No Good Deed

Chapter 4

"It wasn't even our idea. Dumbledore suggested -- "

"Be quiet, Potter." Snape's fingers tightened around Harry's thigh, and Harry forced himself not to jerk away from them. The tension between him and Snape had been unbearable ever since he'd returned from his shopping trip, and no matter how Harry tried to explain it, Snape continued to look and act supremely pissed off.

"It happened five years ago. You can't -- "

"Quiet!"

Sighing, Harry stared at the ceiling. He hated this. He hated Snape hating him for something that happened years ago and that wasn't even his fault. He hated the tension making the air seem too thick to breathe. He hated Snape avoiding his eyes. He hated it and hated it until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"Look," he said, sitting up, and he talked so fast he gave Snape no chance to interrupt. "It wasn't our idea. Dumbledore suggested it. We knew it was dangerous, but Sirius was my godfather, the only family I had left, and I know you hated his guts and you're glad he's dead, but I couldn't just let an innocent man be Kissed!"

Harry realized what he'd just said, and apparently, so had Snape. The fingers on Harry's thigh clenched for a second before they relaxed so much they almost slipped off Harry's leg.

"Very well," Snape said, his voice still a little too tight, but the hard line of his shoulders loosened. "I suppose I cannot find much fault in that." Now some of the familiar sarcasm was back in Snape's voice.

Harry snorted, falling back against the couch. "By the way, your potion works."

"Explain." Snape continued stroking his way up Harry's thigh.

"My leg hasn't hurt since yesterday. It's always hurt in the mornings. Until now."

Snape ushered Harry on his side. "Are those the only improvements?" he asked, slick hands spreading over Harry's arse.

Harry wasn't sure if he should mention his erection. It wasn't so much Snape knowing he'd had one, but it was the timing that seemed terribly off. "Yeah," Harry said, unconvincingly.

"Are you quite sure?" One of Snape's fingers slid between Harry's arse cheeks and brushed across his pucker. "I had expected to see more improvement by now."

Harry whimpered and quickly buried his face in one of the pillows. It was too much, the feeling of Snape's hands stroking over his arse and his fingers teasing – yes, teasing -- his entrance.

Harry's cock sat up and took notice.

God no! Harry couldn't believe it. This had to be the worst thing that ever happened to him. Worse than getting hit with that fucking curse. Worse than almost dying. Imagine how pissed off Snape would be, how disgusted, when he noticed Harry's completely inappropriate response to his treatment. Here Snape went out of his way to try to heal Harry's leg, and Harry just had to be such a fucking teenager about it, getting aroused by the feeling of hands massaging his arse.

It was the most humiliating thing in the history of humiliation.

"Almost done," Snape said, tugging Harry on his back again. Harry tried to resist, but his body had gone limp. Well, except for that one tiny part – not so tiny anymore at that moment.