Harry had no idea what he was going to say when he got there, but after dinner he resolutely set out for Snape's office. He'd been specifically invited, offered advice, even, by a man who had saved his life repeatedly and just happened to also be the only other person who knew that Harry fancied boys instead of girls. And, of course, had also treated him like something nasty that had been scraped off the bottom of a shoe for most of Harry's academic career.

Harry figured he was in for an interesting evening. If nothing else, it would probably kill the annoying, lingering thoughts he kept having about Snape's long, graceful, dexterous, pale, wandering hands. And where else they might have got to, had there been more than a few seconds available and less than death in pursuit. And, of course, had Harry not, in fact, been Harry at all but someone older, attractive, intelligent and possibly female, although he doubted the last.

With a sigh and quick, furtive adjustment beneath his loose robes, Harry knocked on Snape's office door. "Enter," came the deep voice from inside, and Harry ruefully added that voice to the growing list of things about the Potions Master that could make Harry's prick hard.

He pushed open the door, only to find the office empty and the far door, the one that led deeper into Snape's private quarters, ajar. "Uh, Sir?" called Harry doubtfully.

"In here, Potter, quit dawdling," came Snape's response, floating through the enticingly open doorway.

Harry walked past the shelves of books and bottles and oddments, towards a place few students had ever dared tread. He stopped on the threshold, one hand over his mouth, as he spied Snape in the far room. Snape had already taken off his outer robe, and was undoing the little buttons of his frock coat, revealing the crumpled white shirt beneath. "I've had the house elves prepare us some tea, as it will give us both something to hide behind," he continued, oblivious to Harry's frozen stare.

The waistcoat came off, revealing legs that were long and slender, a chest that was thin but obviously had some musculature visible through the translucent cotton of the shirt, shoulders that were broader and straighter than Harry had ever bothered to imagine. Without all the flowing, imposing black, Snape looked years younger and rather more fit, and gestures that were overdone when covered in billowing robes looking graceful and considered in his shirtsleeves.

Snape looked up from where he was undoing his cuffs. "Well, sit."

Harry had no idea how to interpret this. Snape had found out Harry was gay, and then invited him not only to his office but his private quarters, and now he was taking off his clothes. "Er, sir?"

Snape looked up irritably from where he was putting away his cufflinks. The shirtsleeves now hung loose over his hands, and Harry shifted his hips uncomfortably. "What is it, Potter?"

"Why are you, er," Harry swallowed, trying to find the right words, gesturing helplessly towards his teacher. Although Snape was, technically, still completely covered in fabric from neck to ankles, he seemed positively naked compared to his usual attire. "Um, I mean..." Harry swallowed again, then blurted, "Why're you shucking your kit, sir?""

Snape looked down at himself with a scowl, then up again as comprehension dawned. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, I have no intention of removing anything further. I simply prefer not to wear the same outer clothing which has suffered through an entire day of teaching a messy subject to incompetent children when I am in my quarters."

Harry relaxed slightly, breathing a sigh of something that might have been relief and might have been disappointment, and moving finally to sit in one of the available chairs. He finally gave some attention to his surroundings, finding himself in a small sitting room that was decorated tastefully in rich chocolate velvet and ebony furnishings, with small accents of brass here and there. There were two chairs and a chaise lounge next to a fireplace large enough to Floo into, with an assortment of strange and decorative objects scattered along the mantelpiece.

A small ebony coffee table was set with a Slytherin-crested tablecloth, an elegant silver tea set and plates of biscuits and cakes. The painting above the mantle was glaring at Harry disapprovingly over a disconcertingly familiar nose, and the other three walls were covered in bookshelves. Instead of the gloom and dust Harry had somehow expected, the room was well-lit and somehow homey, and kept impeccably clean, no doubt by the Hogwarts house elves.

"I assume my quarters meet with your approval?" said Snape, closing the bedroom door behind him. Harry had been too distracted by watching his professor undress to look much beyond him, and was now regretting the lost opportunity. Snape walked over to him, rolling up his shirtsleeves to reveal long, slender forearms and, shockingly, the Dark Mark. At Harry's gasp, Snape's eyes followed Harry's and he smirked, saying, "As you already knew of its presence, I did not feel the need to conceal it. I can..."

"No," said Harry, holding out a hand. He didn't know why, but suddenly it was very important to him that Snape not regret allowing Harry to see him like this, as a human being and not a scowling professor. "No, it's all right. It was just startling, at first."

"I see," said Snape, walking over to the door to the office. He waved his wand, uttering a simple locking spell, and Harry heard the outer door click shut. Snape closed the inner one by hand, and turned back expectantly.

"Your rooms are quite nice," said Harry, suddenly remembering the earlier question. "Nothing at all like I'd expected from your office."

Snape smiled wryly and said, "The decor in my office serves to enforce the proper attitude in errant students. As we are discussing matters which are both outside the Hogwarts curriculum and quite possibly of an adult nature, I felt it best to treat you as a visiting adult rather than an errant student."

Harry was stunned at this, mind working frantically as Snape sat and began pouring the tea. "I... I really appreciate this, more than... I mean, I know I haven't been..."

Snape waved a hand, silencing Harry. "Do not expect this to erase any of your past transgressions, Mr. Potter. I feel it is my duty as the only faculty member who... shares your predilections... to introduce you to the proper etiquette for such activities among wizards. Some things are beyond personal grievances."

"There's etiquette?" Harry blurted, then blushed.

Snape added a generous dollop of milk and three sugars to one of the teacups, then handed it to a stunned Harry. He loved his tea like this, sweet and substantial in a way he'd never had it at home, and the small kindness that at some point Snape had noticed how Harry took the endless cups of tea they'd been fed by the Headmaster was almost more shocking than the idea that there was etiquette involved when blokes got with other blokes.

"Although there are not the same prejudices present in Wizarding society that there are amongst Muggles, it is still considered something to practice behind closed doors, as it were. There are ways for men to recognize others with my preference, generally more subtle than the manner in which I was inadvertently informed of yours," Snape was sneering again, but it seemed softer as he sipped his cup of tea, unadulterated but for a paper-thin slice of lemon floating serenely on top.

"About that... er... no one knows, yet," said Harry, blushing fiercely.

Snape raised an eyebrow at that, and said, "Not even your two shadows, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley?"

Harry shook his head. "It's not like I fancy Ron, and he fancies Hermione anyway, so it's never really come up. Plus, I did make a go at girls once last year. It just didn't, er, go. Anywhere."

"Undoubtedly the Headmaster is aware, as he manages to stay informed of any number of things which are none of his business," said Snape. "I do feel that perhaps your friends would make better confidantes in the future, but I am willing to fill that role temporarily as long as you do not overstep the boundaries of familiarity." Snape looked very uncomfortable and almost furtive as he glanced at Harry over the top of his teacup.

"Do you, er," said Harry, thinking hard, "I mean... you don't think you did anything wrong, do you? You were saving my life."

Snape set the cup down with a sigh. "I realize in retrospect that I was not as... careful with the placement of my hands as I could have been. Nor did you, in all honestly, really need to be quite so intimately in contact with me. I could simply have grabbed your arm, but I am out of practice Apparating with a second person, and I wanted to be sure." Snape paused, and that furtive look crossed his face again as he added quietly, "Or so I have told myself."

Harry was starting to feel rather as though someone had been slapping him across the back of the head for the last five minutes. The implications of Snape's final admission were many and varied, but the one his mind latched onto was that Snape might have enjoyed their embrace as much as Harry had. "I minded the bruises a bit, but otherwise I'd rather have been embarrassed and in one piece than proper and splinched."

Snape's cheeks coloured slightly, and he sipped at his tea. Harry held his own saucer carefully in his lap, hoping to at least distract from if not disguise the erection that had been dogging him all evening. He took a long drink of his own tea, letting the sweet, creamy flavor seep into him, relaxing in its familiarity, and waited to see what Snape would say next. "Be that as it may, we shall speak no more of it."

"So, er, what is the proper way to let someone know you're up for it?" asked Harry, desperate to get something other than a hopeless infatuation out of the conversation.

Snape shifted uncomfortably and set his tea back down, reaching for one of the small lemon biscuits and setting it just off center on his empty plate. He sat back, obviously composing his thoughts, and Harry distracted himself from the small powdering of sugar on those graceful fingers by picking out a small assortment of treats for himself, and arranging them on his own little plate. He had just about run out of ways to stack them when Snape cleared his throat, and Harry looked up.

"Very few Wizarding liaisons of this sort last for more than a night or two," said Snape quietly. "While it is possible and even quite respectable for two wizards to marry, the taboos against conventional methods of courtship are strong, and tend to discourage such alliances before they can be formed. Many Wizarding relationships of this sort are conducted between an older man and a younger one, as well, a means by which the proper etiquette is often passed on."

Harry blushed unaccountably at this, but Snape ignored it, soldiering on. "A wizard who is open to these sorts of relationships will often wear a small but obvious piece of jewelry to indicate his preference. When I am open to such things, which is rarely due my position as a teacher, I have a small signet ring which I wear on the smallest finger of my right hand. I would show it to you, but do not keep it at Hogwarts at all, to prevent the temptation to court a student."

"So, er, Wizarding boys know this stuff?" asked Harry, trying desperately to ignore the last statement.

"For someone such as, for example, Mr. Malfoy, the basic signs are a small part of the etiquette he grew up learning. Miss Parkinson, as well, would know not to expect more than a polite dance invitation from such a man, nor would mothers attempt to fling their daughters at him. Certain of the students would recognize the sign, and consider it an invitation to indiscretion, should they themselves also lean in that direction. Although, as far as I am aware, you are the only student over the age of consent at this time with such tastes."

"Wait, so it's not against the rules if I'm sixteen?" blurted Harry, a wild hope kindling in him. If Harry was the only available target, maybe Snape would return some small measure of his interest.

Snape glared at him sharply and snapped, "Of course it is, foolish boy. But it is unthinkable for me to consider such things about anyone who is not at least of an age to legally consent."

"Oh," said Harry softly, optimism once again turning to cold realism. "So, er, there's not much chance for me while I'm here, then?"

Snape rolled his eyes and sneered, saying, "I have doubt there's much hope for you, period, boy."

"Right, thanks," said Harry glumly, retreating behind his swiftly-cooling tea. Snape seemed to catch himself from saying anything further, instead taking a single, neat bite of his lemon biscuit. He set it back down and absently licked the sugary crumbs from his fingertips, bringing life right back into Harry's wilting erection. Snape's lips were thin and dry, but his tongue was pink and wet, his teeth even and white. Harry wondered suddenly how he would taste, of tea and lemon and sugar, and blushed.

Snape picked up his tea and took a sip, making a face at the temperature. He picked up his wand from the table where he'd left it and cast a simple warming spell, causing steam to rise up from both cups and the pot as well. "Be that as it may, you will be among wizards for at least part of your summer, and assuming you have a future, it will behoove you to avoid the normal indiscretions allowed the young due to your unfortunate celebrity."

"So, er, all this..." Harry made a feeble gesture between them.

"It is an optimistic attempt to shield you from the sorts of blunders most wizards of our persuasion make at your age," said Snape sharply, although the sneer had faded somewhat.

"Oh," said Harry again. "Er, thanks. I mean... no one really bothers to tell me about stuff like this, they just figure I'll pick it up, because my parents were... I guess they forget I grew up with Muggles."

Snape nodded once, and sipped his tea again. "I will teach you to recognize the type of sign that will alert you to a wizard of our inclination--"

"Can't you just say 'gay'?" said Harry, exasperated. "Or is that a dirty word?"

Snape looked faintly shocked and irritated. "Don't interrupt. And yes, it is a dirty word, which I would advise you avoid in polite society."

"Bugger," said Harry softly, garnering a reproving glare from Snape. "So I'll have to go around saying things like 'preference' and 'predilection' when I'm hitting on a bloke?"

Snape coloured again, just a soft flush of pink across his high cheekbones which made Harry wonder once more. "If I were attempting to solicit your company, which I most assuredly am not, I would do so in a very circumspect manner, yes." Snape sighed and put his tea down altogether, uncrossing his legs and rising.

Harry tried very hard not to get caught staring at the line of Snape's trousers and the way they bunched and moved where his legs met. He'd never thought about Snape having a cock before, but now he couldn't get the image out of his head. Snape walked over to the mantelpiece, ignoring the glower from the painting and fidgeting with one of several small, decorative vials displayed there.

Snape's voice was somewhat low and rough as he said, "If you are still amenable to learning from me this time next week, I will send for a few things and show you how the opening gambits of such a negotiation might go."

"Er, what?" said Harry, confused.

Snape rolled his eyes again. "If you are so inclined, I am offering to demonstrate to you the etiquette for, as you so charmingly put it, hitting on a bloke. I will show you the proper way to make, accept, refuse or simply recognize an offer, although," he paused, fixing Harry with a piercing stare, "My tutelage will not extend to any sort of inappropriate physical contact."

"So, er, you'll show me how to pick up a one-nighter, but not how to snog?" said Harry, desperate to make sure he'd got this right. He knew it might embarrass them both to death, but if it didn't then Snape was offering him vital information towards his future ability to get laid. And right now, his prick was valiantly cheering on anything that might help it get some attention other than his own right hand.

Snape looked faintly disgusted, a milder expression than anything Harry was familiar with, and said, "Yes, Mr. Potter. I suppose one could put it that way." This time, Snape paused for so long that Harry almost thought their conversation was over, until he heard that deep voice rumble nearly inaudibly, "I will, in addition, once you have left Hogwarts and no longer my student, allow for one single session where we will speak, and speak only, of the details of what happens behind closed doors."

Harry blinked. Snape was... "Wait. What you said before... normally when some older bloke picks up this younger bloke, that's how the young guy learns how it's done? So why are you offering to help me out without, y'know, anything... I mean, what do you get out of this?"

Snape sighed deeply. "I will say this once and only once, and I will not answer questions on this subject, nor will I allow it to be revisited in the future." Harry waited with bated breath, curiosity eating through him almost as sharply as the newfound desire that seemed to dog his every thought. Snape gathered himself up, then turned abruptly away, features entirely hidden by the black curtain of his hair.

His voice was gravel-rough and painful when he finally spoke. "When I was your age, I was inducted to the underground society of wizards through unsavory means, a circumstance which I have regretted my entire life. I was no prize even as a youth -- an attractive and famous young man such as yourself would be a target for any number of unscrupulous men, and I feel that it is my duty to prevent what happened to me from happening to any of the young men who have passed through my care."

Harry felt as though he'd been deflated, his whole body losing something as the pain and loss in that statement swept through him. "That's... thank you." He thought there must be something else to say to that back, now slightly bowed under the weight of his memories. Harry stood and tentatively made his way over to his professor's side. He laid a single hand on Snape's shoulder, bemused to find him not nearly as tall as he'd always seemed, although perhaps it was just Harry who had grown.

He was surprised and gratified when Snape did not move away, but instead lightly ghosted over Harry's fingers with his own before straightening and turning his face to Harry's. His black eyes were glittering and bright, and Harry had to suppress a startling urge to kiss those sparkling eyelashes. "I appreciate what you're doing for me, sir, thank you," said Harry, trying to put all the new warmth he felt for Snape in his words.

Harry could sense Snape growing uncomfortable with their closeness, so he pulled away and grinned to break the moment. "It doesn't mean I'll hate you any less during Occlumency lessons, though."

Snape laughed, deep and warm, Harry felt a myriad of emotions thrilling through him, astonishment and happiness, lust and the accomplishment of having been the one to make this dour man laugh. "I rather suspect Potions will continue to be a trial as well, Mr. Potter, assuming you were not too distracted to pass your exam."

Harry coughed, and blushed, and stepped over to pick up his teacup. "Well, you know. It's very distracting to sit an exam with an attractive man's handprint bruised into one's posterior," said Harry lightly, choosing his words with care.

Snape stalked over to his chair, dropping gracefully into it and picking up his own still-steaming tea. "Indeed, Mr. Potter," he said sarcastically, raising one eyebrow. He took a delicate sip and added, "That was practically subtle, for you."

"Er, practice makes perfect?" said Harry, blushing into his now-empty teacup.

"You will, I hope, refrain from practicing outside of this room until I have given you leave?" Snape's voice was casual, his face smirking, but his body was held with a careful tension that made Harry wonder just what was at stake here besides his famous reputation.

"Yes, sir, I solemnly swear to only flirt with you, and only in your quarters, sir," Harry replied, taking the flippant route to avoid any more overly serious discussion. He didn't know what had happened to Snape as a youth that might have been worse than the taunts and cruelty Harry had witnessed in the Pensieve, but he had a feeling that he would be grateful for the rest of his life to have avoided it, if he ever found out.

Snape smiled faintly at that and drained his own teacup. "Then we will consider today's lesson concluded. For next week's lesson, and please, do not share the details of your exploration with me at any point, I would like you to consider what role you wish to play in these liaisons, as the etiquette is different depending on your preference."

"Er, what?" said Harry, lost again in the maze of euphemisms and innuendo.

"Mr. Potter," said Snape with a sigh, "You are aware, at least in the abstract, of what it is that men do together?"

Harry thought for a moment. Snogging, yes, and of course hands. He had an idea that there were mouths involved sometimes, but girls did that, too. He'd heard jokes about... "Wait, you mean buggering?" said Harry, forgetting his careful language.

Snape rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Yes, Mr. Potter. In such situations there is generally an active and receptive role, as it were. It would behoove you to consider which you would prefer."

"Er, sorry, yes." As Harry had only the broadest of notions of just what was involved in buggery, he wasn't sure how much of a decision he could make. "Couldn't you just teach me both?"

Snape glared at him sharply. "You have no idea what I am referring to, do you?"

Harry hung his head, setting down his useless tea things. "No, sir."

Snape rolled his eyes once more, an expression Harry was learning to hate just as much as his sneer. "I am not sure that I can elaborate in any manner within the bounds of propriety for teacher/student interactions. I suggest you ask someone over the summer. The Weasley twins would probably be glad to assist you, although I highly recommend you refuse any sort of practical demonstration."

"Wait, Fred and George?" said Harry, mind suddenly filled with some really arousing imagery. His deflated prick took an interest, and he picked up the plate of biscuits.

"More tea?" said Snape smoothly, reaching out for the pot to refill his own cup.

Harry shot him a look and said, "Yes, please, sir."

"Suffice it to say that while I have had a similar conversation with them, I will not betray their confidence any further with details of the outcome. I suggest you ask them yourself, as they will require rather less tact and discretion than anyone else I could refer you to," he said slowly, adding the milk and sugar to Harry's tea as he spoke.

Harry took the cup from Snape, fingers once again brushing against his professor's, this time accidentally. "Oh! Thanks," said Harry, feeling a flush of heat rise from his groin to the tips of his hair. Snape's hands were warmer than he'd expected, solid and real in a way Harry's mental image of his Potions Master had never been before. His brain was starting to feel strangely full and slightly wriggly, between the thoughts of Snape's bedroom and him undressing in it, and images of the Weasley twins in their single wide bed at the Burrow.

"In light of your current ignorance, I believe it would be better if we simply leave the rest of your etiquette lessons for next year," said Snape, sipping his tea and reaching out for his lemon biscuit. Harry was fascinated by the shape, the perfect semicircular gap where Snape's teeth had been, the way one point disappeared into his mouth, leaving sugar behind on his lips. Harry was disappointed when Snape neglected to lick the crumbs dusting his fingertips, and almost missed it when he said, "You are, however, welcome to come by for tea, as I feel it would behoove us to attempt to repair our relationship if we are to make any progress in teaching you to relate to others."

Harry sipped the perfect tea, looking down at the tiny treacle tart untouched on his plate amongst lemon, ginger and sugar biscuits, as well as a small, perfect slice of cream cake. Snape had gone out of his way to make Harry comfortable, and was putting forth a huge olive branch. "I would very much enjoy the pleasure of your company, Professor Snape," said Harry, forcing himself to believe in a sentiment that came out sounding so completely wrong to his ears. "Perhaps we could engage in a game of Wizard's Chess?"

For some reason, this last caused Snape to snort his tea, and it took a moment for him to recover enough to reply, his voice heavily laden with amusement, "And you, Mr. Potter, do you prefer to play black or white?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, remembering the earlier question. "This is some sort of weird gay code phrase, isn't it?"

Snape let out a small almost-not-smirking smile and nodded. "Although I'll thank you not to use that word again," he added as an afterthought.

"And you are perfectly aware I meant actual chess, right?" said Harry, allowing his own bottled laughter to creep into his words.

"Quite," said Snape, raising an eyebrow. "If I thought otherwise, I would rescind the invitation. As it stands, I have a set of my own, and will be sure to have it ready for us next week."

Harry grinned and sipped his tea, feeling relaxed in Snape's presence for the very first time that he could recall. He might hate his Potions master, and positively loathe his Occlumency instructor, but the man sitting across from him in his shirtsleeves was altogether new. The Dark Mark was stark and strange against the white skin, and in the warm firelight Snape seemed less sallow than simply pale and tired. Deprived of its usual sneering mask, Snape's face was striking rather than ugly, high cheekbones and prominent nose, intelligent black eyes and invitingly mobile mouth.

Harry sighed once more, then straightened up, teacup nearly obscuring his face as he forced himself to get it out of the way and ask, "Will you take it amiss if I do make such a proposition, once I am no longer your student?"

Snape's eyes flashed, and the sneer fell back into place like armour. "If you do not appreciate the value of what I am offering..."

Harry held up a hand, shaking his head desperately. "I'm not making fun. I really..." Harry wracked his brain for the right words. "If my attentions would be unwelcome, I would prefer to have the intervening time to attempt to transfer my fascination to someone who would actually be interested."

Snape raised one eyebrow at him, expression schooled into the one he used when expressing doubt that Neville could remember his own name, let alone the ingredients to a potion. "Indeed, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sank back into his chair, giving up on the formal speech and just going for broke. "Well, we wouldn't be here at all if I didn't find you attractive, now would we?"

Snape coloured slightly and said coldly, "One assumes that it was simply the proximity to another man combined with the narrow avoidance of death. The body often reasserts itself to life under such circumstances."

"Oh, bollocks," said Harry, exasperated. "I got hard because you're hot when you're angry, and you've got the best hands I've ever seen, so stop being a bastard. If you don't want me, that's fine, but if you do then I think I ought to know."

"If I did, I assure you it would be completely inappropriate and inadvisable for you to know, actually," said Snape, the pink in his cheeks growing brighter. There was a long pause, during which Harry felt a bit like a bug under glass as Snape scrutinized him carefully before saying, "However, once you have left my tutelage, you are free to ask the question again."

Harry worked through Snape's torturous language and concluded that Snape did in fact want to engage in a bit of buggery with Harry, but wouldn't even unbend enough to admit it while Harry was still a student, let alone have at. "Right. After the Leaving Feast, and don't think I won't."

Snape nodded, once, and drained his tea in one graceful swallow. Harry tried very hard not to watch his Adam's apple bob beneath the high white collar of his shirt, and fidgeted with drinking his own tea when he failed. Setting the cup down with a gentle clink of china, Snape stood and walked over to his bedroom door. "The hour has grown quite late. You are welcome to finish your sweets, but I have a routine that I would prefer not to further disrupt. Do not, under any circumstances other than direst emergency, attempt to enter my bedchamber. I am going to have a bath."

Harry was supremely grateful that Snape turned away at just that moment, and thus completely missed the expression of shocked lust that passed over Harry's features. Snape, only two closed doors away, was going to actually get completely starkers. And wash, all that lovely slick soap gliding over the planes of chest and stomach, thigh and back, and of course the narrow, tight arse Harry had been avoiding letting himself acknowledge.

Harry finished his tea in record time, stuffing down the treacle tart and grabbing one of the lemon biscuits before he practically ran out, only stopping to be absolutely sure Snape's office door locked behind him. He headed towards the Prefect's bath, which would hopefully be deserted at an hour when most students were already safely ensconced in their Common Rooms. He had a rather large problem to take care of, which was only exacerbated by the sweet flavour of lemons melting over his tongue from the biscuit.