Really. This is so incredibly NC-17 it's not funny. I'm not kidding. Contains very rough sex and about five different fetishes. Not to mention loads of bad language. If you click, it means you're old enough to read it and you're not going to yell at me.
Er, on second thought, I don't really want to read this.
Bring on the pr0n!































Harry Potter and the Hillbilly Mafia
Chapter 23: This is It

Harry awoke in Aidan's arms, pleasantly contented despite the fact that his back was sore from spending the night on the couch. He snuggled deeper into the warmth of the other man, wrapping the arm that he could actually move tightly around Aidan's chest. Those kisses last night-- they'd been what he'd expected all his life. That had been fireworks. Perfection.

Then he realised why he'd woken up-- someone was pounding on the door. He carefully disentangled himself so as not to wake Aidan, and went to answer it, prepared to be quite annoyed with whomever it was. It was five in the morning, for fuck's sake. He didn't even have to be anywhere for the next three hours. He opened the door, and all the snarky abuse he had prepared left his mind, melting into disbelief and confusion.

"Abby?" he said. Yes, the woman at his door was most definitely Abby, the librarian he'd met his first day in town over a year ago. But why was she dressed in wizard's robes-- Auror's robes-- and who was that man with her? What the hell was going on here?

"Yes, it's me," she said with a half-grin. "Long time no see. I'm afraid I lied to you, Julian, I'm not a librarian. I'm with the Magical Bureau of Investigation."

"Shhhh!" Harry exclaimed. "I've got company. Muggle company." He didn't even bother questioning what the Magical Bureau of Investigation was doing here, because he felt as though he sort of knew. Thank you, Rita Skeeter. Stupid bint, for all the times she'd cried wolf, this had to be the one time there actually was one.

"May we come in?" Abby asked.

"I just told you, I've got company. What's he going to think when he sees two people in bloody purple robes?"

"These robes are charmed to appear as normal clothing to Muggles." Harry wondered dimly why no one back in Britain had thought of such a thing. It would have saved a great many memory charms. "We really must speak to you immediately."

Harry sighed. "Fine, we can talk in the kitchen. But it'll have to be quick, and it'll have to be quiet. No silencing charms. If my guest wakes up he'll wonder why he can see us but can't hear anything."

"There's a charm for that too," Abby's partner said helpfully. "If he wakes up, he'll hear us, but it'll all go in one ear and right out the other. Sort of like a distraction charm and a memory charm combined. Don't the British Aurors use those?"

Harry shook his head and ushered his very unwelcome guests into the kitchen.

"Julian Jameson, this is my partner, Elijah Griffin," Abby said, gesturing to the man, who nodded a greeting at him.

"All right," Harry said. "What is it you're here about? Please don’t say Death Eaters in the mafia."

Abby squinted at him. "Well, yes, actually, that's precisely what we're here about. How did you know?"

"Daily Prophet article. The British wizarding newspaper," he explained further when they looked a bit confused.

"Oh, that." Abby said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We weren't aware that anyone here had actually read it."

"You know about the article?"

"Of course we know about it. We leaked that information on purpose. Ever since Harry Potter disappeared, the British Ministry has been pestering us out of every department. We had to tell them something."

"Why not that you just don't know where he is?" Harry asked. He really had a terrible feeling about this.

"You think they'd believe that?" Abby said. "They know the MBI is much more magically advanced than they are, and they know we've hidden things from them before. Did you know that John F. Kennedy was assassinated by Death Eaters?"

"Oh, he was not," Harry said. He'd seen a History Channel special on the subject a few months back.

"How do you explain the entry angle of the bullet, then?" said Abby. "There was no second gunman, and there was no grassy knoll. Lee Harvey Oswald shot J.F.K. with a magical bullet," she said smugly.

Harry just gaped disbelievingly for a moment.

"So, you see," Abby said, "they found out about that twenty years after the fact in the first round of Death Eater trials, and haven't trusted us since. But I digress. We have irrefutable evidence that there are Death Eaters tied in with the Castellano crime family. On the subject of magical bullets, what do you think Eddie Castellano was shot with? Why do you think there was so little blood? At that angle and range with a Muggle gun, your wallpaper would have been covered in the contents of his chest cavity." Her gruesome description bordered on gleeful.

"Wait, who?" Harry asked, managing to get over the initial shock of having history refuted. Muggle guns? Did that mean there were wizarding guns? Why couldn't his life just bloody well be normal?

"Eddie Castellano. The man who was shot in your restaurant."

"How do you know about that? The FBI didn't even know about that!" Harry exclaimed, knowing he was probably about to wish he hadn't asked.

"One of your employees works for our office," said Griffin. It seemed to be his job to supply the annoying little details.

"Who?" It had to be Camille, his head waitress. There was no way it could be anyone else. That knowing grin she gave him sometimes-- he'd thought it was just the usual unrequited attraction, but in this light, it took on a whole new meaning. Or was it the young woman who'd been waiting on Gabanella's party the night Eddie Castellano was shot? But no, she'd quit shortly thereafter to pursue some music career. It had to be Camille.

"We can't tell you that, sorry. Really, you already know too much," said Abby. "But we need your help with this, unfortunately."

Harry snorted. "You'd tell me, but you'd have to kill me. Right. And my help? What on earth could I possibly do for you?"

"We need to bug your restaurant," Abby said.

"It's already bugged," Harry said waving his hand dismissively. "Go ask the FBI about it."

"Not bug like that," Abby said. "I'm talking real bugs here. Insects. Well, animagi insects, anyway. Not just to listen. We're ready to make arrests here."

Like Rita Skeeter. If he'd known back in his fourth year that so many things in his life would end up relating back to her, he'd have squashed her a long time ago. "No!" Harry exclaimed. "For one thing, I'll lose business from the insects alone! For another, you're going to have to memory charm every fucking country music singer in town if you're going to have insects transforming into Aurors and arresting Death Eaters in the middle of the fucking dinner rush! Not to mention the property damage! There's no way you're doing it, not on my property! You can make your arrests outside on the pavement, but not inside the walls of any building I own!"

Agent Griffin spoke up to offer another helpful tidbit. "We don't actually need your permission," he said. "We've had the warrant for three weeks. We were only trying to be polite," he said, with a sickening sort of smile. Abby unsettled him and made him angry, but Griffin, he just plain hated right now.

"Well thank you for the bloody politeness!" Harry exclaimed. "Go on, then, do it, but my face and my name stay out of it, and it goes on record that I didn't give you permission. If so much as my first initial and a photo of my little finger turn up in any media, wizard, Muggle, bloody fucking … troll, or otherwise, I swear to god, I know people who can make you wish you'd never been born!" He was thinking of Snape here, of course. It was a completely unbidden thought. The words had come before the image had. Not that he thought Snape would come to his aid, but Snape was most certainly capable of making them wish they'd never been born. He'd certainly done it to Harry enough times.

The worst look Harry had ever seen in his life came over agent Griffin's face, somewhere between saccharine and acid, laced with the worst sort of poison. "It really won't do to threaten us," he said. "Isn't it funny," he went on, twirling his wand between his fingers, "that Julian Jameson's appearance in the United States of America coincides almost to the day with Harry Potter's complete disappearance from the United Kingdom? How curious, how bizarre and strange. What a coincidence, wouldn't you say so, Abby?"

Abby nodded, but at least had the decency to look at Harry apologetically.

Harry went pale. He felt sure he was going to throw up right there. They knew. They fucking knew, and probably had all along.

"Didn't you know?" Griffin continued. "There were, after all, magical investigation agencies searching the world over for you. So really, we'd strongly suggest you co-operate with us. Thus far, no one outside our office knows who you are. But that could change."

"Are you blackmailing me?" Of course they were bloody well blackmailing him.

"In a word? Yes," said Griffin.

"Fine," Harry said, "I'll help you. But if you so much as hint at what you've just said to me ever again, I'm not responsible for what happens next," he said in a low, dangerous whisper. The sound of his voice frightened him, but didn't seem to have much effect on Griffin.

"Mr Potter, that really isn't very nice." Griffin reminded him eerily of Voldemort just now. "Even though you're not being nice, we will be. We'll keep you out of it, at least until the Death Eaters are captured, and then we'll see what happens. We'll be in touch," said Griffin with a coy little wave, and they both Apparated out of the kitchen.


Snape lay silently on the couch, trying to feign sleep while listening to the conversation that was occurring in the kitchen. He'd known about the Kennedy assassination, of course, but the rest was news to him. Bloody hell, what had Harry got himself into? He risked a glance over the arm of the sofa, and sure enough, the argument Harry was having was with two people in Aurors' robes. Well, at least he knew for certain now that this was Harry Potter he was dealing with.


Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How could he have been so bloody stupid? Oh shit, Aidan. Hopefully the Aurors' stupid charm had worked. He'd never heard of any such thing, and found the believability of such an idea quite dubious. He went back into the living room, where Aidan was looking up at him blearily from the couch.

"Er, sorry about that," he said, really hoping Aidan hadn't noticed that the "guests" hadn't actually left through the front door. "I hope it didn't wake you up."

"Well, no, you woke me up when you got off the couch," said Aidan.

"How much did you hear?" Harry asked apprehensively. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

"Bits and pieces," Aidan said sitting up. "I wasn't quite awake for all of it, except for the shouting. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I'm sorry. I really should have left."

"No, it's all right. But I suppose you'd probably like an explanation or thirty." Harry sighed. Well, whether or not the charm had worked, this was probably the end. He'd made an arse of himself last night, and now he had either Aurors or business colleagues turning up at five in the morning. More than enough to put off any potential lover.

"First I owe you one," said Aidan. "I'm a wizard."

Harry felt even sicker than he already did. Or was that relief? He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he didn't feel very well at all. He desperately wanted to sit down, but was afraid Aidan might not like that, so he leaned on the doorframe for support. "You… are?"

"Yes. But I didn't have any idea that you were until now. I suspected it when you mentioned having a teacher named Snape, of course, but it could have been a coincidence, so I let it be. I didn't honestly think it was going to be an issue that would come up. And after all, if you'd turned out to be a Muggle, I certainly wouldn't have told you."

"So really, how much did you hear, then?" Harry said, fighting the urge to rip his hair out. This was just not on at all. Life was not fucking fair. Great, Aidan knew Snape, and quite likely knew that Julian Jameson was actually Harry Potter, and he was quite likely fucked. "I need to know what you know."


Snape felt terrible, lying this way, but he couldn't let Harry know that he knew his true identity. "As I said, bits and pieces. About the mafia and the Death Eaters, but I'd sort of heard about that. And that they're blackmailing you, but what about I don't know, and something about insect animagi. That was one of the parts I couldn't hear."


Harry tried very hard not to look visibly relieved. "Right, then. I can't tell you everything, of course, and if you never want to see me again because of what I can tell you, I understand." He took a deep breath. "My name isn't Julian Jameson, and I don't actually look like this--" And good lord, why was he telling him all of this? He really didn't need to know, but he felt that he owed it to Aidan to tell him something after what he'd heard, because he really did want Aidan to trust him, because after those kisses last night, he couldn't bear not to have more of them. He suddenly felt that he'd do almost anything to keep this man from hating him forever. "I left England not because of an accident like I said, which you probably knew was a lie from the outset, and I'm sorry about that, but it couldn't be helped-- I thought you were a Muggle. I left after Voldemort was defeated because every last one of my friends had been killed by him. Wait a minute," Harry said, just now processing something Aidan had said a moment ago-- "you know Professor Snape?


Now would have been a perfect time, of course, to say, 'I am professor Snape,' but that really couldn't happen just now. Snape knew that if he said that, Harry would put two and two together and run screaming out of there, if for no other reason than the realisation that he'd been kissing his greasy git Potions professor. "I know him," he said. "Not well, though." There, now, that wasn't too much of a lie. After all, he sometimes really did feel that he didn't know himself very well, especially after all that had come about in the past few days. "But really, that's neither here nor there. I suppose you can't tell me your true identity."

"No, I'm afraid not," Harry said. "There are… well, there are some people looking for me, and if I take these glamours off, my magical signature will most certainly be traced."

"Why are they looking for you?"

"I don't really understand it myself," Harry said. "They just are. That bastard, Griffin, just confirmed it. At this point I really don't care if they find me, but I very much care about the trouble I could get into with the Muggle authorities for this impersonation, and worse, the newspapers will have a field day, and I'll never have a moment's peace. Not that my life's been anywhere near as peaceful as I thought it would be here, what with the bloody mafia and all. Anyway, that’s the whole story, well, not the whole story, but as much of the story as I can tell you. I understand if you'd like to leave now."

Leaving was the last thing on Severus's mind. "Julian," he said, pulling Harry onto the couch next to him. "Ah… you don't mind being called Julian, do you? I don't know what else to call you."

"No Julian is fine," Harry said. "I'm used to it. I rather wonder if I'm ever going to be able to answer to my real name again."

"Right, well, anyway," Severus said. "No, I don't want to leave, I'm not angry with you, and I don't hate you. I understand why you haven’t told me the whole truth, but I'm glad you’ve told me as much of the truth as you have. And, well, I should probably tell you that I don't look like this either. There are legal complications with my travelling that required me to borrow a passport from someone else." All right, well, that was a lie. But he was still on a Ministry blacklist as far as he knew, and they probably would have been alerted if he'd left the country under his own name. Not that it was illegal for him to leave the country, but they would have been alerted. Yes, that was a complication.

"I stole my cousin's and altered it," Harry volunteered.

"So, we are really both in similar situations," Severus said. "I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. The reason I'm in this country has nothing to do with what I told you before, and I'm afraid I can't tell you at all."

"I understand," Harry said. "Don't suppose you can take your glamour off either?" The hopefulness in his voice was so endearing that Severus felt like crying. He felt like crying even more, though, when he thought of what Harry's reaction would be if he did take the glamour off.

"No, I can't," he said. "Even if I thought it was a good idea, no one but the person who put the glamour on me can remove it, and I'm not the one who put it on." Damned werewolf.


Harry was more than a little stunned at Aidan's revelation, and rather wondered if Aidan was actually someone looking for Harry Potter. But no, he'd have revealed it if that had been the case. Harry felt sure of it. He trusted Aidan, and trusted him because of the simple fact that he'd readily admitted to having to lie to him. A far cry from Nick. Who knew what other lies Nick had told? Harry really didn't even want to think about it. He was sure more of them would be coming to light soon ,and he'd just deal with it when it came. "Just... please tell me that last night had nothing to do with why you're in the country," he said. Please tell me those kisses weren't a lie, please tell me that was real, and oh god for fuck's sake, please tell me that they won't stop when you have to become yourself again…

By way of response, Aidan pulled him close and kissed him, and it was every bit as perfect as it had been the night before. Better, even, because he was kissing him with an almost clear conscience. As close to clear as it had a chance of getting, anyway. Yes, they were both aware of the illusion, but Harry felt that they both knew that the way this felt was no part of the ruse. Harry moaned, still kissing Aidan, and crawled into his lap. One strong hand was on the back of his head, stroking his hair, and the other was lightly grazing fingernails over his back underneath his shirt, making him shiver.


Severus yet again gave in to the abandon of kissing Harry, holding onto him for dear life, and their contact was literally magical this time. He could feel the whisper of both their powers mingling between them -- it was almost palpable, and he wondered if the air was full of sparks.

"My god, I can feel your magic," Harry breathed, only breaking their kiss long enough to get those words out. It had never been like this with anyone. When he'd said he wanted magical kisses this wasn't quite what he'd had in mind, but it was better than he had ever hoped. This was exquisite, it was heaven, it was… oh god he thought his heart and his mind and his cock were all going to explode from it. He almost felt that he could burst into blossom if he tried, and he couldn't get close enough to this man, wanted to be inside him in every sense of the word, wanted them to be inside each other, wanted to crawl inside of him and take his soul in his arms. This had to be more than lust. He didn't know what it was -- he wanted to call it love, but it was so soon, and love seemed that it was really the wrong word for it. This was like some violent chemical reaction. He didn't know love anyway, and he wasn't sure this was it, but call it what he would, he'd never felt so good in his life.

Severus had no words for what was happening, not even in his mind could he attach some concrete definition to this feeling. This … this magical connection, whatever it was, this power reaction that was taking over their bodies, he didn't understand it, had never heard about it, had never felt it, and almost wondered if they were the only ones who had ever felt such wonder. But no, that couldn't be. They couldn't be the first-- this had to be some closely kept secret, or perhaps it was the interaction of the glamours on both of them-- no, this hadn't happened last night, or maybe it had -- maybe this had been that pins-and-needles feeling he'd felt last night. But now it was ten thousand times more intense, and then he got the distinct impression, no, it was more of a demand that he felt, but it said to him more skin now, and by some tacit agreement, they were frantically ripping off each other's clothes, gasping at the magical static increasing a hundredfold again. Neither of them could move, it seemed. Severus longed to have that hot mouth on his cock but he couldn’t bear to break all the contact between them to have his need satisfied, and it seemed that Harry felt the same way. They both fell to the floor, Harry landing on top of him, and they couldn't stop kissing, they were breathing the same air, gasping in and out of each other's mouths and oh good god, fuck, yes, his entire body was screaming, every particle of his being was shouting and singing and spinning out of control and it was like they were cemented together, just grasping at each other, trying desperately to get closer, needing desperately to get to closer, bodies cursing the realm of physical possibility and demanding that the sky open and some power make it possible for them to melt into each other.

Harry shifted himself so that their cocks were actually touching and he quite literally went blind for a few seconds, his vision filled with white-hot pleasure, flashing bright white light. He wondered if it was his synapses collapsing on themselves, or if they had created this light. Harry could feel himself coming with a force greater than that of all the orgasms he'd had in his life combined, but didn't manifest itself physically. They both stayed achingly hard, but he could tell Aidan was feeling the same thing, because if their mouths hadn't been crushed together, they would have both been screaming at the top of their lungs. This was so intense it almost hurt -- did hurt, but it was the best pain he'd ever felt -- and Harry was quite sure that his heart was breaking, and he could feel tears streaming down his face and there was no world there was no anything there was only skin and white heat and a hum of magic that was now actually audible-- or was that the blood buzzing in his ears? -- no it was both, he could hear his pulse and Aidan's but above that, there was another sound, more high-pitched.

And he didn't know what to do. "Need more, need more of you," he half-moaned, half-panted, half-screamed (no, that was three halves, that wasn't right-- but it was, because this defied everything) against Aidan's lips. His plea didn't come out as any intelligible speech but Aidan understood, he knew he did, because he gripped Harry's arse bruisingly and crushed Harry against him. Harry cried out, and they were rolling all over the rug, clamouring for more. Despite the fact that their cocks were crushed against each other, and every available inch of skin was in contact wherever it could be, it still wasn’t enough.

Aidan rolled over on top of Harry, kissing him harder than ever, and the magic was so loud now that there was bound to be an explosion soon. All the windows will smash and the world will disintegrate… oh fuck, oh, noyesno… The world already had shattered-- they were somewhere else now, and Harry clawed at Aidan's back with his fingernails. He was sure he was drawing blood, but he knew it didn't hurt-- or it did, but it was better than pain-- because the magic got louder and Aidan was digging his nails into Harry's thighs now. He understood, he understood now that the harder a touch was, the deeper it went, and the harder it would pierce the need. He dug his fingernails into Aidan's back as hard as he could, even though he was sure the bones in his hands had to be cracking under the pressure.

He could feel the blood on his hands, but even that pain felt good, and he wrapped his legs around Aidan's waist and begged him, "Fuck me, fuck me now, please," but it all came out as muffled gasps and cries, but yet again Aidan seemed to understand. Despite how much breaking all the contact hurt there, was no other way, and Aidan took Harry's cock into his hand, his fist pumping frantically, and he reached his other hand up to find Harry's mouth. Harry sucked his fingers, crying out and biting down on them when he felt Aidan's tongue move over his balls and oh god yes inside him, but only for a second. Then it was gone, and Aidan took his hand out of Harry's mouth and thrust it quickly inside him. He somehow positioned himself above Harry's mouth, and shouted something incoherent when Harry started to suck him, still working his fingers in and out of Harry, and then moved to enter him in one swift motion. He licked Harry's chest and bit his nipples and thrust into him hard, so hard, and then everything really did explode. There was a loud crack of magic, like a thunder clap, and they came screaming into each other's mouths. It seemed to last hours. Maybe it did last hours, but Harry was sure they were both unconscious for a minute or two afterwards, and then they opened their eyes, breathless, bruised, and bleeding, sense returning to the world at last.

"Oh. My. God," Harry said, still trying to catch his breath. "What … what was that?"


Severus could only shake his head. He had no idea. "I don't know," he said, "I've never even heard of that happening. I'll have to see if there's any thing I can find about it anywhere. Oh, you're bleeding," he said, touching a finger gingerly to Harry's lip.

Harry looked down at his hands and yes, there was blood on them. "I think you probably are, too."

"Let me get my wand," said Severus. He was nervous about Harry seeing it, but it could have been a thousand other wands. He got up and removed it from its sheath in his discarded boot, and healed all Harry's wounds. He tried to heal his own but they wouldn’t close.

"What... Why won't they heal?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.

"I don’t know," Severus said. "Why don't you try?"

"With your wand?" Harry asked

"It's just an idea I've got," said Severus.

"I haven't done magic in over a year," Harry said. "Are you sure about this?"

Severus just handed him the wand. If he was right about what was going on here, Harry was the only one who would be able to heal these wounds.

The strangest thing happened. One healing spell was enough to close all the wounds at once. "I shall have to do some research," said Severus, "but I think I might know what this is."

"What?" Harry asked. "What is it?"

"I'll tell you when I know. There's no use saying anything about it now."

"Do you think it might be dangerous?"

"I don't know … it could be … hazardous, perhaps, to our health, if we don't learn how to control it."

By tacit agreement they both got up and went to the shower, where they washed each other gently, revelling in the warmth and the skin and the satisfaction.

Harry did notice the hint of the dark mark on Aidan's arm. He wasn't going to say anything about it, but Aidan saw him looking at it and gave him a pained look.

"That part of my life was over long before Voldemort fell," Aidan said, and Harry could read the sincerity in his eyes.

"Don’t worry," Harry said. "I understand."


Severus was so relieved to hear those words that he pulled Harry close and kissed him. Not one of the violently magical kisses they'd shared just a few minutes before, but a soft one into which he poured every ounce of what he felt, even the feelings he did not yet understand; he just let the outpour of emotion he was feeling flow over his lips.

Harry sighed contentedly into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Severus's waist, and there they stood for a long while, letting the water run over them, lost in the feeling of each other's lips. Harry ran his tongue down Severus's neck, and Severus moaned and instinctively gripped Harry's arse. They were both hard again, miracle though it seemed. Harry wordlessly dropped to his knees and began to suck Severus gently. And between seeing Harry's mouth on him and seeing that Harry was also touching himself, he felt his knees weaken. He had to brace himself on the walls of the shower, and almost fell over when he felt the fingers of Harry's other hand go into him. But this wasn’t brutal and frantic. Harry's hands and mouth were slow and gentle, and Severus might almost have called the touches loving if he didn't know better. Or perhaps he shouldn't try to know better, and just let himself believe. It couldn't hurt any more than his heart did already. But he wouldn't think about that, not now. Harry looked up at him briefly and seemed to see that he was enjoying the show, and knelt down a little further to give Severus a better view. That movement broke him, and Severus came in Harry's mouth, clenching the back of his head and trying desperately not to moan "Harry" an effort that was fortunately successful, as it just came out as 'haaaa,' which could be taken as any sort of moan. Harry hadn’t come yet but Severus could tell he was close, and Severus made a move to touch him, but Harry stopped him.

"No," he said. "I want you to watch."

"Oh, god," Severus breathed, and Harry lay down part way. Severus could see his fingers go inside of him, and he wished he could watch his face and his hands at the same time, because the combined effect was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen. God, Harry was close, so close, he could tell. He even felt a stirring in his own exhausted loins and reached down to touch his half-hard cock, wincing at how sensitive it was, but needing something, because it was such torture to watch without touching.

Harry opened his eyes and smiled up at him devilishly.

Severus sank down in front of him. "Please let me," he said, "please." He didn't wait for permission, and reached down to tease Harry's nipples. He reached up and took some soap and spread it over Harry's chest, his hands now sliding easily over the hard nubs and causing Harry to moan and involuntarily bend one of his knees up. Severus took the foot in his hand and rubbed it, still watching Harry's ministrations on himself. He let the water run over Harry's foot and wash the soap off, and then tentatively kissed his ankle, just ever so softly. It seemed to cause Harry to bite his lip and stroke himself faster so he took his foot in both hands, gently massaging it and kissing the top of it. No, Harry didn't seem to find this strange or unpleasant at all. He threw caution to the wind and very slowly and deliberately sucked each toe as though it was Harry s cock, letting his tongue tease over the ends of them. Harry was moaning loudly now and seemed to be losing coordination of the hand he had on his cock.
"Let me," Severus said again, and Harry opened his eyes and nodded, and moved his hand down to the base of his cock to let Severus put his mouth on it.

"Oh god, yeah," Harry groaned, and Severus moaned at his lover's pleasure. "Aidan… Aidan, oh, god," Harry was moaning. Severus was almost stung by the name, though he understood. He knew Harry didn't know, couldn't know, but it hurt nonetheless. He kept going, though, cupping Harry's balls with one hand and pushing the fingers of the other hand into him, watching his face and it was… oh, god, it was beautiful, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to fuck him again, to feel that tight heat around his cock. He was hard again just thinking about it, but no, he wouldn't, this was about making Harry feel good. Watching his face like that, even out of the corners of his eyes, was almost almost enough. But it wasn't, quite. He wanted to see him how he really was, wanted to see Harry Potter himself there, but he knew he couldn't. He imagined it, though, and he did moan 'Harry' this time, but Harry didn't seem to be able to understand him, fortunately.

Harry came in his mouth, incoherent and moaning, "Oh god, yeah… Oh god… Iloveyou…" I love you? No he certainly couldn’t mean it; it was only the lust talking, but Severus found that he liked hearing it nonetheless. And that scared him a little. The second he'd raised his head, Harry sat up to kiss him. No, he didn't even know what it was he had said, quite clearly.

They both stood up together, and Severus stepped back reluctantly. "We should stop," he said.

"I know," Harry said. "I probably have to leave for work soon. I don't even know what time it is."

Severus focused for a second, then waved his hand and said, "Tempus." A vapoury clock appeared in the air, informing them that it was eight o'clock.

"Oh... I didn't know you could do that," Harry said. "But I don't have to be at the restaurant until ten, so we have two hours still," he said, closing the space between them and kissing Severus.

Severus pulled away with a sigh. "We should at least get out of the shower," he said.

"I know, I know," Harry said. "I think the hot water is running out anyway." But they couldn't stop from kissing each other as they stepped out of the shower and dried each other off.

Severus's clothes smelled terrible, so Harry loaned him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pronouncing how cute he looked once he had changed into them. "Oh, especially your bum," Harry said. Severus blushed. "Tell me," Harry said, "is that part of the glamour, or is that your real bum?"

"No, it's my real one," Severus said. "My face is the only thing different." Severus was feeling quite self-conscious now.

And Harry kissed him.

"Look," Severus said, "I think we should sit down and talk for a moment." He was really sort of dreading what he was about to say, but he rather felt it needed to be said.

Harry nodded, and once he had finished getting dressed, he sat down on the couch with Severus.

"Listen," Severus said, going in to professor mode temporarily. But not really, because the real Severus Snape would never be talking about such a thing. "This may sound strange, but can we make an agreement? I know you're used to being called Julian, but I'm not remotely used to being called Aidan. Can we agree just to try not to use those names..." he was about to say in bed, but then he realised they'd yet to actually be in a bed at the same time. "Well, while we're..." he couldn't believe his inability to voice it. This glamour must have done something to his brain. The real Severus Snape would never be squeamish about mentioning such things.

"I understand," Harry said, mercifully stopping him from needing to explain further. "It's sort of like being called by someone else's name, isn't it?"

"Yes," Severus said.

Harry nodded. "I had that problem, at first. I'll do my best, but I can't really take any responsibility for what I say when I'm... in that state," he said, looking down sheepishly. "I don't suppose you could tell me your real name."

Severus shook his head, regretting for all he was worth that he couldn't have been called John or something equally common. "You know I can't, any more than you can."



A couple of credits-- the "how curious, how bizarre and strange" bit, spoken by Griffin,  is taken more or less verbatim from The Bald Soprano by Eugene Ionesco, and the bit about bursting into blossom comes from some now-unknown transcendentalist poem I read in high school. Just so you know.

Really, I'd absolutely love to hear your thoughts on this. Comment? Pretty please?