* * * * * * * * * * *

He knew Harry was eavesdropping. The boy was clumsy; besides, he could smell him, just on the other side of the tapestry. It didn't matter, but it was exactly what he wanted, to get Harry alone. For just a few minutes.

Everything was coming to a head. Draco wasn't going to be able to carry out his instructions. He was going to have to do it himself. Not that Dumbledore wasn't already dying. Snape would be the one to deliver the killing blow. He'd forever be known as the man who killed Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of all.

He needed to tell someone. He needed to get it off his chest. He needed Harry to know he wasn't the monster he seemed to be. If only for a moment. He couldn't let Potter keep that memory. But just for a moment he could have peace. He knew he was a fool, but so be it.

He moved quickly, and let his mask settle on him as he stepped into his path. "Lurking again, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, but his expression was defiant nonetheless. "Someone needs to keep an eye on you." He raised his chin, staring hard into Snape's eyes.

"I see. And you're the one for the job, are you?" Snape kept his voice even and controlled. He'd had years of practice.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm the only one who can see what you're really doing," he said, his voice breathy.

Snape smirked. "Once again, you'll be the saviour of the wizarding world. Whatever would we do without you?" he could feel the emotion coming off Harry in waves.

"It's a heavy burden, but if the shoe fits..." he said lightly.

"Well be that as it may, you and your shoes are coming with me. You're out after hours." He reached out, lightning fast, and grabbed Potter by the collar.

Harry rolled his eyes and stumbled along after the taller man. "Yes, I'm sure that's deserving of some sort of corporal punishment, as opposed to crashing Professor Slughorn's private party, which clearly required only a warning."

"Silence," hissed Snape as he dragged Harry toward his office. It was critical that no one see them.

Harry stiffened, but stopped talking. As he was dragged bodily into the dungeons, he nearly tripped on the steps. Finally, they passed the threshold of Snape's office, location unchanged despite the change of classrooms.

Snape slammed and locked the door behind them with a flick of his wand and released Harry. "Sit down," he ordered.

Harry remained standing and folded his arms over his chest. "Why should I? Is this going to be a lengthy audience, Professor?"

"It will be if I so choose," Snape answered levelly. "But suit yourself. I have a few things to tell you, and you *will* listen."

Harry's lips became a thin line. "What sort of things?" he asked.

Snape decided to jump right in. "Albus is dying," he said bluntly.

Harry blinked. "What? What makes you think that?" he demanded

"I don't think it, I know it," he replied, trying to soften his tone. "He told me. And even without that... surely you can tell he is not the wizard he used to be."

Harry scowled. "He *told* you? Why didn't he tell me? Why are you telling me?" he asked.

"He is 150 years old, Potter. His health was already failing. And you've seen his hand. That sort of curse drains you."

"So why are you telling me this?" he asked again. "Looking to take his place, are you?"

Snape fought back his anger. "Of course not. I'm telling you this because he's asked me to kill him." He waited for Harry's reaction.

Harry's expression went from suspicious to shocked. "He what? Why?" More and more he looked concerned rather than resentful. "Is he that bad?"

Snape nodded. "He is dying. Slowly but inexorably. He's chosen to make his death worthwhile, however." He knew Harry suspected Draco already. There was no harm in telling him the truth. Not this time.

Harry frowned again. "And how will having you kill him make his death worthwhile?" he asked. At that point, the younger man relaxed his stance and stepped back towards the small sofa, sinking into it with a defeated posture.

Snape could tell Harry was listening now. "Because the Dark Lord has commanded Draco to kill Albus. As you suspected. But Draco will not be able to carry out his duties."

Harry was silent for a long moment, and then realisation dawned in his eyes. "And you'll slither in and save the day and your cover will be cemented in stone with Voldemort and that psycho bitch from hell," he spat out.

"Stupid boy," growled Snape, losing his temper despite his best effort to control it. "The Dark Lord thinks I am not loyal. If he is not convinced of my allegiance, we will no longer have any clue is to what he is doing. Albus knows it has to happen this way."

Harry frowned. "Or perhaps this was the plan all along. To hold off until Voldemort reached a position of strength and Dumbledore one of weakness and then you have his trust already and can just do it. Maybe you're passing Order secrets instead of Deatheater secrets."

Snape moved quickly, standing close to Harry, looming over him. This boy enraged him like no other. "And if that were true, why did I not kill you by now? Perhaps I've brought you here to do just that."

If Harry was intimidated by the move, he didn't show it. He stood as well, and raised his chin. "Obviously your boss wants to try me himself," he hissed. "He's said as much before."

"I brought you here because I thought I could show you how many people have sacrificed everything to stop the Dark Lord. But clearly you cannot see past your own little preconceived notions."

"Are you really going to lecture me about sacrificing to stop Voldemort, Snape? Really?" he asked, eyes blazing vibrant green.

"Of course not. I wouldn't presume. But you trust Dumbledore, do you not?" He watched Harry closely. Clearly this had been a mistake. The boy was too young, too idealistic to understand.

Harry pursed his lips. "Of course I trust Dumbledore."

Snape could see the boy's anger falter momentarily and he seized upon it. "Yet he trusts me. With his life," he drawled, drawing out every syllable.

"If you claim to be able to fool Voldemort, you could be able to fool Dumbledore, also," he said, though his voice had softened. "Look, Snape, I don't know what game you're playing now. What are you trying to achieve?"

He wasn't so sure any more himself, but he said, "I wanted you to know everything," he said softly. "I wanted to..." He sighed uncharacteristically. "It was foolish."

Harry's expression grew confused, brows drawing together. "You wanted to what?" he asked, referring to Snape's interrupted comment.

"I wanted someone to know the truth. Just once. I wanted *you* to know. To believe." He turned away. This had been a mistake.

Harry was quiet for a long moment. "Why would you care what I think of you?" he asked, though his voice held no venom.

Snape paused. That wasn't the question he'd been expecting. "Why indeed," he said mildly. "Well, perhaps it becomes tiring to be so bitterly hated *all* the time."

"Won't you be hailed as the conquering hero by your little Deatheater cronies when you return with news of your triumph, then?" he asked. He tilted his head to one side, watching the older man like he was suddenly fascinating.

"Oh yes, imagine the joy when they don't get the chance to execute me," Snape said dryly. "They're such a warm group." He cursed himself as a fool. This had been an utter waste of time. May as well obliviate Harry and be done with it.

Harry frowned. "If they knew you'd told me all of this, they probably would execute you. Why would you take that chance?"

Snape sighed. He turned his back to Harry, and slid his hand into his pocket, grasping his wand. "Sometimes the burden of secrecy weighs heavily."

"I know," he said, looking at Snape's back.

Snape hesitated, taking his hand off his wand. For once, the boy's tone didn't hold open contempt. "Yes, you do know, don't you?" he said, turning to face Harry once again. He realised he'd never been able to really talk to anyone about it.

Harry smirked a little, chagrined. "Well, as much as Hermione doesn't guess, anyway, which isn't much. Keeping them at bay can be an enormous pain in the arse, sometimes." Then he abruptly stopped.

Snape felt like Harry had relaxed just a little, and he felt a pang of something he'd kept buried for a very long time. "But you must," he said quietly. "For their own good, though they don't believe it."

"I know. I know. Do you think I don't appreciate what's at stake?" he asked, scowling slightly now. "If I'd known from the start... I don't know. I probably wouldn't have had any friends, because I'd be too worried for them."

"Then its best you didn't know," Snape said, softly. He didn't think much of Potter's friends but there was no doubt that without them, Harry's life would be as bleak as his own. He wished that on no one.

Harry looked confused for a moment, giving Snape a measuring glance. "That's not exactly the sort of sentiment I would have expected from you, Professor. You seem like the type that doesn't need any friends."

Snape gazed back at Harry levelly. "I was referring to you, actually. It's far too late for me." He was accustomed to being alone. It barely bothered him any more.

"It's never too late. Human beings are really ridiculously prone to bonding together over any common interest or crisis. Friends are not that difficult," he said, large green eyes studying, watching.

"Friends are an extravagance I cannot afford," Snape stated, entranced by the boy. He was sure he'd never had this long a conversation with him.

"Dumbledore's your friend, isn't he?" he asked, quietly.

Snape hesitated. "Albus saved my life. That goes beyond friendship," he said finally. He had never felt completely worthy of the confidence the older wizard seemed to have in him.

Harry snorted a little. "You've saved my life. Should I consider you a friend?" he asked.

Snape looked away. "Don't worry, I shan't hold you to it," he said, trying not to sound bitter.

Harry frowned again. "Friendship isn't based on what someone's done for you. It's based on why they did it, or would do it, whatever it was. You saved my life because you felt you had to. Because Dumbledore wanted you to, or something about my supposed destiny to save the world. Face it. If you didn't care about the repercussions, you would have been more than happy to see me get it, and toast the end of the Potter line with too much firewhiskey and perhaps a whiz on my dad's grave for good measure, wouldn't you?"

Snape whirled to face Potter once again, fury boiling up inside him. "You know nothing about me, so don't presume to know what I would be *happy* to do," he hissed.

Harry's jaw tightened and he folded his arms over his chest. "You've made no secret of the fact that you despised my father and compared me to him constantly for the last five and a half years. For someone so observant you'd think you would have noticed that I am not James, never met James, am nothing like James, and whatever he did to you I've never done to anyone else. So perhaps you could ease up on the bitter hatred act while there's no audience, hm?"

Snape advanced on Harry, fists clenched at his sides. "Stupid boy. What do you think I was *doing*? Other than being foolish, wasting my time thinking someone like you could understand." He'd let his guard down, and look where it had gotten him. The boy would never understand. Yes, he'd hated James, and with good reason. Extending the hate to Harry had been an excellent cover all these years.

"Right. Fine. I'm too stupid to understand. Don't waste your time, then," he said, pursing his lips.

"It's too late. I already have." Snape breathed a little faster, and suddenly he realised how close he was to the boy. And how handsome he was. He'd been trying to ignore that fact for some time now.

"I don't get it. Would it kill you to just say 'I don't actually hate you, Harry' or anything even remotely not hateful?" he asked. "Anything. I'd settle for 'you're marginally more shaggable than Malfoy, Harry' at this point."

That stopped Snape in his tracks. His mouth dropped open for a moment and then he had to fight not to smile. "Marginally would be a gross understatement," he finally said, very carefully.

Harry's eyes widened. He licked his lips slowly. "He is looking a little the worse for wear, lately," he croaked.

"Indeed," Snape said, his voice rough. He didn't know what had happened, but suddenly things had changed. "And I don't actually like blondes."

Harry swallowed audibly. "So what do you like?" he asked, voice gone a little hoarse. He took half a step closer, breaths slightly faster, more shallow.

The dynamic had changed, and Snape could feel it. His body reacted to the very attractive young man in front of him and it made him slightly reckless. "I was always partial to messy brown hair and green eyes," he breathed.

He licked his lips. "What a... startling coincidence. There's not many of us around," he said quietly. He took another half-step.

"And for that I am eternally grateful," Snape purred, looking down at Harry with hooded eyes. "I don't think I could survive more than one of you." He couldn't fathom why Harry Potter of all people seemed to be interested in him. His body, however, didn't care.

Harry laughed at that. "It remains to be seen if you'll even survive the one," he said. He unzipped his hoodie meaningfully and peeled it off, tossing it onto the couch.

Snape's breath caught as he watched Harry. "But what a way to go," he purred, eyes locked on the creamy skin revealed by Harry's open collar. He was ragingly hard now, and had a tenuous grip on his control.

"Who would have guessed..." Harry said, smirking. He unbuttoned his own shirt, toeing off his trainers. He pulled the fabric out of his jeans and took the final step into Snape's personal space. He raised his chin and looked into the taller man's eyes, then pressed the heel of his hand against the hard line hiding beneath far too much black clothing.

"Harry," moaned Snape, his eyes rolling back for a moment. Harry Potter was touching him. It was almost too much to believe. His hands came up as if by themselves, pushing the opened shirt off the boy's shoulders. His skin felt like silk under his fingers as he caressed him.

A little shiver ran through Harry's shoulders at the touch, but his fingers found the buttons of Snape's trousers and started to tug them open one by one. "Yes, Severus?" he asked, using the other's first name for the first time.

It was difficult to think, to speak, with the maddening boy disrobing him. But it was his nature to doubt anything so good. "What... why?" he knew he wasn't his usual articulate self but it couldn't be helped. It might have something to do with the exquisite feeling of Harry's half-naked body under his hands.

Harry's fingers explored deep into the now open trousers. He slid his hand into Snape's shorts and his fingers curled around his cock. "Why the fuck not?" he said. "Desperate times, sex and death, all of that nonsense. Don't think, Severus."

Harry's hand on his aching arousal banished all doubts from Snape's mind. He growled softly and moved his hand lower, to cup the boy's firm ass. "Do you know what you're doing, Harry?" he breathed.

"I know enough," he said, gasping a little when Snape groped him. "I suspect you know enough for both of us if I don't."

"Yes, I do, though I might be a bit rusty," Snape admitted, pulling Harry forward so their bodies pressed together. He moaned as he felt Harry's arousal. "You'll have to tell me what you want." He knew what he wanted. He wanted to sink his aching cock inside the lovely ass he was currently groping.

Harry pulled his hand out of Snape's trousers and braced them both on broad shoulders, simultaneously pushing off the heavy black robes. His lips twitched. "Do you want to hear me say it? Do you like hearing teenage boys talk dirty to you, Professor? I want you to fuck me," he said, enunciating the last sentence.

Snape groaned, his cock twitching. "I do believe I've never been happier to hear you say something, Potter, impertinent as it may be." He made short work of the boy's trousers, dropping them to the floor. He then shoved him against his desk. "I believe I'd like to fuck you over my desk," he added, enunciating just as clearly.

Harry stumbled, reaching back to grab the edge of Snape's desk. The heavy, scarred antique didn't give. He licked his lips and straightened up and slowly turned around. He pushed the papers aside irreverently, and bent at the waist, sliding his hands across the leather desktop until he was resting his cheek upon it. "Like this?" he asked, panting already.

Snape took a moment to contemplate the vision of a soon-to-be debauched Potter on his desk. It was not something he'd soon forget. "For once, Potter, I have no complaint with your actions." He kicked away his own trousers and summoned a vial of oil. He set it on the desk so the boy could see it, and stood behind him as he ran his hands down Harry's back. His cock nudged against the cleft of the boy's perfect ass. His hands slid lower, parting his buttocks. "No complaint at all."

Harry arched his back, exposing himself even more. "Do it," he whispered. "Take me. Severus." The hissing sound of the words changed as Harry closed his eyes and a moment later he was murmuring the indecipherable sounds of parseltongue.

Snape hadn't thought he could get harder, but he did. "God, Harry," he moaned. He opened the vial with trembling hands and slicked his cock. He dragged the head down the cleft of the boy's ass, teasing them both. Then he pressed the head against Harry's entrance. "Have you been fucked before?" he growled.

Harry hesitated just a beat too long. "Yes," he said, eyes remaining shut. "Just... not for a while." He licked his lips, fingers splayed against the desktop.

Snape frowned. He didn't believe Harry. However, he was too far gone to contemplate that he just might be taking Harry Potter's virginity. But instead of entering with his cock, he slipped a slick finger inside him. The substance wasn't just oil; it was a potion that would help Harry relax as well, and ease the way. He groaned when he felt the tight gripping heat that his cock would soon breach.

Harry gasped, wriggling his hips back against the probing fingers. He hissed out the sibilant notes of parseltongue between soft, breathy moans.

The snake language did something to Snape that he couldn't quite define. It was incredibly erotic. He pushed another finger inside, twisting them around. He could no longer think about why he shouldn't do this. They both wanted it. His cock throbbed, aching as it awaited the tight heat.

Harry squirmed and moaned, clearly trying to make Snape go faster, which he did only because he wanted it just as much. Finally he withdrew his fingers and moved his slickened cock into position. "I'm going to enjoy this," he purred as he entered the boy.

He tried to go slowly, but the feeling as he entered stole his control. Harry was blindingly tight, so hot that Snape knew it would take all his control to last more than seconds. He entered a bit too quickly, aching to bury himself in the tight heat, instinct ruling over intellect. Harry gasped, but didn't seem to be in pain, and Snape knew the potion in the lubricant was doing its job to relax him.

Finally he was seated inside the boy, and Snape paused to regain control. He gripped Harry's hips, staring down at the handsome boy stretched over his desk. He'd never forget this moment. It was a pity Harry had to.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind forcefully; Harry wanted this as much as he did and he would damn well do his level best to make him scream in ecstasy. He began by moving his hips in small circles, generating a deep moan from Harry and sparks of pleasure up his own spine.

Harry gripped the edge of the desk and panted, "Oh, it feels... so good." He writhed, then shoved his ass back against Snape's body, driving him deeper. "Do it harder."

The boy was demanding but for once Snape was going to do just as he asked. He pulled out almost all the way, groaning softly, then shoved back in as hard as he dared. It felt better than anything he could remember.

"Fuck yeah," Harry whimpered. "Again. Just like that." And then more of that maddeningly erotic parseltongue.

It all became a blur then, with Snape trying to find the perfect angle to make Harry cry out, and trying to hold back his climax. Harry clung to the desk and took everything he gave him, begging for more. It was the single best sexual experience of Snape's life and he wanted it to last forever.

But soon he couldn't hold back. Harry moaned constantly now, and Snape knew it would take just a touch to bring him off. He reached down with one hand to find Harry's arousal, pumping it quickly.

Harry did scream then, young body arching as his head snapped back. "OH FUCK SEVERUS!" he yelled, and Snape felt the wet heat pulse out of Harry's cock as his body tightened around him.

With extreme effort, Snape thrust once more then he lost control, cock spasming inside the boy as he filled him with his seed. Nothing had ever felt so good, and he knew nothing ever would again.

After what seemed like hours, the pleasure faded, and he pulled gently out of Harry. That produced a long moan from the boy. Harry still stayed draped over the desk, though.

"Are you all right?" Snape had to ask, settling one hand awkwardly on the boy's sleek back. Never having fucked a student before, he was unsure of what he should do. Or feel.

Harry twisted, looking up at him with a decadent grin. "Oh yes," he rasped. "Never better." He pushed himself up and Snape hastily assisted him to a chair. "Is it supposed to be that good?"

Snape couldn't help a small smile. "If done properly," he allowed. He was certain now that Harry had been bluffing about having had sex before. But he wasn't going to mention it.

"Wicked," Harry grinned. "We'll have to do it again then."

That sent a tremour of guilt through Snape. He couldn't let Harry keep the memory. It would complicate his life even further, and possibly compromise their mission. Harry needed to hate him. It was the only way.

With a flick of his wand, Snape cleaned them both up and Harry got dressed. He knew he was putting off the inevitable but he wanted to enjoy this just a moment longer. When Harry was ready to go, he stood in front of the door a little awkwardly. "I guess I should..."

One more moment. Snape moved quickly, pulling Harry into a deep kiss, holding the smaller man against him tightly. He memorised every inch of Harry's body that touched his, every taste, every smell. Then he released him, stepped back, and as Harry started to speak:

"What-"

Snape spoke the spell. "Obliviate."

Harry froze for an instant, his expression almost comical as he blinked, clearly disorientated. He watched the boy grope for words, and he schooled his own expression into one of dispassion. Though he was anything but.

"Can I go, then?" Harry finally said, his tone strengthening to one of anger.

"Yes," Snape said after a moment. He was proud that his own voice was so steady. "But go straight back to your rooms and don't let me catch you lurking about again, or it will be detention."

Harry's green eyes flashed at him, and his mouth set in a hard line. Snape could see the tension in the boy's body as Harry bit back what he wanted to say. What he did say was "Fine," and then he was gone.

Snape stood there for a moment, then sank into a chair. He hadn't intended it to happen. He'd wanted to just tell Harry, make the boy believe if only for an instant. He'd been foolish. But how could he have foreseen this?

Yet part of him couldn't regret it. At least he had one good thing to remember.