Cut and Thrust (the Shady Motives Remix)
Remix Author: Go Seaward
Original Story: Cut and Thrust by Jeddy
Summary: Snape could have picked a better room to escape to, but Harry isn't complaining.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Harry Potter
Harry paced, tapping the book in his hand as he waited. Snape would come in sooner or later, he knew. He hated crowds, and Ministry function crowds were the worst variety.
Reading the book--it was--
Harry should have guessed. It was obvious now that he knew. But--how could he--swooping around in those black robes every day, glowering like Harry had done something wrong. And smirking when Harry had caught him and Lucius ki--had caught them toge--
Harry took another sip of firewhisky and waited. bastardbastardbastard ran through his head with flashes of black robes and sharp noses, with blond hair and pale pale skin against sallow yellow and--
Click.
Harry launched for the door, book still in his hand. He caught Snape just as the other man turned from the doorknob. With all the strength in his body, Harry slammed Snape backwards, pinning him to the door with an arm across his chest. "Bastard."
Snape's eyes unfocused for a moment, then closed. His head started to tilt, so Harry stuck the book against the point of his jaw just in front of his ear, and Snape stopped moving. Finally his eyes opened again, and after a few seconds, Harry saw recognition in the nearly featureless black.
"Explain yourself, Mr Potter."
"You utter bastard," Harry said, tasting the burn of the firewhisky still down his throat. Explain himself? As if he'd done something wrong--as if he were the pervert-- "Don't pretend you don't know what this is about."
"I can't imagine what might lead one hero of the wizarding world to attack another." Snape's lip curled on "hero," and Harry thrust the book deeper into the soft skin of Snape's neck.
"Right, Snape." Harry felt the hatred twist within him, tying itself to the alcohol in his stomach. "You've no idea what you've done that would make me loathe you."
"My title is Professor, Mister Potter."
bastardbastardbastard... "You're not my teacher any more."
"Nevertheless, I believe I have earned the respect it confers."
"I don't care what you think you've earned." Snape managed to look imposing even squished against a door in a tiny dark room, and Harry sneered. "To think I once felt sorry for the way my father treated you. But you certainly got your revenge didn't you." The page of the book flashed in his mind again. "That's why you hate me, and why you've always been so horrible to Neville, isn't it? Guilt." He didn't believe it, but he wanted to hear Snape say it, wanted to have a reason to kill the damned bastard.
Seeming to realize his danger, Snape struggled for the first time, working his arms up to grip Harry's shoulders. His fingers burned through the fabric. Harry shoved him harder into the door, feeling Snape's sternum and clavicle against his forearm. So thin--but, Harry reminded himself, that much easier to break. He blanked out the image in his mind of Snape's ribs standing out like marching soldiers down his side as he lowered--
"Are you a wizard or a Muggle, Potter? At least get your wand out, so we can duel properly."
Harry snapped out of it. Oh, so he was going to play it that way. Snape had seen the final battle--he knew better than to challenge Harry. Maybe a death wish...? Well then. Better not satisfy him--no matter how much it would satisfy Harry... He pulled the book away from Snape's throat.
Snape twisted, snakelike, and grabbed the book from Harry's hand.
"The amazing adventures of Order member Mundungus Fletcher," piped the badly-painted portrait on the front cover.
Snape smirked. "Now, suppose you tell me exactly what you meant by this."
Harry went for his wand, but Snape saw him too quickly and grabbed his wrist before he got to it. Harry pulled back, but he couldn't go far without losing his ability to hold Snape mostly immobile against the door, and he had to sacrifice the hand, which Snape in short order had crushed painfully against the stone wall.
"Go on then. Don't keep me in suspense."
Harry growled. "Let me go."
"Whatever for? I hardly think you would offer me the same courtesy if our positions were reversed."
He was right, of course. Harry glared, and Snape glared, but it was hard for Harry to hold his focus with the firewhisky rearing its head, and he began to speak before he could lose the contest.
"It was you in the Hogshead the night that Trelawney made her prediction." Harry put all the venom into it that he could--which was quite a lot. "You were the Death Eater that they wrestled outside, and you carried the news back to Voldemort."
Snape didn't reply, and his gaze didn't waver. Harry grasped Snape's robe and in one quick move he stepped backwards and pulled Snape forward, off-balance. It broke the staring contest, at least, but Snape remained silent. bastardbastard... "Kneazle got your tongue, or are you overcome with shame?"
"I promise you, Potter, that I will never regret any injury done to your father." Snape's eyes blazed, and Harry shook him by his robes.
"Witness firsthand his experiences of death and betrayal, and discover the secret heartache of The Boy Who Lived," the portrait squawked again, jarred.
"Mundungus Fletcher's autobiography. Is this your proof? I do hope you have more convincing evidence than the word of an inveterate swindler." Snape poked Harry in the chest with the book, and Harry grabbed it with his free hand.
"Oh, I don't need proof, Snape. Not when it's you." The image in his head was proof enough--blond hair, trailing slowly down rib-scarred sallow skin, lower...
Snape interrupted his thoughts. "It is surprising though that you would choose to believe someone of such dubious character. Someone who clearly shows no compunction about spilling your innermost secrets to the public."
"I'll admit that I first made the connection when I read Dung's book, but there are other reasons I believe it's true." Most of which I'll never tell you. "It just fits too neatly together. Did you know that Dumbledore never told me the name of the Death Eater in the pub that night? But it must have been someone I knew, mustn't it? Or there would have been no reason for him not to tell me. And the meddling old git always was keen for us to put our differences aside and work together."
"That's enough. You may be your father's son, but I expect even you to show more respect for the dead." Snape looked genuinely angry--surprising, but unwarranted. As if he had any room to talk.
"Oh yes, snake charmer, that was his other, role wasn't it? And you danced every time he played." Turn it back on him...the blow hit; Snape's eyes widened just slightly. "Even now you defend him despite the mounting evidence of his manipulation." Harry wavered a little, reminded by the firewhisky of his main goal. "Aren't you going to deny it was you?"
"Why would I need to deny anything?" Snape said. He'd regained his composure, and Harry jerked the fist in Snape's robes. The other man merely moved with the wobble. "If you were thinking of advising the Ministry that I informed the Dark Lord of the prophecy, you may rest assured that they already know, and I hardly think you can afford to contact the press. After all, fresh evidence of my perfidy is hardly worth printing. I mean, it will hardly create a scandal, as I doubt the formalities will have altered the public's opinion of me in the slightest." Snape twisted his chest so that light glinted off the medal they had given him so unwisely.
Harry rolled his eyes.
Snape continued, "However, I am aware that they are always eager to read about famous Harry Potter."
Harry felt his face twist and didn't care. "I expect you were delighted when Voldemort decided to attack my parents, weren't you? A chance to get rid of your nemesis and his progeny all in one go, not to mention his Mudblood wife."
Snape leaned forward, and Harry regretted pulling him away from the door. "So what are your intentions now you know my dirty secret? Beat me? Kill me? Or expose me? Why no, we already decided that isn't an option. And your other options don't seem particularly valid at the moment either."
Harry glared at him. Amazing how Snape goaded him, even after trying to teach him to hide his emotions. You taught me too well, he thought, and not in a way I'm likely to forget.
However, Snape continued on as if Harry's silence was insecurity. "Ah, then this wasn't a planned confrontation. How surprising. However, the answer to your question is yes. I was ecstatic when Voldemort announced that he intented to destroy your family."
Screw what Snape wanted; Harry wanted to kill. He threw himself against Snape again, and they went crashing into the wall. Snape fought back this time, trying to trap Harry against him using his height, but Harry was slippery. He remembered how Snape had moved with Lucius, and twisted away from Snape's movements. He was reaching his hand up to tug at Snape's collar, to choke him, when his cock--his hard cock--brushed up against Snape's thigh. They both froze.
"My, my, Potter." Snape took advantage of the pause to flip them around against the wall, and he thrust his hips into Harry's lower belly.
Harry flattened himself against the wall. "Oh God, don't." He knew he was blushing, but he couldn't help it. Maybe--maybe Snape's perversion was contagious--
"Something wrong?" Snape ground against him harder and Harry felt his cock twitch, straining for more contact. Snape grinned and started to unbutton Harry's robe.
Harry took a shaky breath. "You sick bastard."
"But I'm not the one deriving pleasure from this encounter." Snape undid a few more buttons and Harry felt cold air rush across his chest.
"I'm not enjoying this." His cock was, but that was Snape's fault. Pervert vibes or something.
"Are you sure? That's not how it appears to me." Snape lowered one hand to caress Harry's cock as he rubbed Harry's chest lightly, then opened a few more buttons.
Harry took a deep breath and bellowed, "I am not!" He didn't care if protest made him look more guilty--there was no way...
He let out the breath quickly as he felt a hardness through Snape's robes. Shit, this wasn't how this was supposed to--
"So is it that you don't like men, or that you don't like me?"
Harry bucked his hips, trying to push Snape away, but their erections slid together and Harry huffed. "Yes," he said, not knowing what he was agreeing to.
Snape had the buttons undone far enough for what he wanted, it seemed, because he pushed the robe off Harry's shoulders and let it fall. Snape's hand immediately moved to cup Harry's cock again, then slide down the zip of his trousers. "No underwear, Potter, that is unexpected," he said softly, almost--sensually. He slid the trousers down around Harry's hips and grasped his cock. His fingers were chilly, harder than a woman's, but--
"I really don't think," Harry began.
Snape interrupted him. "It appears that for once we are in complete agreement. You don't think. If you did you wouldn't be in this predicament." He stroked up and down Harry's shaft a few times, gentle in contrast to his words.
"That wasn't what I mghh--"
Snape squeezed the base of his cock, and Harry let his head drop forward against Snape's shoulder. Snape left Harry alone for a moment to free his own prick, leaving a rough edge of cloth all around. Harry stared at it--he hadn't seen that before, and he was fascinated by the colour, by the way it curved just slightly downwards. He looked back up to Snape's smirking face.
"Unable to handle me, Potter?"
Harry blushed again and reached for Snape. Odd--the shaft was thick and warm in his hand, and jumped a little when he touched it. He stroked a little, finding the curve made it easier, and he sighed when Snape did. Snape's hand encircled his prick again, and Harry matched his rhythm, beginning to rock his hips in time.
Snape's breath panted in Harry's ear, and Harry leaned toward it, feeling the puffs stir the sweaty curls behind his ear. Harry tried running his fingertips around the head of Snape's cock, and Snape hissed. Harry almost smiled, till he remembered what he was here for, and he dug his fingernails into the ridge around the bottom.
Snape jerked. He removed his hand from Harry's cock and grasped Harry's chin, pulling it up so they were eye to eye.
Harry wasn't sure what he saw there, but it wasn't what he'd expected--vitriol or despair, maybe, but not this intense--something, burning there. Snape kept the eye contact as he moved his hands to Harry's hips and pulled their groins flush together. He moved, thrusting, and their cocks slid together, the textured fabric rubbing against the sensitive head of Harry's prick and making him gasp. Snape kept staring at him as he moved, as his mouth opened a little, soft and wet and red with a flash of hard white teeth, and as his thrusts sped up, as his pubic hair brushed lightly against Harry's shaft and drops of precome slipped down and mixed together between their rubbing pricks.
Snape grabbed Harry's arse and pulled them even closer together. Snape rubbed at Harry's arse, moving slowly toward the crack, as his balls swung against Harry's, soft and weighty, and that was enough. Harry threw his head back and came all over both of them, leaving wet streaks on his belly, along Snape's cock and on his clothes.
Harry felt Snape's left hand wrap around his right. They moved slowly to Snape's cock and started stroking together, sliding on Harry's come. Harry tilted his neck down, slowly, but Snape's eyes were closed and his face tense, in pain or concentration. Harry sped up the pace a little and Snape started rocking against their hands, then dragged their hands down to slam against his pelvis. He thrust shallowly a few times before coming. The soft slow drops didn't reach as high as Harry's had, Harry noticed with some satisfaction, but he didn't gloat for long--something about Snape's face stopped him dead in his tracks.
Abruptly, Snape pulled away and muttered a quick spell to clean them both off. Harry watched him with an open mouth as he started to close his trousers and robe, until he realized he was standing naked in a puddle of his own clothing and started to dress himself.
"I believe you have missed one, Potter," Snape said after a few moments of silence.
Harry looked down--and, damn it, he had. He undid the buttons to the missed one and started again, glancing occasionally at Snape, who leaned against the wall and watched him in turn with an unreadable expression. Harry's anger was gone away somewhere, replaced by confusion and a lingering sense of not knowing the whole truth.
He jumped when something loud hit the door. "Harry," came a whispered voice from outside. Hermione. Thankfully she hadn't come in--the room was dark, and they were clothed, but the whole place reeked of alcohol and sex. When he didn't answer immediately, she continued. "Harry, the Minister's looking for you."
Harry looked at Snape. His face had lightened--something like triumph, maybe. Harry couldn't have that, even like this. "If I never see you again, Snape, it will be too soon," he said, but he had a feeling neither of them believed him. He turned, opened the door, and walked out.
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Cut and Thrust (the Shady Motives Remix)
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