I'd Die for You

Say something I want to hear

Harry woke up with Snape's teeth in his flesh.

It was pitch black in the dungeons and he couldn't see a thing. He made a noise of pain, short but clear in the silence, and Snape released him. He was behind Harry on his side and Harry bent his legs back to twist their bodies closer together. He felt gauze at Snape's ankle. Snape was hard. It was an impatient heaviness against the back of his thigh. He inhaled sharply and stretched, his stomach contracting but then relaxing as he felt Snape's hands go under his shirt, nails trailing down his chest.

Harry squirmed, heart thumping.

"Why're you still wearing clothes?" Snape was asking him this in his ear, demanding so many things at once of his drowsy haze.

He really didn't know why he still had clothes on. All he could offer Snape was an incoherent plea, reaching back behind him to feel Snape's ribs.

"Take them off."

His cock hardened with this command and he pushed his ass back, dizzy with Snape's hunger and a rush and a need to please him. He wished he could see Snape and just as he closed his sleepy mind around the thought, light trickled from the ceiling to the bed, a ray of artificial sun landing on his hip and Snape's hand there, tucked under his shirt, grip light.

Everything about sex between them drove Harry mad. Like that moment, when he didn't know what wanted more, to see Snape's invading, entitled hands under his clothes or to be totally naked, bare chests touching. Then the questions, driving wedges in his mind, like who else Snape had used that voice with? How did Snape calculate when to be sweet or rough with him, how did he know how to keep Harry's want ticking inside him as surely as a bomb?

Harry didn't know if he was fitting his needs around Snape or Snape was reading his mind or if this was just the way both of them were, regardless of each other. All that was clear was that he didn't have to explain what he wanted.

He took off his clothes and left the rest of what would happen next in Snape's capable hands.

___

When Harry was dressed again and ready to Floo to his own room, where he needed to get ready for his classes, he dropped the question on Snape while he was showering.

"Hey," Harry called from the threshold of the bathroom.

"Yes?"

He could see Snape's shape vaguely through the foggy shower door, washing himself.

"Would you mind taking a look at the case photos with me after classes today?"

Snape's hands stopped moving around his body and he didn't respond.

"I know, I know, be a teacher, Harry," Harry said. "But I thought I might keep an interest in the case, because- well, shit I forgot to tell you." He stopped, not sure how to say it with the shower still running.

Harry saw him go under the spray of the water one more time and turn the faucet off.

"Tell me what?" Snape insisted.

He stepped out of the tub naked, shameless. He was using a towel to dry himself when Harry found his words again.

"I was at my flat yesterday, packing the last of my things. Me and Ginny are giving it up since-," he didn't need to finish. "And there was a photo on the fridge in the kitchen. It was a part of the painting we found planted at Rebecca Rickton's house, little boys playing games with each other."

He fished in his pocket for the photo, folded into a square, and gave it to Snape.

When Snape saw, his face was impassive. He handed it back to Harry.