Green gaze took in chocolate brown after the scene before them, one of defeat. Not for Harry Potter himself, but for Voldemort.
He shook his head and turned away. Whilst he may have survived, his heart ached. Not with the need to touch her, but with the desire to have Snape alive and well. Fearing the man truly to be dead after the incident with Nagini, he walked away from the brutal scene as the Aurors and those within the Order of the Phoenix began to gather the minions of the defeated Dark Lord.
He heard running foot steps and felt hands grab onto his arm.
"Harry?" Ginnys' voice pleaded.
"Ginny, it still wont work out for us." Not when his heart was elsewhere.
He shook his head. "No." And removed his arm from her grasp.
Ron and Hermione were not far behind them.
Ron, "What's your problem, Harry?"
He turned around to face his friends. "I love someone else. They're dead," that was what he believed he'd seen. "It wouldn't be fair to Ginny."
Ginny, "But if they're dead..."
He frowned at her, "Stop. Just... let me be." And with that, he hurried away to the Shrieking Shack.
But, mysteriously, the body of the fallen Potions Master was nowhere to be found.
"What the..." He shook his head and wondered what had become of him. But he had to return to the scene of the battle and help more if he were able.
Once the school year was at an end and he'd taken his N.E.W.T.s he apparated away to Finland. A lovely place to spend the summer in had been opinion. Far, far away from the Dursleys and without the threat which Voldemort presented now that he was dead for good. Instead of just the summer he'd decided to stay there every summer. And one summer had already passed since his graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The cottage he'd found and purchased was small, but cozy and several miles from anyone and anywhere. He had his broom stick with him and that was good enough, though it meant he'd have to travel by the cover of darkness.
With a weary sigh he walked over to the book shelf, the previous owner had left books there. A bit dusty, but not as much as it had been the year before, but he grabbed one and sat down to read.
"Gather seven different flowers and you shall dream of your future husband." He chuckled. He wondered if it was an old muggle tradition or if it was actually something magical.
But beneath that was something else that had his face heating up.
"Wow. Why would anyone want to stand naked over a well? Can one really see their future husband that way?"
He thought not, but being as bored as he was, he decided he might just give it a whirl. Even though he was not yet ready for any kind of romantic relationship. He doubted he ever would be, but maybe Ginny would stop hounding him when he went to visit the Weasley family again as she had been doing the whole of the last year. And she had herself recently graduated, but thankfully she knew not where he spent his summer holiday.
Setting the book aside he got up and went to grab a towel from the linen closet as well as a new sponge. Divesting himself of his clothes he turned the water on, waited and then when the temperature was just right he stepped in and turned on the warm spray.
The water always felt good unless it was freezing or scalding. But in that moment, it was bliss. The water pressure was good and thus allowed the water to massage his scalp through his hair.
Another night he decided he might just soak in a tub of bubbles, but the shower was nice. More than nice.
If only he weren't alone.
The book came to mind. He sighed. Snape would have said it was a foolish book not worthy of its acclaim, or some such thing.
Naked under the warm spray of water, those dark eyes, he imagined with his own eyes closed. It was like they could see into him and yet they were unfathomable themselves.
He shivered at imagined words, threats of detention, the grasp of a hand on his arm, angry words, a threat of a hex.
Without thinking as he imagined his time back at Hogwarts under the reluctant tutelage of one Severus Snape, his hand wove through his hair, making more of a mess of it.
His hand then brushed down over his temple to his cheek, rolling over his chin. Fingertips giving a light caress down his throat, over his Adams apple and rested briefly at the apex of his throat and chest.
'Potter,' he heard in his head, and his own fingers teased one of his own nipples.
His mouth parted, a small moan escaping him.
Startled by the sound, he hic-coughed, spluttering water out that had managed to find its way into his mouth.
He stilled, paling. "What the bloody hell?" His face flushed as he recalled what, or rather who he'd been thinking of whilst his hand was having a jolly old time on its own. Not to mention that his cock had gotten uncomfortably hard.
Quick, he turned the hot water off and let the cold water cool him down.
Turning it off once his cock was at least not as uncomfortably hard, he turned everything off and reached for his towel that was hanging not far from the shower on the wall.
Tying it around his waist, he allowed rivulets of water to trail down his throat, back and chest. His hair remained a messy wet mop. The only other thing he put on, was his spectacles.
He recalled that there was a well outside in front of his yard. And if he dropped the towel, he'd see if there was anything to what that silly book said.
As there was no other around, he dropped the towel to the ground and leaned over the well and stared down into its waters.
He blinked, swearing he'd just seen the face of Severus Snape.
'Impossible. He's dead. He couldn't be my future husband. Bollocks, what am I yakking about?'
Harry could only believe he was imagining him. He'd done so earlier, though his eyes had been closed then.
Grabbing the edge of the well, he closed his eyes with a sigh.
"I've got to start dating."
A gust of wind from out of nowhere, had him toppling forward. Losing his footing he fell head first into the well.
Looking up through the water before he began to sink, he swore it had been some type of dragon flying over.
He tried to swim up, but something was pulling him under and down. He whirled around, quick as if being flushed down a toilet. Although the well was not a toilet.
The portal opened on some other side and shot him out, he, landing on his bottom with an oaf and coughing out the water that had entered his lungs.
His eyes widened as he took note of a pair of black shoes. Someone was there. Someone was staring at him. And he was starkers.
Face flushed he curled his knees up underneath him, his hands going around them to try and hide most, if not all of what others didn't need nor want to see.
Hearing that voice, his head jerked back, his green eyes widening. "S-s-snape!? Am I dead?" Or maybe he was just dreaming.
The man sneered down at him, "By the time I'm through with you, you'll wish you had been. How did you find me? And why, prey tell, are you undressed? Is this some elaborate ploy to get vengeance before carting me off to Azkaban?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I don't even know how I found you. I wasn'tlooking for you. And your name has been cleared. You wont be carted off to Azkaban." Although like himself, people who viewed him as a war hero might bother him. No doubt that like himself, this man valued his privacy even more so.
Dark eyes narrowed, "I do not believe you."
Harry stared at him. "Well, its the truth. They might wonder about you're still being alive since everyone thought you were dead."
"Then why would you appear here?"
"I have no idea. I was leaning over my well. Then I imagined your face. I closed my eyes for a second. Some sky creature, perhaps a dragon flew over and I fell into the well. How I wound up here instead of drowning, well, that's a mystery."
Snape glared at him, his sneer only marginally less fierce than minutes ago. "Naked, over a well?"
"That's what I thought. Wait... what's impossible?"
"This is the night..." he shook his head.
"The summer solstice."
"The book was lying, wasn't it?"
"The books about the summer solstice and its traditions are not wrong,Potter. But I cannot be your future husband. I refuse."
"Who said I wanted you to be my husband!? I was just curious."
"And curiosity always leads you into trouble, doesn't it Potter? But you're too arrogant to learn from past mistakes, even to this day!"
Harry, annoyed, snapped, "I did what I was meant to do. And I'm stillalive..." then he muttered in a whisper, "thanks to you." Countless times Snape had saved his life.
Recalling what happened back in his shower at home, his face heated. He did not move from where he sat. He didn't want the older man to know how hard he was. No doubt Snape would scold and scorn him as well as sneer at him.
But, if the books were true, and the man had said as much, it looked like he'd have to use his Gryffindor courage.
Standing up, falling a few inches short of Snapes' height, he glared right back at him.
"You're supposed to be my future husband. Tomorrow is the future. Why don't you just marry me now?" And he wondered to himself what on Earth he was doing. This was wrong! But it felt oh so right. He was confused. For wanting Snape. For being attracted to him. Yet, it was the memory of him that had driven him not to pick up where he'd been before with Ginny.
Like a prophecy. This was destiny. His destiny. And Snapes'. Once more their lives were interwoven as if fate itself conspired to bring them together despite having miscalculated the years in which they'd been born to the world.
Snape's eyes widened. Not in anger, but what appeared to be shock.
He watched as Snapes mouth thinned as he pursed his lips.
Harry stood his ground, though inwardly he was shaking. Severus Snape could be rather intimidating.
Before the Potions Master could throw a tirade, he moved forward, wrapping his arms around the others waist. He tilted his head back and brushed a kiss over Snapes lips, standing on tiptoe.
The older man inhaled.
Harry's eyes fluttered, green staring into so dark a brown they were black, "Please?"
He felt his cock twitch, his body ached, on fire, needing Snapes touch. Not even with Ginny had he lain naked, with her they'd never more than kissed, a little snogging. Awkward.
But this was awkward in a different way. Never had he been so turned on.
Snape sneered at him, but the sneer soon faltered into an arched brow, the man thinking far too much for Harry.
"Stop thinking Snape, just feel."
He felt his wrists grasped and then Snape turned them around, black robes swirling around.
Oh, he'd missed that. So confidant.
He was pressed back against a wall, Snape holding his wrists in but one hand, over his head.
Harry shivered in anticipation and mild trepidation.
"Do you really want this? I'm old enough to be your father."
"So? I want you." Did he love him? Maybe. But he wasn't about to tell him that.
The older man by about twenty years leaned down and sneered. "You want the greasy git?"
Harry's eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets for a second. Then they closed and fluttered back open.
"You don't look so greasy now."
"Yes, well, a change in shampoos does wonders and actually having the time to bathe daily instead of everything else..."
Harry didn't care. His body ached with the need to be caressed by him. His cock was making its discomfort known.
When Snape thrust his leg between his, the brush of material against his cock caused him to whimper, "Snape..."
Snape glanced down between them. "Ah." He stared in shock, as though he hadn't expect Harry to actually be aroused by him.
Glancing back at Harry, Snape smirked, "So, you are telling the truth. I wont need Veritaserum after all."
Then he felt those long, elegant fingers, with their callasus from mixing potions close around his cock.
His hips thrust forward, seeking out the friction. But Snape held him in place with a hand on his wrists and a glare followed by an evil knowing smirk.
A gasping moan left Harry as Snapes' hand squeezed his hard prick. A slow and steady stroking motion had Harry writhing, the back of his head against the wall, his body arched toward the Potions Master.
The fingers and palm brushed against the veins of his cock. The fist constricted around his need and then loosened with each subsequent stroke.
When Harry was close, the man would give him a pinch at the head, just enough to stave off his orgasm.
Frustrated, he cried, "Please!"
Snape only smirked and whispered, "Please, what, Potter?"
"Please!?" He cried again, not sure what he wanted.
Another stroke had his body quivering, breath ragged, needing to come.
Closing his eyes, tears formed at the corners, not from pain, but frustration. "Please, Snape?"
A dark chuckle against his ear, "Do I need to take points, Potter?"
"P-please let me come." His breath shuddered, his words spoken with a small stutter.
Green eyes flew open as he felt teeth sink into his shoulder, but the skin did not break.
"Then come for me, Harry." Snape stroked him again, faster.
Harry's hips moved in pace with the hand of Snapes' which was around his cock. Though his movements were not as they could have been thanks to the other hand of Snape never having released his hands from above his head.
He shuddered, his thighs starting to ache, his legs barely able to hold him up as he cried out, head back, mouth agape, pupils dilating behind steamed up glasses as he came.
Moist, creamy fluid shot into Snape's hand and up over Harry's abdomen and torso.
Snape, finally let go of Harry's wrists.
Harry sank to his knees.
Snape smirked, "I think we can wait for that, Harry."
"You're calling me Harry?"
"Of course. If what you've said is indeed true, then this act has just cemented a bond between us. You're mine now."
He blinked, "How?"
"You fell through the well of Summer Solstice I imagine, somewhere in Finland. It will not only show you your future husband, but if both are of age, it will send you to them."
"That means you're mine too, doesn't it?"
"Indeed. But don't let it go to your head, Potter. Now, come along," he offered a hand to him. "We'll have something to eat. Make a potion. And then, if you've behaved, I will have you writhing beneath me in bed tonight. But know this, I do not want the Wizarding World to know I'm alive."
"Yet. Later perhaps. But I'm enjoying my solitude for now. It was a bit droll, until you dropped in."
Harry wasn't certain what to do, but he supposed they had the rest of summer to come to some arrangement. He couldn't just stay and do nothing forever. Summer was one thing. But it sounded like Snape might eventually come out of hiding. Until then, Harry would be content to enjoy his time with him.
And, he thought with a flush, not of embarrassment, but need, he'd enjoy everything that Snape would teach him. Maybe he'd even let him call him by his given name. One day.
"I don't have any clothes..."
Snape turned around, quirked a brow at him, "So? It's only you and I. Stay as you are. I'll just tear them off again if you put any clothes on."
With that, Snape whirled around, his black robes damatic as they floated around him.
He could wait to get some clothes, for the moment, he wanted to stick close to him and hoped he wasn't simply dreaming.
And of course, days, weeks, months later, once summer had come and gone, he realized that he was indeed not dreaming.
That summer would forever be the one to remember above all else.