you alive.”

Severus sighed. “It would be a glorious way to go.”

It was Harry’s turn to chuckle. It took about ten minutes before Severus had recuperated enough to stretch and move to put his arms around Harry. Then he yawned.

“Oh, no you don’t,” said Harry. “I’m starving. Let’s get up and have lunch.”

“Shower. Now.”

“All right. Let’s go.”


Harry chose a small French restaurant in Theatric Alley, complete with white starched tablecloths and fresh flowers on the table. They served the best Quenelles Lyonnaises in London, even if one had to put up with the French waiter’s native arrogance. It helped when the sommelier recognized Harry, not as the Savior of the Wizarding World (pfft!), but much more importantly, as a close friend of Fleur Delacour.

This, of course, made Harry and Severus family and honorary Frenchmen. It insured that they had the best lunch to be had this side of the Channel, which in turn meant a two-hour affair, with a great bottle of white burgundy to accompany the quenelles, and champagne with dessert.

The dessert was the true reason Harry had chosen “La Grange à Sel”. The Profiteroles au Chocolat, which had to be ordered at the beginning of the meal, were Sin, filled with chocolate and covered in chocolate sauce. Harry had only asked for one order. His dessert was to watch Severus eat it. It was just as good as he had anticipated.

When the complimentary Armagnac was served after their coffee, Harry was feeling distinctly mellow.

“There is something we should talk about,” said Severus.

“All right.”

“You are leaving London and going to Hogwarts.”

“Not until early August, probably, but yes, that’s my plan. Why?”

“The last time we talked about my future plans, I told you I had several options.” Severus sipped the golden liquid in his glass. “There are three. Before the conference, I strongly favored one of them. Now, I think we should talk about it.”

Harry felt a warm glow in his gut that had nothing to do with the Armagnac. Severus was talking about the future. Their future.

“No matter what you choose, if it’s within Britain, I can probably Apparate there,” he said. “You should do what appeals to you most.”

There was no mistaking the warmth in Severus’ eyes. He went on. “There is a position I have been approached about at Oxford University, to continue academic research.” Harry nodded.

“There is a private laboratory in South Wales, Seacliffs and Sons, where I could also continue doing research, but in the private sector, which would mean much higher financial rewards.”

“And the last one?” asked Harry, knowing somehow that the topic of their conversation still lay ahead.

“This is the one I was considering accepting before. It is my heart’s choice, but I have not yet given my answer, and I could be very happy with either of the other two options.”

Harry wondered why Severus was giving him all these caveats. He suddenly recalled the conversation in the elevator, right before they had been attacked, and Severus’s hesitancy then. “All right, let’s hear it,” he said, not able to take the suspense.

Severus was looking at him with such intensity that Harry was reminded of Legilimency, except that now, he had very good Occlumency skills and would certainly feel it if Severus was trying to pry, which he was not. “It’s a teaching position, Harry. Potions Master. At Hogwarts.”

Harry's first reaction was utter relief. It was not in Australia, or New Zealand, too far for him to Apparate. His second was happiness. Severus would be at Hogwarts with him; they would be together every day, every night. His third was doubt. Was Severus saying this was no longer his first choice? Did he think it would be too much for them to be in that close proximity all the time? He had mentioned a desire to return to teaching. If Severus chose Hogwarts but thought it was too soon for them to… Did that mean that Harry might have to reconsider his choice? Or worse, that they should put their relationship on hold?

Harry put down his glass and leaned forward towards Severus. “Please, Severus, just tell me what you want to do. I assure you that whatever your choice, I will be all right with it.”

“I want to teach at Hogwarts again,” Severus replied immediately.

“But? Just tell me, because I know there is a but coming. But what?”

Severus looked down at his hands. “But I do not want to crowd you. I do not want our relationship jeopardized by my choice. I do not want you to give up on what you want and stay with the Aurors if you think this will be too much too soon. I do not want to put our relationship on hold so we can both teach there, if …”

“Severus?”

“What?”

“Do you think our quarters should be in Gryffindor tower, or would you be more comfortable if we lived in the dungeons?”

Severus looked at him and answered without hesitation, “Dungeons. Definitely.”

Harry knew his smile was closer to a completely goofy grin than was acceptable for a respectable young teacher, but he didn’t care much. And when Severus looked back at him with the closest thing to a goofy grin Harry had ever seen on his face, he stopped caring altogether.

The End.

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