Yes, yes, I know, there wasn’t much smut in CW. Well. This ought to help make up for that. In an AU of an AU, we get a behind-the-scenes, post-filming look at Harry and Sev (not to mention a cameo by moi – don’t worry, they’re the only ones who get some). Honest to god, I have NO idea where this came from. This is smutty, raunchy, pointless, wanton, and features DroolingSlut!Harry and VocalHedonist!Snape. To Aspen, who came up with the liquid margarine idea in her nicely eye-popping Harry/Sirius fics, all I can say is: I’m wholeheartedly sorry, and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, YOU WONDERFULLY CORRUPTIVE WOMAN, YOU.
Do NOT get this confused with the actual events of Civil War – apart from being on the set at the end of, erm, writing, it has absolutely nothing to do with the story. Don’t even plan on that much in-character-ness. I’m still convinced they’re made for each other – in more ways than just shagging. I think this may have just been stress relief. Believe me, after nearly three solid months of angst and Pensieves and graphic violent nasties I need it. *grin* If you’re reading CW, though, do NOT read this until you’re finished with the whole thing. Major spoiler ahoy!
Oh, yeah. This one’s for Demeter. *grin*
Disclaimers: All I own is myself.
Throwing In The Towel
“Oh, god.” Harry threw himself on the couch. An empty Chinese takeaway box was kicked from the coffee table with some force as he plopped his feet on it. “Tell me again why I agreed to do this thing?”
“It’s fanfic. There’s no ‘agreed’ involved.” He gave Severus a wide-eyed look of exasperation as he pulled the trailer door shut. In his hand was a script entitled Civil War. Snape flipped through it. He growled. “Lovely. No matter how many times I wish for it, I’m still not dead. You know what that means.”
Harry slumped. “More of them?”
“Apparently so.” Sev brushed a stack of empty pizza boxes off the couch with more than a hint of disgust. “Budge up. Bloody budget, can’t even get us separate trailers. And don’t you know how to clean up after yourself?”
“At least we’ve got a trailer. The extras had to change in the forest. And there’re house-elves to clean up.” Harry found himself eyeball to eyeball with The Glare (as he’d come to call it). “What?”
“The house-elves are on strike. That’s what happens when the writer kills half of them off on the last day.”
“It’s not as if we’ll see them again! Where’s she sending us anyway?” He leaned back while Severus noisily rustled pages.
“Chudley, and then Godric’s Hollow. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. My god. I still can’t believe she made me from Norfolk and then had me say ‘bint’.”
“How come?” Oh, dear. The Glare again. Severus muttered something involving the words “daft” and “cretin” under his breath.
“It’s a northern expression. As in, Yorkshire. You’ve proven your intelligence to be sub-par time and time again, so I’ll remind you that Norfolk is in the southeast, and Yorkshire is perhaps a two hour drive from Scotland.”
“What’s that in broom time?”
“I thought you lived with Muggles.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s not something I like to think about.” Severus looked at him for a moment, then sighed.
“Standard, about two hours. Racing, maybe forty-five minutes.”
“Wow. How’d she get that confused?”
“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Severus folded his arms and slumped against the back of the couch. Harry looked at him a moment before copying. Now that they were off the set there was something different about his Potions master. Apart from that whole nonsense about unicorn blood poisoning (why in Hell was it capitalized throughout?). He found himself gazing out the corner of his eye at the man’s lap and thinking wistfully of their sex scenes. He had to admit Snape had talent. There really was more to that “Slytherin Sex God” thing than he’d given credit.
Suddenly, a harsh knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. Harry groaned. “Go answer the door. She won’t give up.”
“That’s my line. And you get it.”
“Nuh-uh. I’m not the one she fancies.”
“You might be surprised there, Potter,” Snape muttered under his breath.
“Nothing.” In a surprising move, Severus got up and opened the door. He was nearly flattened by a shade under five feet and four inches of chubby writer.
“Shut up, you insane woman. You don’t even speak Spanish.” Sushi cocked a rather Snape-like eyebrow at Severus. Harry smirked.
“So, you say you want me to resurrect Voldemort in some insidious and gnarled way in the sequel? And you want it to be even longer than CW?” Severus and Harry both blanched. Sushi grinned and made a noise not unlike, “Heeeee.”
“Just tell us what you want and get out of here. Potter and I need to resume strangling each other.”
“So that’s what you call it.”
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to let you two know the wrap party is going to be at Alton Towers. We’re Disapparating around ten tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, please. You’re going to be up before noon?” Snape peered down his nose.
“I’m perfectly capable of getting up at a reasonable hour. Weasley Family Orgy, you say?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“We’re going to Alton Towers?” Harry leaned forward. He’d heard about Alton Towers. His lips formed a silent, “ooh”.
“Yup. We’ll have the whole park to ourselves!”
“And how many house-elves did you have to kill off to achieve that one?”
“Hours of screaming sex with Lockhart?” Harry giggled as Professor Snape leaned against the doorjamb. His air of dignity was quite drowned in collared rage. It would be nice to have that sort of all-encompassing power sometimes. He’d often wondered how Snape would look as a blonde.
“Alton Towers. Ten o’clock.” Snape sounded unusually sour, even for him. Sushi grinned and ruffled his hair for his obedience. He didn’t look amused.
“I’m taking you on Oblivion!” She bounced out and slammed the door behind her. Harry rearranged the couch cushions to allow Snape a bit of extra room to sit down. He was quite shaky.
“Kill me. Please.”
“Sorry. Professor Dumbledore’ll get mad if I do. He’s still upset about being killed off.” Harry shrank from the murderous look he received in spades. “What?”
Snape stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I have never been more eager for anything than the end of this bloody story.”
“I dunno. Parts of it weren’t so bad.” Harry let his mind wander. Specifically, it wandered to that outtake they’d done for Valentine’s Day. He’d rather liked that. His eyes glazed over as he thought about it.
“Are you sure she didn’t do something to your brain? What could have possibly happened that would make you enjoy it? It’s a hundred thousand words of angst!”
Harry shrugged. “Parts of it were nice. Like… like the drinking scene…”
“Oh, god. Don’t remind me. I had to lay around with a bleeding hangover all day!”
“… And… and the part where, y’know, the puffskein was eating your bogeys…”
“I hope for your sake, Mister Potter, you enjoyed some part that didn’t result in either my humiliation or imminent pain and suffering.”
“… And the sex was bloody amazing.”
“No, no, I distinctly heard you say something involving amazing sex.” Snape fixed Harry with a look that made his spine feel like a shoelace. “Are you saying you wanted more shagging scenes?”
Harry swallowed. “… Yeah…”
“Oh, god.” Severus sighed and buried his face in his hands. “I didn’t think you were that good an actor.”
“You didn’t seem too bothered yourself.”
“That is beside the point!” He felt a little pang of satisfaction to see his teacher go from bone-white to bone-white with a little bit of red. “I will perform this abortion of a script, I will allow myself to be subjected to the most devious humiliations that woman can think up, but I will not give any pretense to the notion that I would like to get into your pants outside the constraints of the whims of a filthy-minded cow!” His mussed hair quivered dangerously, black eyes wide and flickering with every enraged breath.
In approximately point-three-five seconds Harry found himself pinned against the back of the couch. One pair of lips was firmly against his, a tongue that still surprised him despite the number of re-takes they’d done on the snogging scenes. Snape growled and ripped at the buttons on Harry’s robe. “Of all the,” smack, “outrageous,” smooch, “undignified,” long wet laving at his palate that made Harry’s eyes roll back in his head, “unthinkable things,” Harry’s nails dragged down Snape’s back and the protestations ended on a moan. Severus pulled back, panting. “Out of these robes right now, Potter.”
“Yes, Professor.” Harry skinned out quickly. He was subtly pleased to see his Potions master gulp; a telltale tent formed in the depths of his chemical-stained robe. Shame, really, that the writer had some sort of “lofty artistic sensibilities”. Get down to it and the man was hung like a thestral. Harry grinned as he pulled off his Y-fronts (he’d be glad to get back to boxers until shooting started again) and settled, naked save his sneakers, on Snape’s lap. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
“Five points from Gryffindor.” Harry reached down and grasped the mostly-hard protrusion. It went solid. “Oh, god, fifty points to Gryffindor. And a new racing broom. Oh, god, don’t stop and you can fucking have the Quidditch Cup next year…” Snape trailed off in gibberish.
Harry let go. Snape whimpered, but didn’t seem too objectionable when Harry started yanking up his robe. It went up easily enough, but they both got tangled in the worn fabric when it came to those damned hooks. Harry made a mental note: no more impromptu shagging sessions when we’re still in costume. With a growl he just grabbed both sides of the collar and yanked. Fabric ripped and, in a matter of seconds, lay wadded with Harry’s robe. He stared. “Um, wow. You, um, didn’t look like… um, like- like that.”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.” Rather than bony and emaciated, Severus was slender, lean, with delicately defined muscles that just begged to be licked. His rusty nipples (not sickly peach like in the story) were pricked, ensconced in circles of firm flesh, enhanced by the sleek, gentle development of his pectoral muscles. Oh, baby. Slytherin Sex God, indeed.
“The magic of CGI.” Harry didn’t wait around for any more explanation. He laced his fingers in that long, completely black hair and pulled his rather surprising teacher down for a long, slow snog. Well, that’s what he intended. What happened was a sloppy kiss lasting about ten seconds, followed quickly by Harry tracing his way down that dizzying body with the tip of his tongue, stopping for several minutes to suck and chew those gorgeous nipples. Slender hands pressed against his back. “Oh, god, if I’d known you could do that I’d have rewritten the damn script!”
“This isn’t,” slurp, “some,” nibble, “Mills and Boone novel,” licklicklicklicklick. Thank god he was out of those damned Y-fronts – they’d be too tight for words. Hands settled on his shoulders.
“On your knees.”
“Aww, but I wasn’t fin—“ Harry hit the trailer floor with an “oof!” His nose was pressed solidly against the strained fabric of those ridiculous Bott’s Beans boxers Sushi made Snape wear.
Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.
He pressed his face against the middle of the tension and shook his head rapidly. Severus’ moan was quite stimulating. Harry dragged the shorts down lean, strong thighs and let them puddle on the floor. From the look of things, that might not be the only puddle before much longer. Opening his mouth wide, he let the head of Snape’s cock hover between his lips. He held those slender hips tight to prolong the torture and exhaled around it. Severus groaned. “Do I have to give you detention?” he said in a strangled voice.
“Please?” The low warning growl rose two octaves when he clamped his lips down. Fingers wrapped tight in his hair as he took as much of the length as he could into his mouth. All things told, that was quite a lot. He wasn’t the most popular boy in his year for nothing.
“Where on earth did you learn to do that?”
Harry suckled, letting his molars rub strained, hot flesh for a moment before he pulled back just long enough to say, “Neville.”
Snape didn’t respond. His mind seemed to be elsewhere.
Harry gently traced the pull of foreskin with his tongue. It twitched; Snape gasped; Harry sucked it hard. A distant growl started deep in his teacher’s throat. Harry slid his hands around so he grasped a smooth, taut arse. It was beautifully firm – probably from hours spent stalking the Potions classroom – and had a delicious little dimpling at the top of the cleft. With Snape deep in his throat he had an idea. Gently, he walked on his knees, forcing Severus back against the couch. He managed not to let go when Snape stumbled, but on impact the last inch or so of prick slid home in his straight (correction: gay-ly forward) throat. “OH MY GOD!” Snape started babbling something about nobody ever managing that before. The twitching in Harry’s throat threatened to gag him. He started to pull away, but long hands held his head in place. Oh, bugger it. He wasn’t going anywhere – Harry decided to make the best of it and breathed sporadically through his nose.
Harry loosened a hand and wrapped it around his own cock. It perhaps wasn’t as spectacular as Snape’s, but he’d never had any complaints. For a moment the thought that he should be insulted that he started out the story line a virgin played about his brain, but between Professor Snape’s animalistic grunts and whines and his own flagging sense of… well, sense, it hardly seemed important. He moaned around the heavy pressure in his mouth and throat and was rewarded with a long, mindless gurgle. Really, it seemed a shame to stop, but they were down here for a reason.
Reluctantly letting go of himself, he wrapped his arms around long legs and tugged Snape forward until he slouched. He set the man’s feet on his shoulders and let his throat relax enough to get free. Weak hands tried to keep him in place, but that just wasn’t happening. “Uuugh… you’ve just lost so many points you’ll never… ohhh…”
Harry smiled to himself as his tongue slid down Severus’ perineum and into that luscious cleft. Muscles relaxed and Snape shifted his hips wantonly. Harry teased him with slow, short strokes around the curve of his arse, along his perineum and the back of his scrotum, never quite touching the small hole he felt twitching even from there. He teased the muscular planes around it, reveled in the dusting of coarse black hairs that felt delightfully carnal against his tongue. (Thank god Snape’s reputation for poor personal hygiene was undeserved. The twit’s hair wouldn’t be so greasy if he didn’t shower three times a day, minimum!) Actually, that shower idea had merit. Later.
Harry finally took mercy on the whimpering bastard. As soon as he ran the first teasing stroke over puckered flesh it gaped and Snape shouted, “OH, GOD! OH, MY GOD, YES! YES! YOU ARE A GOD!” Well. That was something he never expected to hear in Potions. Harry flicked his tongue again, encircling the tiny ring of muscle. His eyes crossed and his prick jumped when he remembered what the inside of it felt like. He lapped a many-pointed star out from the center of the hole and moaned softly when Severus’ legs spread wider and he pressed forward. Harry reached up with one hand and down with the other and took a cock in each. Snape seemed to lose all sense of the English language and just whined. Harry slipped the tip of his tongue inside at the next gape. He wriggled it, and Severus howled.
He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, only that he was on the couch, upper body hanging off the arm into a stack of stale papadums (which he oddly gave no thought to), his legs pressed wide open. Severus must have found the liquid margarine Harry kept for popcorn because the smell of it filled the air. Instead of a finger, though, a well-oiled tongue traced the contour of his hole. He moaned incoherently. Bursts of prickling sensation flooded him from the waist down and sparked behind his swollen eyes. They felt swollen, anyway – weren’t the only thing. Oh, god, he hadn’t even been able to talk Neville into this! And Neville was quite the adventurer behind closed curtains. Long fingers pulled the skin of his bum enough for that evil, evil tongue to let a few drops of oil drip inside. It was warm, and a bit squelchy when the fingers let go, and Harry damned near came from that alone. The tongue started lapping again, wet and oily. Harry moaned. “Ohhh… fuck me now and I’ll never play up in class again.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Yesss…” He had the vague recollection that he’d actually left school by now, but that was completely beside the point. Snape seemed to think about it. At least, all he did was dart his buttery tongue in and out several times so rapidly Harry wondered when he’d turned into Trevor. He pressed back and utterly crushed the papadums with his head when most of Severus’ tongue slid inside. “Ohh, my god, don’t stop.” That may have been contradictory to his previous request. He didn’t know anymore. Or care. The tongue flexed and relaxed twice, just enough to reduce him to babbling from the influx of pressure, and disappeared. He keened.
It didn’t last long. In a moment he felt something blunt and greased press against the hole. Hot, hard, and huge, Snape stretched him and sank deep inside in one go. Harry yowled like a queen in heat. His eyes crossed and didn’t go back (which was quite all right, as his glasses had fallen into the papadum shards and he was too limp to care). Between the weight on his back and the straining pressure in his arse he wasn’t sure how long he could last. The world seemed to be rocking back and forth. Severus’ rapid, merciless thrusts would explain that.
His cock was pressed between the couch and a pillow against the arm. They rubbed and kneaded the rigid flesh, sending flashes of burning sensation through his gut. Harry had the vague notion that he’d begun to drool. Suddenly, Snape thrust smack into his prostate. The rush of electricity through his cock, around and in his scrotum, up his spine and pooling in his intestines was too much and he went blind, screaming and yowling and howling and begging and panting and whimpering and not giving the slightest though to whether the trailer was soundproof.
“Oh, god, say my name,” Snape panted.
“Sev’rus.” It wasn’t easy. Harry was completely boneless, slung over the arm of the couch with his head scraping the floor at every post-orgasmic jolt of bliss.
“Say it again.”
“Sevvus…” he started drooling again when Snape suddenly tensed, seized, and spasmed hard. Sharp fingers dug into Harry’s hips and the few moments of utter silence were broken by:
“OHHHHWWWEEEEEOOOOWWWWWOOHHHGODYESOHYESYOUAREAGOD!!!” Twelve stone of spent Potions master collapsed across Harry’s back, knocking the wind out of his fightless body. Severus panted harshly, head lolling against the curve of Harry’s neck. It was a few minutes before they could move. (It would have been a bit less for Harry, but he had dead weight to deal with.)
When he finally did sit up, Snape dragged Harry up too, planted a quick kiss on his lips, and pulled his boxers on backwards. His torn robe followed, as did Harry’s glasses (which Harry vaguely recalled some need for—oh, bugger it). He stood up shakily. “I’m going to the kitchen. D’you want anything?”
“Not papadums.” Harry wondered where his voice came from.
“Certainly not. Oh, and that’s not happening ever again.”
“Okay. Your room tonight?”
“Dead right.” Severus yanked open the door and blinked in the sunlight. He looked around. There was dead silence on the set. Harry could vaguely make out a large cluster of people around the door, some staring at Snape, some inside where he was still starkers but not lucid enough yet to care. Hagrid (who’d hung around for moral support after being written out) was a fuzzy red and black blob. Severus’ head turned sharply in all directions. “Well?” he barked. “What are you lot looking at?”
“Whad’ya do that for?”
“Oh, my dear lord, James is rolling in his grave.”
“Dobby is thinking this is not for house-elves to hear, sir, and will be sending you his therapy bill.”
“And that’s ten points to Slytherin!” The general murmurs and utterances blurred together in Harry’s head. Snape pulled himself rigid and pushed the hair out of his face.
“I was accosted,” he snapped, and pulled the door shut behind him on the way to the kitchen.
A/N: The wrap party was enjoyed by all, yea verily. Harry and Severus were flushed out of the bushes a total of seven and a half times. The eighth time, Harry was already naked and Sev was already on his knees so they were left to it. Sirius spent the next hour locked in the toilets. Apart from Remus getting slightly queasy after fourteen McBurgers and an extended run on Ripsaw, there were no serious casualties. As a final shebang, everybody’s favourite junior Auror was body bound and thrown off a cliff. Nobody minded.
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