The kitchen at Order headquarters was almost set, which was good because Harry's next appointment would be there any moment. Just a formality, he'd assured everyone. I'm only meeting with you so any loose ends Albus left dangling can be tied up.

And that had been true -- all except for his next appointment, that was.

Albus had died just over a month ago, insisting from his deathbed that it was time, that he was ready for his next adventure, even though he'd never see the end of the war he'd fought from a time before Harry was born. He'd also died without letting anyone know what measures he'd taken to protect the Order and Hogwarts and -- typically, in Harry's opinion -- had left much of the mess in Harry's lap when he passed on.

Harry was only twenty-three years old, still hadn't killed Voldemort, and was the new leader of the Order of the Phoenix. All Albus's fault.

Though that wasn't fair, Harry admonished himself. No one, save Nicholas Flamel, got to choose when he was to die. He tried to convince himself that that wasn't even true of Dumbledore and very nearly succeeded.

He'd received surprisingly little resistance from the other Order members, especially since his position meant he was now the boss of his bosses. Kingsley and Moody insisted he was the best man for the job and heading the Order wouldn't affect his station at the Ministry. Even Fawkes approved, now dividing his time equally between Professor McGonagall's office at Hogwarts and Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

His first order of business was straightforward enough: Harry was ready to kill Voldemort once and for all. The bloody bastard had been underfoot long enough, and Harry wasn't willing to wait any longer. He needed his life to begin properly, finally.

This meeting would be tricky, though. First of all, Harry had determined that success could only be achieved if he had the full loyalty of everyone he worked with. It wasn't so much that he expected everyone in the Wizarding World to be on his side -- far from it. In fact, as he'd long wished that he could stay out of the conflict, he completely understood that some witches and wizards refused to publicly choose a side. But he figured that if someone claimed to want to see Voldemort defeated...if that certain someone happened to be a member of the damned Order, then he'd better be working with Harry, even if they loathed one another.

He glanced up at the tiny, wooden clock above the cabinets and took a deep breath: Snape was due to arrive at any moment, and Harry was prepared to fight dirty even if he was a bit out of practice. Ron typically played the bad Auror during their tandem interrogations (after all, suspects were more likely to spill their guts to the angel-faced, soft-spoken version of the Boy Who Lived than his angry, shouting alter ego -- unless they were into that sort of thing, of course), but this was Snape. Harry let out the lungful of air he'd been holding, just as Snape Apparated into the kitchen. The teakettle hovering just over the stove whistled merrily.

Harry plastered a benign smile on his face. "Welcome, Severus," he said, noticing the grimace that passed across Snape's features at the use of his given name. He rose from his seat and gestured at the chair across from him with one hand, while silencing the kettle and guiding it to the table with the hand clutching his wand. "You're just a bit early. Would you care for some tea, Professor?" he tried again, not waiting before forcing the teapot to spill its contents into the cups in front of Snape and himself. He tucked his wand back into his robes.

Snape sneered as he settled into his seat. "If you insist on doing an impression of Albus Dumbledore, at least make it a convincing one, Potter."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, cup pausing halfway to his lips.

"This," Snape said, with considerable disgust. "Setting up ridiculous 'get to know your Order member' meetings, offering sub-par beverages, and taking us all away from activities that might actually be useful."

"You believe this is useless, then?"

"Of course I do! I've had to reschedule a whole day's worth of brewing because of you, and now I doubt I'll get to sleep tonight because I'll need to make up that time somehow. If I were in charge here --"

"Well, you're not." Harry set his mouth into a straight line. "Is this what this is about? Jealousy because you lost Hogwarts to McGonagall, the Order to me --"

Snape let out an undignified snort. "Mr Potter, I assure you I am more than accustomed to being surrounded by idiotic Gryffindors." Eyes locked warily on Harry, he lifted his cup and took a long draught.

Then, he froze and stared at Harry.

"How's the tea?" Harry asked blithely. The little clock chimed, noting the top of the hour.

"Veritaserum," Snape said, resignation creeping into his voice. "Rather underhanded of you, Potter."

Harry nodded, accepting the dubious compliment and almost missed Snape trying to push out of the chair. Luckily, he'd prepared for that; cuffs instantly secured Snape's wrists and ankles to the arms and legs, and when Snape struggled to move, cuffs and all, the chair wouldn't budge.

"Permanent Sticking Charm," Harry said, standing to collect the undrunk tea and guide the cups to the sink. "It'll be a bitch to free the legs later, but I think it'll be worth it." He smiled nastily, a smile worthy of Snape himself.

Snape's grip on the arms was already white-knuckled and his yellowing teeth bit down on his bottom lip, a flush steadily creeping across his sallow skin. That kind of reaction only happened when a person had something huge to hide; just administering the Veritaserum was enough to compel the person to confess. Harry felt vindicated, and knew it was only a matter of time before he had something concrete against Snape. Then the git would be out of his hair, and there would be no one forever telling him how badly he was messing everything up.

"Let's start small, shall we?" asked Harry, pushing the table back so he could lean against its edge. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Potter," growled Snape warningly, "don't do anything you're going to regret. Or do you really want to know things when you're better off staying oblivious?"

"I'll ask the questions, Professor. Did you really think you could stall me for an entire hour?"

"Possibly," Snape blurted automatically. "You're easily distracted."

"So you've always said." Harry bit the inside of his cheek, holding back a harsher retort. "Just to make sure everything is working properly, what's your full name?"

"Severus Merriweather Snape." The man grimaced.

"Merriweather?" Harry said before he could stop himself.

"It's a family name, and an old and respected one at that. Why, what's your middle name?"

"James."

"I'd rather Merriweather."

Harry dropped his hands to his sides and balled them into fists, taking a deep breath and letting the jibe go. Fifty minutes left; he refused to give into Snape's taunts.

"What is your date of birth?" he continued.

"January ninth, nineteen-sixty, and just get on with it, Potter. You know the potion is working, and I'd like my humiliation over with as soon as possible."

"Fine," Harry gritted out, mentally counting backward from ten and trying to ignore Snape's intent glare; it was like he thought his eyes were laser beams and he'd be able to burn his way into Harry's head. It was a good thing he couldn't reach his wand. "How long have you been working for the Order of the Phoenix?"

"For nearly twenty-three years, off and on, depending on the activity of the Dark Lord."

That was about the answer Harry had been expecting. "Why do you call him the Dark Lord and not Voldemort?"

A visible shudder racked Snape's body. "Because I believe names have power, no matter what ridiculous notion Albus Dumbledore might have had."

"Fair enough. Why did you go to Dumbledore in the first place?"

"I didn't want to die."

"And now?"

"I still don't want to die! Honestly, Potter, you can do better than this!" Snape looked like he regretted the words the moment they tore out of his mouth.

Harry's mouth snapped shut, and he shot Snape a filthy look. "Where were you the night of October thirty-first, nineteen eighty-one?"

"Hogwarts. I warned the Headmaster that the Dark Lord had something planned, but could provide no further details." Snape closed his mouth, pursing it tightly, and Harry knew he was fighting the Veritaserum. There had to be more.

"We both know what happens when a person fights the potion," Harry said, exasperated. "What else happened, Snape?"

Snape exhaled and, in a clipped monotone, replied, "The Headmaster received an owl informing him of the attack, and he sent me to notify Sirius Black. Once I relayed the news, Black promptly fled to the scene."

Harry blinked. "You bloody bastard! So, it's your fault he went to Azkaban?"

"No," Snape said forcefully. "I told him to stay where he was, as per the Headmaster's request. It was Black's Gryffindor stupidity that got him sent to Azkaban -- the same thing that got him killed. And good riddance, I say."

"How dare you?" Harry spat, seething.

"Because you put me under this blasted truth potion!"

Not even pausing to consider Veritaserum had no rhetorical question escape clause, Harry pressed on. "What is it, exactly, that you do for the Order?"

Snape's breathing was more laboured than it had been minutes ago. "I brew Potions assisting other Order members, but my primary capacity involves spying for the Order, posing as an agent of the Dark Lord."

"Were you ever a follower of Voldemort?"

Snape cast him a withering look. "Yes."

"Are you a follower of Voldemort now?"

After a pause, which meant the question had more than one possible answer, Snape slowly replied, "I am still one of his Death Eaters and carry his Mark."

Harry sighed. This was getting him nowhere. "Are you loyal to Voldemort now?"

"No."

That didn't necessarily conclude anything; Snape could simply be serving his own interests, and those might get any number of Order members killed. Harry massaged his temples and thought how to phrase his next inquiry as he took a cursory glance at the clock. Forty minutes.

Finally, he met Snape's angry eyes and asked, "At any point in working for the Order, did you play both sides against each other?"

Snape looked both shocked and mildly impressed. "Yes."

Now this was exactly what Harry had been searching for -- something that would finally give him grounds to rid the Order of Snape. Let Voldemort have him, he thought spitefully, though his stomach clenched in pain.

"Are you still playing both sides?"

"No," said Snape immediately.

"When did that stop?"

"When the Dark Lord tried obtaining the Philosopher's Stone."

That Harry hadn't been expecting. "Why then?"

Once again, Snape's mouth shut tight and beads of sweat began to roll down the sides of his face. He shook and his whole body seemed to strain as he tried to override the potion. Thirty-seven minutes. Harry couldn't waste anymore time.

"If you don't answer, I can always try Legilimency, and you know how crap I am at that," Harry said sweetly. Snape tensed further. "If I took a poke around your brain now, I wonder if it would feel any different than usual. I mean, I've never tried it when the person has taken Veritaserum before..."

"Because-of-you," Snape said, so quickly and quietly that Harry barely heard it.

"What did you say?"

"Because of you. Because I had to protect you."

Harry froze. "Was it because of the wizard's debt you owed my father?"

"I thought so," Snape replied, nastily as ever. His lanky hair hung in front of his face, sweat gluing it to the sides. "At first. But the debt was repaid and --"

"And? Why did you remain loyal?"

"To protect you. As much as I hated it, I needed to protect you."

"And now?" Harry was the one whispering now.

Snape looked up and sneered. "It hasn't stopped. It's grown worse with ever subsequent year, and as I never planned on telling you any of this, I can only say I told you to heed my warning."

"What side are you on?" Harry asked shakily, not sure he wanted the answer. Everything was all wrong; they were supposed to hate each other and that was easy. But now...now Harry was breathing funny, and his skin felt too tight.

"Yours," Snape said, looking like he hated answering the question even more than Harry hated asking it.

Harry tried maintaining a professional air and failed horribly. "H-- how long have you known that?"

"Ironically, since I caught you snooping in my Pensieve. It was yet another in a long line of incidents where you proved to me over and over again that you thought you were better than everyone around you --"

"I've never thought that!" said Harry hotly.

"Hush, Potter. I'm not done answering your question, and I don't wish to be on the receiving end of your poor spellcasting."

"I wasn't really going to..."

"Hush," repeated Snape, though his tone was softer than it had previously been. "That night, as I seethed over your unmitigated gall, my anger toward you morphed into anger at myself; I have spent much of my life trying to keep my emotions under control, and you have always prevented me from doing so. Infuriating whelp."

Harry swallowed again and stared at Snape for a time. "Pro-- professor, are you saying...?"

"Am I saying what, Mr Potter?"

"Never mind," he said, shaking his head vigorously. Whatever he was about to ask, Harry knew that that wasn't the reason he'd done this to Snape. "So, you really want to help me defeat Voldemort?"

"I've long since given up hope that anything I do with regards to you should actually involve want. But I will help you as I've always done."

"Why?" The word slipped from Harry's mouth before he realised what he was saying.

"Why will I help you? Because I wish to be free of the Dark Lord. For most of my life I have thought about what will happen once he is finally gone, though the ideas have changed drastically in the last few."

"Tell me," Harry whispered. But Snape only raised his eyebrows, like he was waiting for Harry to provide a correct answer in class (though with considerably less sneering than Harry remembered).

Confused, Harry couldn't understand how Snape was overriding the potion. Thinking had actually become pretty altogether difficult, so it took him a moment to realise that he'd somehow stumbled forward, and now he stood only one footfall away from Snape's chair.

"Oh," he breathed finally. "Has to be a question. Right."

"Only if you want to know," Snape reminded him.

"So, you believe I get to want with regards to you." Harry shrugged. "Fine. What are the drastically changed ideas you've been thinking about?"

"The ideas aren't ones I actually expect to happen," Snape began. His voice had taken on the reluctant monotone again, though Harry wasn't sure why. Perhaps he resented the route Harry had taken, or perhaps he thought Harry was so thick that he wasn't quite following the pattern of his answers, though that wasn't true at all. Harry got it, he just wasn't sure why he so badly wanted to hear what Snape had to say. "However, they help keep my spirits up--"

Harry let out a soft snort. If this was Snape with high spirits, then he didn't even want to imagine the alternative.

"Quiet, Mr Potter," admonished Snape, though his tone was nearly fond. That, more than anything else that had already transpired, surprised Harry. "Reluctant protective urges aside, it has not escaped my notice that you have turned into a rather attractive man in the last few years --" Harry went bright red at that. "-- and even if your pursuits of the fairer sex weren't legendary --"

"The press doesn't know that I've been with...I mean, it's not just women," Harry protested to his shoes.

"Mr Potter, if you interrupt once more, I will find a way to override this potion and we will go our separate ways," said Snape, once more sounding like his old self. "Even if my information was incomplete, it still stands to reason that you'd have no reason to entertain ideas about me. But even though these are fantasies, they still sustain me." Snape's voice settled into a low murmur. "I have fantastical notions that I will finally be free of my prior obligations once Voldemort is dead, and think of perhaps wooing you, though more specifically, I think of ripping you from a crowd of cheering onlookers, pushing you face first against a wall and fucking you until the only word you can say -- the only thought in your head -- is my name."

"Holy fuck," Harry said, blinking in astonishment. His hands clenched and unclenched uselessly at his sides.

"Shall I continue?" asked Snape, straightening in his chair, chin lifted. Harry nodded vigorously. "I've considered finally having the means to leave Hogwarts and have a place where I can do my research and press myself against you in every room. I have visions of you on your knees, lips wrapped around my cock." Harry knew that the shiver that lanced through him wasn't the appropriate reaction to one's former hated professor saying the word 'cock'. "I can see my hands moving slowly over your naked body, touching you everywhere but where you desperately want to be touched as you beg and plead for me. I can quite easily picture you on your hands and knees or me on my back as you slide into me inch by inch. I can tell what you'd look like a second away from coming, and even though I have never seen it, I am sure it would be the most arousing thing I've ever seen."

Harry swallowed hard and took one more step forward, wrapping his hand around the back of Snape's neck and staring down at him. Snape's black eyes glittered as he stared back, and the effect made Harry swallow again.

"Are you here to prove that, Potter?" Snape's voice was low and husky, and quite unlike anything Harry had ever heard from his mouth.

"Do you hate me?" Harry asked quietly.

"No, you stupid boy," growled Snape, rolling his eyes again.

"Just checking." Harry bent down and pressed his mouth against Snape's, hand briefly combing through strands of greasy hair that suddenly didn't seem to bother Harry quite as much as before. He stroked the side of Snape's face with his thumb and prised open his jaw, pushing his tongue inside to seek out Snape's. They each battled for dominance, Snape giving as good as he got, and Harry found that the struggle made it everything and nothing like every memorable kiss he'd ever received. Sucking Snape's lower lip into his mouth and grasping it firmly between his teeth, Harry bit down, relishing the hoarse moan that tore from Snape's throat. As he pulled away, he grinned with triumph, knowing that even though things had drastically changed between them, this wasn't about to get easy.

"Did you like that?" Harry asked.

A sarcastic remark must have been on the tip of Snape's tongue when he blurted out, "Yes," then narrowed his eyes.

Harry glanced up at the clock, the very picture of innocence. "Twenty minutes left...Severus." He straightened up again, and walked around Snape's chair, bending to suck firmly on the side of Snape's neck. "Did you like that?"

"Yes," Snape replied, reluctance creeping back into his voice.

Harry's grin grew wider. He leant down and bit down on the juncture between shoulder and throat. "How about that?"

Snape let out a frustrated growl. "Yes! You are asking ridiculous questions again."

"I know that," Harry said. "I just like riling you up." With that, he bent and reached over Snape's shoulder to his front, undoing the top clasp on his robe, then the second, dragging his fingers up and down Snape's sternum, tugging lightly on the sparse hair there. "Do you like that?" Harry whispered as he grasped a nipple and twisted, lips right against Snape's earlobe.

"Y-- yes," Snape panted, head falling back against Harry's shoulder.

Harry stood up and circled Snape's body, idly wondering how long it must have been since Snape had last done anything like this. He knew he could ask, but that seemed unfair, and besides it was more fun to touch and rub and lick. He insinuated his knee between Snape's thighs, nudging them apart as he undid the last few fastenings. Snape was watching him intently, breathing laboured in a way that Harry knew had nothing to do with the Veritaserum.

With a lopsided grin, Harry pressed his palm flat against Snape's stomach, fingers pointed downward as he slid closer and closer to the bulge clearly outlined by Snape's pants. His free hand circled one of Snape's wrists and, just as his fingers closed around the prominent erection, he murmured, "Do you like this?"

"God, yes," gasped Snape, his eyes sliding shut.

"No, no, open your eyes," Harry said, pleased when Snape complied. He rewarded the other man by tracing the outline of his parted lips with his tongue as he stroked through cotton, drawing a whimper -- a whimper -- from Snape's throat. "One last question: What would you do if I released you from your bindings right now?" As though punctuating the question, he moved his hand from the front of Snape's pants to his other wrist, leaning forward just enough that his own erection nudged Snape's belly.

Snape paused, then smirked, the facial expression so wicked that Harry inhaled sharply. "I'd be very angry because I want you to leave them on, so you can find whatever poor substitute for lubrication is in this crumbling old kitchen, strip off your clothing and wrap your legs around my body, fucking yourself on my cock until we're both screaming."

"Oh. Oh fuck," Harry said, frozen in place. Then, he suddenly thawed and was scrambling away from the chair. "Yeah, that I can...we can...definitely do."

"You're certainly more agreeable than usual," Snape observed.

Harry grinned. "Well, I tend to react more positively to getting fucked than getting shouted at." He fumbled for his wand and pointed it at a cabinet door, summoning a canister of oil from one of the shelves. "Will this do?" he asked Snape.

"No doubt it will do its job," said Snape with a definite leer, "though what I could brew would be a thousand times more pleasurable."

With a shudder, Harry saw an upside to fucking a Potions master and scrambled to put the can and wand back on the table so he could shuck his clothing. He pulled one foot up and hopped, trying to yank off his socks and shoes. "Don't laugh," he warned as he started in on his robes.

Snape smirked faintly, though Harry didn't miss the way his eyes watched Harry's fingers as he exposed each new inch of new skin. One plus to wanting to present himself as a respectable authority figure meant Harry wasn't wearing his typical t-shirt and jeans underneath. He figured that he'd save that for next time when Snape would have to undress him; let the old bat struggle with the layers of clothing. He licked his lips and waited until Snape's eyes were locked with his again as he shrugged off his robe, letting the garment pool around his ankles. A moment later, his thumbs were hooked into his waistband and his shorts followed.

"Your turn," Harry said, surprisingly unconcerned with his nudity as he placed his hands at Snape's waist and pulled his pants down and off, too. What a picture they made -- the newly inducted leader of the Order of the Phoenix naked as the day he was born, and his former professor, robes wide open and legs spread, waiting for Harry to climb into his lap.

Yeah. Veritaserum had been a dead brilliant idea.

Harry turned again, letting Snape get a good eyeful of his arse as he grabbed the oil and poured a lot into his cupped palm. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Are you ready for me, Professor?"

Snape rocked in his chair and ground out, "Yes, Potter. You are the biggest tease that ever lived."

"So I've been told," Harry said easily as he turned and wrapped his fingers around Snape's cock, spreading oil over head and shaft and balls, pressing his fingers just behind as Snape let out a ragged moan. He climbed into Snape's lap, one arm gripping the back of the chair, legs stuck straight out at either side of bony hips, as the other hand reached behind his body to grip Snape's cock. "This might be kind of tight," Harry breathed as he lowered himself onto Snape. He grinned and tilted his head to one side. "It's been awhile since I've bottomed. Oh...oh God."

"You may top n-- next time, Potter," promised Snape as Harry pulled his hand away and his arsecheeks came to rest atop his thighs. Harry bit his lip and rocked forward, then back, moaning as his own prick bumped against Snape's stomach. "For now, touch yourself and if you dare stop moving, I will tan your hide."

"Don't tempt me," Harry said, sighing as he stroked himself in time with their movements.

Snape's eyebrows flew up. "Brat," he said, then let out a guttural sound from the back of his throat. "This is far better than I'd imagined."

Harry nodded and leant forward, pressing their chests together and kissing Snape hard again. Snape obligingly opened his mouth, and Harry thrust his tongue in and out, figuring if Snape got to fuck his arse, he should get to fuck Snape's mouth. As the tip of his tongue touched Snape's palate, the other man's hips jolted up, and Harry sped the pace at all points of contact.

A bubble was rising in Harry's chest and, even though his skin was growing hotter, tighter, with every thrust of Snape's cock within him, he knew that once that bubble popped, he would unravel completely, taking much of his insecurity and doubt with him. Harry hadn't realised how much he needed this, hadn't even given himself one moment to think about it. He wrenched his mouth away and managed to relay this to Snape, though punctuating his words with several desperate gasps for air.

"You are as annoying when I am inside you as you are at any other time."

Harry raised his hips and slammed them down again. "And does that bother you?"

"It would only bother me if you stopped," Snape gasped, throwing his head back.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Harry moaned, pulling his fist quickly upward, thumb brushing over the head of his cock as his balls drew up tight to his body. He let out a wail as he came, shooting lines of white liquid all over Snape's stomach and chest.

Snape shuddered as Harry's arse squeezed and throbbed around him. "Don't stop moving, Potter. Don't you dare, don't you dare," he panted as Harry kept rocking brutally against him, exhausted though he was. Snape had a ruddy flush across his cheeks and hooked nose, and Harry wanted to see him completely undone. "I-- I am-- don't-- oh-- yes-- Harry!" Eyes shut tight, Snape's hips jerked uncontrollably for several seconds before he stopped and opened his eyes, neutral expression back on his face. Harry thought he looked more dazed than before, though.

"That wasn't exactly how I planned for this to go," Harry muttered a moment later, wiping his hand on his thigh and wrapping both arms around Snape's neck, pressing their foreheads together. He was having trouble keeping a soppy grin off his face.

"Nor I." Snape sounded more relaxed than Harry had ever heard him.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Yes, and the irony of you saying that now isn't lost on me," Snape replied with a snort.

Harry chuckled. "All right, but I refuse to apologise. Had I not drugged you, I wouldn't be recovering from the most thorough fucking of my life."

"Ask."

"Do you really think I can kill Voldemort once and for all?"

"Yes," said Snape automatically.

The clock chimed, signalling the hour's end.

END