Bastards Almost the moment Malfoy walked in, Severus had a wand at his throat. "Hello, Lucius," he purred, stroking one soft, pale cheek. "How are you?" "Been better." Lucius' voice was a bit high. He squirmed; Severus dug the sharp tip of his wand into white skin. "Could someone get Professor Fellus? Please?" "I don't think that's necessary." Snape wrapped an arm around his friend's waist and cradled him gently. Tenderly, he kissed a flushed ear. "Would the three of you wait outside, please? And ask Nagendra to do the same should he come back? We may be a while, and I'd really rather not have any witnesses." With looks of grim terror, Adam, Evan, and Emeric fled. They were kind enough to lock the door behind them. "Lucius," Severus breathed. "Lucius, Lucius, Lucius. You've upset me, you know." "What do you want me to do, Severus?" Malfoy's voice was high and reedy. He arched against the arm around him, breath coming in short, sharp waves. Had he not been so pitifully frightened, it might have been arousing. "I want you," he paused, lips teasing Lucius' ear, savouring the heat that rose in the curved flesh, "to tell me why on Earth you would give my secrets to a Gryffindor." "What secrets?" "Don't lie to me, Mister Malfoy." Severus whisper held more menace and cruelty than he'd ever imagined a whisper could. There was an odd rush of power in such calm. The arm around Lucius' waist shifted so a slender hand lay splayed against his chest. Severus pressed closer, his left arm bent and clutching his prey, his right oh-so-similarly positioned but holding the wand against a rough trachea. "You... you would have told him anyway." "Is that so? Why?" Lucius didn't have an answer. "Perhaps," Severus murmured tenderly, "you need some incentive? Not much, a simple spell ought to be enough to clear your mind. But which one? Ah, I know. You know this one. Imp... Imper... come on, Lucius, you know this one. Imper... Imperi..." Lucius gave a choked squeak. "You cut me from the Quidditch team." "Is that all?" Lucius nodded too quickly. "I hope you're a better liar than that when it comes to the Dark Lord." Butterfly kisses trailed down Malfoy's white neck. "Otherwise, I don't see you lasting long enough to leave so much as a stain." "Severus... you're my friend..." "Was, Lucius. I was your friend. I was your friend until you decided I wasn't worth your respect. The moment that information slipped past your lips, you became my enemy. How many others have you told?" "Nobody." "Are you sure? Because I can make sure. Imp-" "Yes! Nobody else. Only Pettigrew. I swear." "On what do you swear?" "What?" Lucius' voice hitched. Faint dampness oozed through his robe. The side of his face shimmered with perspiration. "On what do you swear? If I find you've lied to me in the slightest, I'll cut your liver out and drown you on your own blood." "You can't be-" "I'm perfectly serious. Have you told anyone else?" The tip of Snape's wand slid down Lucius' throat. A slight furrow trailed it, weeping tiny specks of blood. "The Dark Lord." Snape smirked. He grabbed Lucius' earlobe between his teeth and tugged playfully. Lucius gasped. "You'll have to pardon me. For a moment I thought you said you'd told the Dark Lord that I slept with Lily Evans." "Yes." The word was barely a whisper. Severus hugged Lucius tight. He buried his face in the warm curve between neck and shoulder and inhaled the bitter, musky scent of fear. "Lucius, you should know better than to betray me. I'm no less powerful than the Dark Lord." "He knows things you'll never-" "Just as I know things he never will. I know what you looked like the first time anyone touched you." Severus went back to closing his lips over the moist skin sheathing Lucius' carotid. "I know what you sounded like a minute later when you came in my hand. I know how you cried and cried when you crushed that shrew second year because Nott dared you. I also know how much you loved the feeling of its blood dripping between your fingers. That was why you cried, wasn't it? You love mutilating and controlling anything weaker than you, and you were too spineless to admit it." Severus slid his hand down Lucius' chest, over his flat, rippled stomach, to his crotch. He stroked it lovingly with his thumb. "You see what happens when you mistake trust for weakness?" "Severus-" "Shh. Don't try to speak." "Sev-" Severus gripped his wand. "Quietus." Lucius' mouth worked. The muscles in his throat bucked at the wand, trying to emit some sort of sound. Severus ground the wand beneath his chin and used it to turn his head. The silver eyes were wide, white brows pinched. His mouth was open, stretched invitingly with terror. As gently as he could, Severus kissed him. He nestled his beloved enemy against his chest and undid the buttons on his jeans one by one by one. "I am your lord and master, Lucius. Whatever that mark on your arm represents, I own you. You assumed that was no longer the case. Thus, I am forced to remind you." The last button came free and Severus reached into layers of cloth to wrap his hand around a limp prick. "You are a coward. You will never be anything more than a coward and a bully, and you represent a cancer on this House. You pit Slytherin against Slytherin. That's not right, Lucius. We have enough enemies without becoming a House divided. I am the unifying force. Hurt me, and you betray everything you ever could have achieved." He squeezed the flesh in his fingers, pinching the foreskin in a way that started to force blood into it. Lucius squirmed; Severus lightly pierced the surface of his throat. "Don't fight me, Lucius." Lucius stopped struggling. "Dermis Reparo." Severus withdrew his wand just before the skin closed around it. "You see? I have complete power here. Whatever I do, I can hide. If you struggle, I'll body bind you. You've always fancied yourself a Dark wizard, but where you played I studied. You will never be more than a lackey to those who understand." His hand moved more quickly, encouraging the blood from Lucius' quivering body. Half hard, a little more than half, three-quarters. He trailed a fingertip over the short stretch of foreskin hanging off the tip and gently pulled it back. "Do you know what the saddest part is, Lucius? You enjoy it." Severus sank his teeth into Lucius' shoulder. His hand sped up. Within seconds, the prick there was solid, as hard as if Lucius had come to him in the night. Severus closed his eyes and felt the hard shudders coursing through Lucius' body. He breathed deeply, and this time the scent of fear was mingled with the stench of sex and revelation. Lucius' cock began to twitch. A minute later, the rough yank and twist milked the first clear drops from its tip. They slid down, oozing between foreskin and glans, dribbling and spreading between tight fingers. Lucius thrashed. Severus grazed the wand along the top of his clavicle and he went almost still. Almost. His knees were stiff as jelly, his head drooping and thrashing and rolling on Severus' shoulder. Suddenly, it stopped. Lucius' entire body bowed out and with the first violent, shooting spasm Severus positioned his wand and whispered a tender, loving, "Crucio." Lucius stiffened for an instant. Semen still spattering Snape's hand, the floor around them, he whipped in the tenuous embrace. Snape never lost wand contact, allowing the instrument of his domination to rake chasms through suddenly cold flesh. Lucius' mouth was frozen wide. The shriek came forth in an almost audible rush of air. Severus suddenly dropped Malfoy's limp cock and stepped back. The curse broke, and Malfoy collided with the floor. He curled up, foetal, whimpering silently. Blood trickled from his neck, staining his shirt and pooling gently on the floor. Quietly, Severus went to his trunk. From the very bottom he retrieved the small glass jar of green salve. He frowned. There had been more than that left after he'd left his last suggestion on Peter. Sneering, he swooped down to shove Lucius' shirt up to his shoulders. He scooped out the last handful of salve and slapped it hard on white flesh. "You will never tell anyone about any of this," he growled. "My trunk, and all potions, vials, flasks, cauldrons, beakers, rods, and assorted miscellaneous items therein are off limits to you. You will not touch my trunk, sit on my trunk, open my trunk, look at my trunk, or have anything to do with the contents of my trunk. This will stand until the day you die, and then until eternity burns itself out." Severus rubbed the salve into blotchy skin until bruises rose. He kept repeating himself over and over like a mantra. Lucius was too lost to tell how many times the suggestion took. When the last traces had disappeared into pale skin, Severus yanked Malfoy's shirt down, rolled him over, roughly redid his trousers, cleaned up the floor, and muttered vicious healing spells over his sorry carcass. He pointed his wand again. "Ennervate." Lucius' eyes focused. He rolled onto his back, a look of utter fear and loathing breaking his delicate features. Severus glared down his nose. "If you scream when I give you your voice back, I will kill you. Not now, not when I can be incriminated, but very soon." Lucius nodded once, meekly. Severus pointed his wand. "Sonorus." Lucius gave a short whimper. He lay there for a moment, silent. Never taking his eyes off Snape, he pushed himself to his elbows, then to his feet. Snape glowered. "Bastard," Lucius whispered. "Coward," Snape hissed back. Lucius' mouth went hard. He turned and made his way to the door. It took him a minute to realise that he'd need his wand to open it. He staggered a little, but quickly regained his footing and turned towards the common room. Severus folded his arms, wand still clutched in his hand. It was very good to be the king.   Tom's lips moved silently. It was fascinating, in a bizarre way, to watch him count stitches as intricate lacework grew from the tiny hook in his hand. Severus drained his tea, watching him create a fragile snowflake from silk thread no thicker than a baby's hair. "How long does that take?" he asked softly, trying not to break the man's concentration. "One second." Tom barely paused counting. Miniscule stitches built upon each other. The sixth tip of the large snowflake - half a foot across if it was an inch - fell into place with a few quick pulls of the hook and Tom bit the thread, knotting it securely. He glanced up at Severus and smiled. "About thirty hours, this one. Not too long, considering." He plucked a needle from the small cushion on the table and stuck the end of the thread between his lips. "Why do you do something so pointless?" Tom looked at him quizzically. "Pointless?" Severus splayed his hands. "You could be developing potions, or researching ancient curses, or... Hell, making a jumper. Why do you keep making doilies?" "The world needs senseless acts of beauty." Tom threaded the needle and proceeded to work the loose thread into the snowflake. "Potions are beautiful." "But not senseless. Doilies serve no purpose except to be pretty." Severus shook his head. "Everything has to have a purpose. What's the use in wasting time on something with no practical end?" "You play Quidditch." "Quidditch means the Quidditch Cup." "How is that a practical end?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "And you call yourself a Slytherin?" Tom chuckled softly. His skin reflected shades of autumn in the firelight; his vision was remarkable, had to be to work with such delicate thread in the modest light. "Even Slytherins require flights of fancy now and then." "Bollocks." Severus smirked. Tom glanced at him and shook his head. "Someday you'll understand." Severus hummed. "You know I won't take your word for it, don't you?" "Yes. That doesn't mean you won't agree eventually." Severus raised an eyebrow. He didn't stop smirking, though. As ever, on these nights he'd crept away from Hogwarts, he was genuinely comfortable. He relished the chance to speak with someone as an equal. It was an informal court of kings, one with his doilies and one with his Stetson, talking quietly or arguing feverishly about whatever happened to come up. "Lucius still won't speak to me. It's been a bloody month!" "I'm not surprised. Cunning move, that, to mute him through Cruciatus. Your timing couldn't have been better, either." Severus smiled broadly. "Thank you," he murmured. Tom glanced up. Something like longing flashed through his eyes. "No need for that. You've done something to be proud of." Severus shrugged. "I could do better." "Yes, I rather imagine you could." The hint of longing returned and was gone. "Are you feeling all right?" "Fine. Why do you ask?" Tom peered at him. Once again, he lifted the doily to his mouth and bit loose the extra thread. He started sucking the longer thread at the centre. "You keep looking at me funny." "Oh. Sorry about that, didn't realise I was." The needle was threaded; it dodged countless tiny stitches. "You did last week, too. Did I do something wrong?" Tom shook his head and scowled. He didn't look up from his work. "No. It's not important." "Tell me?" "Really, Severus, it's nothing to worry about." "Please?" He frowned crookedly. Seeing Tom upset like this made his chest ache. The temptation to move to the chair next to him almost made Severus trip over his own feet to get there. He stayed put, though. His hands gripped the chair to make sure. "I don't want to upset you. It's nothing important." "You're already upsetting me. Tell me?" Tom peeked up shyly. "Promise you won't take this the wrong way?" "That depends on what it is." Tom smiled affectionately. "Why does that answer not surprise me?" His hands toyed with the delicate doily. "What Lucius said has been bothering me. It's not important, I suppose, only..." he smiled sadly. "A part of me was a bit disappointed to learn that you prefer the company of women?" Severus blinked. "Come again?" "Your... friend. Evans." "She's not my friend." "Your fling, then." "My revenge." Severus scowled. "If I thought it would have done any good I'd have found a way to shag her idiot boyfriend instead." Tom's eyelids fluttered. He bit the second thread and stabbed the needle safely into its cushion. "This is another of those details Lucius really ought to have mentioned," he said quietly. "I assume he knows?" Severus nodded. He had the strangest feeling that his blood had been saturated with helium. It made him a little dizzy, and left him wondering if his skin were going to float away. "Hmm." Tom spread the snowflake on the arm of his chair with careful, practised fingers. "I really should have a long talk with him. He neglects things." He coughed softly and shifted so his legs were crossed and his hands were folded in his lap. "I've never had an equal, Severus. Not until I met you, at least. I'm forty-eight years old. That's a very long time to wait for something. I... regret to say it seems to have gone to my head. I've grown... fond of you. Not that I have any expectations that you would want an old man like me the same way," he added quickly. "Your company is more than enough. Although, should you ever..." he trailed off. Tom lowered his head. His drawn face was sad, scared, and a little bit embarrassed. "I am fond of you, Tom." Severus shuffled his feet. "Quite fond of you." Tom smiled crookedly, bitterly. "Fond enough to come back after tonight?" "Fond enough to stay. If you'd let me. Once school is finished." Tom's spine straightened. He looked stunned. "Severus, I... Severus, I can't ask you to do that. I'm almost three times your age. You have a life of your own." "Maybe I want to try spending it with you. I've never had an equal either." Tom frowned. "You can't be serious. You'd be all but sequestered here most of the time." "Better than staying in Hogsmeade. Or moving to London or Glasgow." Severus leaned back, solemn. He'd never expected to have a choice for his first years out of school besides going home to Scarborough, or working in Hogsmeade, or hoping to find an apothecary position in Knockturn Alley or Glasgow's smaller Dinge Street. Quietly, he got up and moved to the other chair. He reached out a long, pale hand and stroked the soft alizarin wool of Tom's sleeve. Rusty eyes darted to watch. Slowly, tentatively, Tom unclasped his hands and lay one gently across the back of Severus'. It was warm, and soft, and free of calluses save where his crochet hook had worn a small hard patch. Severus lifted the long fingers and kissed the callus. Tom stroked his cheek. Severus leaned into the touch. Tom smiled. "Precious." Fixing his eyes solemnly on Tom's, Severus laced his fingers through the ones on his cheek. Carefully, he pressed his lips to the callus again, longer this time, allowing them to part and the fingertip to be drawn into the warmth of his mouth. Tom gasped, an almost silent intake of air. His mouth stayed open, lower lip twitching as if he wanted to speak but didn't have the words. Severus cradled the finger with his tongue, gently sucking away the taste of salt and sweet metal until there was nothing left but skin with its clean neutrality. Tom's other three fingers spread to rub his cheek again, thumb settling beneath his chin. "I have loved you since you stood up from your chair and refused to bow before me," Tom whispered. Astonishment laced his voice. "Nobody has ever defied me without claiming superiority. I daresay no-one but you ever will." Severus smiled softly around Tom's finger. He slid his hand over a long, slender forearm. Sparse black hairs tickled his palm. It struck him suddenly that he'd never done this before. He'd had sex - frequently - but there had never been anything behind it. It was only ever use and abuse, a display of power or subtle manipulation or simply a way to make someone shut up. He gripped Tom's arm. It held back a few tendrils of fear that told him he was about to commit a senseless act of beauty. Tom pulled his finger loose. He lifted the hat and stroked Severus' hair. "You look upset." "I'm fine." Tom cocked his head. Resting his other hand on the arm of Severus' chair, he leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Severus' parted, and he closed his eyes at the soft pressure. No urgency, no insistence, only quiet invitation. He accepted, tongue nudging gently against the inside of Tom's lip. A soft, warm, gentle caress met it. Severus laced his fingers through brittle, surprisingly fine waves of hair as Tom reverently tasted the inside of his mouth. They stayed like that for uncounted minutes. Tom broke it, finally. He smiled tenderly, lips flushed peach, teasing the short curls that always formed at the back of Severus' neck. "You should go. You'll be missed." Severus blinked. "I thought..." "Soon we'll have all the time in the world." Severus cradled Tom's smooth cheek. The peach lips ducked to kiss his palm and, a moment later, rusty eyes with wide slits for pupils crinkled in a smile. "When can I come back?" Severus asked. "Are you busy Friday?" Severus shook his head. "No. Eight again?" "Hmm. There may still be some light then, we can't risk you being spotted. Nine?" "Nine." Severus mirrored the warm smile he received. Leaning forward, he touched his lips chastely to Tom's. It was an odd sensation, not simply giving in to lust. Of course, the relaxed flutter in his chest was an odd sensation as well, so perhaps that was how it was supposed to be. Tom helped him up and guided him to the door. A warm hand pressed between Severus' shoulder blades. It moved only to help him with his cloak. Cloak, shoes, and hat once again in place, Severus took his broom. He shifted from foot to foot. "Are you sure you want me to go?" Tom shook his head. "You have to, though. I expect Professor Dumbledore would be dreadfully disappointed should he learn where you've been." Severus smirked. "This would be a bad thing how?" Tom laughed. Severus shivered pleasantly at the sound. Smooth lips touched his once more. "He'll be out of the way soon enough." They stood for a moment, silent. Severus considered asking once more, but Tom was right. "I'd better go," he murmured sadly. A last, lingering kiss and Tom opened the door. The March cold did nothing to make leaving easier. "Be careful." "I always am." Severus flashed a smile and he was alone. The flight back seemed shorter than usual, but he had the vague sensation of his blood vessels being trailed all over the Scottish countryside, his heart having been caught in the door as it closed. When he landed, he reached into his pocket for his wand. A silencing spell would make it easier to sneak back to Slytherin an hour past curfew. His fingers touched something unexpected. Frowning, he pulled it out. The silk snowflake dangled from his fingers. He couldn't help but smile. The smile lingered, the useless snowflake hidden carefully in his palm, as he made his way carefully to the rear door of the castle. It was further from Slytherin, but less traveled (even by Filch) and significantly more populated with nooks and crannies should they prove necessary. He'd just gotten inside when he heard voices. "... Ought to get back to your dorm." "Can't I come with you?" Peter's whinging whisper made the ciliate hairs along Severus' spine stand on end. "Do you realise how suspicious that would look?" Silence. There was a soft sound, like a hand smoothing vast amounts of fabric. "He's only going to keep hurting you." "I don't care, Lucius." "You're too good for that sadistic bastard." "I don't care! I love him. Anyway, it's not like he can stop me from telling James if I want to." Severus shuddered. It continued; three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, he was forced to meet Pettigrew in the Potions room, help him with whatever piece of academia was lost on that small brain, and betray not only himself but now Tom. Until he left school and there was no risk of Black and Potter rending him limb from limb, Severus was victim to Pettigrew's twisted affections. He choked back a gag. "I know," Lucius said soothingly. "Only, remember, anytime you want, you can tell James. If Snape ever hurts you again-" "He won't." A short, slightly wheezing breath. "Thanks for helping me with Charms again." "Anytime, mate." They said their goodnights, and only when two sets of footsteps were too distant to hear did Severus peek out into the corridor. It was clear. Severus clutched the snowflake like he was afraid it would melt if he let go. He didn't stop moving until he was safe in his pit of vipers. Until The End Of The World The last Saturday in March was warm and bright. Severus sat on the sidelines, watching Potter score point after point after point while Ryan reached for the Quaffle half a second late. He dropped his head in disgust. Forty minutes into the heated second and final match against Gryffindor, the pain in his limbs knocked him off his broom. Literally. He'd unbalanced in a hard dive and tipped face-first towards the ground. Only a lucky elbow kept him aloft; pain shooting through his arm threatened to make him pass out. Madam Hooch called a time out, and moments later sent him off the pitch. They'd been ahead until that happened. Severus sighed. He ignored yet more abnormally nasty looks from Black and Potter. Especially Potter. If looks could cast, Severus would have long since fallen to the Killing Curse. Frowning, he leaned back on the bench a safe distance from the reserve players. His eyes fluttered shut; his mind wandered. He had good reason to be a bit tender that day. ... As soon as the door opened, Tom cupped his face and kissed him. It was a pleasant greeting that sent tingles down Severus' spine. He returned it. One hand gingerly came to rest on Tom's side; when it wasn't shaken off, Severus' slid it around to his back. He supposed his newfound hesitation was due to fear. After all, he'd never done anything like this before. Tom nipped his lower lip and pulled back. "Come inside, you'll catch your death." Severus did. The long, delicate hands that took his cloak slid smoothly over his shoulders as they did. He was very aware of a warm body just behind him, of the soft pulse it gave that might have been power and might have been life. Severus left his shoes and his hat with his cloak. He was shattered and relieved to be led to the sitting room again. There were two chairs there, this time, across the table from one another. As always, Tom poured Severus a cup of tea before making his own. The rich, brown smell of Darjeeling saturated the air. There was something infinitely calming about it. Severus set the cup and saucer on his knee. He fidgeted with it. "How has your week been?" Tom smiled warmly. "It seems like longer." Severus nodded. It certainly did. "Fine, I suppose." "Tell me about it?" This certainly wasn't what Severus expected. "Are you sure?" Tom nodded. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "I enjoy hearing your voice. If magic were judged by the voice of the wizard, the world would bow before you." One eyelid cracked open. "Not that it won't as things are." "Oh." Severus felt his skin grow hot. Tom chuckled. "Your eloquence is truly unsurpassed," he said dryly. "Has Lucius given you any trouble?" "No. He's adopted a Gryffindor, though." "Dear, dear, dear, that won't do. Won't do at all." Tom shook his head lightly. His closed eyes were crinkled by his smile. "What variety of Gryffindor are we talking about? The big, brave sort who get eaten by dragons, or the strong, silent type who wet themselves when a shadow moves?" Severus snorted. "The short, fat, rat-faced sort who wouldn't know a spine if it hit him in the tackle." "Are you sure he has any tackle?" "Unfortunately." An eye opened and fixed on Severus. "It was an experiment that went horribly wrong," Snape said wearily. "Ah. Tell me, does this 'experiment' have a small but persistent group of friends who are convinced that their mission in life is to make you see an early grave?" Severus stared. "Yes." A wide and beautiful smile turned chalky skin to flawless alabaster in the firelight. Tom rolled his eyes whimsically, white teeth opening to speak. "Verrucus Preston the Third. He was fat, buck-toothed, spotty, and had all the natural grace of a toad. I can only suppose the first two Verrucus Prestons were slightly more attractive for there to even be a third. And he whinged." Tom rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. "Gods and demons, that walking suet could have played for England if whinging were a sport. In my infinite wisdom, I seduced him in order to eke information on his overbearing herd of friends." Severus laughed under his breath. "Sounds familiar. What happened?" Tom shrugged. "He decided he loved me. My seventh year was Hell, what with him following me around like some sort of puppy. Between his moaning and jumping me every time the door closed, and wanting to know when he could tell his friends about us, I don't know how I made it through the year without transfiguring his vocal cords into wine gums." A knot of apprehension in Severus' stomach relaxed. He smiled softly. "What did you do?" "What could I do? I told the entire school he was a bloody tart who'd shag anything that stayed still long enough, and learned to run faster than his friends." Severus laughed out loud. "Didn't it hurt your reputation?" Tom shook his head, smirking mysteriously. "I never said how I knew. Hearsay was that I'd overheard him with someone while I was studying in the Astronomy Tower." Severus shook his head. "You've got balls, Tom Riddle." Tom preened. "Wouldn't you love to know?" Severus arched an eyebrow. "That almost sounds like a challenge. You ought to know I'd take it if it were." "Perhaps it is." A teasing smirk made pleasant sparks burrow their way through Snape's gut. Tom's eyes narrowed happily. "But enough about that. How are my other three drones treating you?" Severus pushed aside his pang of disappointment. "Evan and Adam won't even undress in the room anymore. Emeric's paying a sixth year twenty Galleons a week to keep quiet." "I thought it was ten?" "She upped it a few weeks ago. He's hocked the broom he got for Christmas, told his parents it was stolen." Severus was surprised at how well versed Tom was. He leaned back, though, and smiled smugly at the memory of the Howler Avery's mum sent that Tuesday. When it exploded in an apocalypse of flame and screaming it set Avery's robe on fire and he spent the entire tirade running in circles with his mum's voice demanding to know when he'd begun to think so little of her that he couldn't take care of his things. It had been all Severus could do not to injure himself, holding in his laughter. Tom shook his head. "Pathetic, aren't they? Not a scrap of fortitude in the lot." His eyes came to rest on Severus. "Unlike you." His voice was soft and reverent, and Severus had the sudden urge to curl up in his lap. He might have blushed. They looked at each other silently for a minute. Severus longed to move closer, but the third chair was missing. There was something personal... vulnerable about curling up in his lap. That sort of submission wasn't in his makeup. He certainly wouldn't kneel on the floor. He would never kneel on the floor. Eyes lowered, he said, "You've gotten rid of the other chair, then?" Tom nodded. "It made me think of Lucius, the first time he brought you. Dreadful image, I didn't want that between us." Severus nodded. Surreptitiously, he tried to pick up his chair. It was stuck to the floor. "I'm afraid you won't have much luck there. The house sometimes shakes when there's a storm. I spelled the furniture down the fifth time I woke up to the delight of splinters in the rug." "You sleep in here?" Tom smirked. "Of course not. I've got a bedroom." He paused. "And a bed." Severus' heart skipped. The small cluster of nerves below his ribcage suddenly expanded until it wrapped his body. What if he did it wrong, this whole "lovemaking" thing? Add to that the fact that Tom was thirty years older and, presumably, had a great deal more experience... well, Severus was skilled for eighteen, but certainly an amateur for forty-eight. His mouth was too dry to speak. Tom's eyes softened. He stood, smoothing his black robe. Holding out a hand he said, "Come with me, I'll show you the rest of the house." Severus only hesitated a moment before he took it. Much to his lack of surprise, "the rest of the house" consisted of a few fingers pointed towards the kitchen and the study and the bath and the attic converted into a potions laboratory and a straight run into the bedroom. It was smaller than Severus expected, all white walls and dark wood and snowflake doilies pinned to the closed green curtains in a permanent blizzard. The bed itself was modest, wood so dark it was almost black and covered in a thick, white duvet. He stared at it a moment. Its reality elated him, and saturated him with shaking nerves. Tom closed the door carefully. Gently, he took Severus' hand and kissed the palm. He plucked at the baggy black student robes. "You've lost a lot of weight, then?" Severus nodded. He silently thanked any deities listening that the room was too dark for the heat in his face to be visible. Suddenly, he remembered Tom with his crochet hook and his thread finer than hair, and he wondered. Tom looked sad. "An unfortunate price." He touched Severus' face tenderly, fingertips skittering over planes and angles. "Although I must admit that I doubt I'd find you as lovely if you hadn't." Tom's finger traced an angled, dark eyebrow. He made a small noise. "This doesn't suit you so much, though. Black and sallow... you weren't meant to be light." Severus shook his head. "Mum's Indian." Tom smiled. "I guessed as much. 'Ajit' isn't a dreadfully Anglo-Saxon name." Severus hadn't said much about his family. It was painful. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he missed his mother, and his brothers, and the fact that he wouldn't get to see his nephews and nieces grow up. Hadrian's eldest was even named Severa, after her uncle. Severus glanced back at the bed. "I want you," he murmured. It came out more timid than he'd intended. Tom kissed him, fingers still resting against his cheek. "I love you," he said, softly but resolutely. Severus' eyes closed and he rubbed his face against the spidery touch. His hands found a waist even smaller than his own. There was more bone there than flesh. His burst of panic must have shown in his eyes because Tom took his face and kissed him again. "Not the Osmosis Curse, Severus Ajit. There are many, many more than that." Severus relaxed. His own slim, wiry muscles tried to turn to jelly. He stopped them, though, and let his arms rest in the shallow between waist and hip. Long, wispy hair teased his hands. Their bodies pressed together, and for the first time in his life Severus didn't have to bend down to meet a glance, or to press his mouth against another, or to feel his cock stir against the pressure of a thigh. Tom smiled. "I'm jealous," he murmured against Severus' lips. "That takes a little more effort at my age." "How much more?" There was an amused sigh, and Tom said, "You'll find out." Severus couldn't fight his wide, smug grin. He nudged Tom's face with his nose until it tilted and he was able to open their mouths, tongue darting forth to explore ridges of palate and transitional smoothness from tooth to inner cheek. Tom tasted of sweet tea and lemon, and something that might have been saffron. He tasted like home. Long fingers tangled in Severus' hair and gripped his scalp. It wasn't painful, but he didn't expect a body so slight to be so strong. What should have been a gasp became a moan; Tom smiled against Severus' mouth and worked a hand between them. The first of the long row of buttons holding closed yards of baggy student robe slid from its hole. They went slowly. Severus simply stood there, wondering at the odd pleasure of another body so close yet so unselfish, savouring the slow, easy press of lips and tongues. His eyes fluttered open just long enough to see that Tom's were closed and his face was utterly relaxed. Fingers pressed into his chest every inch to undo a button. Gradually, they moved to his stomach and the barely defined layer of muscle. Breath hitched in Severus' throat when the pressure dug into his navel. It kept moving: another button went, and another, and another. The kiss turned more heated; Tom's other hand grasped more tightly, and Severus pulled him closer by the small of his back. Suddenly, Tom moved his hands. "Let's get rid of this." His voice was a touch ragged. The faintest peach flush had risen in the low firelight. Severus swallowed as nimble, cunning hands pressed against his belly and slid up over his shirted chest, opening the robe as far as it would go. They changed direction at his shoulders and followed the graceful S-curve of Severus' clavicles to push the robe off. A few disentangled moments and they were pressed tight again, kissing mercilessly. Severus' groin ground into Tom's hip; he felt a bit more than the beginnings of an erection pressing into his thigh. He slid his own hands up Tom's sides to fumble with the bizarre series of small buckles that started at a belt encircling his neck, crossed his shoulder in a neat row, and dropped straight from his joint almost to the hem. Tom gently took his hands. "Let's get you sorted first," he said between soft smacking sounds. "Not fair," Severus murmured. "How do you know I'm wearing anything underneath?" Severus pulled back for a moment. He arched a bemused eyebrow. "The Dark Lord's dark secret, then?" "Simply personal preference." Rusty eyes glinted wickedly. "Although, it's been quite a while since the subject's come up." "You mean to tell me Lucius hasn't tried to get in your robes." "Tried, yes." A soft kiss. "Worthy, never." Tom's eyes crinkled in a wide, warm smile. He traced the sharp contour of Severus' cheek, his painfully aquiline nose. "Nearly as beautiful as you are brilliant. I shan't be letting you go willingly." Severus purred. He nuzzled the triangle of white skin between Tom's loosely tied hair and the high collar of his robe. A serpent-like slide against him encouraged him to replace the tip of his nose with his lips. Tom moaned. The low, lightly hissing sound made Severus' hips go weak. Long arms steadied him, wrapped tight. A hand wriggled up to bury itself in his hair. Tom made a pleasant noise. "It might be a bit safer to move forward." Severus nodded dumbly. He allowed Tom to slide the braces off his shoulders, and consequently remove the trousers so perilously around his waist. There was a moment of confusion when he got a foot tangled in the braces and stumbled against Tom, but the low chuckle and a supportive hand cupping his silk-clad arse made Severus smile. Tom stroked the silver boxers. "I approve," he murmured, nipping Severus' ear. Severus blushed. "Thanks." He seldom wore them, but had tonight in hope. Where they used to fit tantalisingly snugly, now they were loose, hanging on only where his hipbones flared. The loose vest followed almost before he realised Tom was tugging it over his head. It quickly dawned on Severus that he was down to only his pants and socks. Tom urged him to the edge of the bed. Rather than pushing him down, though, he only bade Severus sit. Tom knelt on the floor in front of him. He settled between long, bare legs. Carefully, slowly, he lifted one of Severus' hands to his mouth before pressing it to the buckle at his neck. Severus immediately began running the thin leather tail up through the silver buckle. He undid it carefully so as not to choke Tom, then set upon the rest with significantly less delicacy. The whole time, Tom's delicate touch lighted over his sides, up and down his thighs, spent lingering moments stroking the smooth, cool fabric of his shorts. Severus wiggled involuntarily when one brushed close to the bulge crushed against his hip. "Like that, do you?" Tom stroked a single finger across its length. Severus' fingers faltered. He moaned loudly. Something was certainly different - he felt as if he'd been dunked in his special potion. Everything came through more intensely than it had with... well, anyone. He clutched heavy wool with both hands, trying to reconstruct himself. Tom giggled and stroked the bulge more firmly. Severus cried out. His cock twitched in its silk cage. The buckles were forgotten as Tom simply rubbed his hand gently over its length. Severus braced himself against narrow shoulders. His eyes were half closed, and Tom was smirking wickedly. "Do you like this?" Severus nodded. "How much?" Severus' mouth dropped open. He couldn't answer, though. Tom giggled again. "I thought so." Much to Severus' disappointment, he stopped. Severus made an indignant sound. Tom shook his head. "Not until you've finished what you started." Severus cursed whoever had invented buckles. They took so long to undo; by the time he'd worked his way below Tom's arm his hands were twitching. A corner of fabric flopped over. The robe was, he noted in some un-fogged portion of his brain, exceedingly well tailored, lined in tasteful green silk, and stiffened with more layers of cloth inside. It also revealed nothing, as to Severus' annoyance a wide panel covered Tom's chest from the far side of his neck. He fumbled as quickly as he could, attempting to act casual. Tom's hands on his thighs did nothing to help. Tom leaned forward slightly, pressing a light kiss to Severus' lips, and got to his feet. It put the middle of his chest directly in front of Severus' face. It also put far more buckles within reach. By the time he was finished, Severus found himself kneeling on the floor. He looked up, a twist of intimidation in his oesophagus. Kneeling on the floor meant submission. Submission could never be part of love. A long, delicate white hand reached down and caressed his face. "Disrobe me." Silently grateful, Severus rocked back on his heels and got to his feet. Silk felt like skin across the back of his hand, warm and secretly moist, as he slid one hand over the hidden panel. Suddenly, he felt real skin on his palm. It was smooth, flawless, teased with sparse, dry hairs. The perfect imperfection of a taut nipple made Severus smile and Tom moan. White skin peeked out from black and green folds. Faint grey skeletal shadows marred it ever so slightly. Casting a sultry smile, Severus slid his other hand beneath the panel. He let it stay in place until the hollow of his palm was pressed against the other nipple, then nudged it open with a flick of the wrist. No, no, nothing underneath. His breath caught. Severus pressed himself close to Tom's bare skin and traced the fine lines of ribs, the slim waist, the slight protrusion of hipbones. Their mouths met unrepentantly. Ever so slightly tentative, he let his hands rest on a slender arse. Tom gasped; he shivered and kissed Severus more viciously, the three pleats of the cassock-cut robe swaying against knuckles. "Lay down," Tom commanded. There was a definite growl in his voice. It almost overtook the ever-present hiss. Severus shook his head. "You told me to disrobe you." "Insolence will not go unpunished." Tom nuzzled his throat. A firm bite made Severus whimper. With a swift tug, the silk boxers fell to the floor. "Disrobe me, and then lay down." Severus, eyes closed and teeth slightly bared in need, ran his hands up Tom's long body once again and pushed the heavy robe from his shoulders. It slid down, hissing as silk slithered over skin, and fell with a FLUMP. Severus stole one more kiss before sliding back until he touched the pillows. He propped himself on his elbows. Tom smirked lazily. He really was magnificent - all taut lines and tapered planes, glowing in the dim room like a star. His nipples were the same peach as his flushed lips, other things a slightly darker peach nestled in coarse black. He tugged at one of Severus' socks, sliding a hand up and down his leg. "Dreadful things. I never wear them if I can help it." "Don't your feet get cold?" Severus' face immediately went hot. It was a stupid question at an even more stupid time. Tom chuckled. "That's what I have these for." He lifted a foot to show a fluffy white slipper. Severus hadn't noticed it before. For good reason, he gathered. A ridiculous bunny face smiled out from the toe. Severus stared for a moment, and promptly collapsed on the bed in fits of snorts. "How do you call yourself the Dark Lord with those things on your feet?" Tom smirked wryly. "I could say the same about that inane hat you've always got." "You're referring to the crown of the King of Serpents, you know." "Oh, of course, Your Majesty." Tom gave him an exaggerated curtsy. He crawled onto the bed. "I suppose you wish me to kiss your sceptre?" Before Severus could say anything, Tom had taken the head of his cock into his mouth. Whatever sarcastic comment he may have had came out in a soft, approving keen. He looked down, black eyes meeting mischievous rusty ones. "God..." he breathed before he realised the word was on his lips. Tom sucked sharply, and Severus threw back his head. "GOD!" "No, only Tom." In a minute that felt like forever and like no time at all, that squashed nose snuffled coarse black curls. Perhaps due to his height's proportions, he'd taken Severus' entire length into his throat with little trouble. Long hands stroked Severus' sides; he clutched Tom's hair in turn. "Don't stop," Severus panted. Tom swallowed; Severus yowled. "DON'T STOP!" A tight bale of nerves wrapped itself around his solar plexus and continued to twist until it seated itself firmly between his hipbones. Several shorter strands of Tom's hair came undone and tickled Severus' belly and thighs. He wrapped his fingers more tightly in the brittle, crinkled fall. An extra suck, he bucked, and an entire handful slid from the slim silver hoop. Several locks slithered between his slender, parted thighs. They felt like dry spider webs. Severus moaned and squirmed when a piece started sliding over his testicles. Tom's fingers slid beneath his hips, thumbs holding him steady as he increased his tempo. "Oh, god, don't stop, love," Severus moaned. "Don't ever stop." One of the grasping hands moved to stroke his belly. Severus gripped it tight. Tom never slowed. A tingle ran from Severus' pelvis to his chest wall. His breathing was ragged, shallow, more sound than respiration. His hips bucked erratically as he tried to sink deeper than was possible into that hot, slick throat. Tom squeezed his hand. The sudden loss of a throat made Severus groan, but the increased pressure and suction on the head of his cock and the hand around its base made his eyes close in demanding need. The image of a dark head, fine strands framing a pale face, lingered behind his lids. Suddenly, the hand squeezed, the mouth sucked hard, and Severus bucked his hips frantically until a second later he came. A throaty, wordless shout filled his ears until they hurt. Sharp, tingling waves rushed over him until he felt disembodied, lost in a nexus of sensation. He pulsed for longer than he thought possible. Tom stayed there, sucking gently, until the jerks and twitches stopped. The white hand in Severus' squeezed gently, and Tom lifted his head and smiled. Dropping his face a moment he picked something out of his teeth. Severus was too weak to do more than smirk and arch a wry eyebrow. Tom saw him and laughed. "You can't tell me it's never happened to you." Severus only smirked more. Tom crawled up his body. The hard peach protrusion pressed into Severus' hip. Tom kissed him softly. "Roll on your side," he murmured. Severus waited until Tom slid off and drowsily obeyed. One arm stretched languidly off the bed, the other wrapping around to clutch the warm, slight body behind him. His upper leg bent and slid forward in offering. White hands embraced him, one stroking his chest, the other his abdomen. A long leg settled between his. Severus purred at the kisses covering his neck; he rolled his head so his chin was on his chest, and was rewarded with a light bite. "Together, we could rule the world." Severus hummed. "I'd like that." "I love you." "Mujhe tumse pyar hai bhi." Severus didn't realise he'd slipped into Hindi until he'd said it. Tom growled softly. "Say it again." "Mujhe tumse pyar hai bhi." Severus moaned at the deceptively strong body pressing tighter. "I want you." "I'm yours. You're mine." Tom chuckled. "I knew there'd be a clause." He kissed Severus' nape again. "I'll be right back." Severus still whimpered softly when the warmth behind him was replaced by cool air. Tom opened a drawer on the dressing table and rummaged around. "In here somewhere," he said, bent forward. All things told, it left a rather pleasant view. Severus shifted his head slightly to watch. He could make out sinews and faint wiry muscles in the long legs, fixed his eyes on the shift and curve of a slender arse. All of the idiots who cowered in fear didn't know what they'd missed. And they never would. Tom pulled his arm out from the recesses of the drawer. It had to be magical - he'd been groping up to the shoulder. A small jar was in his hand. When he stood up he caught Severus staring at him and raised an eyebrow. Severus tried to look innocent. Tom grinned. "Perhaps next time." Severus grinned back, in spite of himself. The warm body settled in behind him again. Severus wallowed in the tender arms that wrapped around him, the leg tangled with his own. There was some vague memory that he was wearing a sock, and something about the presence of bunny slippers. It wasn't relevant. He smiled to himself. Severus wrapped his own arms around Tom's and hugged them. He was home. Tom wiggled his left arm from where he'd draped it over Severus' side. Severus protested wordlessly, but Tom shushed him and kissed his neck. He pressed his pelvis against Severus in silent explanation. Severus wriggled cheekily, and found himself significantly affected by Tom's low, surreptitiously sibilant moan. A long finger, coated in some sort of oil, traced the curve of his buttock. Severus murmured and let his left leg rise higher. The finger traced knotwork patterns around his hole. He settled back against it. Severus glanced down when a tingle went through his hips and was only mildly surprised to see he was half hard. The finger slipped inside. Severus moaned. It stroked delicate mucous membranes, teasing and seeking and exploring and finally settling on a particular spot that made him cry out and go rigid. Severus shuddered, whimpering, as Tom stroked gently. "Another one," he rasped. Tom obliged. The entire process was repeated, culminating with two fingers beating a tattoo on the little area of flesh and sending blood to pound in his ears like drums. His breath came in shuddering waves. When a third finger joined the other two he cried out; he did so again when they skipped the formalities and went straight to that particular spot. "Now," he moaned. "Are you sure?" A small kiss on his shoulder. "You've gone such a lovely shade of red. I'd like to enjoy it." "Now," he repeated more firmly. The fingers hesitated and he whimpered. "If you're that insistent..." Tom's fingers went away completely, leaving a squishy skin of oil. Severus panted. He pressed back in silent plea. The steady pace of a fist bumping his arse and the ragged breath on his neck told him why he had to wait. A moment later, sticky, slick fingers came to rest on his hip. They only lingered for a few seconds, Tom's other arm pulling the two of them closer together. Severus held his breath. He let it out in a violent puff when he felt the broad, domed head of a cock press against him. The slick hand pressed flat against his pelvis and pushed him on. Severus groaned. He thought Tom did, too. His breathing sped up. Tom was much like he was, proportioned to height, and the unusual, unexpected mass was enough to trigger a resonating burn. He moaned, half in pleasure and half in pain. Tom paused. "Do you need to stop?" Severus shook his head. Biting his lip, he shimmied his hips so that he sank another inch. Between a wince and a content shiver, he managed to get the point across, and Tom pressed forward until coarse hair rubbed against his backside. They stayed like that for many, many seconds, chests rising and falling, warm breath rushing over Severus' back. When Tom moved, it was slow, gentle. Time stretched out. Severus couldn't count the seconds it took to go from filled to nearly empty and back again. He grasped the hand on his chest, and tension he didn't realise was strung through his shoulders melted when it grasped back. A soft tongue chased the last of it away, alternating with the fragile touch of lips. They really were made for each other. Severus turned his head and was met with hooded eyes and the faintest smile. It widened, and the peach lips met his. "Lovely," Tom murmured. Severus hummed and settled against his chest more firmly. He wrapped an arm behind him again, stroking smooth flesh. "Mine." "Mine." Soft lips again. "We're unstoppable, Severus." A lightly oiled finger traced Severus' cheek. "Anything we want will be ours." Severus' face broke into a content, sly smirk. "Power." "The whole world." A giddy knot formed in Severus' stomach. He'd always been content to lead his little snakes. Well, perhaps not content; "resigned" might be a better word. To be offered the world, though... something about that sort of absolute control made him dizzy. The fact that they could do it only made his stomach dance more. Their kisses became more heated. Severus craned his neck, clutching Tom's backside as he did his hand, their lips sliding on a thin layer of saliva and their tongues twining like mating serpents. Tom's left hand slipped around to grasp Severus' bright red cock. It kneaded and tugged and caressed and Severus moaned at the onslaught. The moan triggered Tom to push his hips faster; fingernails digging into his buttocks made him pound them. Severus couldn't catch his breath. As soon as air came into his lungs it was driven out by the frenzy of nerves building in his body. He bucked, pressing into Tom's hand then back onto his cock. Their lips finally broke and didn't meet again as they panted and moaned. Severus felt red half-moons swell in his palm as Tom tried to control himself just a little longer. Suddenly, Tom cried out. Severus felt his body go stiff, the hand around his cock shudder mechanically. A few spasmodic thrusts and warmth ricocheted inside him. He let go of Tom's arse and wrapped his hand around the one on his own cock. Squeezing tightly, he stroked frantically until the seizure found him. His breath hitched, his body tensed, and with a groan he felt his nerves peak, hazing out his senses and shooting heavy spurts of white liquid across the whiter duvet. They didn't move for a long, long time. Their hands had gone stiff from clutching by the time Severus drifted into the vague, trancelike state that served as post-orgasmic sleep. They were still joined when he did, and when he woke up- The whistle signaling the end of the match ripped him from his memory of the night before. Severus sighed, frustrated, and ground the heel of his hand into his eye. The Slytherin team came in for a disgruntled landing while three quarters of the stadium erupted in cheers. They shot him annoyed glares and headed towards the locker room. Severus sniffed. All things told, his interest in Quidditch had taken a sharp downturn in the last twenty-four hours. There were far, far bigger things for him to think about. Such as his newfound place in the wizarding world. He waited until the rest of the team had left the pitch to go to the showers. Time alone would let him think about what he wanted. While undirected power was a pleasant thought, without some sort of goal it was a toy. He and Tom had talked about it until Severus had to leave sometime around eleven. Two hours didn't allow for much idea development, especially with two heavy rounds of shagging in the mess. The shower was blissfully soothing, but not terribly productive. He stayed there long after the rest of the team had trudged back to the dungeons to sulk. A slight curve took his mouth when his mind wandered to the concept of showers and Tom; Severus shook it away. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right then, he decided he ought to get back to Slytherin to woo back his grudging House. Severus didn't bother with the oil on his hair. He simply toweled off, pulled on his clothes, donned his hat, and left his Quidditch things neatly and safely tucked in his locker. The late March afternoon was warm, for the time of year, and Severus raised his eyebrows benignly at the sun starting to drop towards the horizon. A twig snapped. He frowned and turned around. Nobody. Narrowing his eyes, Severus started walking back towards the castle. He cut around the side to take the back entrance on a whim. The whole time, he kept a hand on his wand. As soon as he heard the flump of cloth he spun. "Expelliarmus!" There was a yelp, and a growl, and he caught James Potter's wand just as Sirius Black jumped him from behind. Hindi As Far As I Can Tell Mujhe tumse pyar hai bhi: I love you too ] Go on to the seventh part of the story :: HOME:: BY AUTHOR :: BY PAIRING :: LINKS :: LINK TO US :: SSF UPDATE LIST :: VISIT OTHER SSF SHIPS ::