Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7882252.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J.K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Harry_Potter/Severus_Snape
  Character:
      Harry_Potter, Severus_Snape
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Collections:
      Ink_Stained_Fingers
  Stats:
      Published: 2004-01-11 Words: 3914
****** The Crime Can Be Forgot ******
by Maeglin Yedi [archived by ISF_Archivist]
Summary
     Harry is playing a game, but he might not understand all the rules.
Notes
     This story was originally archived at Ink_Stained_Fingers, which was
     created in 2002 as a home for Harry Potter slash fiction. To preserve
     the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an
     Open Doors-approved project in January 2015. We e-mailed all authors
     about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached
     everyone. If you are (or know) this author or artist, please contact
     me using the e-mail address at the Ink_Stained_Fingers_collection
     profile.
     Author's notes: This is for Snapetoy: thanks so much for your
     Christmas present!
     Big thanks to Gina for the beta!
The Crime Can Be Forgot
  Harry gritted his teeth against the soreness in his knuckles as they scraped
  across the rough inside of the cauldron over and over again while he tried to
  scrub the caked stains off the blackened metal with a worn brush.
  Just another detention with Snape, as he'd had so many already this year.
  Harry wasn't even sure what had earned him a detention this time - most
  likely it had something to do with a mucked-up potion, or sneaking out after
  curfew, or just because he existed at all. It seemed that Snape used any
  possible excuse to give Harry detention these days.
  His nose wrinkled and the tip of his tongue peeking out between his lips,
  Harry was focused on removing one particularly nasty stain. He didn't notice
  Snape rise from his desk and stalk toward him until he felt a firm body press
  against his.
  Harry gasped. Even if the feeling of Snape standing against him wasn't
  unexpected - or unwelcome - it did surprise Harry, since he hadn't seen or
  heard Snape advance on him. But now there was no way of not noticing his
  professor. Snape's body was lean and hard and so much taller than his own,
  and trapped Harry against the worktable. Closing his eyes for a moment,
  letting it sink in that Snape had once again known that Harry thought about
  this, fantasized about this, wanted this, Harry stilled his hands and leaned
  back against Snape hesitantly.
  "Keep scrubbing," a deep, velvety voice breathed in his ear as Snape's hand
  shot up and curled around Harry's wrist. Harry could feel lips ghost over the
  back of his neck, just the barest of touches, and that was unexpected. Snape
  had never kissed him before.
  But Harry realized that he hadn't fantasized about Snape's lips on any part
  of his body until that afternoon, when he'd been trying to brew a potion
  during class and Snape had watched him with those unreadable black eyes of
  his.
  Snape always knew what Harry wanted, and Harry had no idea how he did.
  Long fingers wandered down to Harry's hand, entwining with his own, much
  shorter fingers, urging Harry to move the brush up and down the metal.
  Snape's other hand circled Harry's waist, easily opening a few of the buttons
  on his robes so it could slip beneath the fabric and down to the waistband of
  Harry's jeans. It rested there, the thumb hooked behind the button and clever
  fingers stroking down the zipper.
  "You will scrub this cauldron until it's spotless, Potter. Until you can see
  your own reflection in it."
  "Yes, sir," Harry managed to whisper, despite his breath being stuck
  somewhere in the back of his throat. Harry knew what was going to happen now,
  and he felt his cock harden under Snape's teasing fingers. Snape had done
  this to him before, during his last couple of detentions. It hadn't all
  started with Snape stroking him to orgasm while Harry was scrubbing
  cauldrons. No, it had started with a few simple touches, when Harry had been
  cutting up flobberworms during a detention and had let his mind wander to one
  of his favorite fantasies: Professor Lupin running his hands down Harry's
  face and throat and chest during their private Patronus lessons.
  Harry liked Professor Lupin and had made him the object of his fantasies,
  both during daytime dreaming and while he stroked himself to climax in his
  bed at night. And that afternoon, while he was serving a detention with
  Snape, Harry imagined he was serving detention with Professor Lupin, and that
  Professor Lupin would step up behind him and touch him and guide his hands.
  And while he was enjoying his innocent daydream, Snape suddenly stepped up
  behind him and did the exact thing Harry fantasized Professor Lupin doing to
  him.
  Neither spoke a word. Harry stood frozen, and Snape ran his hands down
  Harry's arms and guided his hands, slowly stroking his fingers, playing with
  them. Then Snape stepped back, and left Harry shocked, puzzled and oddly
  aroused.
  During the following detentions, Harry deliberately fantasized about
  Professor Lupin touching him, and Snape once again stepped up to him and
  touched him in all the ways Harry wanted to feel Professor Lupin's hands on
  his body.
  Until Harry found his fantasies changing. Professor Lupin's amber eyes turned
  obsidian, graying hair morphed to longer, greasier black hair, and the
  fingers that touched him were suddenly stained. He would look at Professor
  Snape during Potions class, and imagine Snape's hands on his body. At first
  it had only been innocentHe touches, but soon enough Harry started
  fantasizing about Snape's hands undoing his trousers, taking his cock out and
  stroking him to climax. And Harry promptly found himself serving another
  detention in which Snape did just that.
  It was a dangerous game for which Harry didn't quite understand the rules,
  but he wanted to play it nonetheless.
  Tightening his fingers around the brush, Harry resumed scrubbing the
  cauldron. He knew that if he did what Snape told him to do, Snape would do
  all the things Harry fantasized about.
  Harry had stopped caring how Snape could possibly know what he was imagining
  in the privacy of his own mind after the first time Snape had wrapped those
  long fingers around his cock and had stroked him hard and fast while Harry
  continued cleaning the cauldron, as Snape had ordered him to. Harry thought
  he would clean a hundred cauldrons, if that was what Snape wanted, as long as
  Snape would put those hands on his body and make him feel so incredibly good.
  "Scrub harder, Potter," Snape whispered, lips brushing over Harry's ear.
  Inhaling sharply through his nose, Harry put more pressure on the brush, at
  the same time pushing back against Snape. Those brilliant fingers popped the
  button of his jeans open and lowered his fly. Harry had to suppress a small
  moan when his trousers were lowered and Snape ran his hand over Harry's bare
  hip to the bulge in his Y-fronts.
  Fighting the urge to close his eyes, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to rock
  his hips forward, pressing his groin into Snape's cupped hand, or lean
  backwards and rub himself against Snape's lean body, feel Snape's erection
  press against his lower back just above his buttocks. Harry wanted it all,
  and found himself slowly moving his hips back and forth, until Snape decided
  for him and pressed against Harry's back.
  "Oh, please, sir," Harry groaned. Snape traced the outline of Harry's
  erection through his Y-fronts, teasing and torturing him, and Harry felt
  Snape rub himself against his back.
  "Be silent, Potter." The same old commanding tone, and while Harry despised
  it in class, hearing it whispered into his ear while Snape hooked his thumbs
  behind Harry's underpants had a very different effect on him.
  As a matter of fact, Harry still despised Snape, at least in class. But
  somehow that didn't matter during these intimate encounters when it wasn't
  about liking Snape, but about how Snape could make him feel.
  Cool dungeon air suddenly enveloped Harry's heated prick, quickly followed by
  a warm hand. Harry almost lost his grip on the brush, his stokes across the
  metal uncoordinated and weak, and he leaned the back of his head against
  Snape's chest, his breath coming in short gasps. Snape seemed to know exactly
  how Harry liked to have his cock stroked. Teasing squeezes at the base, long,
  tight strokes up the entire length, and a finger pushing against the leaking
  slit.
  Tension started building in his sac, and Harry knew he wouldn't last very
  long. He never did when Snape worked him to climax. Trying to keep scrubbing,
  which was so hard to do when he was this close to coming, Harry gazed at the
  cauldron through half-closed eyes. He could see his reflection, their
  reflection, interrupted by the occasional smudge of dirt still left on the
  metal. Snape's hand moving up and down his prick. Clear drops of pre-come
  gathering at his slit before Snape's finger spread them around the darkened
  head of his cock. Snape's other hand gripping around his hip, long fingers
  leaving red marks on Harry's pale flesh.
  And then there was the touch of lips to the back of his neck. Not a simple
  brush this time, but warm and soft and wet when Snape darted his tongue out
  and licked his way down to Harry's throat. Teeth bit down just below Harry's
  ear, making Harry gasp and jerk his hips, followed by the teasing licks of a
  hot tongue, trailing up to Harry's earlobe, which was then sucked into
  Snape's mouth.
  Harry had never thought that someone sucking on his earlobe would feel that
  incredible and would send tiny sparks straight to his sac.
  "Sir...oh, ooh," Harry gasped, not sure what he wanted to say, but all the
  sensations were too intense for him to just be silent. He had wondered how
  Snape's lips would feel on his skin, and now that he knew that it felt much
  better than he had imagined, Harry wanted to know what it would be like to
  kiss Snape.
  His hands clenched around the brush and the edge of the cauldron, and Harry
  deliberately pressed his arse against Snape's thighs, wanting to feel the
  evidence of Snape's arousal against his body. Licking his lips, Harry tilted
  his head up and looked directly at Snape.
  Kiss me, he thought. Darting the tip of his tongue out, running it across his
  bottom lip, Harry willed Snape to kiss him. He wasn't sure if he was in
  control of these things or if Snape was, but he knew that if he thought about
  it, wanted it badly enough, it would happen.
  Snape stared down at him for a moment, eyes dark and narrowed, his strokes
  around Harry's cock still hard and fast. And then Snape lowered his face and
  crushed his lips to Harry's, not just kissing him, but taking him, devouring
  him. There was so much to feel and taste that Harry was completely
  overwhelmed. He was unable to do much more than part his lips, and stroke his
  tongue against Snape's, tasting tea and mint and something spicy. Snape's
  lips on his, moving almost as hard and as fast as Snape's hand worked his
  cock, and Snape's tongue in his mouth, exploring and demanding, sent a
  flutter of something to Harry's stomach where it swirled around for a moment
  before it transformed into a sharp, hot surge of arousal going straight to
  his cock.
  Harry came with a gasp, pulling back from their kiss just enough to suck in a
  deep breath. His body convulsed against Snape, his hips jerking and his prick
  spurting hotly over the cauldron in front of him.
  His eyes closed, trying to hang on to the electrifying feeling of his orgasm
  as long as possible, Harry sagged against Snape, his arms falling to the
  sides of his body. Snape didn't pull away, as he usually did after Harry
  came. Instead, Snape kept kissing him, slow strokes of his tongue, his eyes
  still fixed on Harry. It began to dawn on Harry's clouded mind that Snape
  wasn't pulling back, but was still holding him, rubbing against him.
  Normally, Snape just sent Harry away after Harry came, and Harry had wondered
  a few times if Snape took care of his own erection after Harry left. Right
  now, that erection was digging, not at all unpleasantly, into Harry's lower
  back.
  His eyes fluttered open while he tried to return the kiss as well as he
  could. Maybe Snape was waiting for something? Harry had no idea what, since
  he now found himself participating in a part of their game they hadn't played
 before. Snape's eyes were gleaming, and Harry struggled to see something in
  them. Anything that might tell him why Snape was still kissing him. Not that
  Harry minded. It actually felt pretty good to kiss Snape, even after he had
  come.
  In fact, it felt so good, Harry started wishing for more. First, he wondered
  what it would feel like to touch Snape's cock, to stroke Snape to orgasm.
  Slowly, fed by Snape's lips and tongue, Harry's vague fantasy changed to
  feeling Snape's cock against his, rubbing and thrusting and coming. And
  finally, Harry thought about feeling Snape's cock inside him.
  After all, that was what sex was all about, wasn't it? Fucking.
  Harry imagined Snape fucking him, imagined that Snape's tongue moving around
  in his mouth was Snape's prick sliding in and out of his body.
  Snape pulled back abruptly, and Harry blinked up at him. "You foolish boy,"
  Snape breathed against Harry's mouth, one hand trailing up Harry's body to
  tighten in his hair. "You have no idea what you just wished for."
  Wish? Harry hadn't wished for anything...except that he had. That was how
  their game worked. He wanted something, wished for something, and Snape gave
  it to him.
  And Harry realized he had just wished for Snape to fuck him.
  Snape's lips twitched up in a nasty smirk. "But a fool's wish is a wish all
  the same. Undress yourself, Potter." Snape released him and stepped back,
  gazing at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face.
  "But, sir... I..." Harry closed his mouth, aware that he really had no right
  to protest. They never talked during these encounters. Whatever happened
  wasn't because either one of them asked for it. It happened because Harry
  wished it. Still, Harry felt a sudden jolt of anxiety at the idea of Snape
  actually fucking him. "Sir... maybe..."
  Raising a daring eyebrow, Snape tilted his head, crossed his arms in front of
  his chest, and gave Harry an amused smirk.
  Harry could recognize a direct challenge when he saw one, and he'd be damned
  if he would let Snape win this. Although their game had never been about
  winning before, Harry felt suddenly determined to win it anyway.
  Clenching his jaw, Harry pushed his glasses up, stepped out of his trousers
  which lay in a puddle around his ankles, and shed his robes, leaving him only
  dressed in his shirt.
  Snape gestured with his hand. "Come now, Potter. Take everything off."
  His brow furrowed in a stubborn line, Harry toed off his shoes and pulled his
  shirt over his head. Standing naked in the Potions classroom - which was a
  very bizarre notion all in itself -- Harry resisted the urge to fold his
  hands in front of his limp prick, pursed his lips, and looked up at Snape for
  further instructions.
  "Get up on the worktable. On your back." Snape didn't wait for a reply, but
  turned on his heels and stalked towards one of the many potions cabinets in
  the room. Harry stared at him for a moment, curiosity piqued about exactly
  what Snape might need, but then he remembered the order. With a sigh, he
  turned towards the table, shoved the cauldron aside, and climbed on top of
  it. Harry lay down on his back as instructed, legs pulled up and knees
  pressed together tightly, and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if this
  really was what he had wanted.
  The sound of glass clinking filled the room, quickly followed by soft
  footsteps in Harry's direction. Unable to resist his curiosity, Harry tilted
  his head up, and saw Snape uncork a small vial.
  "Sir?" Harry asked softly. "What's that for? Why do you need a potion to...
  um..."
  Harry could tell by Snape's impatient snort that he had asked a Very Stupid
  Question, and he felt his cheeks flush while he fought against the irritation
  he usually felt for his professor.
  "Spread your legs, Potter," Snape said, stepping up to the table. He raised
  the vial, so Harry could see the creamy colored potion inside of it. "You
  really don't have any idea what you wished for, have you? This is lubricant,
  you stupid boy. Were I not to use it in liberal amounts, this might not be a
  pleasant experience for either of us."
  Lubricant. That did make sense, seeing where exactly Snape was going to stick
  his cock. Harry felt his cheeks flush even more, and he quickly looked back
  to the ceiling while he unlocked his knees and let his legs fall to the side.
  He was feeling awfully exposed all of a sudden.
  Snape grabbed Harry's thighs, spreading his legs even further, and pulled
  Harry towards him. Harry let him, trying not to wince as the rough wood
  scraped across his bare back. He could feel Snape's fingers cupping his arse,
  spreading it, and it felt so unfamiliar. Which seemed odd, since Snape had
  touched Harry's cock so many times before. But this was new, very new, and
  while Harry was curious about the whole sex thing, he did start to realize
  that Snape was right: he really didn't know what he had wished for.
  There was rustling of fabric, and Harry peeked down to see that Snape had
  parted his robes and undone his trousers, and was stroking his erection with
  a slick, shiny hand. His rather big erection. Much bigger than Harry's prick,
  and Harry found it both arousing and scary as hell to look at. But when a
  slick finger slipped between his buttocks and touched his entrance, Harry
  leaned his head back on the table and stared up at the ceiling with wide
  eyes.
  Snape's finger circled his pucker a few times, before pushing inside.
  Harry quickly tried to close his legs.
  "Potter," Snape said warningly, and Harry parted his legs once again, now
  clenching his arse around the sudden invasion.
  "And here I thought Gryffindors were so courageous," Snape drawled, staring
  down at Harry with a sneer. "Apparently, I must have been mistaken." Snape
  made to pull his finger out, but Harry snapped his head up and glared at
  Snape.
  He was not going to let Snape win. Willing himself to just lay back and let
  Snape do this, Harry nodded at Snape and relaxed, first his legs, and then
  his arse. Snape pushed his finger back inside Harry, quickly followed by a
  second finger.
  Harry tried not to think about the fact that he was lying naked on a
  worktable in the Potions classroom with two of Snape's fingers up his arse.
  He didn't want to remember that only hours before his fellow students had
  used this very table to brew potions, and that he was about to lose his
  virginity on it. No, Harry concentrated on the fact that he was having sex.
  Lots of people had sex. Granted, probably not with Snape. But Harry had
  wished it. Harry had wanted to know what it would feel like to have sex with
  Snape.
  And from what he could tell thus far, it felt odd. Not bad. Not good, either.
  Just odd. Snape's fingers were slippery, and moved in and out of his tight
  entrance with ease, working the ring of muscles much like they always worked
  his cock: with experienced strokes. Harry focused on his breathing, inhaling
  deep breaths, and was pleasantly surprised when Snape brushed against
  something inside of him that actually felt pretty good. But before Harry
  could figure out what that was, Snape pulled his fingers out, and Harry felt
  Snape's cock press against his entrance.
  This was never going to fit, Harry just knew it.
  "Sir?" Harry wanted to kick himself for sounding so small and insignificant,
  and he peeked up at Snape, his vision half-blurry since his glasses were
  askew.
  "Relax, Potter," Snape ordered, and Harry wondered how on earth he would be
  able to relax when Snape was talking to him in that tone of voice while he
  was trying to tear Harry open with an erection that was just too big.
  But after a firm thrust of Snape's hips, Harry's arse gave way, and he was
  suddenly filled. With a cock. Snape's cock.
  "Oh, bloody hell," Harry gasped, his hands clawing at the table, looking for
  some sort of support and finally finding Snape's arms. Harry tightened his
  fingers in Snape's sleeves and screwed his eyes shut.
  Firm, short thrusts, his arse feeling just a little sore, but not quite
  painful as Snape's prick slid in and out of him. Harry bit his lip, odd moans
  forming in the base of his throat and rising up. He could hear Snape's
  breathing turning ragged, felt Snape's fingers digging into his hips, and
  much to his own surprise, his cock gave an interested twitch.
  Snape started thrusting harder, pushing Harry up and down the worktable, and
  Harry gritted his teeth against the annoying pain of the wood against his
  back. But then those pleasurable sparks returned, somewhere deep inside of
  him, swirling up to his sac and cock and Harry had to conclude that that felt
  nice. He wondered if he would be able to stroke his cock into hardness so he
  could come again. If Snape would let him come again.
  But before Harry could find out, Snape let out a strangled groan, thrust in
  hard, and stilled. Something hot spilled inside of Harry, and he opened his
  eyes to see Snape's face screwed up in an odd expression that could be pain
  or pleasure or both.
  For a moment, there was only silence save for both their ragged breaths, and
  then Snape pulled out with a grunt.
  Harry felt strangely empty all of a sudden.
  "Get dressed, Potter, and get out." Snape turned around, and Harry could see
  him fumbling with his trousers and his robes.
  So the game had ended for that afternoon. Harry wasn't quite sure if he had
  won, but he did know for certain that he hadn't lost. His legs trembling,
  Harry lowered himself off the table and reached for his discarded clothes. It
  hadn't been that bad, he concluded. It might actually be good if they tried
  this again while Harry hadn't come yet and could stroke himself to climax
  while Snape fucked him.
  Pulling on his clothes, Harry thought that he might want to wish for this
  again during his next detention. After all, if he wished it, Snape would give
  it to him. And Harry knew that there was much more to sex than what they had
  done so far. He wasn't completely ignorant, mostly thanks to the magazines
  Seamus let him borrow from time to time.
  While he buttoned up his robes, Harry got an idea. A brilliant idea, if he
  said so himself. With a mischievous smile on his face, Harry laced up his
  shoes, and cleared his throat. "Professor?"
  Snape, who was standing by his desk, turned around and sneered down at Harry.
  "What is it, Potter?"
  During my next detention, I wish for you to put my cock in your mouth and
  suck it, Harry wished with all his might, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
  Glaring, Snape observed Harry for a moment, and then shook his head
  dismissively and gestured towards the door. "I believe I told you to get
  out."
  "Yes, sir," Harry said, the smile on his face never faltering, and he walked
  out of the classroom, his legs still a bit unsteady. He planned on wishing
  for Snape to suck his cock during the entire Potions class tomorrow, and be
  sure to muck up his potion.
  Harry thought he finally understood this game. Either way, he knew for
  certain that he liked it.
  ~~fin~~
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