the marriage stone (Discontinued)

Chapter 73 - The Way the World Ends

Harry made his way somewhat dazedly to Transfiguration Class. With each step he took he replayed the events of the last few minutes over and over in his head - each heated glance, each mind blowing kiss, each slow caress of Severus' long graceful fingers. Severus really did have beautiful hands. He shivered, torn between giddy delight, mind numbing shock and skin burning embarrassment.

Oh, my god, he thought to himself, he'd just made out with the Potions Master. At least he thought that constituted 'making-out' - he wasn't entirely certain about the specifics. Granted he'd always been led to believe that there was supposed to be a couch involved, and they'd been lying on the floor. But still - it had felt like he'd always imagined it would - better in fact.

Well, not at first, he thought. He'd been frightened at first since Severus had been so angry. He noticed he had a talent for making Severus angry.

But then something had changed - he'd felt it the moment everything had shifted between them. And when Severus had begun whispering to him and kissing him so carefully and tenderly, something had just melted inside of him. He'd thought the few kisses they had exchanged before had been amazing - but nothing had made him feel like this had. Coupled with the sound of Severus' voice - did anyone else in the world have a voice as singularly sexy as Severus Snape - Harry had simply surrendered utterly to the moment.

Why was it that though he tried to see himself as strong and aggressive, he always ended up feeling so turned on by the sensation of a powerful male body holding him down? Severus tended to dominate him the few times he'd kissed him - even tonight when his aggression had vanished, replaced instead by something far sweeter, Severus had still been the one completely in control, overwhelming Harry's senses. And for some reason Harry's body responded to that energy. Just the mere thought of the way Severus manipulated him, controlled him, moved against him, his weight and heat pressing down into him - Harry had to stop in the hallway to get himself under control. Bloody hell - he could hardly walk into Professor McGonagall's classroom flushed and aroused.

The thought of Professor McGonagall seemed to do the trick for him and a moment later he continued his journey, embarrassed by the direction his thoughts had gone. But this was probably normal, he told himself. This is what all the students his age were supposed to be thinking about - certainly these sorts of things were what the boys in the dormitories discussed at night in rather crude terms.

Well, not this, exactly - they certainly weren't talking about any of their teachers. Certainly not their Potions Master - a year ago Harry would have been horrified by even the thought. Actually, come to think of it, he'd heard a number of students - mostly girls of course - talking about Remus Lupin during his third year. And certainly everyone talked about Sinistra. And a couple of weeks ago he'd heard a group of Hufflepuffs talk about how much they enjoyed it when Professor Snape loomed over them in Potions Class. Harry frowned.

It was definitely normal, he decided. He'd always felt a bit left out of the conversations the boys had in the dormitories. He'd never had the obsession with sex that other boys his age apparently had - as if his hormones had never really kicked in. At least not until Severus had come along - and then he'd been plagued with dreams he'd been completely unprepared for. The whole idea that he was interested in men had definitely caught him off guard - add to that the idea that he apparently liked the rather aggressive, dominant nature of a certain Slytherin was really messing with his self image. Oh, lord, he thought, why wasn't there a play-book for this sort of thing like there was for Quidditch matches?

Reaching the classroom door he pulled it open and attempted to slip in silently. Class was already underway, and everyone turned to stare at him as he entered. Professor McGonagall, who was holding a heavy book in one hand and her wand in the other, peered sternly at him as he made his way toward the only empty seat available next to Neville.