Author: Diana Williams
Pairing(s): Harry/Severus, Draco/…
Summary: Challenge: This story is based on a challenge from DarkLady, to wit "Suppose it were a usual thing in Wizarding culture that a young man take an older man as a lover/mentor. Mix in a flashy and ill-intentioned rival, and Snape's machinations to ensure that he is Harry's choice. Extra bunny - a clear period and ritual to the courtship, with the rival managing smoothly while Snape's gestures all appear to fall flat. Of course, our Harry is a better judge of character than that..."
Rec Expl.: This story has a basis in reality (Greek pederasty traditions) which makes this particular story all the more compelling. This tale gives way to rising emotions that plague Harry Potter as he is suddenly dealt a card by Fate, one he had no idea that existed. As he learns about ancient traditions and receives proposals, he not only begins to learn about history but he begins to learn and understand who “he” is and what he himself expects from this thing called life. Sometimes you need to be brave in life. And sometimes, the bravest thing to do is to live your life on your own terms, no matter what anyone else might think or whatever pressure you’re under.
As the door closed behind them, he said, in a deceptively innocent voice, "Max kissed me tonight."
About to step off onto the moving stairs, Snape suddenly froze. "He did?"
"Twice," Harry said blithely. "It wasn't half-bad, either."
He stepped onto the stairs and was surprised as Snape suddenly swooped down on him. He found himself abruptly pressed up against the wall by a tall, lean body, Snape's face close to his own, and his eyes widened.
"And how, exactly, did 'Max' kiss you?" Snape murmured, his voice low and sultry as he stared down at Harry. The younger wizard was terrified and excited at the same time, unable to reply, but it didn't seem that Snape required an answer. "Did he kiss you softly, gently, chastely, savouring the incandescence of your innocence like this?"
Snape brushed feather-light kisses over Harry's lips, moving so quickly that it was like being kissed by butterfly wings. A lithe tongue swept over his lips and dipped inside his mouth, then out again, as quickly as a hummingbird sipping nectar. It was heady, exciting, and Harry tried to follow that tempting mouth as it pulled away, but Snape had him pinned against the wall and he couldn't move.
"Or did he kiss you like an impatient lover, eager for the taste of your mouth and your skin?"
Snape's mouth was back again, this time kissing him with the ease of an experienced lover, seducing his mouth with clever nips and sucks. Even as Harry responded, opening his mouth for more of these heady kisses, a corner of his mind wondered how many men Snape had kissed, had possessed, and why he was so determined to reject Harry. A spark of anger flared inside him. When Snape finally released him, he said, a little breathlessly, "Max said he wouldn't require my fidelity as long as I was discreet. Would you be as liberally minded?"
Snape's eyes glittered and he pressed Harry even harder against the wall. "I believe you would find that I am not inclined to share, Mr. Potter. What I take I keep." Once more, Snape's mouth possessed his, but this time with an intensity that lit a fire deep within Harry's belly. A knee insinuated itself between his legs and Harry couldn't help gasping as he felt it rub against his hardening prick. And when had that happened? he wondered dazedly, even as he pressed closer to the body undulating against him. Snape's mouth was devouring him from the outside in, his hands were everywhere, the earth was moving around him, and Harry never wanted it to stop.
The sudden climax of his body took him by surprise, and he sagged in Snape's arms, feeling boneless. That deep voice was murmuring in his ear and he wanted to drown in its velvety tones. "Now do you understand the dangers of playing with fire, little boy?"
Before Harry could coax a reply from his remaining brain cells, Snape was striding off in a flurry of black, leaving Harry propped against the gargoyle with no clear recollection of how he had gotten to the bottom of the stairs. His head was spinning, his mouth felt bruised, his pants were uncomfortably sticky, and he had never felt better in all of his life.