Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/17983.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_-_Freeform, Harry/Snape_-_Freeform, Dubious_Consent, Plot_What
      Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2005-06-02 Words: 1509
****** Protected ******
by snakeling
Summary
     Snape finds Harry Potter in his rooms when he comes back from a
     meeting with the Dark Lord.
When Snape comes back from his meeting with the Dark Lord and opens the door to
his rooms, he knows that nobody has entered here since he left. The protective
spells are still there, running along the wall and around the door, shimmering
a soft golden hue that only he can see. Nobody, not even Dumbledore, could
enter his rooms without disturbing the spells.
That’s why he is rather surprised to see Harry Potter calmly sitting cross-
legged on his best armchair. His eyes are shadowed, and Snape experiences a
moment of fear, until he remembers that Potter is only a student, barely a
sixth year, and not a particularly good one at that.
“What are you doing here? How did you enter?”
Potter smiles, slowly, lazily.
“Did you know that I can see through Voldemort’s eyes?”
Snape scoffs disdainfully, though he is rather unsettled. He knows, of course,
that Potter experienced visions last year, but the boy seems to be talking
about something more active than those.
“Really? How did you find my performance?” His voice is heavy with sarcasm.
Potter smiles again and uncrosses his legs, placing his feet on the floor.
“Your performance? This masterful weaving of lies and truths? Very good, though
of course, I wasn’t fooled for a moment. You aren’t really Dumbledore’s spy.”
Snape can feel the blood draining from his face.
“Are you accusing me of being loyal to the Dark Lord?”
Potter throws his head back and laughs.
“You, loyal to Voldemort? Of course not. You aren’t loyal to anyone but
yourself.”
Snape straightens, furious with the insolent whelp, all the more so because he
is right. Before he has time to utter anything in reply, he is bowled over by
Potter. He falls down on his back on the hard dungeon floor. He is so surprised
by the absence of pain that he doesn’t realise at first that Potter is now
straddling his hips, pinning his hands high over his head. Snape tries to get
rid of Potter, but the boy doesn’t bulge. Snape is normally strong enough to
dislodge a boy, especially one as small as Potter, and he quickly comes to the
conclusion that Potter is somehow using magic to subdue him, even though his
wand is nowhere in sight.
He stops struggling and swallows convulsively, his eyes fixed on Potter,
waiting to see what he will do. He’s afraid now, genuinely afraid.
Potter smiles cruelly and whispers, “Legilimens.”
Snape prides himself on being an accomplished Occlumens. He can keep out both
Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, can choose the memories they’ll see, can fool
them into believing that figments of his imagination are real memories. But his
walls fall down like a card castle before Potter’s determined assault.
Snape feels invaded; Potter’s presence burns in his mind, leaving a blazing
trail behind it. Snape stops resisting, hoping that Potter will go away soon.
As soon as he yields to Potter’s presence, he can feel it grow cooler, until it
is merely warm, the warmth of a mother’s hug, the warmth of a hearth in winter.
He feels comforted and content in a way that he hasn’t since early childhood.
Potter releases his wrists, but Snape doesn’t move his arms. He keeps them over
his head, because he knows that this is what Potter wants. Potter trails a
finger along Snape’s jaw, over his cheekbone, along the edge of his nose. He
tries to smooth away the lines on Snape’s forehead.
Potter is smiling tenderly at him, and Snape basks in his love and protection.
His mouth opens in a whimper, and Potter licks at the corner of his lips.
Snape’s breathing becomes erratic.
“M-Mas—”
A finger on his lips silences him.
“None of that. I’m not Voldemort, nor do I want to be. I’m Harry, only Harry.
Say my name, Severus.”
“H-Harry.”
Harry kisses him, on the sensitive patch of skin at his temple, between his eye
and his hair. Severus shivers.
“Please, Harry. Please!”
“I know, Severus. You’ve been alone all your life, trying to survive to the
best of your abilities. You’ve been pitting those powerful wizards against each
other to your best advantage, because you know that neither had your interests
at heart.” Harry kisses the side of his nose, then straightens again. “But you
don’t need to, not anymore. You’ve got me, now, and you know that I’ll always
protect you, always look for you. You know that, Severus?”
“Yes, Harry.”
Harry smiles and bends again. This time, he kisses Snape on his mouth, in a way
that has nothing to do with the chaste pecks he has already given him. This
time, there are lips and tongue and teeth and saliva, and Snape feels as if
Harry wants to devour him whole. He feels cherished, loved, secure.
Harry’s hands slid along Snape’s arms, until they encircle his wrists, but
Snape only pays attention to the mouth on his own. He freezes momentarily at
the intense pain in his left forearm, but Harry doesn’t relent his kiss, and
the pain soon fades in the background.
When Harry let go of him, Snape can feel his lips swollen and tingling, unable
to address a smile of gratitude to Harry. But it doesn’t matter; Harry doesn’t
need words to understand Snape and he knows that Snape is grateful.
Harry rolls off Snape, who whimpers at the loss of Harry’s weight. Harry
strokes him lightly on his cheek.
“Shh, Severus, don’t worry. Roll on your front. Yes, like that. Spread your
legs, Severus.”
Snape obeys, because he can’t imagine ever disobeying Harry, until he is on his
belly, his head comfortably cushioned on his crossed arms, his legs spread to
accommodate a kneeling Harry. He can feel Harry’s hand on his neck, a
comforting weight, enough to allay any fears he might feel.
Harry’s hand moves slowly, tracing his spine through the heavy cloth of his
robes, and Snape can feel the fabric part in its wake, even though it shouldn’t
open, as there are no buttons in his back. But Harry can do magic with only his
fingers, so it is all right.
Snape is now lying naked on top of the remnants of his cloak, his body
displayed to Harry’s eyes. Yet he doesn’t feel exposed or vulnerable, because
Harry knows all about him, and in spite of it, or maybe because of it, he has
chosen to protect him and to love him.
Harry stretches over him and settles on Snape’s back. Harry is still clothed,
and Snape squirms uncomfortably against the rough wool of his student’s robes.
He wails, “Naked, please, please.”
“Not yet, Severus, not yet. There are other things to do first.”
Snape stops whimpering, as Harry wants him to, but he still pushes against
Harry’s body in an urgent request for more, closer.
Gentle teeth nibble at the back of his neck, immediately followed by a soothing
tongue. Slowly, Harry bites and licks his way down, until Snape is almost
crying with need. Finally, Harry reaches the area just above the crease of
Snape’s arse. He stops and straightens. The warmth of his protection recedes
around Snape, who whimpers brokenly.
Something pointy and cold pokes against the top of his cleft, and Snape stills.
He isn’t sure what is going on. Where has Harry gone? He tries to turn his head
to see what is going down behind him, but a hand pushes his head down on his
arms.
“Severus, do you want my protection? Do you want to be mine?”
Snape nods frantically against the hand still restraining his head.
“Tell me, Severus. Aloud.”
“Yes, please, Harry.” Snape is desperate for Harry’s warmth.
“Tell me, Severus.”
Severus understands. “Please, Harry. I want you to protect me. I want to be
yours. Please.”
“Very well.”
Severus can hear the smile in Harry’s voice. Suddenly, from the cold, pointy
object prodding his back — Harry’s wand, probably — Severus can feels warmth
spreading in his body. It creeps along his members to the tips of his fingers
and toes, up his neck and around his eyes. It’s even better than before,
because the warmth is now inside him, instead of being around him.
Severus feels Harry’s tongue connect with his skin at the point where the wand
is working its magic. He gasps as the warmth rushes in his groin, in his balls,
all the way down his cock until he comes. Orgasms have never been this intense,
this wonderful. Severus starts shaking.
The wand falls to the ground and rolls away, unheeded. Harry gathers Severus in
his arms and cuddles him against his chest. Severus sobs softly in gratitude;
he feels Harry’s lips on his cheeks, tasting his tears. Harry’s hand is
stroking his hair tenderly.
Severus’s breathing slows and he’s feeling drowsy, even though he normally
can’t sleep without a potion. But he is in Harry’s arms and he knows that no
nightmares can find him there. He settles into Harry’s arms, snuggling against
his chest, and lets sleep claim him.
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