Ron sat up stiffly, his joints creaking so loudly that he winced at the sound. Ouch. He soon realised that he should have moved more slowly. Merlin's beard, what was wrong with him? He was only twenty-two, but this morning he felt like a wizened old wizard who'd gone too long without his arthritis salve.
His frame of mind didn't improve when he managed to sit up enough to get a look at his surroundings. Where the hell was he? This wasn't his tiny walk-up in London, or Harry's country house, or even his parents' home. It looked like he was in a cross between a mausoleum and a library!
"Ah, awake I see," said a voice that sounded so familiar it gave Ron the shivers. No, it couldn't be.
But it was. When Ron turned his head, there was Snape, standing by the doorway, wearing his usual contemptuous expression as he stood with his arms crossed. Ron blinked and shook his head to clear it, but when he stopped moving, Snape was still there.
"Your money's on the table," said the man in a short, impatient tone. "So if you could vacate my bed, now?"
It was like the whole world was one confusing whirl. Money? Bed? Oh, crap. He was in a bed. Worse than that, the only thing that seemed to be covering him was a thin, worn blanket. Where the hell were his clothes? Ron scrambled sideways, turning his back on Snape, and frantically looked about for them. He didn't see anything of his, not one stitch. He did see the money Snape had mentioned, though. There it was, on the night table, a neat stack of five Galleons, gleaming against the drab dustiness of their surroundings.
Crap, crap, crap. He was naked in Snape's bed. He was sore all over, like he'd sat a broom for too long, and here was Snape telling him to take his money and leave... Ron couldn't help but put all those pieces together. The conclusion he came to was as horrifying as it was confusing. He didn't remember coming here at all, let alone...
"What the hell's going on?" he erupted, bunching the blanket across his hips as he swivelled to glare at Snape. "Where are my clothes?"
"Why, downstairs where you left them, of course." Snape's expression by then could only be described as both smug and contemptuous. "Really, Ron, you can't expect them to follow you upstairs, can you? Though there is a charm for that. If you're going to stay in this line of work, I'd recommend you learn it."
Ron hardly followed a word of that. "Since when do you call me Ron?" he erupted. "Three years secretly meeting with Harry and Hermione and me to help us, and then all the Ministry dinners and congratulations after Harry skewered You-Know-Who, and you never once called me Ron!"
"Ah. Well, you didn't appear to mind last night."
Snape looked... oh, no. Like he was jolly about something, but didn't really know how to show it. But it was there, somewhere in his expression. The dark humour gleaming in his eyes, maybe. Like he knew something Ron didn't, and he was enjoying himself immensely.
"However, if you prefer to keep your more coquettish personality reserved for work, I certainly do understand. We all have roles to play, after all. I hope you won't mind if I mention that I'd like to see you again, sometime? Perhaps we could come to a regular arrangement?"
Ron absolutely gaped. No, no. No. This wasn't happening. Snape was acting like he and Ron had had some kind of fling. What kind, it wasn't too hard to guess, not with that money sitting there staring at him. Ron didn't know what was stranger: the idea that he'd slept with Snape, for money, or that Snape apparently wanted him to do it again.
"You're mental," he whispered, appalled, feeling like all the air was being sucked out of his lungs.
"We can't come to a regular arrangement?" Snape raised an eyebrow, his fingers picking a bit at the lint on his robes. "I can't imagine your objection. Wasn't I gentle enough with you? When you said it was your first time, I--"
Ron made a strangling noise. First time. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. How could Snape have known a thing like that, unless Ron had told him? Even Harry assumed that Ron and Hermione had slept together. But they hadn't. Not once. Ron had never slept with anyone.
Except for last night. With Snape.
Snape had been his first.
"No, you damned well weren't gentle enough!" Ron suddenly shouted, jumping up from the bed, clutching the blanket around him. "I feel like a herd of hippogriffs have stampeded straight over me! What the hell did you do to me, Snape?"
"Nothing you didn't ask for, I quite assure." Snape looked him up and down, his dark gaze rather assessing. "Sore, are you?"
"Didn't I just say that?" Ron glared. "Did the war leave you hard of hearing, or something?"
Snape curled a lip. "Is that the best you have, Mr Weasley? Asking if I'm hard of hearing?"
"So now I'm Mr Weasley again, am I?"
The other man sighed. "I expected this to be a good deal more diverting. But as it's not... oh, very well. Rest assured, Mr Weasley, your virtue, such as it is, is still quite intact."
If Ron had been gaping before, now he was positively flummoxed. "Huh?"
Snape snorted. "You never did have a way with words. Shall I spell it out for you? We didn't sleep together, either literally or figuratively. Feel better, now?"
What Ron felt was bewilderment. "Then why am I, here, this... where are my clothes?"
"Downstairs, as I said. As is your wand."
Suddenly understanding everything, Ron launched himself at Snape, fists flying. "What did you do to me, you sick, twisted--"
Snape moved with that raw, wiry strength Ron had witnessed in the final battle, striking with the speed of a snake, though all he did was shove Ron backwards. Away from him. "Not me," he hissed, all his good humour vanishing in one fell instant. "Though I would say that somebody did something to you, yes."
Ron's fury died. It wasn't that he trusted Snape, precisely. It was more that after working closely with the man through those last years of the war, he knew the kind of man Snape was. Not one who would bother drugging another wizard for something as paltry as sex. Snape wielded his potions like potent weapons. He used them to gain advantage, yes. But not this kind.
Snape thought on a much grander scale than Ron ever had.
"Could you summon my clothes?" he asked, his joints beginning to ache again. He'd forgotten them, in that flush of anger, but now pain was roaring back in.
The bed creaked as Ron plopped down on it, again. What he really wanted was to lie down. For about a month. The prospect of descending a staircase was hideous, at the moment. Though he supposed he'd have to leave soon. And he was in no shape to Apparate. He'd have to walk to the nearest Floo station. Ugh.
"High time you asked for them," said Snape, scathingly. "One might conclude you prefer your current attire."
"Oh, go to hell, Snape."
The other man chuckled softly and performed a quiet Accio. Then he turned away. "I'll be back up in a few moments, Mr Weasley. We'll talk."
Ron swallowed and nodded, though Snape couldn't see that, of course.
*
*
*
"Still feeling rough, I see," said Snape when he returned.
Ron cleared his throat. "Yeah. I'd leave but I'm not sure I could make it. And besides, I'd like to know how I got here. Somebody slipped me something, I guess?"
"Amazing powers of deduction."
So Snape would have figured that out about fifteen minutes earlier, if he'd been in Ron's shoes. Big fucking deal. "I don't suppose you know who, or why, or... ?"
Snape shook his head.
Ron still felt like the world was a pretty hazy place. "So I was drugged... that doesn't explain how I ended up in your b--, er, house. This is your house, I guess?" He eyed the stacks of books piled haphazardly about. Yeah, it was Snape's place, all right. The man probably read from morning until night. That was how he'd ended up able to outsmart You-Know-Who himself.
"You propositioned me."
Ron croaked a laugh. "Good one, Snape. So you're not done playing with me? Though I wouldn't have thought that a story like that would be so amusing for you."
"It likely wouldn't be, if it hadn't been your story first."
Snape sounded perfectly serious, Ron thought. "Uh... I guess whatever they slipped me made me... maybe you'd better just explain."
The other man shrugged. "I was in Knockturn Alley last night, procuring roots and leaves not sold elsewhere, when I saw you leaning against a closed storefront, your robes hanging wide open, your shirt unbuttoned to your navel."
"Oh, it was not--"
"If you're going to doubt me, I don't see the point in continuing," said Snape, raising one eyebrow.
Ron clamped his lips together and made a stiff gesture.
"You were standing with one hip jutting out, licking your lips at every man that passed you by." Snape gave what looked like a grim smile. "But no-one would give you a second look."
For some reason, Ron felt a little offended by that remark.
Snape shrugged and sat down on the other side of the bed. "Too many front page stories after Potter killed the Dark Lord. I dare say all of wizarding Britain recognizes you as the Boy-Hero's best friend. And it would be a fool indeed who would risk Potter's wrath, these days. Not after the Prophet printed that he'd acquired all the Dark Lord's powers."
"That's a load of bollocks. He's just Harry."
"Well I know it," murmured Snape sardonically. "But the public doesn't. That was the point."
"So, then what? You saw me and I propositioned you, and..." Ron felt himself going hot all over. "Oh, crap. You brought me back here for that, but I passed out?"
Snape slanted him a glance. "Oh, of course. I'm sure you remember from your school days what a mad obsession I always had with your red hair."
"All right, it was a stupid question," muttered Ron.
"One of many!" barked Snape, his patience obviously snapping. "Why do you think I brought you back here? There are fools aplenty wandering the streets of London, particularly in Knockturn Alley. Not to mention Death Eaters that the Ministry, with their usual bent for idiocy, deemed too minor to prosecute. Sooner or later one of them might have decided that having a go at Harry Potter's best friend would be a good way to wreak revenge on him for daring to defeat the Dark Lord! In point of fact, Weasley, someone already had arranged for you to be making such a fool of yourself in the first place!"
"All right, all right," said Ron, holding up his hands. "Lower your damned voice. I've got a headache as well as all the rest. So that's why I'm so sore, eh? After-effect of the potion, or whatever?"
"Potion or whatever," mocked Snape. "Your vast knowledge leaves me speechless."
"I had a lousy teacher!" Ron sighed and tried to get them back on track. "So you took me back here, why? To avoid some kind of incident if I did... er, turn a trick and Harry found out?"
"He would have found out. That was evidently the point, to strike at him through you. And for all he may remain just Harry, there's been a dangerous edge to his temper ever since he killed the Dark Lord. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Isn't that the reason for his extended holiday in the Urals?"
"Harry's been through a lot, that's all." Ron drew in a breath. "It's not his fault he needs some time away."
Snape's expression turned wry. "Time away, is it? He's gone there to put himself in the hands of a renowned healer."
"How do you know--"
"I studied under Vasili Andrevovitch myself." Snape shrugged.
"You, a healer?"
"We can't control a parent's ambition for us. I imagine you know all about that."
Ron flushed, thinking of all the years he'd spent longing to become Head Boy. What a waste it had all been, with Hogwarts closed during what should have been his seventh year. Well, none of that mattered now. "So you think that this Andrevovitch character can help Harry?"
"I didn't say that. My personal opinion is that the man's a charlatan."
"Oh."
"Just as well that Potter wasn't in London to see you making a spectacle of yourself last night." Snape sighed. "The wizarding world currently exists in a fragile state of peace, Weasley. Another wave of fear and hysteria, this one inspired by Potter himself--"
"Oh, don't try to convince me that you brought me here because of the wizarding world," scoffed Ron. "There had to be something in it for you."
"And what would that have been?" asked Snape in a silky voice. "Hmm?"
The obvious answer wasn't the correct one; Ron was sure of that. Snape was just trying to play him for a fool. Again.
Ron thought for a minute. And then for a minute longer. "The potion," he said finally. "Whatever they slipped me. Making me go out to whore myself? That's pretty strange. I bet you wanted to observe its effects, or something."
Snape inclined his head slightly, as though Ron had surprised him. Pleasantly, for once. "I wanted that and blood, among other things. To research the nature of such an unusual potion, as you surmised."
Among other things. "Er... is that why I was naked, 'cause you needed semen?"
Snape burst out laughing. "Oh, yes. Every third draught I brew is based on semen."
Ron jerked slightly. Had he ever heard Snape actually laugh before? Chuckle darkly, yes, but truly laugh? The sound of it was full and deep and rich. Appealing, in some odd way.
"I meant saliva," corrected Snape, his eyes still glinting. "And hair."
"Then why were my clothes downstairs?"
"I told you. You tore them off. Too hot, you claimed, though I think you were also trying your best to be seductive. At that point you believed I'd hired you for the night. You seemed quite keen on the prospect. But then, you didn't appear to recognise me. Shortly after that, you passed out and I brought you up here so you could sleep it off."
"And you took your samples."
"Of course."
Ron sighed. "All right. If I know you, you've already figured out about sixteen things. Well?"
"No magical signature, no indication of the culprit."
"Great."
"It gets worse."
"How could it be worse?"
"The effects of the potion will recur at nightly intervals."
Ron felt sick. "You're kidding, right?"
"Have you ever known me to? Before this morning, I should say."
Ron swallowed, but it didn't help the churning feeling in his stomach. "You mean, every evening I'm going to... er..."
"Fall into a trance and believe the best thing you can do is sell sexual favours to any man willing to pay." Snape's teeth glinted, then. "Oh, yes. You had no interest in the women passing you by, Weasley. You were flirting--or trying to, rather--only with men."
"I'm not even gay, Snape."
"The potion doesn't care." Snape looked him in the eye. "Though an effect like that would be very unusual if it really did run counter to your natural inclinations. How do you know you aren't interested in men?"
"Because I never have been, maybe?" Ron glared. "There was never anybody for me but Hermione."
"Yet you never slept with her. Odd, isn't it?"
"That's not true!" shouted Ron, humiliated by then. "I did sleep with her! Dozens of times! We did it all over Hogwarts, and then all over bloody England, and--"
"I don't think so. Spearmint blossoms in that potion, Mr Weasley. They latch onto things in your subconscious. Things that are relevant to your current situation, whatever it may be. Interesting, isn't it, that you would believe yourself about to sleep with me, and you would feel a need to explain, at length, about your virgin state?"
"Maybe I just meant that I'd never been with a man before, Snape!"
"No. You were... explicit. But as you seemed quite eager to be with a man, Weasley, perhaps you're interested in playing for the other team, and never realised."
"Why wouldn't I have realised a thing like that?"
"Because of Miss Granger's longstanding appreciation for love potions," said Snape bluntly.
Ron's jaw just about hit the floor. "No," he croaked. "No."
"You were aware that she plied one in order to arrange a romance between Harry Potter and your own sister?"
Of course Ron was aware. Harry had been furious when he'd found out. And once he knew that Ginny had been in on it as well, he'd refused to ever speak to her again. Though he'd admitted since that he'd regretted that, once Ginny had died.
But the idea that Hermione had used a potion on him, as well... Ron clenched his fists. "If she had me under some kind of influence, then why did she bloody always go on about waiting until we were married and all that rot? I almost went mad, those last few years of the war!"
"Yet you didn't seek release elsewhere. Don't you see the signs of magic in that?"
Ron hadn't, no. But he sure did, now. "What about since she died, then? It's been a year! Don't tell me that a love potion would last that long!"
Snape's lips twitched. Probably because Ron had as good as admitted that yes, he was still a virgin. "No, it wouldn't. And yet in all that time, you weren't attracted to any girls. You told yourself that it was grief, I imagine, when the truth was that you'd never found girls very attractive."
"Lavender Brown!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "I used her to make Hermione jealous, and... oh."
"She was a bid to get Miss Granger's attention, then. That can be a side effect of love potions."
"I haven't found men attractive since Hermione died, either."
"No, her dabbling in illegal potions cheated you of your chance to explore your interests at the proper time, I would imagine. And so you've been repressed. Until last night, I should say."
Ron pushed to his feet. It really hurt, and the stairs would probably be murder, but he wasn't going to sit here and listen to any more of this.
"You don't want a cure?" asked Snape in an idle voice.
Ron turned, his neck creaking. "Are you offering one? And for that matter, why would you?"
"For the good of others?" Snape widened his eyes. "No? How about, because I've not had a potions challenge like this in quite some time. And it's not as though I'm too busy to take this one on."
"Yeah, I heard that when Hogwarts reopened they refused to have you back," said Ron, sitting on the bed again.
"In fact, I declined the position offered me." Snape leaned forward. "You can't have thought I ever enjoyed teaching. I was there because the castle offered certain protections then very useful to me. But with my principal enemies dead..." He shrugged.
"What's involved in finding a cure?"
"At present, I've no idea."
Ron turned that over in his mind. "Did you mean it before, that I'm going to go wonky every night?"
"Oh, yes."
Snape sounded a little like he relished the prospect, Ron thought. But then again, Snape had brought him here and kept him from humiliating himself completely, hadn't he? Ron shuddered when he considered what might have happened if another man had taken him home.
"Er... so do you think I should lock myself in at sunset, or something? Like I'm a vampire?"
Snape didn't smile at the humour. "I think that when you want to turn a trick, you'll find a way out to the streets unless you've someone else with you. Someone aware of your... compulsion. Is there anyone you can tell?"
There wasn't, Ron realised with a thud. Even if Harry wasn't out of the country, Ron wouldn't want to tell him about a thing like this. Snape was right about how Harry might react.
Ron slowly shook his head. Who did he have, now? His family was all gone, lost in the war, and Hermione as well. Not that he'd have wanted to see her, come to think of it. Now that Snape had explained, it all made perfect sense. She'd dosed him with potion! He remembered now, all those times she'd urged him to drink his pumpkin juice...
"Just as well," Snape was saying. "If you stay here, I'll have an easier time observing you and researching a cure."
"Here."
"Would you prefer to take your chances on your own?"
Snape asked that like it was a real question. Like he didn't care, one way or another, what Ron answered.
"I'll stay here," said Ron. "Er... are you sure this potion will only make me act that way at night? I can take a leave of absence from my job--" He suddenly swallowed. "Though I'd rather not. If somebody's trying to stir up trouble with Harry, I'd rather go in every day and see what I can figure out."
"Yes, we can't leave Britain short one Auror. No telling what might happen."
"I didn't say I was the most important person at MLE. Just answer my question."
"The potion given you has a period of twenty-four hours. However, I don't know how long you were standing in that doorway before I came by. By this evening we should know just what time you will begin to behave oddly." Snape raised his shoulders. "Think of it as a nightly curse, Weasley. But yes, you should be able to continue working, just so long as you make sure to return here each night before the clock strikes the fateful hour."
Ron felt himself go cold all over. Maybe because what Snape had just said brought this home. Made it real. He couldn't remember acting like a street whore, but he knew now that it must have happened, just as Snape had said. There was no way Snape would want him around so much, not unless there was a real problem to be solved. A potions problem.
"Just like Cinderella, eh?" he joked, trying to cheer himself up. It didn't work.
"I'm no fairy godmother," said Snape darkly.
Ron winced. He hadn't meant that. "No, but I don't suppose you have anything for these aches and pains? I feel like I've fallen from my broom ten times running."
"I'll give you something after you describe your condition more precisely."
Yeah, yeah. The information might be useful in coming up with an antidote. Even knowing that, though, Ron groaned. But then he started to explain how much he hurt.
*
*
*
That evening, Ron couldn't stop glancing at his watch. When was it going to start?
Snape certainly wasn't jittery. He sat opposite Ron in the downstairs parlour, calmly turning pages as he read.
"I thought it would have started by now."
The other man glanced up. "Eager, are you?"
Ron scowled and turned to stare at the tattered curtains covering the window. "Why don't you fix this place up?"
"I have better uses for my money."
Like paying five Galleons for a night with a whore? Ron almost said. But that had all just been a prank, Ron knew. Was five even the right amount? Ron had no idea.
All at once, the air in his lungs felt like it was warming. A kind of languor began to seep into his muscles. He felt himself sliding in the chair, adjusting his position, parting his legs and thrusting his hips up a bit. He smiled widely, feeling relaxed as he looked over at the man across from him. Hmm. Not exactly a good-looking bloke, but there was something about him.
"Why, hello there," drawled Ron in husky voice. "Have you been there long?"
The other man's gaze snapped up. Dark eyes, piercing in their regard. "Nine twenty-two," he said.
"Nine Galleons, twenty-two sickles?" Ron softly laughed. "Oh, I will be nice to you. You want me for the whole night, I assume. But I'm agreeable. What would you like first, eh? I've got a very talented tongue."
"It's nine twenty-two in the evening."
Ron arranged his features into something like a pout. "I'm worth it, Mr... er?"
"You may as well call me Severus," said the other man in a resigned voice. "You aren't here to work, Ron."
Ron... was that his name, then? He couldn't recall, but it didn't seem important that he know, either. "No? Sure? I'd love to work something out with you, Severus." Ron glanced around the dingy room. Ah. So that was the problem. "How about seven, Severus? No? Four."
"Don't sell yourself short."
Ron eyed the other man, then rose from the chair and crossed the room, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He shrugged out of it and flexed his chest. "Hmm? Big, muscular men not your type, Severus?"
There was a flash of something in the other man's eyes. Not lust, not quite desire... interest. Yes, interest, Ron thought, nodding. Severus wasn't as indifferent as he seemed. He could be persuaded. "Two Galleons?"
Severus shook his head and stood up. "That's not why you're here."
Ron didn't ask why he was there, in that case. He didn't care. All he knew was that he had bills of his own to pay. Damned goblins were about to repossess everything he owned. He'd leave right now if he really thought that this was going nowhere. But no, there had been that look in the man's eyes. An intense look, for all it had been quickly masked. Ron undid the top button of his trousers and shoved them down a bit, until his hipbones came into view. Then he struck a languid pose. "Two isn't much, Severus. Think about it, your cock in my mouth, eh?" Ron slowly lifted a finger to his mouth and began to lick it. "I'd love to suck you. Mmm, I'd pull you in and suck you hard. Until you're crying out to come. Are you a screamer, Severus? Mmm?"
As he spoke, he inched closer and closer to the other man, who wore a guarded look, now. Well, Ron could work with that. Sinking to his knees, Ron leaned forward and drew a long finger into his mouth, beginning to tease it.
The other man jerked back. "You don't want to do that."
"Yes, yes I do," panted Ron, leaning forward again. But Severus stepped back.
"No." Ron actually heard Severus gulp. "I was pulping flobberworms earlier."
"Brewer, are you?" Ron smiled as he got up off his knees. "Then I'm sure you cleaned your hands afterwards." He decided not to mention the hair. "Tell you what, how about a half a blow for one Galleon, eh? And then if you want me to finish, it'll be another Galleon. That's fair, isn't it?" He batted his eyes, leaned close to the other man, and reached a hand down into his own trousers to rub his cock.
A muscle in Severus' throat convulsed a little bit, but all he did was step back. "No."
Well, Ron knew when enough was enough. "All right," he said easily, turning on his heel to go. "Plenty of other wands in the shop, you know."
The door wouldn't open when he tried it, though. And neither could he Apparate. "Lift the wards," he said, annoyed.
"You aren't going out whoring tonight."
"I need the money!"
Severus seemed to sigh, his dark eyebrows drawing together. "I'll pay you, but not for sex. You can help me brew. Until you pass out, that is," he added in a caustic voice.
Pass out? Why would he pass out? "You'll pay me how much?"
"Five," said Severus. "But only if you put your clothes back on."
It should have sounded like a good deal, Ron thought, confused. He needed money, after all. But something wasn't right! He needed to earn it naked, on his hands and knees, arse high in the air...
He needed a long, thick cock thrusting into him, over and over. He needed it, yes, but a sudden wave of panic overtook him until it felt like he couldn't breathe. "I'm a virgin," he suddenly blurted.
"Yes, you mentioned as much," said Severus in a tired voice. "That's fine, Ron. Let's just do some tests and see if we can figure out how to cure you."
A cock was the cure he needed, thought Ron. It seemed like he'd wanted one forever, but hadn't known it. Or hadn't known to ask. Vague images of a bushy-haired woman floated before his eyes. He was kissing her, but she wasn't what he wanted. Someone stronger, someone with height to match his own, someone hard instead of soft...
Someone like the man in front of him, the one who wanted him to help with some brew or other.
But maybe Ron could persuade him, given a bit more time. Yes, that was it. He'd go help with this brew, and flirt a bit, and after a while, Severus would give in. He wanted to. Ron was sure of that much.
*
*
*
Ron woke up sore again. Horribly sore, but at least this time he was on Snape's couch instead of in his bed. Sitting up, he groaned. He couldn't remember the night before, and that alone told him that Snape had been right about the potion's effects returning each evening. Besides, he was naked again.
His clothes were near to hand, though. So was a teacup filled with a frothy green potion he recognised. Gratefully gulping down the painkiller, Ron gave it a couple of minutes to take effect before he bothered getting dressed. Then he went in search of Snape. He found him sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. "Help yourself," Snape said without looking up from his paper.
Ron served himself some of the eggs and bangers sitting in the pan on the stove, murmuring his thanks.
"Just as easy to cook more as less," said Snape.
Ron ate for a while before he asked. "Er, last night? Was I... oh, wait. It's coming back now. Well, bits and pieces of it." He almost groaned at the vague images tumbling through his mind. Throwing himself at Snape, again and again. Batting his eyes. Awful innuendo.
And Snape had ignored it all, insisting that they had a potion to work on, and he'd pay Ron for that, not the other.
"Thanks," Ron finally said, looking away. "I mean, for, you know."
"Declining your rather insistent offers?"
More embarrassed than ever, Ron gave a curt nod. "Yeah, that."
"As if I could do otherwise."
Snape sounded a bit put out, Ron realised. Which could only mean one thing. "Oh, Merlin. You mean you're not even interested in men?"
"Your powers of observation are even less than I had assumed," said Snape scathingly. "Yes, I'm attracted to men. But in your case, there are obviously other considerations."
Obviously, thought Ron. He'd never in a million years expect Snape to be attracted to him. Not that he'd want that, in any case. No, of course he didn't.
So why did the thought that the other man was indifferent leave him feeling... not put out, certainly. But... off, somehow.
Ron pushed those thoughts to the side. "Today I do have to go to work. But I guess I'd better come back tonight. Considering."
"Unless you'd like Potter to learn of your condition, I would think so. Nine twenty-two."
"Pardon?"
"That appears to be your deadline, as it were." Snape's lips thinned as if he'd just eaten a sour. "I'd advise you to arrive here by nine at the latest."
"Yeah, of course." Feeling awkward, Ron quickly cast a cleaning charm over his plate, and then for good measure, another one over himself.
*
*
*
His days and nights began to fall into a pattern. Every morning he woke up at Snape's house, and every evening he returned there. He was always horribly sore in the mornings, right up to the moment when he drank the pain-reliever Snape left out. But other things began to subtly shift and change over time.
When he was Ron-the-rentboy, as he'd taken to thinking of it, he was oblivious to most of his past, but when he woke up in the mornings, he was starting to remember more and more things. Transparent ploys to get Snape into bed. An absolute longing to suck the man's cock. A need to know what that cock looked and smelled and tasted like. An urge to tear off his clothes and get down on his hands and knees and be filled as he'd never been filled before.
And Snape, always pushing him away, making up excuses that would keep Ron in the house but out of his bed.
The trouble was, Ron was starting to think about all of it during the days, as well. He did want to see Snape naked. The thought filled him with a sort of reluctant horror at first, at least until it became a familiar desire. He tried to tell himself that it was just an effect of the potion he was under, but deep down inside, he knew better. All the potion was doing was to make him recognise his true desires.
The ones he would have known about years earlier, had it not been for Hermione's insistence.
Ron began to find himself looking at other men appraisingly. Nice ass, he thought more than once. Strong jaw. Deep voice. He began to want things, consciously now. But he didn't really know how to get them. How did one even begin?
Say, Stephen, are you gay? just didn't seem the right way to approach the subject. But his more subtle attempts were going nowhere.
Snape, on the other hand, was safe to approach. Ironic, but true. At least Ron already knew that Snape was attracted to men.
But he's not attracted to you, Ron. He said as much.
Ron scowled. Yeah, Snape wasn't attracted to him. If he was, he'd have taken advantage of Ron by now, right? Ron had no illusions. It wasn't as though Snape was a fountain of noble restraint. He was a Slytherin. He'd been in the war to further his own interests, not out of loyalty to some ideal.
And if he hadn't slept with Ron yet, it could only mean one thing: he didn't want to.
*
*
*
Ron started to hate nine twenty-one each evening. It was almost like torture, knowing that any second he'd transform completely, and try to become some sort of loose-limbed tart talking Snape up, when the other man wasn't even interested. Ron soon started wishing that he could go back to the first morning he'd woken up in Snape's bed. At least then he hadn't been able to remember his stint as a rent-boy.
Now, he was remembering more each morning.
"Did you really pay me to read last night?" he blurted one day over breakfast.
Snape glanced up, his dark eyes unreadable. "You used it as an excuse to pose in... interesting positions. I doubt you read a word."
Now there, Snape was wrong. "Ha. It was some ridiculous story about some French general or something, a Muggle, short bloke--"
"Napoleon."
"Yeah, and why the author named a character after a dessert is a good question--"
"You have that backwards."
Ron blinked. "Oh, you mean he was real? Was the rest, too? Did Voldemort really travel back in time and try to take over the world before Dumbledore was ever born? And this Napoleon was his dupe, and that escape from Elba was done by Apparition, and it might have all worked except that Wellington was a wizard as well... eh?"
Snape's lips twisted, but it wasn't his usual pained expression when Ron said something he considered stupid. No... the man looked like he was amused and trying to hide it. "I don't know if the rest is true. All sorts of odd tales about the Dark Lord have begun coming to light since the war's end."
Ron glanced around the kitchen. Even there, there were books strewn about. "And you're collecting them?"
Snape shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder if it's truly over. The world did largely believe him dead once before. If he reappears, I'd prefer to be prepared."
"He's dead and gone," Ron said, certain of it. "You saw. You were there."
Snape's lips twisted again, and this time, he did look cynical. "You're asking me to believe that Potter did something right, for once."
"Harry's not so bad and you know it." Ron swallowed, unsure how the conversation had got around to Harry. "He's doing really well. He likes that healer. Says he feels more stable all the time."
"A happy circumstance, particularly if your condition does not improve before his return," drawled Snape.
"You still don't know what exactly is making me...?"
"The problem is rather how to stop it. I know what's causing it." Snape frowned. "Not to worry you, Weasley, but you're getting more insistent all the time."
Ron's stomach felt a little bit sour, then. "What, worried I might actually convince you, some night?"
"Not likely," said Snape, standing up from the breakfast table.
Ron slammed his fork down and stormed from the room.
*
*
*
The next morning, as soon as he'd had his pain-killing potion, Ron began to groan. Oh, no. These memories weren't his usual ones about coming onto Snape.
"It's not true, is it?" he asked, bursting into the kitchen.
Snape glanced up from his plate of bacon and eggs. "You remember leaving the house, I take it?"
Crap, it was true. He'd gone and walked the streets all around, shirt unbuttoned, trolling for business. He'd found some, too. Two men, twenty-ish, feeling him up, right there on the pavement, one of them behind him, thrusting suggestively at his trouser-clad arse, the other one in front of him, reaching a hand to unfasten Ron's placket...
Anything might have happened. Would have happened, except that Snape had suddenly appeared from nowhere and hexed the two men. Ron couldn't recall details. All he knew was that there'd been a memory charm in there somewhere. Which probably meant that the men had been Muggles.
Ron swallowed, almost wishing that Snape hadn't intervened. Because then he'd know, wouldn't he, what it was like to... Well, he'd know, yes, but did he really want to find out that way? Besides, he realised with a sudden rush of feeling, he didn't want to do it just for the sake of it. He wanted Snape.
All these evenings together, waiting for nine twenty-two to arrive. Waking up every morning to see that potion waiting for him. Small talk over breakfast. Fantasising all day long about the man.
And yet last night he'd gone in search of someone else, another trick... probably frustration, Ron decided. It wasn't as though he had much chance with Snape, was it? The man had been saying no for weeks, now. There was no possible way he wanted any sort of... well, anything, with Ron.
Or was there?
The haze in Ron's mind cleared a little more. Snape's expression last night... something like a feral growl as he'd levelled his wand at the men feeling Ron up. The look in his eyes... jealousy, maybe? A smidge?
And for that matter, why was Snape letting Ron sleep over every single night? He could easily arrange for Ron to make it home after the worst of the attack had passed. Or failing that, he could tell him to get out in the morning, instead of making breakfast for two most days.
And yet he never said anything about Ron being welcome. But then, he wouldn't, would he? Considering this was Snape.
So maybe his not likely hadn't meant quite what Ron had thought. "Er... how about going out for a meal, this evening?" Ron suddenly blurted.
The moment the words were out, he felt a complete fool. Snape's tongue was sharp enough to shred the unwary, and what had Ron done but blundered straight into it, practically asking to be put in his place!
But Snape wasn't saying anything derogatory. In fact, the look in his eyes was a bit wary. But not just wary. Intrigued, perhaps?
"A good curry would suit me," he drawled.
Ron gulped. As easy as that, was it, to ask another bloke out? Again, he felt irritated with Hermione. If not for her interference, he'd be less nervous, now. Her tricks with love potions had kept him from getting the kind of experience he should have by his age. He should know how to be smooth about taking someone out for a meal. He wouldn't be such a bundle of insecurities.
Or, maybe he would, since this was Snape.
"Curry, great," he said, feeling like he was babbling. "Or, er, you know an Indian restaurant? 'Cause I don't. Well, I could hunt one up, I do have until... er, what time did you want to go out?"
"Relax," said Snape dryly. "I know a good place near here."
Ron couldn't help it. Snape sounded so... well, not exactly affable. But accepting. "You wouldn't mind going out with me?"
"I would have thought that was clear by now," said Snape with a little bit of impatience.
"Oh. All right, then." Ron had to repress an urge to smile. He felt sort of giddy. Drunk, almost. Only then did he realise how much he wanted to get on with Snape, and not just in bed. He should have realised sooner.
Ron was more than willing to blame Hermione for that, too.
*
*
*
Wine helped, Ron decided. It helped a lot. He'd been on edge all day, and he'd actually dropped his fork when their meal had first come, but then the wine had started to have an effect and he'd managed to relax.
Snape, of course, seemed entirely at ease.
Afterwards, back at Snape's house, Ron wondered how to proceed. One thing was certain: if he waited until after nine twenty-two to make a move, Snape wouldn't touch him. It was only gone eight, now.
Virtues of an early dinner.
"Er... so would you be interested in more than a meal?" he asked, cringing when he heard how that had come out.
Snape leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. "Whether you would be interested is really the question. The last time we discussed something like this, you were rather adamant about your interest in the ladies."
Ron felt himself flushing. He had been, yeah. "Er... well, now I think you were right about that. I mean, about me."
"Ah."
No more than that, just ah. But it was a satisfied noise.
"Well then, why don't you come over here?" said Snape, still in that low thrum of a voice.
Ron walked over to him on shaky legs, and was startled to feel himself abruptly pulled down onto the man's lap. He only had a moment in which to feel uncertain, though, because Snape proceeded to kiss him. Thoroughly. Until Ron felt like he needed to come up for air.
Until Ron didn't care if he never did.
His trousers, snug all through dinner, became unbearably tight as his cock thickened and lengthened. Had he ever been so hard? Never, Ron thought. Never ever.
Definitely, Hermione hadn't been what he wanted. Needed. Craved.
At least now he had no doubts about whether Snape wanted him in return. He was sitting on a bulge. One which was growing by the second as the kiss went on. And knowing that Snape was hard as well... that made Ron feel like the top of his head might blow off any second
"Whew," he said when Snape broke off the kiss. Somehow, the desperate feeling in his cock served to loosen his tongue. Even more than before, if that were possible. "I, er, thought you didn't, you know. Want anything to do with me."
Snape kissed him again before he answered. "Would I have brought you home that first night if that were true? Wouldn't I simply have walked on by?"
This time it was Ron who kissed first and talked afterwards. His voice was almost breathless by the time he got around to his reply. "You were worried about Harry finding out and getting angry--"
"Not then, I wasn't." Snape shook his head, his hair moving as he spoke. "I didn't understand at first what had happened to you. I saw you and thought, so he's finally realised he wants a man in bed with him. And then I thought, Why should I let someone else have him?"
Ron's head was whirling. "But you didn't. I mean, you never, er..."
"Had you?" Snape's smile was a little bit grim. "Once you were here, it was fairly evident that you weren't yourself."
Ron swallowed, all his doubts rushing back in. Not that he still felt them, but he could remember them keenly. "But you're a Slytherin. I thought if you... er, wanted anything, you'd be only too happy to take advantage." The moment he said that, he felt his cheeks burning with shame.
Snape's hair swayed again. "Ah, but I wanted you there with me. Mind and body both. And of course there was one other consideration."
Ron raised an eyebrow as he waited.
Snape's voice was gruff. "Potter," he finally said. "The Prophet isn't entirely wrong about him, you know. He does have issues with control, these days."
Ron started. Snape was afraid of Harry?
The question must have shown on his face, because Snape suddenly scowled. "It's not fear, precisely. I've had enough of Dark Lords, Weasley. No point in turning Potter into one. Rage can do it. And no doubt, he'd be enraged if I took advantage of you."
Ron nodded as a sinking feeling crept through him. "Oh. So you think we'd better not?"
Another kiss, that time a deeper one. "Am I taking advantage? Are you not in your right mind? Do you not know what you're doing?" Snape drew in a breath. "Potter may not like it, but I think he's adult enough to accept matters. As long as you're under no undue influence."
Ron's gaze darted to his watch. "Do we have enough time?"
"Oh, I think so," drawled Snape.
Ron didn't understand. He didn't really want his first time to be rushed and over quickly. But neither did he want to wait. He wanted Snape. Wanted him now.
And too, there was a niggle of worry inside him that if they waited until tomorrow, Snape might just change his mind. "Let's do it."
"Let's make love," softly corrected Snape.
Ron was glad then, that Snape more or less took charge of everything. Apparating them upstairs, to the bedroom Ron hadn't seen since he'd woken up there, all those weeks ago. Hands caressing him, smoothing his clothes off, until Ron was standing nude, his cock jutting out.
It seemed to have a decided effect on Snape. Without a word, he dropped to his knees and took Ron into his mouth.
Ron swayed on his feet, hardly able to believe how bloody good that felt. Snape's lips and tongue were greedy for him. And then there was the pure heat of it. Ron had palmed himself off, too many times to count. And he'd even tried heated oil on his cock, after Fred and George swore by it. But it was nothing compared to the wet, eager heat of Snape's mouth eagerly sucking him.
Ron bucked, his legs going watery.
Snape pulled back for just a moment. "More?"
"Everything," groaned Ron. And then, "You're still dressed."
"Planning to do anything about it?"
Ron didn't need to be asked twice. Yanking Snape up to stand, he frantically grabbed at the man's clothing, desperate to bare Snape's cock. The rest of the man's body was secondary... at least until Snape was naked before Ron's hungry gaze.
He wasn't handsome, no. He was too pale for that. Too wiry. But he was exactly what Ron wanted.
Groaning, Ron reached out for that cock and began tugging Snape over to the bed.
"It's not a leash."
Snape wasn't really complaining, though. Soon the bed was creaking beneath their weight. Twined together, they kissed again, grinding against each other, cock to cock. But Ron wanted more, and suddenly he didn't care at all if it was over quickly. He scrambled onto his hands and knees, falling naturally into the position he'd been thinking about for hours every day. It felt right to him. As right as he'd imagined.
He knew what he wanted. No wonder he'd been so insistent each night. The potion, whatever it was, wasn't forcing him into things. It was more like it was making Ron realise what he'd needed all along.
"Now," he moaned, wiggling his arse.
"When you're ready," corrected Snape, lightly massaging both Ron's cheeks.
"I'm about to burst!"
"Mmm, but your first time isn't the time to rush." Snape summoned salve and began stretching Ron's arse, inserting first one finger and then two, stretching them this way and that.
Ron gasped, throwing his hips back to get more. He wanted to be filled. He wanted something larger, something that would stretch him until he was fully satisfied.
Snape chuckled and positioned himself at Ron's entrance, pushing slowly in.
Ron couldn't help it; he actually gibbered, it felt so good.
In and out, in and out, Snape cock's stroking the inside of his arse with every thrust.
Ron's cock spasmed, but he didn't come. No, Snape kept him on the edge, kept him gasping, moaning, begging, until Ron was a writhing mass of need.
And then, Snape changed his angle and began thrusting against something inside Ron, something that almost made him lose his mind.
"Ahhhh!" he all but screamed.
Snape took Ron's cock in hand and stroked it, and that was all it took. Suddenly Ron was coming all over the bedcovers.
Shuddering with pleasure, Ron felt like he wanted to collapse down on to the mattress. But first, he wanted something else. He wanted to feel Snape's pleasure, too. "You," he grunted. "Need. You--"
"Shh," said Snape, still smoothly thrusting in and out. Still taking his time.
When the man finally did come, Ron turned moaned aloud at the way Snape stiffened and shuddered. Collapsing to the bed, Ron rolled over so he could see Snape. Fascinating, really. Snape's features seemed smoother when he was coming. The lines in his face were eased. And he smiled. Truly smiled.
Afterwards, they lay together, Snape's hand idly caressing Ron's shoulder. Ron had never felt so languid, so relaxed. He wished it could last forever, but of course it wouldn't. Not with his deadline looming. Soon, he'd turn into a rentboy again, and--
Gasping, Ron glanced at his watch. Nine fifty.
"I... I'm late," he said, his throat constricting. He wasn't sure what it meant. "Oh, no. Is it going to be unpredictable, now, when the urge strikes? I'll have to take a leave from work?"
"You aren't late. You're cured," said Snape, sitting up to look at him.
"Cured?" Ron was sure he hadn't heard correctly.
"Certainly." Snape stretched, then wrapped an arm around Ron and pulled him closer. "I reasoned out a while ago that your... episodes would continue until you'd satisfied your underlying desires."
"You might have told me!"
"The problem of undue influence." Snape yawned. "It seemed to me that sooner or later you'd bring your desires into the light of day. I planned to be there when you did."
"Oh..."
"Of course you're welcome to play the rentboy anytime," added Snape. "Perhaps later on tonight?"
Ron settled in, feeling completely comfortable. "Maybe give it a few days. But... you liked that, eh?"
Snape's body shook a little. With humour or frustration, Ron wasn't sure. "Liked isn't quite accurate. It drove me mad, having you try to seduce me. Having to say no."
Ron felt a little abashed that he was so happy to hear that things had been hard on Snape. "Well, you won't have to say no any longer."
"No?" asked Snape.
Ron laughed, and then he leaned over to kiss his lover. Not Snape, not now. Severus.
Ron felt happier than he had in ages. He knew who he was now. And what he wanted.
And he had what he wanted.
And based on the way Severus was kissing him back... yeah, it seemed like Severus felt the same way.
Spooned together, they drifted off to sleep.