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Vera No few parties turned their gaze to the handsome couple in the corner. They were a thing to admire: one copper head bent close to white-golden, whispers passing between them like precious coins. What they could not see were the fine beads of sweat on the blonde's forehead or that the casual pale hand on the red head's arm was clenching enough to leave reddened half moons on freckled flesh. "Are you all right, luv?" Percy put his own soothing hand over the clenching pale one. "No." He bared his teeth in the mockery of a smile. "But I don't want to leave, so don't even suggest it." "Of course not. " He turned and touched a section of the wall. "Privatus." The whole of the room was blocked off from the sight of glancing diners. Draco's grip loosened considerably and a light sigh escaped from between pale and bitten lips. "I hate this." "I know." "There's no one out there who's going to hurt me. I know that." He ground through his teeth. "So why do I want nothing more then to go home and bother Papa and Ron?" "It's not your fault." "Did I say it was?" He threw back. "No. It's all thanks to...to..." "You don't have to..." "To Lucius and Tom!" He spat on the floor, forcing Percy to wonder where exactly he'd picked that up. It wasn't farfetched to imagine Severus doing so in one of his frequent snits. "To my own father. My Father, Percy. I haven't...Until you, I didn't really have the words, but you've forced me to talk. Frankly, I don't know whether to bless or curse you for it." "Why don't you just talk to me about it? Say what you have to." "I...I don't know." The anger seemed to deflate all at once. "I loved him, you know. My father. I remember him as this kind of golden blur. I wanted him to love me. I even remember the first time I met Tom. They called him Voldemort, but he was just this wrinkly man with gray hair and reddening eyes. He told me to call him Tom and gave me a toffee. When I was finished, he sat me on a table and stared at me for the longest time. I don't remember being afraid." "How could you have known?" "My mother. She cried when we left. I never saw her again. Papa told me when I was nine that they'd found her body, but it never really meant anything to me. From then on, I lived with Tom and it was.... I don't remember most of it." He shook his head. "They would test spells on me. Variations on a half dozen pain spells. They fed me poisons, then the antidotes. Nothing of Papa's creation, I could tell by the shoddy work." "He does have a certain flare for the work." Percy agreed. No reason to argue. He interlaced his fingers with Draco's nervously tapping ones. "You need not..." "No, I think I do." His voice shook. " There aren't...I don't have the words for what else went on in those years. If they exist, I don't think I want them. He used me as he could, he got his pleasure from torturing me. Had Papa not rescued me I would have died there or worse, become even more a vegetable then I was." "You're a wonder for surviving that long. A child and you lasted for years." "Don't. It's not a skill, it was nothing amazing." "If I could kill them, I would, but Harry and Ron got there first." "It doesn't matter, really. Dead or not, they can't touch me anymore. I may be afraid, but it won't be forever. I've got you now, after all, and that's something." The grin that twisted across maimed lips and the blush that spread across sharp cheeks were worth the admission. "Yes, well. Did you decide what you wanted yet?" The meeting had run far too late for Severus' tastes and he stormed irritably through the darkened school. Exhaustion was already beginning to set in and he began to remember with dread how much he'd hated teaching. Of course, he'd been teaching these past years, but it was a far more furtive manner with the sure knowledge that the things taught had a hard and definite use. Now, he was back to trying to stuff empty heads filled with facts and rules that they would most likely remember for exams and no farther. What they did retain would only serve as clutter. At the very least, he could return to the bowels of the earth and go to sleep. Surely Percy and Draco would be finished with their evening with Ron standing in as chaperone. Or perhaps, they would all still be awake, but comfortingly quiet, moving in familiar acceptable routines. He wanted nothing more then to spend the remainder of the evening warmed by a fire and the looks he and Ron had been sharing these days. There would come a time when they would consummate those looks, but that seemed a long way off, a future he didn't want to consider. Then Ron would most likely balk. What was he after all, but an old and tired schoolteacher with delusions of grandeur and grudges four decades old? The dark that greeted him in his quarters didn't deter him. Obviously everyone had gone to bed and that was for the better. He could go to sleep and forget the interminable annoyance that was his existence on this earth. He moved quietly through the living room and creaked open the door to his bedroom slowly, not wishing to disturb Draco. The boy still couldn't tolerate doors opened with force. But instead of the darkness he'd expected, he was met with a soft, flicker candlelight. The black-sheeted bed, which had been the center of so much drama in his life, did not fail to produce. Seated on the end, one leg dangling to the floor, the other bent to provide support for an elbow. Tiny red hairs were picked out in the candlelight, so that all of the cast naked flesh shone like glitter. Facial piercings caught the light as well, throwing pale skin into flattering relief. Scars ran riot over pale flesh, twisting ropes of retreated pain. Splashes of tattooed color shared the space, spreading out in leisurely sprawl. Ron turned slowly to face the door, allowing the Silver Sight to slide away once he'd picked up no anger or disgust. "I figured that we'd just skip the awkward conversation since we keep getting interrupted anyway." Severus stared, frozen. Ron stood smoothly, his generous Weasley endowment fully revealed. "Where's Draco?" There. That was a complete thought at least. "Out with Percy. They're having a nice dinner." The other man continued to approach slowly as if expecting a lash out at any second. Severus' eyes couldn't help but trail down the well-defined body. And his eyes caught, "Salazar's Kiss!" The unmistakable figure eight snake rested right above a line of fiery pubic hair just as its twin slept above his black. And so it had decorated an elite group of Slytherin men and women back to the days of the founder themselves. It was one of the most prized secrets of Slytherin, so well kept that many in the house itself had no idea of its existence. The mark was a membership, a bonding of a group that commanded obedience. Most of its bearers had perished in the war, an astonishing number of them on Dumbledore's side. "So surprised?" Ron raised an eyebrow. "Do you honestly think that a Zabini would have tolerated being with any one else?" "He marked you?" "With the regular system of approval. He'd gotten his from his brother and two others in the group without being officially sorted, so he had no trouble convincing them of overseeing the first qualification. And, well...I was the master tactician in the battle, suspicious as hell and all too aware of what it means to be cautious." "But you led that battle onto Brighton! If that wasn't a Gryffindor thing to do..." "That was after I was marked." He returned. "And it is not something I'm proud of for all that we won. I would have done anything to avoid that battle, but we were going to die either by starvation or by the sword. No one was more surprised then I that we were alive in the end." "A secret Slytherin in a family of Gryffindors." "The snake in the lion's den." Ron agreed. He turned his arm, revealing the emergent sword and the band of words Severus had glimpsed earlier. Now, he could see it more clearly. "Luck is for the Ill-Prepared. That's rather direct." "It's a reminder. To go with the scars." Almost against his will, Severus traced the largest of said scars, the one he had previously glimpsed through green and silver robes. It was nearly two finger lengths wide crossing from the right shoulder down just below his last rib on the left. Ron shivered to the touch. "How many times did you come close to death?" Came the surprising question. "Too many. Three times by injuries, once by being caught," and here he gestured to another of his tattoos that of the broken shackle around his left ankle, "and once when I allowed myself to sleep when I should have been keeping watch." "Five times then. Five times you came face to face with your mortal end and each time you were spared." Severus shook his head and reached for his own collar and began to unbutton his formidable cloth armor. "My rights of odds, we shouldn't be standing here, either of us. But we are and that is good enough to be going on with." Ron had obviously not expected such a reaction, but he didn't miss a beat. With a tenderness born of anxiety, he stopped the older man's hands and initiated a demanding kiss, letting his nimble fingers undo the rows of clasps. For his part, Severus left his hands of creamy freckle-dotted shoulders and carefully toeing off boots, a skill he had learned after years of hands coated in corrosive agents. By the time Ron had worked him free of his thick robes, they were both considerably more interested in the prospect ahead then any ugly history. Severus' body had been assaulted by age, but he was still winning the fight. He'd never been particularly interested in the evolution of the skin he inhabited and thus had become a thin, unmuscled specimen with a grace that prevented gawkiness and little give to the parchment that stretched around prominent bone. Ron thought he looked better undressed than Blaise. The other boy had been gorgeous clothed, having an inexplicable ability to fill out any piece of cut cloth to perfection, but out of it he'd been fairly plain and unevenly proportioned. Severus' cock was lovely as well though a touch crocked to the right as it woke from its nest of black curls. "Percy and Draco planned all of this, you know?" Ron said softly as he inhaled the first musky wave of sex. "Yes. But it is our will that sees it through." The older man pushed the redhead onto his back on the bed. Automatically, Ron spread his legs a little wider to accommodate Severus' wiry frame. Severus lifted one thin eyebrow. "Oh, come on. What? I don't fit the stereotype?" "I just never thought you..." "Is that going to be a problem?" "No! Not in the slightest." Ron grinned as Severus dipped down again to kiss his neck, shoulder and the thick scar that wound its way down his left bicep. He couldn't blame the man for his surprise, after all he'd been rather taken aback when he discovered how much he enjoyed bottoming. There was no thought in his mind of it being submissive or passive, it was the absolute pure enjoyment of the act. Severus allowed his hands free reign and they caressed youthful hard flesh until he found the soft junction between thigh and crotch. Ron arched into the touch encouragingly. Long fingers wrapped around rapidly interested flesh and he completed the task with the fingers Ron had first noticed that day as he scrawled notes and stirred his beloved potions. The silver ring proved an excellent place to tease. Ron's breaths came out short and uneven. "Stop." He pleaded. Severus heeded the warning. The red head squirmed from beneath him and he watched the retreat with interest. Firm buttocks had apparently not escaped the ravages of scarring, a white thin line curved down from the spine and traced a path across one smooth cheek. Ron returned, breathing slightly more regularly with a bottle of orange oil. Severus took the proffered bottle and sniffed the contents. "This has to be specially brewed. It's a master recipe." "Draco left it on the bed. With a note. It read 'So passes the winter of our discontent'." "Clever, irritating boy." He spilled some of the oil out onto stained fingertips. It was a good consistency and caused a pleasant warm tingling on the fingers. If he could ever look at his son again without blushing then he'd compliment him. Ron pushed his hand to side, kissing him again to bring his attention back where it belonged. It wasn't hard to re-entangle himself with the beautiful man before him. Before Severus could ask the obvious question, Ron lifted his legs and wrapped them tightly around his waist. There was little doubt that, despite six months of minor disintegration, Ron was still flexible enough to take any number of demanding positions. Still, Severus snatched a pillow and tucked it under the other man's hips. Thus prepared, he slid over the other man and assaulted reddened lips. Slowly and not without some anxiety, he found the tightly puckered hole and allowed it to grasp at his invading digit. Slick with Draco's expertly created lubricant and aided by neither of them even close to resembling a virgin, Severus was soon able to slide two long talented fingers and find the magic spot. Ron turned out to be highly responsive, arching off the bed, a cry torn from his throat. A third arrived moments later and Ron appeared feverish, "Now." He commanded and Severus made no complaint. Orange didn't begin to mask the heavy scents of their bodies as he liberally coated himself with oil. Carefully, he braced his arms on either side of Ron's shoulders, kissing him again and marveling at having a lover about his height. Remus had been wonderful in bed as rough or sweet as the mood dictated, but sometimes the fact that he was nearly a foot shorter was inconvenient. Now, with a few fumbling adjustments, he slid into the hot grasping channel offered so openly to him. They were both breathing erratically now, they're long hair mingling, catching in mouths, eyes and sweaty faces. Beside himself with pleasure and all to aware how long it had been, "Touch yourself." Ron obeyed instantly, wrapping strong fingers around his own arousal and trying to find the same pace as the heartbeat Severus had set. Writhing together, the world that seemed vast and passively cruel at the best of times disappeared. The world was recreated in an island of sheets, sweat and a single goal. Ron teetered and fell into the abyss first, groaning so deeply it echoed of something primeval. When the last of the convulsions wrung through him, he was content to lie still as Severus found his release. He spoke softly to him, nonsense words and let his hands slid through sweat-slicked hair, enjoying the last lazy swirls of heat pulsing through him. Finally, Severus found his relief, thrusting home one last time. For a long moment, he was perfectly still, every muscle tensed followed by a complete relaxation. He fell gently on top of his lover, tucking his face into the side of Ron's neck. Thick arms embraced him, shifted his weight until they lay side by side, breath intermingled. "I think I could love you, Severus Snape." Ron told him with sleep thick in his voice. "I really could." Severus said nothing, letting everything fix itself back in place before summoning his wand and cleaning them off with a few words. They slept without making it under the heavy duvet, letting the chill of the dungeon wipe away the last of their heated ardor. Tucked together, their Salazar's Kisses met. The two half living marks acknowledged each other with low sweet hisses. The snake in the lion's den and the lion in snake's skin mated at last. Percy and Draco tiptoed into the darkened rooms. They paused outside the master bedroom. "I can't look, he's my father." Draco hissed. "And Ron's my brother..." "You've seen him naked before, surely." "Not since we were children." They stood stalemated. "What if we make the door invisible, only for a few seconds. Then we'll both have to look." "Well..." "Inverial." The image of Snape and Ron tangled together on the bed, sleeping flashed before them and Draco made an odd choking sound. "Great. Now I have that burned into my corneas for the rest of my life." Percy turned to the wide-eyed blond. "Satisfied our work is well done?" "I think I might throw up." "Come on. Looks like you'll be bunking in your own room tonight." The tension, already vibrating, becomes viscous. "I don't think I can." It didn't even occur to Percy to argue. "What if...I could stay." He offered as if it wasn't one of his clearest fantasies to spend the night with Draco sleeping next to him. "You could." There was a brief silence. "Papa would be pissed." "Considering how your Papa spent the night, I don't think he'd be able to comment." "Good point." "I promise not to snore." They headed in to the other bedroom, lighting a lumos as they entered. Draco, trembling and silent, stripped down to his shorts which Percy took as his comfort level and followed suit. The bed seemed far more frightening then any restaurant. Percy closed the distance between them, picking up one shaking hand in his. "I would never do anything you didn't want me to. Even if it means we have to go wake up the naked people." "I know." Draco cast his eyes back at the bed. "You first." The covers smelled vaguely like cederwood, something Percy had always associated with Ron. That was enough to keep his incipient erection at bay. Creeping in slowly as if to a boiling hot bath, Draco inched his way closer. Once he was fully settled into the curve of Percy's body, the older man gently placed an arm on him, when there were no protests he left it there and brushed a kiss on his forehead. "Percy?" "Mmm." "Are we boyfriends?" "What do you mean?" Eyes open and mere inches away, it wasn't only the physical proximity that felt intimate. "That's what Ron called you today. My boyfriend." "I suppose we are." He replied lazily, brushing blond strands out of clear eyes. "Good." And with that, he closed his eyes and two minutes later was quite obviously asleep. The display of trust was so profound that Percy didn't fall asleep until much later, his heart still knocking loosely around his chest. next part last part << |