Sanctuary

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"Mr. Potter, stay behind."

After approaching Professor McGonagall earlier in the week, Harry knew that her directive late Friday afternoon had something to do with his application. He slowed the packing of his bag, sighing slightly when Ron and Hermione slipped out without a word to him.

It shouldn't have been a surprise, they had that look that bespoke a romantic interlude. Harry stood before his transfigurations professor, hesitant at the possibility of disappointing news.

"There was a blank area on your application, Mr. Potter." Minerva smiled slightly before continuing, "Normally, this would count against you. However, I hardly think it would be harmful for you to fill that in now."

Harry's brow creased. "I'm sorry, Professor. What did I miss?"

"What do you consider to be your most advanced transfigurations skill?"

The green-eyed wizard smiled. "I probably shouldn't have left that blank but I though it might be best to register first."

Professor McGonagall's confusion was evident. "Register?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. I'm an animagus."

There was silence for a moment as his professor processed this disclosure.

"An animagus?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I don't recall that you were to receive training in that discipline."

Harry flushed. "No, Ma'am. I taught myself."

It was evident that Minerva was resisting the urge to gape at her student. "Mr. Potter, I will refrain from lecturing you on the dangers of such an endeavor… if… you will demonstrate."

Harry set his schoolbag on the edge of the desk and stepped back. Minerva recognized that the coil of green scales was the exact color of the young wizard's eyes before slamming her own eyes shut in acknowledgement of the beast.

"Advise me when you've changed back, Mr. Potter."

It was another moment before the young man said, "Professor McGonagall?"

The witch opened her eyes, spearing the young man with a look of equal parts excitement and concern. "Can you petrify with a gaze in that form?"

"I don't know. I've never tried."

"What about the poison?"

"I haven't tested that either, Ma'am."

Minerva nodded, more than satisfied with the efforts of her student. "An announcement regarding the position will be made Sunday evening. I suggest you register yourself quickly, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled for the first time in several days before picking up his bag and retreating from the room.

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Saturday afternoon crept up slowly. The occupants of Gryffindor Tower had hardly understood Harry's combination of nervous anxiety and eager anticipation for what everyone else saw as a detention. When the time finally came, he slipped through the portrait hole and hurried through the castle.

His knock on the dungeon quarters was not answered promptly. Harry stood in the hallway, shifting himself from foot to foot and wondered if perhaps the Potions Master had reconsidered. Finally, after what seemed an interminable delay, he was permitted entrance.

If Harry had expected anything, it was the exceedingly professional yet brusque professor with which he was confronted.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter. There are a few things that need to be made clear."

Harry sat quickly in one of the chairs that were paired before the fire. He folded his hands in his lap, a vague attempt to conceal his nervousness.

"Are you quite certain that you wish to engage in a relationship of an alternative sexual nature?"

"Yes."

Snape's face hardened even as he seated himself in the chair mirroring Harry. "Then the first rule is that you will never address me without using either Master or Sir."

Harry was nodding even before he found his voice. "Yes, Sir."

The Potions Master eased back into his chair, a speculative look on his face as he traced his bottom lip with the barest tip of a finger. "You will also, at your earliest opportunity, inform the Headmaster of your intentions."

Harry's eyes widened, his attention drawn away from the repetitive movement of finger and lips. "Excuse me, Sir?"

"You heard me, Mr. Potter. I will not repeat myself… Ever."

"Yes, Sir. But… why, sir?"

Snape shifted in his seat, the adjustment necessary as the young man proceeded in his compliance. "While I have no great attachment to this position, certain matters would become complicated should I be sacked for abusing a student."

Harry could only nod. It did make sense. "I'll take care of it, Sir."

Snape rose from the chair and retrieved a slim, black leather clad volume from one of his multiple shelves. He handed it to Harry before resuming his previous seat. Harry noted only the cover and spine were blank before his professor's voice stilled him in the act of opening it.

"I will expect you to be thoroughly familiar with that work before we meet again next week at this time."

Harry noticed that the title page was inscribed only with a rune before tucking the text next to him in the seat. "Yes, Sir."

"Are you a virgin, Mr. Potter?"

Harry flushed, the mere question in that clipped voice making his half-hard. At the same time, he was confused because he knew that Snape knew the answer to his own question.

"How do you mean, Sir?"

"Have you ever engaged in sexual intercourse?"

His flush grew deeper, the pink spreading down his neck and into the collar of his shirt.

"Your embarrassment is acceptable, Potter. Your silence is not."

"Once, sir."

"Male or female?"

"Female, sir."

"Then what in the name of Merlin are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry was practically burning up in his humiliation. "I didn't enjoy it, Sir. Even while we were… you know… I wanted it to be someone else. I wanted to be the one below, not responsible for it all, Sir."

Snape began to trace his lip again, considering. "You will say the words, Potter. Even if you stumble upon them."

"Yes, Sir."

The Potions Master repressed his excitement at being able to quite literally mold the young wizard into his ideal submissive. He'd had so little control of his public life and so few partners were willing to accept his own private need. Severus knew that he'd allowed the silence to stretch too long when Harry began to glance around the room curiously, his nervousness burnt away by the more embarassing personal revelations.

But that attention was riveted once again when the Potions Master spoke two simple words. "Undress, Harry."

Harry almost didn't recognize his professor's voice, low and lust ridden. The tones tingled across his skin and he stood to comply, his movements jerky and arrhythmic.

"Slowly."

Harry stared into the unflinching obsidian gaze as his movements smoothed out to become almost teasing. His tie slipped from its knot and hung, trapped by his collar, to frame the buttons of his shirt. Having foregone robes, there was little between his skin and the air.

But, first, Harry leaned over and unlaced his shoes. The mismatched socks, a present from Dobby, garnered the barest uplifted eyebrow as they were tucked into the empty shoes.

"Place them beside the chair."

Harry complied before straightening and meeting that intent look once more. There was a light glinting in the dark depths. It was a heat that promised to scorch the young wizard, but only if he could stand it.

Caressing down the line of buttons, Harry pulled his shirttails free of his trousers before working the obstacles loose one at a time. Quidditch and the Order's training had made Harry's body something that he was not shy to reveal. The open halves of his shirt revealed a scantly haired chest and glimpses of dusky rose nipples.

His quick fingers loosened the cuffs and then Harry's shirt was folded and placed atop his shoes. His hands hesitated at his belt buckle and trouser placket, pressing firmly to abate the aching hardness of his cock. Harry's hands moved swiftly and surely now, his belt whispering free of its loops and coiled to rest above his shirt. The buttons of his trousers opened easily.

Harry was ignorant of the shard of lust created when he sighed his relief at the lack of restriction. Boxers and slacks were lowered to the ground and folded easily. Harry waited, his stance and prick equally erect as he endured the Potions Master's silent examination.

Finally, a command. "Kneel."

He lowered to his knees, noting the more pleasing texture of the small carpet as compared to the bare stone on which he'd previously knelt. Unwittingly, Harry assumed the pliant pose in which he'd offered himself before. His hands rested lightly on taut thighs, feet tucked under his ass.

"What do you think of when you touch yourself?"

"Sex, Sir."

"So simple? Surely you can do better… Touch yourself and describe your last fantasy for me."

Harry's blush spilled into his face again, across his neck and down his chest. He took a loose grip on his prick, soothing the hard flesh and brushing lightly at his balls. His eyes dropped shut as he began to speak, his words coming haltingly at first and then flowing faster as his pleasure grew.

"I'm alone in the Quidditch locker room after practice. The team left for dinner without me because I was distracted. I reach to shut off the taps when your hand falls over mine, stopping me. I can hear your voice like a hot cloth on my neck. 'I doubt that is sufficient, Mr. Potter,' you say."

Harry's hand began to move faster and he rolled the foreskin gently across the head of his engorged organ.

"I don't know what to do and you push me until my chest is flat against the wall. The tile is cold and I push back but you're against me, nude, and you don't allow me to move. You're touching my arms, my back, my ass, in the way I've only seen you examine potions ingredients. Then you reach past me, grabbing the soap. 'You've missed a spot,' you hiss in my ear before rubbing the bar down the crack of my ass and repeatedly over my entrance."

The green-eyed wizard was lost in his fantasy, the pleasure controlling his body. His hand flew over his cock, slightly rough but tripping all his pleasure points.

"You drop the soap to the floor, fingers gathering the lather before thrusting into my ass. They stretch me, harsh and quick, and I can only cry out against the wall. Soon it's your cock in my ass and you're thrusting. My prick is rubbing against the tile on every movement but I don't care because you're pulling my hips back, forcing yourself deeper. I'm close and I'm begging when you say, 'Come for me, Harry.' "

"Come for me, Harry."

The reality of that voice urging his completion broke through the imagined scenario. Harry came with a gasping cry, his ejaculate falling in thick strings across his fist. He was hunched over, breathing deeply as he recovered himself.

Looking up, there was obvious pleasure on the Potions Master's face. Snape wandlessly removed the residue from his floor as he reassured the younger wizard.

"Very nice, Harry."

The professor rose, stopping when the edge of his robes brushed at the younger man's knees. Harry could not help but note the unrelieved erection tenting the man's trousers.

"Stand up."

Harry did so, his hand brushing purposefully against the evidence of Severus' arousal.

"No."

The simple word answered the question in the jade eyes. When they filled with confused disappointment, Severus offered clarification and caressed Harry's cheek with the brush of fingers.

"You have pleased me greatly. It is for your edification that this will move slowly."

The Potions Master helped Harry back into his clothes before escorting him to the door. "Next week, Mr. Potter. Arrive at the same time and do not neglect your appointment with the Headmaster."

"Yes, Sir."

Harry was paused with his hand on the door by further direction.

"Harry… While a pleasant convenience, even the mildest soap stings."

The younger man ducked his head slightly. "Yes, Sir. I found that out… But I didn't mind."

Severus' chuckles haunted the green-eyed wizard all the way from the dungeons to Gryffindor Tower.

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