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“You must be joking.” He hissed to his oldest colleague.
“Afraid not.”
“I’m the headmaster.” He replied.
“So you are.” Minerva agreed. “And they’re the board.”
“It’s Potter.”
“Harry is a war hero, decorated auror, and overall nice person. Even if you don’t like him.”
“He’s… he’s…”
She gave him a meaningful look. “Frankly, it’s a wonder they didn’t hire him with tenure.”
“Merlin, no.” He moaned. “Anything but that.”
She giggled, much to his chagrin. “You’ll have to learn to live with him. He’ll teach for a year at least… and if he wants to stay, they’ll let him.”
Severus moaned quietly. “And I get no say?”
“Did you ever?” She asked peacefully.
It was only his legitimate fear of her as a witch that stopped him from hexing her – and based on her smug face, she knew it, damn her. She sipped her tea, while he tried to work out how the hell he was meant to work with Harry sodding Potter.
“Headmaster.” A familiar voice greeted, his tone light as if he was happy to see him.
Fuck.
“Potter.”
“Professor Potter, or so I’m told.” He said, light turning to smug. Severus wanted to tear him to shreds.
“I will not call you Professor.”
“Of course, you won’t. You might try Harry, given that you’re my superior now and all.” The brat said cheekily from behind him.
Severus felt his hackles rise, had to swallow down a comment that he’d always been his superior, in every way, and – he spun around, only to nearly choke on his own tongue.
It’d been bad when it had just been memories and pictures on the Prophet’s front page, but up close? Up close it was devastating.
Potter was standing there in muggle clothes, a short-sleeved t-shirt, arms crossed, tan skin practically glistening as he grinned – except, Severus scolded himself, skin did no such thing, and the boy simply spent too much time flying in the sun.
“Potter.” He said hoarsely. “What do you want?”
“To say hi.” He said, the smug expression falling to a more pleasant smile. “I know you’re probably not keen on having me here, and I am sorry about that.”
“Not sorry enough not to take the job.” He snarled, stepping around his desk – why was he stepping around his desk?
He wasn’t sure. Potter’s smile turned wistful.
“It’s my home. Hogwarts. I tried other places, but none ever felt much like home.” He said quietly, as if he was admitting a secret. Severus felt something in his chest clench in sympathy – that, he understood, so much better than he’d ever admit, and…
“Welcome home, then.” His mouth said entirely without permission.
Potter looked absolutely shocked at that, so utterly dumbfounded Severus could almost ignore how stupid he felt having said it at all.
Then the brat smiled, a happy, beaming smile that made his stomach twist, not with disgust as it should be, but with something else, and then – then Potter hugged him.
He yelped as muscled arms wrapped around his shoulders – and he was stunned to find Potter wasn’t shorter than him, had only looked that way, standing a step below him in his office. When he’d stepped up, yanked them together, it was obvious they were merely inches apart if that – more inches, certainly, in width than in height.
Severus practically felt his mind shut down at the feel of it, of a hard, male body pressing into his, and a small part of him didn’t even care that it was Potter – enough of a part that he simply held still as the fool chuckled, holding on to him for far longer than was necessary - or proper.
“Thank you, Prof-Headmaster. Thank you. Genuinely.” He whispered, his breath tickling Severus’ neck – and then he was gone, pulling well clear, practically running across his office. “I’ll go now before you hex me! See you Monday!” He called out before closing the door behind himself, leaving Severus alone, absolutely stunned, blushing furiously, and significantly more… warm than he had any right to feel.
Damn Potter.
Monday was hellish. He got through it somehow, hissing and spitting at everyone, even Minerva, who only gave him a pitying look. He deserved to be mean, though, because Potter had taken the seat to his left. Minerva to his right wasn’t enough to distract him from the brat – and nothing could make him ignore the way their elbows occasionally bumped together.
“I’ll kill him.” He hissed angrily.
“He’s done nothing at all to you.” Minerva pointed out from her spot across his desk. He’d forgotten she was there.
“He’s… he’s intruding.”
“Oh what?”
“Me – my space.” He hissed.
She chuckled. “Oh Severus, why don’t you just admit what this really is?” She asked.
He raised an eyebrow, confused as anything. “What is it really?” He asked mockingly.
She smiled – then looked surprised. “Oh, you haven’t noticed? You… you obviously have a crush on him! Nothing wrong with it, of course, and it is a bit obvious.” She said.
“No.” He snapped.
“No, it’s not obvious or no, you don’t have a crush on him?” She asked with a titter.
“No – neither. I’m not, I don’t –” He stuttered, feeling himself blush, his body remembering Potter’s pressed to his own.
No. Just no.
“There’s no issue, Severus. Besides, Potter is gay regardless. He told me a while ago. He’s not out to the public, but you could do worse.” She pointed out in a gentle, friendly tone that made it impossible for him to yell at her.
“He could do better.” His mouth said instead, entirely without his permission.
Minerva sighed.
“Good evening, Headmaster.” Potter said.
Severus slammed the door – tried to slam the door. Potter had no issue at all stopping it, and sure, Severus was drunk, but that was no excuse for him to just stop it with one hand, casually.
He swayed on his feet, slightly – only slightly. Not enough for Potter to look concerned and definitely not enough for him to step in.
“Out, Potter, you’re not inve-invited on. In. Get out.” He hissed, swaying slightly, not that he got far – a hand stopped him. An arm steadied him, wrapped around his middle like a vice, far stronger than he had any right to be.
“Okay, I came here to talk about work but you are hammered.” Potter said with a soft chuckle. “So I guess I’ll put you to bed, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You will go nowhere near my bed.” He hissed, uncaring about the other stuff Potter said. Was saying.
“Actually, I think I’ll talk to you Monday. You’ll hex me if I try it tomorrow.” The brat said cheerfully as he dragged him along – he, Potter, did the dragging. Severus just stopped resisting and allowed it.
He was pushed, rather roughly into his bed and fell with a grunt.
The bed was soft – that was the only reason it took him a second to sit back up, to lean up onto his arms.
“Potter!” He snarled, just as the brat and his hands – why were they reaching for him? – leaned even closer.
“Mhm?”
“Get out of my bedroom.”
“In just a minute. You’ll be uncomfortable in your robes and shoes. Get them off and I’ll leave.” Potter said, hands reaching for Severus’ belt.
He only barely bit down a whimper and, desperate to get it over with, vanished his clothes.
All of them.
Potter’s open-mouthed stare was almost worth it, his smug, drunk mind decided.
“Out, Potter.” He hissed again.
“Yup, leaving.” The brat agreed eagerly, doing just that.
“Fuck.” Severus moaned, not three minutes later as he spilled himself over his hand, body trembling with pleasure his mind didn’t quite understand.
“You’re the deputy headmistress.” He snarled the next morning.
“You are hungover.” She replied, belting her robe a little more tightly. “Which is no reason to try to take a sabbatical on the third week of school.”
“It’s not – I’m not trying to – it’s Potter.”
“What’s he gone and done now?” She asked, huffing.
“He took my clothes off.” Severus spat.
Minerva’s mouth fell open as she gasped in shock. “I beg your pardon?”
He groaned, realising how that sounded. “No, not like that. Last night. I was drunk, and he told me to go to bed.”
“Reasonable, if you ask me.” She muttered – he ignored her.
“He said he’d leave if I took my clothes off.”
“So you did, not him.” She said a moment later, summoning herself some tea.
“Well… yes, I suppose, but that’s not the point.”
“What is the point? Did he not leave?” She checked – and suddenly he wasn’t sure what his point had been.
“He did.” Severus admitted. “But I…”
“You what?”
He really didn’t have an answer for that.
“Just… I need to go away. For a week or two.” He said instead.
“What you need to do is march yourself up to Potter’s rooms and bother him instead of me.” She said, pointing at her door. “They’re one floor up from mine, hop to it before I hex you both.” She hissed.
“Potter could do with a good hex.” He decided.
“You. Both.” She snapped – Severus left.
“Good morning, Headmaster. Please, come right in.” Potter said cheerily after Severus had already barged in – he was headmaster, it was his right.
He turned back around to stare at the owner of the sitting room he’d just invaded, only to nearly choke on his tongue. Potter wasn’t dressed – he was in his pants. Only those.
He wheezed.
“Headmaster?” He asked, his pinched expression melting to one of actual concern.
“Potter.” He said weakly, suddenly very unsure what to do with himself.
“You okay?”
“Hungover.” He admitted, feeling the prickle of shame at the back of his neck. He had – he had really exposed himself to his former student the evening before, hadn’t he?
“I’m not surprised, you were wankered last night.” Potter said with a giggle, stepping past him. Severus stiffened up, only to call himself an idiot. Potter didn’t – couldn’t have known what he had done after he’d left.
“Quite.” He agreed weakly.
“Hangover cure?” Potter offered him a vial.
He drank its contents, uncaring if – hoping – it was poison. It was not.
It made him feel better, the blasted concoction. He grunted something that might have been a thanks. If it were aimed at someone other than Potter.
“Well, now that you’re better, potions master Snape, can I be of further assistance?” Potter asked, unfairly cheerily.
“Brat!” He snarled. “I’m here because…” He trailed off and watched as the younger man stepped across the room, closer to him, closer, and – right past him.
Fucking hell.
“Because?” Potter asked from behind him – he shot around, just in time to watch him step into grey muggle sweatpants – grey sweatpants. He wheezed lightly. Had Potter no idea about what he was doing?
“Because, I am… you, you wanted something last night. That’s why you came. So why am I here?” He asked, hoping he sounded menacing rather than keen.
Which he wasn’t – even if those sweatpants looked far too much like the ones he’d seen in certain borderline pornographic magazines he’d seen in his younger years. Semi-recently, even. Maybe.
“I wanted your permission for another duelling club. No Lockhart, obviously.”
He snorted. “Not enough of blasting dark wizards around yet? Need to take it out on students?” He asked, crossing his arms.
Potter laughed softly, his face almost sad. “Some days I wake up itching for a fight, yeah. I’m sure you do too.” He said, giving Severus a slow once over.
He swallowed – he woke up aching for something, certainly, but not… not a fight. Not unless it was the sort that involved fingers and teeth and skin. “Go out, get laid then. 'No' to your club.” He said weakly, wishing that image didn’t have quite so much appeal.
Potter laughed. The bastard. “Is that what you do? Or do you just get drunk in your rooms like someone much older than you are?” The younger man asked, his smile far too bright, too happy to be aimed at him, especially when he was scowling. Potter ought not be smiling at all.
“None of your business, is it?” He snarled.
“Maybe not.” Potter agreed. “But the next time you vanish your clothes and wank yourself off, I’d be much obliged if you could either wait until I’m gone or at least offer to let me join in.” He said lightly.
Severus’ screams, Peeves informed him later, could be heard all the way to the dungeons.
He steered clear of Potter for three weeks. Three glorious weeks where he skipped all meals, didn’t attend his own mandatory meetings, or otherwise see the brat.
Three weeks was as long as he could keep it up, though – then he had to see him. Not like that, of course – never like that. He just… needed to see him. Still not like that.
“Potter, my office.” He sneered in passing at the teacher as he joked around with some of the current seventh years, his stomach twisting into knots. They were more age-appropriate for Potter than… than…
No.
“Coming, headmaster!” Potter said cheerily, falling in step with him, just as he dodged out of the way of one of the boys' attempts to grab his arm. They walked in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for the rescue. I’m pants at telling them off – but they’re so clingy.” He said, sounding… tired.
Severus turned to look at him. “Hero worship?”
“Yeah, of course. They don’t remember any of it, but… it’s hard to be mean, you know?” Potter said quietly.
“Don’t be mean, be firm.” He instructed. “Set the boundaries now and it’ll be easier three months down the line.” He snapped, annoyed with himself that he was giving him advice.
A hand landed on his arm and he absolutely froze in place, turning to Potter, confused why he was suddenly so close, why, when he backed up a little, he felt the cold press of stone against himself. Potter was close enough that he could feel him too, the warmth of a body so much stronger and broader than his own, and Merlin he was so very gay, wasn’t he?
Some ungodly noise escaped him when Potter smiled at him. “Thank you, Headmaster, for giving me advice.” He said so sincerely that it somehow made Severus’ teeth ache. “Erm, what did you need from me?” Potter asked quietly.
“Nothing at all.” Severus said bitterly – he had no idea anymore.
“Good evening, Headmaster.” Potter greeted him, his voice low, and intimate as he tried and failed to sneak up on him from behind.
A shiver crept up his spine and he stiffened it to hide it before turning to face his youngest colleague. Potter was visibly a little drunk – so was he, his third glass nearly empty now. Potter was holding two, gave him the second.
He emptied his own and despite his better sense accepted it. “Potter.” He rasped out, clenching the glass of liquid courage in his hand. “What do you want?”
“Just to say hi. You’ve been standing here for ages. Figured you might like some company.”
“No.” He rasped out, taking a gulp from the glass – whiskey, the kind he liked best. Damn the brat.
“Mh, the way I see it you didn’t walk away, so you must be willing to suffer me for a bit.”
“What do you want, Potter?”
“To dance. With you.” He said with a grin.
Severus laughed softly and studied the room, still filled with students and a few teachers dancing. He’d had to open the blasted ball with Minerva, and had begged off as soon as humanly possible.
“You do not dance.” He said, trying not to think of it.
“Oh please, just because I was shite as a kid doesn’t mean I am now. Why not give me a go?” Potter asked.
Severus turned to look at him, the challenge in his eyes, the way he tilted his head as if he meant something entirely other than dancing. He already knew, he wasn’t an idiot, his knees weakened, and…
“I am not terribly good at leading when it comes to dancing.” He blurted out, only to cringe at how forward he was being.
Potter beamed. “Oh? Works out nicely, that. I prefer it. Though I’m happy to let you have a turn every now and again.”
“I’ve not agreed to dance with you.” He said, emptying his glass, wishing his hands weren’t so shaky, his body so keen for a dance, for anything after months of this torture.
Years, if he was honest with himself, but he so rarely was – and he’d never be that honest with the object of his ill-begotten fantasies.
“I think you have, but if you want me to convince you some more I’m happy to.” Potter said – and a moment later, he pressed his full body against Severus’ side, a hand possessively wrapped around his middle, tugging him closer. His breath hitched as he tried to resist for just a moment before giving in, before his body all but swayed into the younger man.
Potter emptied his glass too, set it down. His second hand crept out, grasped hold of Severus’ own, their fingers linked. He tugged, spun him around, and pulled him along – back, away from the dancefloor.
Out the door, into the empty hallway.
“We can do it here if you prefer. We can still hear the music, can’t we?” Potter asked with a grin.
“Can we?” He questioned – he wasn’t sure, because he certainly couldn’t, not with the blood rushing in his ears the way it was.
Potter let go, but kept one hand stretched out towards him.
“So, headmaster, would you like to dance?”
He grabbed Potter’s hand – just for balance, of course. The alcohol.
“Why’d you finally take me up on it?” Potter asked, maybe two hours later, out of breath and yet somehow able to speak.
Severus had never hated the brat more, he couldn’t even feel his toes yet. He groaned wordlessly, shuddering when Potter placed a wet kiss on the back of his neck. “Tired of running. ‘m not a coward.” He rasped out, hating how shaky his voice had gotten after the third time, and maybe there was an advantage to taking a younger, fit lover.
More than one, he thought when Potter got out of bed, sweaty skin on display, muscles rippling as he bent over to pick up his shirt – Merlin his arse.
He groaned again, wishing his body could keep up with his mind – or that his mind would get itself out of the gutter.
“Don’t be upset. I have classes tomorrow.” Potter said with a chuckle, coming over and kneeling down in front of the bed. Severus was laying across it, had somehow ended up that way, and it put Potter at eye height with him. “I’d skip but my boss is a real tyrant.” The Gryffindor said with a mean glint in his eyes.
“You’ll get fired if he has his way.” He hissed, not quite summoning the amount of spite he was going for.
Potter kissed him, unceremoniously shoving his tongue into Severus’ mouth – and dammit, he did fuck all to resist, eagerly kissing back, pulling Potter closer, back into bed…
“Mh, really need to go though.” The younger man said, pulling away finally. “If, erm, if I didn’t misread you, I could… be back tomorrow evening, though? Make myself a bit of a nuisance around here.”
“You’ve been a nuisance since you came to teach here.” He hissed. “You… You’ve been a nuisance since your damn trials.” He snapped – only to freeze when he realised that he’d revealed a little more than he cared for.
“Oh, that long, hm?” Potter asked with a chuckle. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. I was just – you were just…”
“I had a crush on the Half-Blood Prince.” Harry said bluntly. Severus hated how easy it was to think of him as Harry. How easy it had been to howl his name half an hour earlier. “For all of sixth year. And a bit after. Possibly… still.”
“Not a nice man, that one.” Severus warned him, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his arm.
“Not terribly, no, but that’s fine. Bloody good shag, though.” Potter said. A moment later, he pressed a kiss to Severus’ forehead. “And besides, he’s nice when it counts. Brave too. A right hero.” He said.
Severus uselessly swatted at him, but Potter danced out of the way while pulling on his pants. “He’s not.” Severus hissed, his face flaming.
“He is though. Bravest man I ever knew and all that.” Potter said lightly. “But if you don’t object, I’d quite like to find out for myself if, maybe, he’s… nicer than he lets people see. Over the next few months. Or longer than that.” Potter said.
It wasn’t subtle. He wasn’t subtle. Never had been, probably never would be.
Severus sighed. “It might be better for all involved if you get it out of your system faster.”
“Hm, no can do. That ship has sailed. I’m a Gryffindor. We’re terrible romantics, you see.” Potter chirped.
He laughed, despite himself. “Romantic? You call what you did romantic?” He asked, recalling vividly just where Potter’s hands, his mouth, his cock had been in the last hour.
The young man laughed, the sound light – happy. “I call what I did an… advance payment. On the romance. I’ll wine and dine you Friday, if you want.”
“I’m not a girl, Potter.” He snapped instinctively.
“Oh I noticed.” The Defence teacher purred happily, leaning over Severus again – he was dressed now, while he still lounged about naked – to be fair, it was his bed. “But I’m after more than just a shag.” He admitted, giving up even the last hint of pretence.
“I’m not a casual man.” He admitted, quietly pleased that, well…
“Works out well, then.” Potter said, pressing a last, chaste kiss to his lips before shrugging into his robes. “Means I can accept the tenure they wanted to give me for next year!”
“The WHAT?” Severus snarled, his voice drowning out the slamming of the door, the laughter of his now-lover as Harry wisely fled his wrath.
It was only because he was still naked that Severus didn’t chase him down and hex him into the next century. That, and the fact that he still couldn’t feel his own toes, dammit.