Of Sweets & Memories
headers and warnings

Harry was a curious boy; he always liked to know things for himself, to find out things that the adults didn't seem to want him to know, and he often found that those were by far the most fun. He went wandering into corridors he was supposed to avoid, he followed clues when he was supposed to be studying, and he tried out all the new treats at Honeydukes whenever they started a new line, even if it gave him a stomach ache that one time.

This year, they'd done something special just for Christmas and imported a bunch of traditional American sweets -- chocolate Santas that said, "Ho ho ho," and gave you different fillings depending on if you were naughty or nice; red and green gumdrops in the shapes of trees and ornaments; and his new favourite sweet, candy canes. They were a bit like seaside rock, only with nothing at all written inside, plus they came in a dozen sizes, most of which were bent so they looked like, well, a cane rather than just a stick.

Harry had bought some in each size, and he'd been saving the biggest one just for this. It was called a "barber's pole", and the stripes were charmed to spin round and round the 10" stick. It was the only one that was straight, and it was about an inch thick, with the ends gently rounded rather than cut off straight like with rock. He'd known as soon as he saw it just what he wanted it for, and eagerly awaited his lonely Christmas Holiday -- everyone had gone home but him, pretty much, even Ron and Hermione, so he had the tower almost entirely to himself.

In the course of his career with wanking, Harry had tried fucking himself with his fingers, but somehow they were never quite satisfying. He'd tried his wand, which turned out to be worse than fingers in the long run, too small by half and somewhat pokey in all the wrong ways. This candy cane, thick and round and quite long, had seemed just the thing, and now he was about to find out.

Harry undressed, folding his clothes carefully, bath things and pyjamas waiting to be put to use as soon as he was done. He didn't get many opportunities like this, uninterrupted hours alone in the room, and he planned on making the full use of his time. He unwrapped the cellophane, inhaling the scent of peppermint that rose from the thick pole. He couldn't resist a tentative lick, swirling his tongue over the sweet confection, revelling in the slight tingle from the mint.

One lick didn't seem like enough, though, so he took the candy cane into his mouth. He could only manage a few inches before it was uncomfortable, but he did his best with those inches, licking and sucking until the surface was even smoother, the moving red lines starting to wear away under the ministrations of his greedy tongue. He let it go with a soft pop, the surface sticky and slick with spit and sugar, smooth and hard and ideal for what he had in mind next.

Lying back against the pillows, Harry spread his legs, bending his knees up and reaching down. He stroked the sticky candy over his cock, swirling the tip against the head, then bringing it back up to his lips. The precome made it slicker, but saltier; the rest of the stick had already dried a bit, the saliva turning sticky in the dry winter air. Harry sucked the candy cane back into his mouth, then found the bottle of lube, squirting some on his fingers. He'd prepare himself first, before trying to shove the thick pole.

He reluctantly set aside the candy cane, not wanting to suck it down too small before he got a chance to feel it, and picked up his wand. He cast a cleaning spell, shivering at the now-familiar tingle in his arse, then began to tease at his hole with a finger. He slipped it in, forcing himself not to rush as he stretched and slicked his opening, adding a second finger only when he couldn't bear to wait any longer. He didn't even bother with three this time, wanting to feel a bit of a stretch when the candy cane entered him, wanting to be able to imagine it was the cock of a lover impatient to be inside his body.

Harry looked down at his body, the length of his cock now sticky with saliva, sugar and precome, the tangle of black hair above and the furred balls below, thin limbs and pale skin, hard pink nipples adorning a narrow chest. He didn't know whether he'd ever have that lover, whether anyone would ever see past his scar to him, and if they'd like what they'd see if they did. He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts as not belonging in this moment with him, and went back to what his hands had been doing while his mind had wandered.

He grabbed the sweet, unable to resist a final taste, sucking it as deeply as he could and imprinting the peppermint flavour in his mind, knowing he'd get hard every time he ate a candy cane after this, that it would be his own private pleasure, his secret. He slicked a bit more lube on the pole, careful to leave several inches at the end stickier, then wiped his hands on the sheet one at a time. He got a good grip on the dry end and then took a deep breath, swirling the hard, slick tip against his entrance.

It felt good, different than fingers and much more satisfying than his wand, stretching him wide as it breached his body. He gasped and clenched around it, holding it still long enough to feel the other, unexpected bonus of using a peppermint stick as a sex toy -- his arse began to tingle, cool and strangely erotic. He shivered and bit his lip, then began to thrust the sweet deeper, sliding it slowly into his body, then back out, feeling it drag along the sensitive nerves of his opening, bringing them alive.

It was, he thought, probably the best thing he'd ever felt in his life.

He worked it in slowly until it was more than half inside him, then licked his palm and grabbed his cock. Harry thrust the candy cane inside him and stroked his prick in tandem, panting and moaning, letting every sound that welled up inside him out into the cool air of the room. He angled the stick up as it glided in and out, sliding it over that place inside that made everything feel a thousand times better and sent sparks of pleasure up his spine. His eyes fell shut and his world narrowed to sensation, slick hard coolness slipping in and out of him, his own hand hot and rough on his prick.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, getting a little closer with each panted breath, each smooth thrust of the sweet into his body, each glide of his fingers up and over his aching prick. His balls drew up and he wished for just one brief moment that he wasn't all alone in this moment, alone like he always was with his hand and some Christmas sweet the only things to give him anything like pleasure.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Mr. Potter?" said a painfully familiar voice, dripping with revulsion and undisguised contempt.

Harry was so far along that road to completion that he could do nothing but open his eyes and come helplessly, spilling over his hand and belly even as the fact that he was no longer alone penetrated his brain. "Fuck!" he shouted, the epithet seeming like the best thing he could say in the circumstances, with his arse clenching around the thick sweet and pleasure scrambling his nervous system.

"No," Snape replied, his face swimming into focus as the tide of Harry's orgasm receded, "it would require a partner for you to do that."

Harry pulled the stick from his body and set it carefully aside, unwilling to let on that he had anything to be ashamed of despite having been caught with a sweet shoved up his arse. "Did you want something, or were you just here to watch?" he said nastily, cleaning himself up with a wave of his wand and a muttered spell and trying very hard to resist the urge to fumble about and cover up like an embarrassed adolescent. Even if that's what he was, he wouldn't give Snape the satisfaction.

"I had thought to present you with the Pensieve required for the next portion of our lessons," said Snape dryly, "Though I see you were already working on making memories for removal."

Harry shrugged, sitting up. "Not like you haven't seen my wanking memories before, you bloody pervert," he said, reaching out as nonchalantly as he could for his shirt.

Snape grabbed his wrist, a wicked smile twisting those thin lips. "Not so fast, Mr. Potter. If you believe I'm such a pervert, then perhaps you need to see yourself a bit more clearly." He directed the Pensieve, which had been floating unnoticed behind him, to come to rest on the bed in front of Harry, then pulled Harry up so he was standing next to the bed, pressed flush against it by Snape's thin body. "Would you like to see the spectacle you've just treated me to, Potter?"

"Sod off," said Harry, struggling a little, ashamed finally, not of what he'd been doing but of how good it felt to have Snape behind him, to feel Snape's body pressing, lean and hard and warm, against his naked back. His hole still tingled with mint, and he was suddenly very self-conscious of the slickness between his cheeks, of how very open and ready he was.

"Not until you see," said Snape, pulling Harry back against his chest with an iron grip. The other arm wielded Snape's wand expertly, transferring silvery strands of memory into the grey bowl until images began to swirl. Snape's hand was on the back of his neck, pressing his face down and down until Harry's nose was barely above the surface of the shimmering liquid. "Are you ready, Mr. Potter?" he said, wand tucked neatly away and his right hand moving not to further restrain Harry, but instead to explore the curve of Harry's arse, cold fingers slipping on the slickness in Harry's cleft. "You seem very ready," he whispered, lips far too close to Harry's ear for comfort.

"F-fuck you," said Harry, even as he spread his legs further, craving that surprisingly gentle touch, wanting so badly to have something, someone else inside him, to feel Snape's very real cock pressing, not against his hip but into him, taking him.

Harry shivered, hating himself for the whimper that escaped when one of Snape's fingers pressed into him. "That sounds like a very good idea, Potter, I do believe I shall," Snape purred, those long fingers making short work of whatever fastenings had held Snape's prick hidden away. It sprang free, hot and hard against Harry's arse, and Harry couldn't help but whimper again, pressing back against it.

"Please don't do this," he whispered, even as his legs spread further, his back arching up to offer himself to the blunt, probing head of Snape's cock. "Please!" he said again, not sure now if he was begging for Snape to stop, or just stop teasing him, that surprisingly soft skin rubbing over his hole again and again without actually entering him.

"But you want me to do it, don't you, Harry," Snape murmured, the head of his prick still teasing Harry's entrance relentlessly.

Harry found his hips pushing back just enough to feel the first ring of muscle beginning to open around Snape's cock. This was it, he knew, either he could admit that he wanted this and get fucked right here, or deny it and rely on Snape's strange honour to keep his virginity intact. A shudder went through Harry, and he moaned. "Yes, damn you, yes!" he growled, pressing back against Snape's cock, letting his head drop forward and propel them both into the memory.

A sharp sense of falling and suddenly they were there, in Harry's room, bent over the edge of Harry's bed still, though the Pensieve itself was gone. Harry heard himself moan breathlessly, heard the words he'd been denying for far too long fall from his lips, and he couldn't help but turn his head and look. There he was, young and slender and flushed, legs splayed wantonly and hands, oh god, his busy hands moving in tandem. The right fisted his cock with practiced strokes, while the left thrust the candy into his grasping hole over and over again, and Harry whimpered when he heard himself say, "Severus!"

"This is what you needed to see, Harry," Snape purred, slowly pressing his cock in even as the memory-Harry impaled himself deeper on the thick stick of peppermint. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away even as the memory of Snape entered, footsteps stopping abruptly as he presumably caught sight of the desperate boy fucking himself with Snape's name on his lips. "How delicious you are, how perfectly needy," Snape continued, cock pulsing slightly in Harry's arse in a way nothing would ever compare to, hot and hard and silken inside him.

"Oh god," said both Harrys in unison, and the real Snape took that as a cue and began to move, dragging his cock over Harry's prostate as it pulled out, then slamming it back in hard and fast and perfect. Harry watched his wanking self speed his strokes, heard begging and pleading and Snape's name over and over falling from those red, candy-slicked lips, and felt Snape pounding into him in the same rhythm, with the same urgent need.

"Come again, Harry, come just for me," Snape growled in Harry's ear, and it was as though that voice were pulling orgasm from him, the fingers stroking Harry's cock nearly an afterthought as Harry shuddered and came on command. The boy on the bed followed suit, eyes opening and come spilling over his belly as he focused on the man at the foot of the bed, and Harry couldn't resist a second glance at the brief look of hunger that flashed across Snape's features.

His attention was brought forcefully back to the real Snape as the memory dissolved around them and they were pulled back into reality with Snape's cock still buried firmly in Harry's arse. Harry moaned and pushed back onto it, not wanting to let go though he himself had finished quite satisfactorily and, apparently, all over the base of the Pensieve. "F-fuck me, yes, yes, Severus!" Harry chanted, wanting to feel Snape using him the way he'd always imagined, though he'd never admitted to himself before just who it was that used him in his dreams.

"Yes, you're mine now, Harry, mine!" Snape said, and then those crooked yellow teeth sank into Harry's shoulder and Snape's cock pulsed in his arse, hands gripping Harry's hips tightly enough to bruise.

Harry whimpered, clenching around Snape's prick and milking what he presumed was Snape's orgasm. He nearly came again himself just from that thought -- he'd made Snape come, Snape had come in his arse, he had Snape's come inside him. He'd never considered the erotic pairing of those two words before, but they'd echo through his brain for days, he thought, limp prick giving a bit of a hopeful twitch. "Yours," he whispered hopefully, tightening up as Snape tried to pull away.

"We can't stay like this, Harry," said Snape in his ear, voice strangely soft and almost amused.

Harry whimpered again and pressed back into Snape, feeling as much of Snape's still-clothed body as he could. "Please," he murmured, not wanting to lose this feeling quite yet, knowing he'd be back to his hand and his sweet soon enough.

"If we don't pull apart," said Snape, sounding entirely too composed for a man who'd just taken Harry's virginity, "then I can't get undressed, and we can't do it again."

"Oh!" said Harry, relaxing enough to let Snape slip gently from his body. He turned, watching as Snape began stripping efficiently, hands nimble on the myriad buttons. "You... I mean... you mean..."

"You thought I was just going to deflower you and walk away, did you?" said Snape, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time since he'd walked in. When Harry nodded miserably, Snape left off his undressing and gathered the spent boy in his arms. "I would not have taken you if I didn't intend to keep you, my boy."

Harry buried himself in Snape's embrace, face pressed to the thin chest, wiry hairs rough on his flushed cheek. "Good," he said, shoving down his embarrassment and clinging to this small kindness that Snape was showing him, trying to make himself trust that it was real.

Snape's hand was gentle where it ran through his tangled hair, tipping his head back to meet a shockingly tender gaze. "Very good," he said softly, then dipped down to meet Harry's lips in a first, sweet kiss. "Happy Christmas, Harry," he said quietly, squeezing Harry's body close to his own.

"Happy Christmas, S-severus," said Harry in response, his chest far tighter than just the hug could account for. He dove back into the kiss, thinking that this might just be the best Christmas he'd had at Hogwarts yet.

Title: Of Sweets and Memories
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, object penetration, chan/underage (15), dubious consent
Summary: Harry was a curious boy.
Acknowledgements: holiday fic for isidore13 from her Secret Santa.

All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.