Harry had dressed carefully for tonight, casual with his one pair of jeans that almost fit, a bright red Weasley jumper that actually flattered his newly broadening chest, and sweaty palms rubbed over both. At the end of Potions Snape had called his name in that voice like Turkish coffee, thick and hot and bitter, and informed him evenly that his presence would be expected at nine o'clock, handing Harry a pass for being out past curfew. Tonight was the last night before the last day of class, before packing and goodbyes and going back to the Dursleys.

Harry knew the exact moment when he'd started thinking of Snape as sex on toast, and it wasn't helping at all that it had coincided with Snape treating him like a human being for the very first time ever. He willed his body to behave, hoped the plates would be bigger or the chess set would hide his lower body, and wished he had any idea of what he was doing. Then Harry inhaled, exhaled, and raised his hand to knock on the closed door of Snape's office.

Instead of a disembodied voice, Harry was surprised to find himself face-to-face with Snape as the door opened abruptly under his hand. "I was beginning to think you'd never actually knock," said Snape snidely, opening the door wide and gesturing Harry back towards his private rooms.

Snape was wearing a close-fitting cream dress shirt today, with a more modern cut than his usual attire, the collar open two buttons and the sleeves once again rolled up to reveal the Mark. His trousers were fine grey wool, and made his legs look even longer than last week's black ones. His feet were bare, his skin flushed slightly pink and hair damp and curling at the ends. Harry walked past Snape, not quite brushing but quite close enough to feel the heat radiating from his spare form.

Harry shivered, knowing he was doomed already, frustrated desire curling into a heavy pool of molten lead in his groin. He was gratified to see that the chess set would, in fact, shield his lower body from sight. The two chairs had been turned towards one another, and a thin, wide table set between them. The chessboard was in the center, and a cup of tea and plate of biscuits were already set out on either side. Harry took the same chair he had last time, settling in against the fire-warmed velvet while Snape locked his office.

Harry was momentarily tempted to steal a sip of Snape's tea, just to have a memory of the flavour, but instead he folded his hands in his lap in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner and sat back to wait patiently. Snape strode over to a bookshelf and bent down to pull something off one of the lower shelves, and Harry's breath caught at the sight of the grey wool pulled taut over Snape's arse. Black robes certainly hid a lot of otherwise fine things.

Harry wondered how he'd survive the night, considering he'd only just arrived and was already desperate for a few moments alone with his right hand. "Thank you for inviting me, sir," he said softly when Snape straightened, and he could find his voice again.

Snape turned, face strangely blank, and padded over to join Harry by the fire. Harry was mildly shocked and oddly aroused by the fact that Snape hadn't bothered to put on shoes, and he squirmed briefly in his seat at the images that conjured up, of Snape's toes gliding up his leg, Snape's heel pressing against him, his cock curving up to fit the arch of Snape's foot. Harry coughed and picked up his tea, hoping to disguise the sudden flush of his cheeks.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, I am quite sincere in my wish to overcome our mutual animosity," said Snape, setting a book down on the table next to Harry's tea. He tapped it with one long finger and added, "I believe this will help get you started. Consider it a summer reading assignment." Harry reached curiously for the book, which Snape handed over with a guarded look. "I will expect it to be returned to me in the same condition at the start of the next term," he added severely.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, swallowing hard. The Dursleys hadn't managed to hide his homework from him for a couple of summers now, so he shouldn't have any problem finishing up the thin volume, or keeping it safe from Dudley. "Thank you, sir," he added for good measure before looking down at the book.

It was bound in soft green fabric, and had the title etched out in shining silver letters on its cover. "Among Wizards," it read, with a tiny drawing of two crossed wands right below. Harry moved to open it, but Snape's hand laid itself over his own, causing him to forget his own name, let alone what he'd been thinking at the moment.

"Wait until you are away from here, and show the book to no one, not even your cohorts. I should not give it to you at all, but you are far less worldly than I could ever have guessed," said Snape seriously.

His hand withdrew, and Harry took a deep, shaky breath, trying to process his words. He looked back down at the book, suddenly getting an entirely different mental image off the cover picture. "Oh," he said softly. "I... thank you, sir. I don't know what to say."

Snape's cheeks had gone slightly pink again, and Harry set the book down and went back to fidgeting with his tea. There was a long, uncomfortable silence until Snape ground out, "I could not in good conscience allow Fred and George Weasley to be your only influence in such... vital matters."

Harry smiled softly, thinking of just how he'd like for Snape to influence him. "Well, you did tell me not to accept any practical lessons from them," he said impudently. "Although I'm not sure how I'll manage to ask them about it at all if I'm only allowed to flirt with you."

Snape coughed lightly into his tea, something very nearly like a smile widening his mouth as he replied, "I will release you from your vow with regards to them, although I would once again advise you watch yourself. While I do not think they would harm you, their sense of humour was always a bit too... callous, for my tastes."

Harry considered their very public pranks, but also how kind Fred and George had been to their family, and by extension Harry, when they thought no one would know. "I think that's as much an illusion as your office," said Harry thoughtfully. He stared at the immobile chessboard for a few moments before something occurred to him. "You won't be mad at me if we... I mean, if anything happens..."

Snape frowned and sipped his tea, avoiding Harry's eyes. "Firstly, it is an age-old wisdom that one should not engage in any activity which one is too embarrassed to speak of. Secondly, while I would not personally trust the Weasleys in my office, let alone my bed, you have a markedly different relationship with them. Third and most important, I am your teacher, not your father. I am well aware that I have no real say in your dalliances, but am merely attempting to shelter you from the worst possibilities. As much as I am loathe to admit it, I do not think that Fred and George Weasley are anywhere near the worst that you could do."

Harry worked his way through the logic of Snape's little speech, and a treacle tart as well, to cover his confusion. He washed both down with the last of his tea and set the empty cup in its saucer, then turned back to Snape. "All right. I won't promise not to do anything with Fred or George--"

"And," said Snape shortly.

"Er, what?" said Harry, his train of thought derailed by Snape's interruption.

"I believe you will find your choices are not Fred or George, but Fred and George. They come, as it were, as a set," Snape's cheeks were quite pink now, and he looked faintly embarrassed, as though he'd revealed more than he should, whether about himself or them.

Harry looked at Snape carefully, then replied, "And you know this because...?"

Snape coughed gently. "Although I felt it wisest to decline, they made me a rather... intriguing offer the day they left Hogwarts."

"Oh!" said Harry, desperately tamping down images in his brain. "That's..." Harry trailed off, his mind wandering into completely unfamiliar and inflammatory territory.

Snape coughed gently and said, "Yes, well. Perhaps it is time we began our chess game?"

Harry forcibly pulled himself back from the brink of madness, or at least combustion, and wished shakily for more tea. As if reading his mind, an idea which made Harry blanch considering what had just been in it, Snape summoned the pot and poured them both fresh tea. Harry allowed the Potions Master to fix both their cups, enjoying the precision of his hands as he mixed ingredients. "Thank you, Professor Snape," said Harry as he accepted the cup.

Snape made a pained face and said, "Perhaps it would be best if you call me Severus during these sessions. It might help to distance us from less friendly associations."

Harry blinked. "Er, yes, all right. You'll call me Harry, then?"

Snape nodded, then inclined his head towards the chess set, settling back into his seat with his tea. "I have gone to the liberty of giving you the white side, as you are the less experienced player."

Something about the careful way in which Snape spoke reminded Harry of his question last week. "That would be the usual manner in which these things are done, then?" he asked, hoping Snape would pick up on the allusion, even if Harry didn't quite know what he was alluding to.

"That is up to the inclinations of the players, but it does often work out that way, yes," Snape replied, his voice and face carefully bland and neutral. "I personally prefer to allow for whatever suits the situation best."

Harry hid his smile behind his tea, and made the obvious opening move of the chess game before answering, "That seems quite sensible."

Snape raised his eyebrow and made an answering move. "Indeed," he said quietly as he leaned back into his chair. There was a companionable lull as they sipped their tea and played, the pieces dutiful and cooperative. Once Snape was obviously trouncing him, Harry decided he wanted something besides biscuits to distract himself from his impending doom.

"How long have you had the set?" Harry asked, contemplating his next move. "They're quite obedient, nothing at all like Ron's or Seamus'."

"This set has been in my family for several centuries," Snape replied, staring into his third cup of tea. Steam curled gently around his face, translucent white in contrast to the solid black of his hair. Harry was surprised to realize that the hair was glossy and soft now that it had dried, forming wispy tendrils that just begged to be brushed aside by a tender hand. Snape looked up and caught Harry staring, captured Harry's eyes with his own glittering black ones. "You passed Potions, by the way, despite leaving some answers blank on the exam."

Harry blinked, then grinned. "Looks like you're stuck with me for another year, then. Has Professor Dumbledore said anything about the other?"

Snape inclined his head. "Once you have made your final requisite stay with your... family," Snape said the word as though he were speaking of one of Neville's more spectacularly odious attempts at potion making, "I will be resuming those lessons during the rest of the summer, as well as your final school year."

Harry groaned aloud. "Not even a proper holiday!"

Snape smirked. "Some things transcend school schedules, Mr. Potter."

"Harry," he corrected absently, finally spotting and making a move.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Harry, yes. We could..." he stopped, examining the board. "That was clever."

Harry smirked. Playing against Ron had taught Harry how to hold out against terrible odds, fighting to the bitter end. He still usually lost, but he'd at least got so Ron had to work for his victories. "We could what, Severus?" Harry asked, trying the name out carefully.

"We could begin our etiquette lessons then, as well. Assuming a modicum of privacy can be had in amongst the busybodies." Snape looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I suppose I could always ask the Headmaster to allow you to Floo here for your Occlumency lessons, but..."

"I don't think I could handle both in one day," said Harry softly. The Occlumency lessons were still horrid, and, oh god, he'd have to deal with Snape seeing the things he'd been thinking about. One more year of this torture and then... what? Harry knew he wanted to hit on Snape, but that didn't do anything about the rest of his life, about Voldemort or a career. Harry put his head in his hands.

"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Snape, voice puzzled and strangely free of contempt.

Harry shrugged halfheartedly. "Half-hoping embarrassment does me in before Voldemort gets the chance?"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Snape said sharply, but his eyes held concern when Harry looked up.

"You're going to find out anyway, I suppose," Harry muttered, sinking down in his chair. "I've been having... inappropriate thoughts. And dreams."

Snape's look grew vaguely alarmed, "You've spoken with the Headmaster about these, I hope?"

Harry laughed hollowly. "I'm pretty certain Voldemort isn't sending these. Unless you think he's got some evil plan that involves a lot of shagging, or ruining all my pyjamas."

Snape's cheeks flamed red as comprehension dawned. "Ah. Well, I'm sure you must realize by now that I can be trusted not to speak of such things to the object or objects of your affections."

Harry made a frustrated noise in his throat. "Don't you get it, Severus? You are the object of my affections." Snape looked awfully stunned for someone who had been told the same thing only a week ago. "Although the twins do guest star rather a lot," he added, as an afterthought.

That last got a shocked laugh out of Snape, and Harry followed suit, drowning his embarrassment in snickers. The whole thing was absurd, really, worrying that during his lessons in not having his mind read, he'd end up showing his teacher the fantasies which said teacher had already stated unequivocally that he wanted no part in fulfilling. Snape's laughter had subsided to a quiet chuckle, his face hidden in one hand.

Harry finally got tired of being laughed at and said petulantly, "It's your own fault for being so... so..."

"So what, Harry? Cruel, cold, dismissive, unfair, greasy, antagonistic, and vile?" he snapped back, eyes flashing.

"Sexy, honorable, intelligent, witty, barefoot and did I mention sexy?" Harry retorted, annoyed. "You grabbed my arse first, anyway," he muttered, crossing his arms and sulking.

Snape pushed abruptly away from the table, causing a small chorus of protest among the chess pieces, and went over to stand by the fireplace, one hand clasping the other wrist loosely behind his back as he stared into the flames as though they held the answer. "Tried to get yourself a bit of forbidden tail, eh? I always told you your perversions would get you in the end," said the portrait above him. It was the first time Harry had heard it speak, and its voice was reedy and petulant.

Snape growled, and Harry's eyes went wide. "I told you once and I will tell you again, do not speak while the boy is here or I'll have you burned."

The man in the painting crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. Harry stood carefully and went over to where Snape was standing. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know you weren't trying anything, it's just the first time I ever really saw you as a man, and not my villainous Potions professor." Harry felt miserable. He'd known his affections had no chance of being returned while he was a student, but he didn't realize it made Snape quite so... volatile. "I-- I'll try and get over it, all right?"

Snape froze, then turned slowly towards Harry. His face was a still, blank mask, eyes shuttered and unreadable as he said carefully, "What makes you think that I want you to get over anything?"

Harry had a sudden image of Snape in the circle of Death Eaters, using just this face and voice to keep himself alive. He shuddered at the implications of it, and turned his own face to the flames before answering quietly, "You just seemed so angry about it."

He heard Snape take a deep breath next to him, and snuck a peek at the still-impassive face. The firelight flattered him, softening his features and highlighting his black hair in red and gold, and Harry had to banish the sudden urge to close the careful distance between them and kiss the tension out of that wide mouth. Snape looked up at him, and he blushed and forced his gaze back to the fire.

"I am angry at myself. I am not in a position to take advantage of what you are so very nearly offering, and had thought myself past the time when temptation would cause me to skirt the edge of propriety so thinly." His voice was perfectly even, as though he were discussing the weather or price of beetle's eyes. "I have told myself that I can allow myself the pleasure of your company simply so that we do not exacerbate the situation through continued animosity, and yet," his voice grew lower, harsher, "I find myself laying out something very near a seduction when I do."

"Except that you haven't made a single move to touch me, or even said anything remotely improper, at least until I forced you to just now," said Harry quietly. "I mean, if you weren't my teacher, this would be totally acceptable, wouldn't it?"

Snape nodded softly, then spoke in a resigned voice, "But I am your teacher, and I doubt the Headmaster would take kindly to us flouting this particular set of rules."

"Will it be so bad to wait a year?" Harry asked. "I mean, it's not like we've got much of a basis now anyway, aside from how good you look in that outfit. This way we get to find out if we can even stand one another for more than a few hours before it all gets mucked up with kissing."

Snape looked over, amazement etched on his features alongside the perpetual fatigue and underlying worry. "That, Harry, is a remarkably mature sentiment."

Harry shrugged, grinning despite himself. "Freak occurrence? I'll try not to do it again, sir."

"Severus," he corrected, almost too softly for Harry to hear, before turning and gesturing towards the chairs, "Shall we finish our game?"

Harry spotted their half-empty cups and became uncomfortably aware of how much tea he'd drunk so far tonight. "Er, how about you pour some more tea and I'll just go get rid of what I've already had?" he said, blushing.

Snape laughed again, and the tension finally broke completely. His voice was rich with good humour as he said, "The bathroom is through my bedchamber."

"Right," said Harry, feeling the dark-chocolate sound of Snape's laughter down to his toes. "Thanks, Severus. I'll be quick." If he could manage to get soft long enough to piss, that is.

He walked over to the door, trying not to think about Snape undressing, or Snape naked, or Snape lying in the huge four-poster bed beckoning for Harry to join him and get a far more practical and hands-on lesson than whatever was in that little green book. Instead, he forced himself to look around quickly as he moved through the room.

The room itself was larger than Harry had expected, every bit as big as the sitting room, and the bed sidled up against the far wall was draped in rich charcoal velvet with crisp white sheets just peeking over the top where the house elves had turned it down for the night. A set of deep green silk pyjama bottoms were neatly laid out atop a matching dressing gown. The bed itself was quite high, and had a set of worn wooden steps leading up to it, inviting one to roll around on the expanse. Next to it there was a nightstand containing a few books, a glass and pitcher, and a couple of small potion bottles that itched at Harry's curiosity.

There were more bookshelves in here, this time containing fiction and poetry, and an assortment of strange and beautiful decorative objects scattered here and there. One glass-fronted case held an entire collection of intricately sculpted bottles, each gilded, painted, filled with shimmering liquid, or even all three. The wardrobe and dresser took up the wall on the left, flanking a door that obviously led to the bathroom. There were no windows to break up the room, and no paintings either, just a mirror above the wide dresser. The dresser itself, like everything in Snape's quarters, was ebony wood with brass fittings, and the top held a scattering of personal items.

The bathroom was tiled in patterns of black and white, stark and elegant, with brass fixtures and towels of soft fuzzy brown that matched the velvet in the sitting room. There were more mysterious potions in here, and Harry closed the door behind him before blatantly rifling through them, trying to learn a bit more about his mysterious professor. He guiltily tried to will down his erection and not look at the sunken tub, a smaller version of the prefect's bath that looked as if it might hold two if they were close friends.

He brushed his fingers across the still-damp towel folded in the rack, then pressed his face and breathed in the scent of laundry soap, shampoo and skin. He wondered which was which, and suppressed the sudden desire to smell Snape's hair when he went back out, instead peeking curiously at the book set on a low table near the edge of the tub. It had a photo of two men on the cover, who winked at Harry before going back to snogging with apparent enthusiasm.

Harry blushed and set the book down quickly, instead moving to rifle through and smell all of Snape's hair and body potions. He found his hand wandering down to stroke himself through his thick jeans, and gave up, moving over to the toilet. He was already wound so tight it wouldn't take but a few strokes to bring him off, and then he could piss in peace and go back out there with only the fear of having been overheard wanking in a professor's bathroom in the middle of a friendly game of chess.

He pulled his cock out, fixing in his mind the smell of the towel, the image of Snape's face in the firelight, of his arse bending over in those fitting grey trousers, of Snape's feet and what they might've done in Harry's lap had there not been rules against such things. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out, and sure enough, it only took a bare dozen strokes before he was coming into his own hand, careful to catch the mess in his palm. It wouldn't do for Snape to find semen spattered about his bathroom after Harry left, after all.

He licked his palm thoughtfully, intrigued yet again by the bitter, ocean-salt tang of himself, wondering what Snape might taste like and if he'd enjoy Harry's flavour. He rinsed his hands and dried them, then did his business and tucked himself away, washed his hands a second time and took one last look around the room. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink, cheeks flushed and eyes fever-bright, bottom lip swollen where he'd bitten it and, really, looking quite a bit like he'd just tossed off in Snape's loo.

Harry shrugged and opened the door. There was no help for it, and Snape would undoubtedly find out during their next Occlumency lesson anyway. The man had developed a knack for seeing what Harry least wanted revealed, which had the twofold effect of making Harry work harder to hide it, but also making him more generally cavalier about what secrets Snape knew. The glimpses he'd got of Snape's past were enough to make Harry feel that there was little in Harry's life that could possibly shock the man, these days.

The bedroom smelled faintly of lavender and vetiver, as well as a few of the potions from the bathroom, and Harry was both glad and disappointed that he'd left the door open and couldn't indulge in a bit more snooping and possible touching of things he shouldn't. He was well aware he'd spent an inordinate amount of time in the loo, and he tried to quell his blush as he walked out into the room, gait made casual simply by being completely free of an erection for the first time that evening.

Snape was still over by the fire, arguing with the portrait in low tones. Harry cleared his throat gently, and they both turned to look at him, two sets of disconcerting black eyes sweeping over his form and making him feel suddenly young and obvious. "My ancestor has requested the courtesy of an introduction," said Snape with a familiar sneer.

"Er, all right," said Harry, walking back over to the fire. "Hullo, sir, I'm Harry Potter," said Harry with false brightness once he got over there. He tried to keep the furtive guilt out of his tone and posture, but Snape still shot him a curious look.

"I am one of Severus' ancestors, Austereus Snape. I was the original owner of the chess set you are losing so spectacularly with, my boy," said the portrait, puffing himself up grandly.

Harry had no idea what to say next, so he turned towards Snape and mouthed, "What now?"

Snape leaned in until his breath ghosted over Harry's ear and murmured, "Your lips smell like come."

Harry bit the bottom one to keep from moaning. Snape pulled back, his expression smug and eyes heated. "Well, we should get back our game?" said Harry, voice squeaking slightly on the last word.

"Yes, that would be wise. Never fear, my boy, I shall watch over to be sure that my many-greats-grandson does nothing untoward."

Harry couldn't resist baiting the stuffy portrait. "What makes you think I'd mind if he did?" he asked, putting on his best innocent face.

Austereus looked affronted, and went back to sulking. Harry stifled a laugh as he followed Snape over to their chairs. Snape summoned the teapot, which never seemed to empty or cool, and repeated his ritual of pouring their tea, first banishing the cold remains from their cups. "I wasn't aware you were quite that flexible, Harry," he said softly, his voice full of strange mischief, although his eyes never left the table.

"I licked it off my hand," Harry muttered, pretending deep interest in a lemon biscuit, cheeks burning.

"Aah," said Snape, sending the extra tea things back to their tray and proffering Harry his cup. Harry stuffed the biscuit in his mouth, and took the cup, nearly choking when Snape added, "A pity."

He took a gulp of tea to clear out his throat, glaring until he couldn't help but grin. Snape merely raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea with a small, self-satisfied smile.

"I believe it's your move, Severus," said Harry, gesturing towards the board and attempting quite vainly to banish these new ideas from his head. Snape had thought he'd, what, sucked himself off? Was that even physically possible? Harry was pretty limber, maybe he'd give it a try over the summer. He licked his lips again, tasting his own bitterness beneath the lemon and sugar, cream and tea. He wondered if Snape craved that flavour the same way he wanted to taste Snape's mouth, his cock.

Snape uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, examining the board once more. "You do present an interesting challenge, Harry, despite your initial poor showing."

Harry had the distinct feeling they were still carrying on two conversations at once. He also had the intolerable urge to slip off his shoes and play footsie with Snape, so he concentrated as best he could on the verbal flirting instead. "I guess I've just had to prevail against poor odds more than I've been taught to conserve my resources." Which was actually not true after a lifetime of hoarding precious commodities like food, freedom and time to himself.

"Having seen glimpses of your youth, I tend to doubt that highly," said Snape, calling him on the lie. "However, I can see how one would quickly lose the habit amongst the relative abundance here at Hogwarts."

Harry blushed and bit his lip, an image of Snape's arse flashing through his mind for no apparent reason. "Aah, but the best of the bounty is still forbidden," said Harry, running an absent finger over his now-tender mouth.

Snape's eyes were now riveted on Harry rather than the board, and he leaned back, steepling his fingers. Harry gasped as toes brushed along his shin when Snape crossed his legs, and they both blushed. "Sometimes that which is forbidden calls to us all the more sweetly," said Snape, the rough edge to his voice like the bitter bite of really fine, dark chocolate. Harry wanted to feel Snape melting on his tongue, and he spared a moment to wonder how he'd endure an entire year of these lessons.

Harry stared down at his plate, grabbing something at random and wracking his brain for a reply. He nibbled on his miniature fruit tart, then smiled as he got an idea. "A peach plucked too soon will only sour the stomach."

Snape's smile grew calculating, and he made his move before answering, "And yet one left too long will only spoil."

"You're not that old," said Harry, giving up flowery language for bluntness.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Old enough to have gone to school with your parents."

"You're the one that said these things are usually one younger man and an older one to guide him," Harry pointed out, setting the tart down. He picked off one glazed raspberry and stared at it, waiting for Snape's answer.

Snape was silent, staring off into the middle distance, and Harry licked absently at the sweet glaze on the berry before popping it into his mouth, crushing the tart fruit against his lips and then sweeping them clean with his tongue. He was working on getting the last of the sticky stuff off his fingers when he felt the weight of Snape's gaze, and looked up to see an intent hunger burning in the black depths of his eyes.

Harry froze, index finger still held between pursed lips, feeling a bit like a mouse under the gaze of a large black cat. Toes slid over his ankle with a firm pressure this time, then slid up under his jeans to caress his leg above the sock. Harry slid the finger out of his mouth with a wet pop and gasped, plunging straight into the fires of arousal. He went from soft to hard between the heartbeats he could feel in his throat. This was desire, the feral look in Snape's eyes what it did to Harry's body.

Harry clutched the armrests, spreading his legs reflexively as the toes slid upward, unable to contain a whimper when they left him entirely. Snape stood, leaning over the chessboard, his gaze too intent to hold. Instead, Harry's eyes slid down Snape's body to where the front of those grey trousers strained to hold him in. "Usually, such guidance also comes with a price, Harry," rasped Snape warningly.

Harry leaned in until their faces were mere inches apart. "And what price would you exact, Severus?"

Snape growled in his throat and lunged, closing that small gap and ravaging Harry's mouth. This was nothing like the kisses he'd shared with Cho, all soggy and tentative. This was heat and lemons, tea and Snape, this was being claimed, devoured, owned. Harry thought he might come again just from this, the play of lips and tongue, the bite of teeth and rush of breath. A whimper found its way between their mouths and out into the air, and Snape froze, eyes going wide.

Snape pulled away and sat with slow precision, his eyes wide and almost panicked. "You should go," he choked out, raising shaking fingers to press against his reddened lips.

Harry sat back, willing his body to stop shaking. "You're going to break me," he murmured around the pulse in his throat and the lingering flavour of lemons in his mouth.

"No more than you have destroyed me," said Snape, falling back into what Harry hoped was still just metaphor. He shook himself once and looked up at Harry, who felt wild and unkempt beneath that piercing gaze. "I have kissed a student," he added wonderingly.

"I promise not to tell?" said Harry, clasping his shaking hands in his lap. "It was... we can consider it a fond farewell," he added, voice strengthening so he sounded almost confident.

Snape slumped in his chair, expression crumpling to weariness and guilt. "Indeed, Harry. But I believe it is still time for you to go, before any further indiscretions are committed."

"Yeah, you're probably right. You'd've won at chess anyway," said Harry, gathering his strength, and the courage to stand with his erection pressing against the front of his jeans. "But I'll see you in a few weeks, right?"

Snape nodded. "I will endeavor to better restrain myself next time, although I would ask that you refrain from..."

"Tossing off in your loo and then sucking my fingers?" said Harry flippantly, not quite meeting Snape's eyes.

"Indeed."

Harry could've sworn he heard a bit of the earlier humour in that last word, and he felt a lot better as he finally stood. "Thanks for everything, Severus."

"You are, for the most part, welcome. Farewell, Harry," said Snape tiredly. He was hiding in the shadows of his chair, and Harry left quietly, not wanting to intrude.

"Goodbye," he said quietly, just before closing the door. If there had been a response, Harry hadn't heard it. He rushed on out, eager to reach the prefect's bathroom and have a more leisurely wank, fueled by the naked desire in Snape's eyes and the persistent tang of lemons and come on his own lips.

A Question of Etiquette IV: A Moment of Privacy