Harry was hard when he woke. He pushed down the sheets and spit in his hand before grabbing himself. He wanked himself slowly but thoroughly, stroking from base to tip with each slow pass. He imagined that Ginny was there, lying beside him while he was spooned up against her back. He was thrusting into her and she was moaning in his ear with pleasure. He began to cant his hips as he moved his hand faster. He was fucking Ginny and she was screaming his name as he pounded into her. She wanted it. She wanted him. He orgasmed, biting back a moan as his dick emptied. It was nice but not what he really wanted. He wanted sex and he was determined to get it today. Snape would have to do it or else face Voldemort’s wrath.

When he caught his breath, he hurried over to the sink to clean himself. Once he had dried himself, he plopped down in his chair and waited impatiently for Snape to bring him breakfast. When Snape finally arrived, he twisted to look at him as the older wizard strode in through the library door. “Did you order the books?”

“I did. They should arrive tomorrow.” Snape stepped through the bars and touched the table with his wand. He returned his wand to his robes and removed a copy of the Daily Prophet. He placed it on the table beside Harry’s breakfast. In huge letters across the top it read “HARRY POTTER: ‘DON’T FIGHT THE DARK LORD.’”

Harry turned away from it quickly, his heart sinking. “I told you, I don’t want to read it.”

Snape picked up the paper and opened it to the second page. He placed it down on the table. “Look, Miss Granger is still listed in the ‘Wanted’ section.”

Harry grabbed the paper and yanked it over. There, in the top row of a page of pictures with names and rewards, were Hermione and Ron. Ron was rubbing his nose in his picture while Hermione looked as though she were about to deliver a lecture. Ten thousand galleons were offered for each of them. His heart swelled with pride at the sight of their faces. They wouldn’t let him down. They would find the Horcruxes. Harry scanned the other faces. Neville and his grandmother, Luna and her father, Dean Thomas, Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, Ollivander, Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley….

Harry’s breath caught and he quickly shifted his eyes to the end of the row of Weasleys. There, at the very end, was a picture of Ginny. He stared it, completely transfixed. She was laughing, her mouth opening wide and her eyes crinkling up. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. “Ginny….” He stroked her picture with his fingertips, imagining that somewhere she was doing the same to one of his. A sudden fear gripped his heart. “What if she read this and believed it? I mean, she knows that they print a lot of rubbish, but what if she believed it? She-”

“She won’t,” Snape said calmly, sipping his tea as he watched Harry. “As I said, your most devoted supporters will not be convinced of your enslavement until they see you with their own eyes.”

Harry barely heard him. He missed her so much. He missed all of them so very much. He hadn't had much time to dwell on his loneliness. With all the focus on his training, he had been able to push aside his desire to be with his friends. But now, the full weight of it settled on him. It was a tightness in his heart, a constant shortness of breath, an ache in his stomach that grew as he gazed at their pictures. After Sirius's death, a pit had opened inside of his gut; a dark hole he always felt but kept in check, unwilling to let his grief consume him.

He clamped down the iron bars of self control around it now. He needed to focus on his training and be sure he ready to defeat Voldemort as soon as possible. After Voldemort died, then they would be safe. Until then, he would stay here and work as hard as he could. He didn’t know what he’d do without them. Especially Ginny. He knew he had been right to break up with her, but still some part of him wished he hadn't. He should have made sure she knew how much he loved her.

He gripped the bottom of the page to tear out her picture when Snape sharply said, “What are you doing?”

Harry looked up to see a frown on Snape’s face. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't stop himself from wanting. Taking a deep breath he said, “I want to keep her picture.”

“How would I explain your possession of it?” Snape asked.

“You’re using it to torture me? I’d tear it up or eat it if one of them came close to me.”

Snape shook his head. “That’s far too risky. I have an idea.” He stood up and walked past Harry to his bed. With a flick of his wand, he raised the mattress and removed the Cosmos book. He brought it over to the table and flipped it open, searching through the pages. Finally, he left the book open and touched his wand to the picture of Ginny. He chanted under his breath while Harry watched with interest. Ginny froze in mid-laugh, her picture transforming into a regular Muggle-looking photograph. Snape placed his wand tip on a picture of a boy in the book and chanted. The boy came to life, smiling and tilting his head. Snape tapped the picture and tapped Ginny’s, and they switched places.

“Wow…” Harry breathed, pulling the Cosmos book closer to him so that he could examine the picture. It was flawless. “That’s brilliant!”

“If that book should be confiscated I will have absolutely no sympathy,” Snape told him. “Try not to be as stupid as you usually are.”

Harry grinned at him. Only Snape would feel the need to insult someone after doing them a favour. “I won’t let them take it, I promise.”

Snape folded up the Prophet and returned to his chair. Harry touched Ginny’s picture one last time before he left his chair to slide the book under the mattress. Once he was sure it was safely tucked away, he returned to eat his breakfast.

“What will we be doing today?” Harry asked as he started on his scrambled eggs.

“You will practise aiming while I read.”

“What are you reading?” Normally Snape paid attention to Harry while he was training. It was unusual for him to be wrapped up in books during their session.

“I happen to possess several volumes on wand lore that may provide me with a greater understanding of the legend of the Elder Wand and its practical application to our current situation.”

“Oh.” Hermione and Snape would get along well if he would learn to stop acting like a git so often. Harry tried to imagine taking Snape with him back to the Order and reintroducing him as his ally. They would probably cart him off to St Mungo’s.

Harry finished off his meal and then prepared himself for his lessons. Snape cleared the dishes and then left the cell, walking into the library. It was rare for Snape to leave Harry completely alone with the bars of the cell open. Harry quickly finished brushing his teeth and crept out of the cell, moving sideways while watching the open library door for Snape’s figure. He walked as quietly as he could as he inched his way backwards. When he reached the door he hadn’t been through yet, he stealthily tried the door knob. It was locked. He cursed his bad luck and then debated which room to explore next. He had already explored the bathroom on his own, so there was no point in going in there. He used the technique Snape taught him as he slinked down the hallway. If he was lucky, Snape had gone upstairs. Harry poked his head in and found Snape standing before a bookshelf with his back to Harry.

“Has your curiosity been satiated?” Snape inquired without looking back at Harry. He pulled a book from the shelf and set it on top of a small pile of books which was floating beside him.

“Howd’ya you know I went exploring?” Harry asked as he stepped in and looked to Frankenstein’s resting place. It was gone. He walked over towards where Snape stood, glancing over the table tops for its colours.

“You were uncharacteristically quiet.” Snape replaced the book he had been leafing through and selected another.

Harry examined all the books on the table tops but didn’t see Frankenstein. “Where’s Frankenstein?”

Snape glanced at him. “What concern is it to you?”

“It’s the only book you haven’t let me read.” Harry plopped down on the sofa. It was far more comfortable than the large one in the practice room he had previously favoured. He ran his hands over the fabric, enjoying the feel of it underneath his skin. They should have sex on it.

“There are many books I won’t let you read.” Snape turned back to his shelf. “That’s simply the only title you have requested that I have refused. I can assure you, if you had asked for more, there would be a great many added to that number.”

“We should hang out in here, it’s rather nice.” Harry adjusted one of the throw pillows.

“Potter, whatever gives you the impression that I wish to ‘hang out’ with you?” Snape asked coolly as he ran a finger down the index of the book in his hand.

“Fine, sit around and talk about the Horcruxes,” Harry answered waspishly. For someone who was supposedly trying to be nice to him, Snape wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Have you neglected to inform me of certain matters?” Snape turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“I told you, I think I said everything, but I don’t remember so I don’t know for sure."

“Then there is no need to discuss the subject further.” Snape added another book to the pile. “Come, to the throne room.” He swept past Harry and strode up the stairs.

Harry reluctantly got up from the sofa. They should have sex on it. Sex in the library in general sounded like fun. They could do it on the sofa, on the rug in front of the fire, or up against the door. They should have sex in all the rooms in the house. Snape’s bedroom, the kitchen, the throne room, and maybe even Snape’s potions lab. It would be the only time Harry would eagerly visit Snape’s lab. Harry imagined having sex in Voldemort’s throne and nearly laughed out loud. Voldemort would kill them if he knew.

“I’d ask why you have that particularly vacuous grin on your face but I suspect I’d rather remain ignorant of the answer.” Snape enchanted three balls for Harry.

“You probably would." Harry suspected that if he told Snape his plan, Snape would refuse for sure. He’d have to trick or dare him into it. He’d save the throne for last. They just wouldn’t show Voldemort that one. Maybe he could even get Snape to give him head while he sat in Voldemort’s throne. The fantasy filled him with excitement and he had to think of disgusting things to calm himself back down.

“Did you bring the laser pointer?” Snape asked Harry, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Oh, I thought you secretly took it while I wasn’t looking.”

Snape sighed. “Honestly … Accio laser pointer!”

Harry was ready when it showed up, hurtling towards him. He leapt forward and snatched it out of the air. Snape tossed Harry his glasses and then walked over to his chair, muttering under his breath. Harry slipped on his glasses and strode to the centre of the room where he began to aim. He had improved and the rounds passed quicker than they had the day before. Snape remained in his chair, his huge nose pressed into the books he was reading. Harry grew tired of aiming and sat on the floor as he watched Snape. He occasionally raised his hand and pressed the pointer as if he were still concentrating on aiming.

When Harry had learned Snape had stolen his memory, he had been so sure that it was impossible to trust the older wizard. However, the incidence with the interviewers had shown that Harry had a lot of power over Snape. Snape had even admitted that he could’ve been killed if Harry had accidentally revealed their plans while under the Veritaserum. Despite the risks to his own life, he had trusted Harry enough to allow him to be drugged and questioned. Yes, Snape could’ve stopped any questions that would’ve revealed his secret, but surely Voldemort and the interviewers would’ve noticed if Snape kept Harry from answering certain queries. Snape had demonstrated his trust in Harry and Harry had returned it by telling him about the Deathly Hallows. Harry still retained doubts about the Potions Master, but he could see no advantages to keeping the Deathly Hallows a secret, especially when Voldemort was hunting for one of them.

There was the possibility that Snape would take all three Hallows and use them to become the Master of Death, but Harry had the feeling that if he could beat Voldemort, then he could beat Snape. He wouldn’t destroy one Dark Lord to let another rise in his place. Before, Harry had been sure that Snape wanted to destroy Voldemort in order to become a Dark Lord himself, but Harry now considered that unlikely. Snape had been antagonistic with most of the Death Eaters which seemed a very foolish move for someone who wanted to gain control of them. No, it was most likely that Snape wanted Voldemort destroyed simply to regain his freedom.

Harry didn’t think that he could trust Snape to do his best to help Harry simply for the sake of helping Harry. While he didn’t believe that Snape wanted to torture or kill him and only refrained from doing so out of respect for Voldemort, he didn’t think that Snape would risk stepping in to keep Harry safe from either unless Snape gained some advantage from it as well. He had no illusions that Snape loved or even cared for him. Harry felt sure he could trust Snape to do his best to destroy Voldemort, but he didn’t believe that it was wise to expect Snape to look out for Harry’s best interest. Harry would just have to convince Snape that he needed Harry to not only defeat Voldemort but help Snape in the aftermath of the war. Otherwise, Snape could end up in prison – or worse. In order to do that, he needed to teach Snape not to underestimate him.

Harry wanted to out-stealth Snape again. Ever since he had managed to tackle Snape during that one practice session, Snape had anticipated most of his attacks and Harry hadn’t come close to taking him down again. He wanted to try to sneak up on Snape now, but he had no idea how he’d do it without revealing himself or drawing suspicion. He tried moving closer as subtly as he could, but Snape raised his head when Harry was an arm span away from the edge of the dais and met Harry’s eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be concentrating on your aiming?” Snape asked in a tone filled with authority.

“I am,” Harry lied and rolled away to return to his practice. He’d never be able to get Snape that way. He’d have to get Snape to fill the room with furniture. With furniture he could sneak towards Snape without being caught – as long as Snape didn’t cheat, which always seemed to happen in their contests. Once again, Harry wished he had a wand. The first time he had duelled with Snape, Snape had treated him like an irritating bug, knocking Harry’s spells away with ease. Harry thought he had improved considerably, but he was dying to test his talents against Snape to see how far he had come in these last few months.

Snape closed his book and looked at Harry. “That should be enough for now.” He waved his wand at Harry, chaining him to the floor. Snape stood and left to prepare lunch. Harry fiddled with his chain, running his fingers over the interlacing rings. Snape should train him how to break out of them soon; maybe even how to break out of the cuffs. They just needed to find that final Horcrux, destroy Nagini, and then they’d be ready to take down Voldemort. Maybe they should try to figure out a way to work together with Ron and Hermione rather than relying on them completely. Harry had the feeling that his friends would never find it unless he and Snape worked with them.

Snape floated in the tray and conjured a chair and table for himself beside Harry. He removed his lunch and then floated the tray down to Harry. Harry examined his sandwich which was composed of an unidentified type of fish, sun-dried tomatoes, and leafy greens on whole wheat bread. He stared at it suspiciously, but he had always enjoyed everything Snape offered him with the exception of Brussels sprouts. He took a bite and it was quite delicious. The fish had been marinated in a lemony sauce that had an interesting tang to it.

“Wouldn’t it be better if we tried to work with Ron and Hermione?” Harry asked. “It will take a lot longer if we each work on our own. Shouldn’t you contact them?”

“If Miss Granger and Mr Weasley were easy to contact then they would’ve been captured by now.”

“Well, maybe they could make contact with someone at the Order-”

“I should hope not. The Order is composed of too many individuals for me to presume that spies haven’t infiltrated it. Even if all its members were loyal, there are not many who can resist the type of torture the Death Eaters will use in order to gain information. You may think you have been treated poorly, but I can assure you that what has been done to you is nothing compared to what they will use in order to obtain information if they were sufficiently determined.”

“So even one person-”

“Still too risky,” Snape insisted. “I do not trust any of them to be able to withstand questioning.”

Harry frowned. “But you trust me and I’m-”

“Horrible at hiding information? Yes, but you are far more controlled than any Order member, aren’t you? I know with whom you will come in contact, when you will mostly interact with them, what you know and don’t know about me, and where you are and what you’re doing almost every moment of the day. I’ve also been with you almost every single time you’ve been interrogated which means I can intervene if I have even the slightest inkling that you might reveal our plans, accidentally or not.” Snape paused and then added, “I have taken several risks in revealing my intentions and plans to you. Truth be told, I would have preferred to keep you entirely in the dark, but I had the feeling that I would not be able to train you in any manner of resistance had you continued to believe that I was a loyal Death Eater.”

“What if the Order didn’t know it was you who was helping them?”

“I’ve always assumed that any communications sent to and from this location were monitored,” Snape explained. “Furthermore, I assume that the Order would be highly suspicious of contact from unknown persons and would only impart information to me after I had sufficiently persuaded them I was not a supporter of the Dark Lord. While I could do it if I thought it was necessary, it would involve a lot of risk on my part. The Dark Lord informs certain individuals of each of his plans so that when information is passed to his enemies, it is fairly easy for him to ascertain the cause of those leaks.”

“So we are on our own?”

“I believe we will protect Granger and Weasley by remaining out of contact with them. I also want to avoid any unnecessary risks on our own part. If they find and destroy the Diadem, I will know.”

“But that could take forever!” Harry shoved his empty plate away from him. What the hell kind of plan was that? “I don’t want to just sit here and wait. We should help them find it.”

“Have you no faith in your friends?”

“I do! I just don’t think we should leave something so important to chance. I’ve been here for months and they still haven’t found it. What if it takes months more?” There was no way in hell he was staying in this prison for months. Already he had been here far too long without an end in sight. He wanted to -needed to- fight Voldemort and end this war before more people died.

“It won’t,” said Snape with an easy wave of his hand. In a sharper tone, he added, “If you want them to be safe then they must be cautious. Do you want them to risk their safety in order to aid you?"

"No, of course not!" Harry answered indignantly. It surprised him that Snape cared about Ron and Hermione's welfare, but then again, maybe Snape simply thought they were more useful to him alive. "I just... I mean." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "It seems incredibly stupid to rely completely on them when we don't even know where they are or how far they are along."

"I will know if they have succeeded and that is all we need to know."

Harry opened his mouth to interject but Snape continued to speak, "However, I am not relying solely on them. If it appears that they will be unable to succeed, then I will remove myself from this post and hunt for the diadem myself. I would prefer to utilise that method only as a last resort and after you are properly trained.”

“How much more training do I need to do?” asked Harry.

“That depends on your progress.” Snape finished his sandwich, stood, and cleared their plates and the conjured furniture. “You will practise aiming again while I finish reading the books. I would advise you to practise moving around the room while you aim.”

Harry resolutely picked up the laser pointer. “Have you learned anything yet?”

“I have ideas but nothing concrete.” Snape returned to his chair, picking up the next book in his pile.

“Such as?” Harry prompted.

“I’ll tell you once I have more information,” Snape answered without looking up from his book.

"Why not now?"

Snape lifted his head and glared at Harry. "Pestering me does not help either of us. Focus on your work and I will focus on mine." He returned to his book without giving Harry a chance to respond.

Harry sighed and returned to aiming. He darted around the room, pretending that there were Death Eaters casting spells at him. The hard marble of the throne room was quite different than the plush carpet of the practice room to which he was used. Harry tried to do a roll he had successfully completed many times before in the practice room. Even though he was careful not to let himself fall as hard as he normally did, he still banged his left knee against the marble harder than he had intended and pain shot up his leg. It was a mild irritation but he wasn’t sure what level of pain caused Voldemort to take notice.

“I hurt my knee,” Harry informed Snape. “It’s not painful but I don’t know what he ignores.”

Snape strode over, removing the painkiller from his robes. Harry stuck out his tongue and Snape dropped two drips on the tip. He knelt beside Harry, his fingers lightly touching Harry's injured knee.

“This knee?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I damaged it, just banged it up a bit.”

Snape placed his left hand on Harry’s calf and his right on Harry’s upper thigh, leaving a handspan between each hand and the knee. He closed his eyes and Harry felt a tingling sensation run through his knee. Snape opened his eyes. “I’m not a mediwizard but it appears to be fine. Perhaps I should wrap it just in case.”

“I really don’t think it’s necessary.” Harry straightened and bent his leg. “I didn’t hit it that hard.”

Snape stood and chained him to the floor. “It is foolish to take risks.” He left in a swirl of black.

Harry sighed. He thought Snape was being overly cautious, but he supposed Snape wouldn’t have lasted very long as an anti-Voldemort Death Eater if he wasn’t so paranoid.

Snape returned with a jar and bandages. He knelt beside Harry again and opened the jar. Dipping his fingers in the container, he scooped up some purple, jam-like substance and spread the cold goop over Harry's knee. His fingers moving in familiar, circular patterns, Snape massaged it into the skin. Harry stared at the path of the fingers, mesmerised by their movements as they stroked the skin near his groin. Harry shut off that train of thought before it took him places he didn't want to go in front of Snape. Snape was so close, the edges of his robes brushing across Harry's arm. He could smell him, that odd mix of earth and potions. Since when was the smell of Snape arousing? He forced his thoughts to Voldemort to keep himself flaccid. Voldemort fucking Avery. God, that was a disgusting thought.

“Does it hurt?” asked Snape, his black eyes focussed on Harry’s and his eyebrows drawn together in an expression of concern.

Harry wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Snape had to have figured out by now how easily Harry was aroused in his presence. “No…no…I just…” He couldn’t think of an excuse. “That stuff is kind of slimy.”

Snape wiped his hands off on a black rag Harry hadn’t seen before. “I wasn’t aware you were so squeamish, Potter.” He began to wrap up Harry’s knee, his fingers moving with meticulous precision.

“I’m not. It just reminds me…of something…that I saw once. Anyway…” He needed to change the subject. “I think the carpet spoiled me. I’m going to have to practise dodging in here, especially since this is where we will fight.”

Snape sealed the bandages. “If the battle occurs in this location, this is the most likely room.”

“Where else would it be?”

“I prefer not to assume. The Dark Lord could order you to be moved to another location at any moment.”

“Why hasn’t he? Isn’t it risky to have me in the same location for months on end?” Harry asked.

“There are only a select few who know how to Apparate here. The rest must be brought by the Dark Lord or one of his chosen. Once he views you as broken, he may move you to another location. I cannot say.”

“I hope we stay here."

“Return to your training.” Snape stood and stepped back up onto the dais.

Rather than aiming, of which he had grown quite bored, Harry decided to practise moving around the room as quickly as possible without harming himself on the marble. Snape ignored him, but whenever Harry approached the dais, he would shift his gaze to Harry as if to say, ‘I know you are trying to attack me.’ Harry would never be able to attack him this round. He returned to his practise until Snape stood up.

“That will be all for today, follow me.” Snape swept his hand and his books rose up and trailed behind him as he marched towards Harry’s cell. Harry followed after him. Snape paused in the library to send his books back to their spots on the shelves and Harry draped himself across the sofa, wriggling into the soft cushions.

“Get up. You need a bath.” Snape ordered the instant Harry laid down.

“I’m not even sweaty,” Harry protested, but he stood and waited until Snape was finished.

They walked to the bathroom together and Harry took off his glasses, handing them and the laser pointer back to Snape. He climbed into the tub and began his shower.

“I hate it when my eyes are adjusting from wearing glasses to going without. You look like a giant penguin or something. If you think we are going to need to fight, then you shouldn’t give me my glasses that day or give them to me early in the day.”

“Ideally, you won't be wearing your glasses when the time for armed conflict arrives. Too many wizards use sight rather than feel to block spells which only works for spells which leave discrete traces. More importantly, if you were to wear glasses during the start of a conflict and your glasses were broken or knocked off, you would have a moment of extraordinarily poor vision. I fear you would also be the type who would waste valuable time searching for your glasses."

Harry thought back to when his glasses had been knocked off. "You're right. Isn't there some way you can give me permanent glasses? A sticking spell?"

"The Muggles use devices known as ‘contact lenses’ which are adjusted lenses worn directly on the eyes. There is no equivalent in the wizarding world as most wizards prefer to use their glasses to enhance their vision rather than simply correcting it. I have thought about ordering or conjuring a pair of contact lenses for you, but I feel ordering would be too suspicious and I worry about using magic so close to your eyes without any formal training."

“I’d prefer you not mess with any of my senses,” Harry told him. As amazing as Snape had been with the potions and the spells, he wasn’t prepared to let him try to fix anything he was scared to lose.

After Harry finished his shower, he stepped out of the tub and dried himself off quickly. He opened the muscle potion and dribbled a good amount on his legs before he placed the bottle on the edge of the tub. After a bit, Snape picked it up and suggested, "Lie down on your stomach so that I may access your back."

Harry stretched out on the rug, placing the towel underneath him. Snape poured the warm potion onto Harry’s back in a long drizzle before setting the bottle aside. He slid his long fingers over Harry's skin as he massaged it in using the movements Harry knew so well. Harry focused on the slowly stroking hands, relaxing against the towel beneath him. Snape’s fingers worked their way down Harry’s spine, his thumbs pressed against the sides. Harry hardened as they stroked lower and lower; journeying towards his arse. He shifted, closing his legs and hiding his erection.

When Snape finally began to massage Harry’s buttocks, Harry was completely hard, his dick pressed firmly between his stomach and the towel. The rest of his body felt so relaxed, Snape could probably slide his cock in Harry's arse without causing any pain. Snape normally passed over Harry’s buttocks fairly quickly, but this time he lingered. He probably really wanted to have sex with Harry. He’d get it tonight, it had been too long. Snape rolled his hands over Harry’s cheeks as he massaged him, spreading them open and closing them again. Harry pressed his dick into the towel and concentrated on the warm hands squeezing and massaging his arse. Tonight he would come for sure. Snape would wank him off or even suck him off. If Snape took his time and blew Harry with the same deliberate thoroughness he gave massages, then Harry'd gladly spread his legs.

Just thinking about it made his dick throb and he had to hold himself still so he wouldn’t hump the bathmat. Snape’s hands stroked down Harry’s thighs, and then further down his legs. When he reached Harry’s feet, he tapped the side of his leg.

“Roll over,” Snape ordered, his voice deep.

Harry pulled the towel with him, keeping it bunched over his groin. Snape wrapped his warm hands around Harry's ankles and began to knead the flesh in circles. He worked his way up Harry's legs, his hands drifting ever closer towards Harry's cock. Harry held the towel tightly in place as Snape rubbed the lotion into his upper thighs, the warm liquid seeping into his skin.

Harry gripped the edges of the towel, his breath caught in his throat. If Snape moved his hand just a bit higher, he would be stroking Harry’s cock. Snape's hands moved inward, massaging circles into Harry's inner thighs and when they moved a millimeter upwards, touching the edge of the towel, Harry shut his eyes, desperately waiting for Snape to continue.

But Snape did not remove the towel and wank Harry off. Instead, he passed over it and began to rub the lotion into Harry’s stomach. His hands moved quickly, briskly continuing their way up Harry’s torso and down his arms. Upon reaching Harry's wrists, Snape stood and Harry heard him step over to the sink. Harry opened his eyes to see him washing his hands.

Holding his towel closed to hide his heavy erection, Harry got to his feet and walked back to his cell. He was so close to blowing his load he wasn’t sure how he’d be able to make it through dinner. Snape followed after him, striding to the table. He tapped Harry’s side with his wand and Harry hurried over, dropping into his seat. He attacked his pork chops, determined to finish his meal quickly in order to get on to the sex. Snape paused beside the table and Harry waited for him to procure his tea and sit down, but instead he walked towards the bars.

“Where are you going?” Harry demanded.

“That is none of your business,” Snape said firmly.

“But…” Harry stared at the table. He had been so sure he was going to get sex. “We have to have sex. Voldemort-”

“He didn’t ask for the last memory. We won’t have to perform until after you have been tortured again,” Snape explained in a clipped tone.

Harry suppressed his disappointment. “That’s good,” he managed to say.

Snape left quickly, his robes billowing behind him. Harry watched him go, full of confusion. He had been so sure that Snape wanted to have sex with him. Why hadn't he? Was he afraid of turning gay? That didn’t make sense. Snape had probably read the books himself which meant that he would know that having or even wanting prison sex didn’t make you gay.

All Harry knew was that he needed release. He hurried over to the toilet, dropping his towel on the floor. He held himself steady with his left hand on the cistern lid as he grabbed himself with his right and began to stroke his hard prick. He was so wet; he didn’t need any form of lube. He jerked himself quickly; imagining the fingers around his penis belonged to someone else. He came shortly but it wasn’t very satisfying.

Harry cleaned himself off in the sink. Perhaps he should stop masturbating, it only seemed to make him all the more randy. Right now, he wanted to bang his cuffs against the bars and demand sex from Snape. He returned to his dinner instead. it'd probably be a good idea if they had an extra session in case they wouldn’t have time to have sex or if Harry got sick. Voldemort might demand a second memory and it would be suspicious if Snape didn't have a second one to show him. He walked over to the bars, ready to call Snape back to the cell, but when he raised his hand to strike his cuff against the bars, he paused. Snape would know why Harry wanted him to come back. Harry didn't want to seem desperate for sex. If Snape could hold out, then so could he.

He ignored his penis and retreated to his bed to read before sleep.

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