Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

**Whirlwind**

by Sentient Dawn

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**Summary: **It's crazy to think that your whole life can change in an instant. Or that something as seemingly inconsequential as a strong summer wind can redefine your very existence. Then again, sometimes the crazier thing is the lie embedded in that existence... and the relief that's keenly felt when it fades away into truth at last. HPSS Slash.

**Rating: **Rated M due to sexual situations between two males. Readers ages seventeen and over, please.

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

**Setting: **Story kicks off about ten years after the Final Battle. Canon compliant... with a few exceptions, of course! :)

**A/N: **I wrote this little Snarry fic about three years ago. At the time, I was super busy writing a major epic story that was demanding a ton of my time and brainpower and so basically, I wrote the thing just to let off a bit of literary steam. I had always intended to post it at some point but felt that the time just wasn't right back then. So, I just sort of put it away for a rainy day. Recently, I re-read it and thought... Hmm, I think it's about time this story makes its debut! There are three parts to this story so I plan on posting them one at a time. Look for the next part sometime next week.

Oh... and please keep in mind that my style and pacing as a writer has changed a good bit since then, so you may notice a difference. Hopefully, that won't prevent you from enjoying it! :)

One more thing. The italics in the beginning of each chapter and interspersed periodically throughout the story is Harry's POV, first person. There's a reason for this, I assure you. It's meant to imply he is telling the story to someone in a setting yet to be revealed... and it won't be revealed in this three-part story because I intend to follow up this story with another one. AT LEAST another one, maybe two. OK, enough of my rambling. On to the story.

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**Whirlwind**

**Chapter One**

_It was the wind that changed my life that night._

_Well, all right. It wasn't ONLY the wind. But that's what started it. It's what started everything._

_That night, I was fortunate to have Grimmauld Place all to myself. The kids were spending the entire weekend at the Burrow and Ginny was out of town on business until Monday. This wasn't as rare an occurrence as one might assume. Ginny's profession as chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies required a good bit of travel, and when her time away happened to coincide with the kids' monthly weekends with Gran and Pappy Weasley, I would end up with some quality me-time._

_As was my habit whenever I found myself alone for more than an hour or two, I had a very specific plan for my weekend seclusion – a plan that could only be accomplished under conditions such as these: total and unequivocal privacy._

_It was a great plan – one that would have come to fruition if it hadn't been for the wind._

_And you._

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"You sure you'll be all right, Harry? I mean, won't you be lonely by yourself for the whole weekend?"

"It's fine Gin, seriously. I'm just going to make myself a vodka tonic, watch a few mindless Muggle sitcoms on the telly and then call it a night. Then I'll probably do that all over again tomorrow and the next day, too. I'll be fine," Harry insisted.

"But the storm..."

"Ginny, it's just a little wind and rain. Stop worrying, for God's sake."

"OK. Just... if you need anything, I'm only a Floo call away. All right?"

"Sure, Gin. See ya Monday."

She offered Harry a half-hearted smile and then stepped into the hearth, throwing down a handful of glittering green powder and calling out her destination. A second later, she was engulfed in swirling tendrils of virescent flames, her crimson hair turning a dull shade of umber just before she disappeared from view.

Wholly aware that he had not received a goodbye kiss, Harry told himself that its absence saddened him.

He was doing that a lot lately... telling himself things that weren't exactly true.

He supposed that was to be expected considering the current state of their relationship. He and Ginny had been married for eight years now and although an outsider might not be observant enough to describe their marriage as apathetic, the truth was that it lacked certain crucial marital mainstays.

Love, for one.

Sex, for another.

In reality, sexual passion had been scarce from the very inception of ther marriage, but in recent years, it had become almost nonexistent. In fact, since the birth of their daughter Lily last year, Ginny had offered him little more than a chaste peck on the cheek or a lukewarm hug.

It was quite ironic considering he was still regarded as one of the most sought after wizards in all of Britain according to _Witch Weekly_. It was almost laughable that witches everywhere were chomping at the bit for one night with Harry Potter, yet his own wife would much rather fold laundry than have sexual relations with him.

Or even touch him.

And that was the ugly truth of it. Actually, no – there was more to it than that.

Much more.

As evidenced by the box of Muggle DVDs Harry was currently entering Sirius' old room to retrieve. The box was concealed in the far corner of the room, beneath a magically sealed floorboard which Harry had charmed to only open under specific circumstances. _Alohomora_ alone would not suffice. The spell had to be cast in _his voice _and performed using _his_ _wand_.

Needless to say, this box was the most well guarded and highly protected item in all of Grimmauld Place, and for good reason.

The DVDs in this box were porn films.

Not just porn films. They were _gay_ porn films... _male _gay porn films.

And if Ginny, or anyone else for that matter, ever found out he was in possession of these movies _and_ that he watched them every single time he was afforded any significant measure of privacy...

Well, let's just say he was fairly certain it would mean the end of his marriage. The end of many things, actually.

Forcing that distressing thought to the back of his mind, Harry knelt down beside his godfather's old four-poster, cast the incantation to unlock that sealed board and pulled out his secret stash.

That vodka tonic could wait, after all.

After deciding which one to watch first, Harry slid his movie of choice into the Muggle DVD player on top of Sirius' dresser and made himself comfortable on the bed.

The instant he pressed play on the remote, that familiar sick, twisted feeling of perversion that always plagued him whenever he indulged in his movies came back to him with unrelenting strength.

He hated this... hated feeling like a freak... like a warped, immoral, deviant freak.

He was married, for God's sake! He was the father of three incredible children! He had a fulfiling job as an Auror, amazing friends... a perfect life.

Yet here he was, watching a complete stranger wrench another man's pants down to his ankles before taking him into his mouth.

It was abnormal.

Bent.

Completely depraved.

And Harry was getting more aroused with each passing second.

Pushing past his grim, self-deprecating thoughts, Harry gave into his escalating desire, unzipping his jeans and sliding them and his boxers down past his hips. Brilliant green eyes blazed with lust and longing as their owner watched the more dominant man in the movie take the other man deeper into his throat. Harry swallowed and licked his parched lips as he watched those powerful hands grip the other man's hips to keep them steady while he thrust himself forward over and over again to engulf all of that hard length. Watching such an aggressive sexual act and listening to the sounds of slurping and moaning made Harry quiver with excitement, his breathing beginning to pulse and shallow, his heart thudding away in his chest. His arousal deepened further as his eyes followed the up and down motion of the man's lips sliding along that pulsing erection, his breath hitching when the man's skilled tongue darted out to swirl around the tip teasingly, tasting drops of pre-come.

The erotic sight made Harry dizzy with desire, aching with need, his yearning to be ravaged that way in real life nearly overwhelming him. Despite his fierce longing to experience the carnal acts depicted on these DVDs however, he had never once acted on his salacious desires. He kept them secreted away, locked up and buried deep in the darkest corners of his own mind, hidden and repressed from those around him. His only means of sexual gratification came from these movies.

Well, the movies _and_ his own secret fantasies.

Having explicit sexual fantasies about being with a strong, aggressive man was a frequent and long-standing occurrence for Harry. He had been imagining such acts for more than a decade and could easily recall the moment when they started.

It was right after he had received his very first kiss back in fifth year. Cho Chang was sweet and pretty and she smelled wonderful, but the kiss they shared was flat, uninspired and did absolutely nothing for him. So while Cho may have left the Room of Requirement that night daydreaming about more intimate moments with Harry in the future, Harry's budding sexual interest began to steer him in an altogether different direction.

After that passionless first kiss with Cho, Harry started to imagine what it might feel like to kiss someone else. Someone completely different. Some faceless stranger who was tall, strong, dominating. Someone who would grab him and hold him in a tight grip and then kiss him with fierce intensity. Someone who would press his – yes_ his_ – hard, aroused body to Harry's and thrust against him until he was reduced to nothing more than a quivering pool of desire.

At first, these fantasies frightened him, angered him, confused the hell out of him, and he tried to deny their veracity by expelling them from his mind.

He was successful for a while, but after that one Occlumency lesson with Snape when the man had penetrated his mind and watched the memory of he and Cho kissing, everything changed. That night, instead of following Snape's instructions and clearing his mind before sleep, Harry closed his eyes and imagined that faceless stranger once again. This time however, it was _Snape_ who was the leading man. _Snape_ was the tall, dark stranger kissing him, pressing up against him, ravaging him.

God, when he finally succumbed to his orgasm that night, it was with such intensity, such raw, explosive potency, that he nearly blacked out right there in his four-poster.

Harry never told a soul about these deviant fantasies. No one. Not Ron. Not Hermione. Not Sirius or Remus, and certainly not Ginny, whom he had begun to date the very next year in a desperate attempt to repress these abnormal feelings.

It's not like he didn't care for Ginny. He did. And it wasn't as though she couldn't get him going. She definately could. She was beautiful and sexy and sweet. But she just wasn't what he wanted... what he craved... what he longed for.

As time went on, the fantasies stayed with him, their intensity never wavering. All the while, their lead participant remained the same. It was Snape. It was _always_ Snape.

Of course, Harry had to admit that during the year following Dumbldore's death, when he, Ron and Hermione were on the run from Voldemort, he indulged in his fanatsies much less frequently. It was a bit difficult to get it up while in constant mortal peril. Not long after Voldemort met his demise however, his need to fantasize about Snape returned with a vengeance, despite the fact that the man had not survived the war.

Truth be told, the fantasies became even _more_ intense after that... _emotionally,_ as well as sexually.

This had surprised Harry. He had never expected his exclusively carnal fantasies to begin to include soft, gentle kisses and heartfelt embraces as well as the typical dominating acts of eroticism. Harry welcomed the addition though, as the new fantasies fulfilled much more than just his sexual needs and desires. They seemed to fill a void in his heart, too.

Harry's yearning to lose himself to these new sexual and emotional fantasies involving Snape became more and more pressing and soon, he found himself making excuses to be alone so that he could tend to his desires. He had foolishly convinced himself that the problem would lessen once he and Ginny wed. Unfortunately, this was not the case. In fact, it got worse.

During those first few years of their marriage, Harry had to resort to indulging in long, hot showers in the middle of the day just to placate his pressing needs so that he could return to work with a clear, unhindered mind. The whole situation was getting out of control until he finally broke down and bought the DVDs. They helped a lot. Of course, he was still only able to enjoy them when he had the house to himself – three, maybe four times a month if he was lucky. Nevertheless, they helped to ease his lecherous desires.

It also helped that not one of the men in these videos looked anything like Snape. He could masturbate while watching any one of these DVDs and almost convince himself that Snape wasn't the object of his most secret and deepest desires.

_Almost_.

Returning his attention once again to the nameless men on the DVD, Harry reached down and grabbed his rock-hard erection, stroking himself at a slow, relaxed pace.

Yes, Harry thought as he spread his legs wider, his fingers tightening their grip around his pulsing member, vodka tonics and Muggle sitcoms could definitely wait.

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_And that's when the wind changed my life._

_Well... the wind, plus one previously-thought-to-be-dead Potions Master._

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BOOM!

"What the...?!"

Harry bounded off the bed at breakneck speed, heaving up his boxers and jeans over his painfully hard erection with his right hand while the fingers of his left fumbled awkwardly with the remote, trying to find the ridiculously small and well-hidden pause button.

"Shit! Goddamn it... _Fuck!"_

Harry continued to swear as he threw the remote onto the bed, giving it up as a bad job. Snatching up his wand instead, he tore from the room and darted down the stairs, heading for the back door since the deafening crash seemed to have come from the rear of the house.

When he opened the door, Harry was immediately met with the full force of the storm's wrath. He staggered to the side as the gale force winds and sideways rain slammed into him with unrelenting intensity. Clutching the edge of the doorframe to maintain his precarious balance, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the small backyard, hoping to discover the source of the thunderous crash that had shook the whole house.

It didn't take him long.

The large oak tree that had once dominated the meager backyard had succumbed to the fierce wind. It was now lying on its side, its massive, gnarled roots protruding up from the earth like some menacing, savage beast of Hagrid's, creepy shadows from the thing coming into sharp relief every time the lightning flashed.

"Christ, that's going to be fun to clean up tomorrow," he groused.

He turned back around, intent on returning to the blissful stillness and calm of the interior of the house, when something made him stop in his tracks.

It was a groan – a groan of pain.

Abandoning all thoughts of seeking cover from the raging storm, Harry approached the fallen tree, certain he had heard the anguished groan issuing from its general vicinity. Another blinding flash of lightning lit up the volatile sky, enabling Harry to make out the nebulous outline of a body pinned under one of the tree's enormous branches. Rushing forward, he aimed his wand at the offending tree limb and cried out, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The branch hovered only a few inches above the trapped individual, but it was enough. Harry seized the pale hand he could just make out amid the surrounding darkness and yanked hard. Eager to take refuge indoors, he didn't stop to examine the victim. Instead, he snatched up the stranger's other hand, dragged him bodily across his yard to the back door and then once inside, slammed the door shut behind them.

Doubled over and out of breath from adrenaline and physical exertion, Harry took a full minute to regain his composure before finally looking down at the man – at least he _thought_ it was a man – who was currently lying face-down in his kitchen.

After finally catching his breath and regaining a somewhat normal heart rate, Harry knelt down beside the stranger and gently turned him over.

He was not expecting to see the face of a dead man – or rather a _living _man who was _supposed _to be dead.

And he most _certainly_ was not expecting that man to be Severus Snape.

**Chapter End - TBC**

**A/N:** Next chapter will be posted sometime next week. :)

**Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whirlwind**

**Chapter Two**

_When I saw that the man lying on my kitchen floor was you, I was stunned way beyond all rational thought, utterly dumbfounded. Despite having dealt with more than my share of shocking situations throughout my twenty-eight years of life, it was the sight of you – alive and looking up at me with those dark, penetrating eyes and that devilish, crooked sneer – that topped them all._

_In fact, at the risk of coining an altogether new interpretation of an established Wizarding term, I would have to say that I was nothing short of stupified. Minus the painful physical side effects, that is._

_In recent years, you've become rather fond of describing my reaction that night as 'an unintelligible verbal outpouring of disjointed utterances,' but quite honestly, considering my state of mind at the time, I'm surprised I was capable of uttering anything at all._

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"What the...?! _Holy shit! _I-I can't believe... No. _NO!_ This is not... _You're_ not... You _CAN'T_ be him!"

After blinking open jet-black eyes, Severus Snape raised an elegant eyebrow, one corner of his mouth lifting into a crooked smirk as he stared into disbelieving green eyes and listened to their owner's stammering. At length though, the former professor seemed to reach his limit and he cleared his throat, ending Harry's incoherent speech instantly. A long moment of silence followed before the man finally spoke, but when he did, Harry's heart nearly burst through his chest, the man's slow, measured drawl reminding him of that dark and seductive voice featured in every one of his fantasies.

The _words_ coming from that measured drawl however, were not at all similar.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, I _am_ him. Now if you would kindly put that mouth... and your wand... to better use and repair my leg, I would be most grateful. Or are you still so inept at basic spells that you are unable to mend a simple fracture?"

"Wha–? Oh... um, right. Yes. Bone mending, right," Harry replied, his mind still reeling, seemingly jammed by the thousand or so caotic thoughts and emotions whirling around his stunned brain. Pressing his lips together with eyes clamped shut, he inhaled deeply, willing his speeding heartbeat to slow while he struggled to keep his cool in the aftermath of this bombshell revelation.

_Snape was alive! Merlin's beard... how the bloody hell...?!_

After forcing himself to take several deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth, Harry's heart rate finally slowed to a more sedate rhythm and his spinning thoughts settled enough for him to feel comfortable opening his eyes. His composure more or less intact now, Harry dropped his gaze to Snape's injured leg, intent on mending the bone as requested. The sight before him however, had him stifing yet another shocked gasp, his heart giving another reactive lurch in his chest.

Snape's left leg was bent at a horrific angle, just below the knee, his booted foot twisted almost all the way around backward as a result of the unnatural position. It was definitely _not_ a simple fracture, as Snape had so condescendingly suggested. Harry had absolutely no experience mending complex fractures such as these. On the job, he had only ever encountered two – maybe three – broken bones as bad as this one, but those were healed by either the Head Auror or a Ministry healer. Nevertheless, Harry gathered together his courage and his magic, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, and then pointed his wand at the grotesque injury, casting the charm to reset the mutilated bone in a clear, commanding voice.

_"Episky!"_

Several sickening cracks and crunches echoed throughout the kitchen as the bones were violently forced back into place. The repulsive sounds alone was enough to turn Harry's stomach, his heart rate spiking again. He quickly looked back up to gauge Snape's reaction and felt his chest tighten in sympathy upon seeing the obvious grimace of pain twisting the man's features. Snape's teeth were bared and grinding together and his normally pale complexion had taken on a sickly greenish hue.

"S-s-sorry, Professor, I... I'm not used to mending severely broken bones," he confessed. "I've only ever had to reset simple fractures at work: broken noses and wrists mostly. Oh... and a fractured collarbone once, though the woman was unconscious at the time so I really have no idea if I managed it without causing her additional pain."

For once, Snape did not comment on Harry's less than perfect spellwork or his nervous rambling. He remained silent, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. His unnaturally pale lips were pursed into a taut line while their owner took deep, shuddering breaths in through his nose.

As the seconds stretched out into long, tedious minutes of strained silence, those ebony eyes remained unseen behind their lids. Harry was just about to race off to his washroom in search of a pain-reducing potion, and maybe a calming draught, when at long last, Snape opened his eyes. As the dark orbs took a moment to blink and find their focus, Harry was relieved to notice a hint of color beginning to return to the man's cheeks, his fitful breathing starting to even out and slow down.

Seconds later, that welcome feeling of relief turned into inexplicable anxiety when Snape turned his head with deliberate slowness and pinned Harry with an odd, yet intensely penetrative look. The expression seemed out of the blue and completely unreadable, as puzzling as the man himself, and Harry suddenly found he had no patience for it... or for this entire bizarre situation.

"Professor–"

"I am not your professor anymore, Potter. I haven't been for some time," Snape retorted, his piercing gaze still fixed on Harry.

"Fine. Whatever. Snape, then," he bit out, his patience dwindling further. "Would you mind explaining to me how it is that you're actually alive? When the whole Wizarding World thinks you're dead? Christ, Snape! I saw you die with my _own eyes!_ I watched the life drain out of you in the Shrieking Shack after Nagini ripped your damned throat apart!" Harry's voice had escalated in volume, a torrent of pent-up emotions coloring his tone as memories from that horrible night ten years ago flashed across the forefront of his mind.

"As a matter of fact, Potter, I _do_ mind. The orchestrated details regarding my feigned demise are best left untold. The same goes for my reasons for remaining dead to the world thereafter. I _will_ tell you this, however: the benefits of being a world-renowned Potions Master are vast and considerable, extending far beyond the lackluster exhilaration one receives from teaching a handful of moronic first-years such elementary potions as the cure for boils."

Snape's smirk was absolutely devilish now, his dark eyes aglow with self-satisfaction and wily mirth. It was more than obvious the man found a great deal of pleasure in inspiring the look of bemusement currently adorning Harry's face.

"Now," he continued, "do you plan on helping me up, or is it your habit to keep all your guests sprawled out on your kitchen floor?"

"Oh, you're a guest of mine, are you? Funny, I don't recall inviting a dead man into my home," Harry countered. "In fact, I would actually like to know how the hell you were able to enter my backyard. I have this whole fucking property warded. Nobody's supposed to be able to bypass the protective charms except my family and–"

"And members of the Order?" Snape interjected. That customary smirk grew into an all-out impish grin, one that revealed additional delight in pointing out Harry's oversight.

"Yeah. OK. I get it," Harry replied, annoyed.

Taking yet another deep breath, this time to soothe his rancor at being bested by his previously most hated professor, Harry crouched down next to the man and grabbed his arm, positioning it around his shoulders. He stood up slowly, bearing most of the Snape's weight while doing his best to steady the both of them. Once he had gained his balance, he led Snape over to one of the kitchen chairs, lowering him gently onto the seat. He grabbed another chair for himself, spinning it around and sitting on it backwards, his legs straddling the back and his forearms draped haphazardly across the top.

In the silence that followed, Harry studied the older man in front of him while he grappled with the tumlt of confused thoughts and emotions warring inside his own mind. He desperately wanted some kind of explanation for the madness he now found himself in but had no idea where to start or what to say. At length, he settled on firing a direct question at Snape, one he was certain the older man wouldn't be able to weasel out of answering.

"Why were you in my backyard tonight?"

Those cavernous ebony eyes snapped up to stare into resolute green ones and once again, Harry was met with that same unreadable expression on the man's thin face. It was an enigmatic look, filled with a kind of driving vitality. Its intensity was infectious and compelling and it made Harry more and more uncomfortable the longer he looked at it, as if those deep pools of black were drawing him into their fathomless depths... consuming him... devouring him... tempting him...

All of the sudden, Harry's pulse sped up and his hands began to shake as one of his most recent fantasies burst forth from the dark recesses of his consciousness, flashing in vivid color across the forefront of his mind…

_He and Snape... naked... their bodies covered in sweat. Snape... on top of him... grinding his hips down against Harry's... rocking and thrusting. One of Snape's arms was snaked around Harry's back... another pinning Harry's arm down to the bed, long fingers entwined with Harry's, squeezing them as he whispered into his ear, "You like this, don't you, Harry? You like it when I thrust against you? Do you want me to make you come?"_

Harry quickly snapped his eyes shut and lowered his head, desperate to clear his thoughts. Being in the presence of an accomplished Legilimens while recollecting sexual fantasies involving said Legilimens, was not at all wise.

"I wanted to... _see_ _you_," Snape answered at last, startling Harry from his current distress.

"See me?" Harry questioned, eyes narrowing in confusion. He shook his head, trying to understand. "See me about what?"

Again those dark, penetrating eyes bore into his own, seemingly infiltrating the deepest, most hidden parts of his heart and soul. Harry's pulse was definitely racing now and his palms were sweaty. Something was happening here. Something... unexpected.

"You misunderstand," Snape said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "I wanted to see you... but I had not intended for _you_ to see _me_."

At a complete loss for words now, Harry stared at Snape, his brow screwed up in consternation as he tried to figure out what the hell the man was talking about.

Snape however, gave him little time to ponder his odd comment. Standinp up gingerly, he pulled his wand from inside the sleeve of his robes and cast a spell on his newly healed leg. It was one Harry didn't recognize, but it must have been a pain-relieving spell, because a moment later he walked out of the kitchen with hardly a limp, heading for the front of the house.

"Snape! What the hell? Where are you going?!"

Despite having just broken his leg, Snape moved with surprising agility and speed. It was also quite obvious that he knew exactly where he was going. He moved like a man on a mission, darting across the parlour and through the narrow hallway leading to the foyer. He was almost at the front door of the house and for a moment, Harry thought perhaps he was going to take his leave, when all at once, he turned abruptly and quickened his pace, taking the stairs two at a time before racing down the second floor hallway.

Harry rushed after him at top speed, a growing sense of unease gripping him. That unease turned into full-fedged panic, his heart jumping into his throat, when he reached the top of the stairs just in time to see Snape's billowing black cloak disappear from view at the entrance to Sirius' old bedroom.

"Oh shit!" he cursed, horrified as the sudden realization of what Snape must be seeing in that room took hold of him.

Panic-stricken, Harry took off down the hall like Voldemort himself were chasing him, only slowing his frantic pace when he neared the doorway to Sirius' room. With one hand gripping the wooden doorframe, he rounded the sharp corner and then stumbled across the threshold, losing his balance completely and falling onto the floor. There was a resounding crack as his knees made contact with the unforgiving hardwood, palms smacking against it a second later as he attempted to brace his fall. Ignoring the sharp jabs of pain in both knees, he leapt to his feet like a shot and snapped his head up.

What he saw made his blood run cold, his whole body freezing in shock.

The DVD was still playing and the men on the screen werw now engaged in full-on intercourse, their rapturous moans and heady cries of passion resonating loudly throughout the room. Snape stood just beside the bed, only feet from the television, yet _somehow_ he was not looking at the elephant in the room. As if immune to the blaring sounds of carnal pleasure, the man kept his eyes trained on Harry and Harry alone, piercing him with an intense, penetrating – almost predatory – look.

The look was so potent, so gripping, that for a moment, Harry felt almost powerless to look away.

_Damn!_ What _was_ that look?

Dark... fiery... intense... hungry... yearning...

Mindfulness suddenly returning to him, Harry tore his gaze away from _whatever_ that look was and dove for the remote he had discarded on the bed earlier. He snatched it up in one lightning-fast move and then frantically searched for that damned pause button once again, his fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to locate the elusive button.

He would have settled for finding the power button... or end... stop... menu... mute... _something!_

For the love of God! How the _fuck_ do Muggles operate this damned thing?!

Harry's frenzied search ended when a hard body was pressed against his back, prompting a sharp gasp to escape his mouth and his fingers to loosen their hold on the remote ever so slightly. While his brain seemed to have jammed at the unexpected contact, his legs acted on instinct, taking a step forward and away from the touch. His reflexive movement was thwarted a split second later however, when a long arm encircled his chest, yanking him back to press against that warm, lean body once again. Stunned now to the point of catatonia, Harry stood stock still as he sucked in a sharp breath, his reeling brain just barely coherent enough to register the feeling of Snape's free hand prying the remote from his slackened fingers before chucking it across the room.

"No. I want to watch," Snape purred, warm lips brushing against his ear. "And I know you do, too. Don't you, Harry?"

Harry said nothing, his voice suddenly failing him. Every breath that made it past his tight throat came out labored and impossibly fast and his heartbeat pounded as if desperate to break free from the confines of his chest. All the while, Snape's lips continued to graze the shell of his ear, his hot, shallow breaths flitting across the sensitive skin. The sensual caress sent fissures of heat rocketing down Harry's spine and waves of desire pooling in his gut.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut while an inner battle between logic and desire raged inside his head. A part of his brain was screaming that what was currently taking place couldn't possibly be real – that this must just be some elaborate hallucination, or a trick of his sexually repressed subconscious. Perhaps after years of fantasizing about the man, some delusional part of his mind had succeeded in taking over the lucid part, thrusting him into a kind of waking dream where everything that was happening only existed inside his mind and nothing was real.

But Merlin, it _felt_ real.

Those lips pressed against his ear felt real. That strong arm holding him in that tight grip felt real. And... _oh God_... the hard erection digging into his backside most definitely felt real.

Again, Snape whispered to him, causing his wandering thoughts to slam back to the here and now and his eyes to snap open.

"I know you delve into your secret stash of porn every time you're alone in this house, Harry. And I know it's the only time you let yourself admit what it is you really want... what you crave... what you fantasize about. Mmmm... and you look so delicious when you stroke yourself... and when you come... calling out my name..."

Harry's eyes widened, his whole body tensing as a new wave of cold panic surged through him.

He knew? _He knew!?_

Snape knew about his DVD collection? And he'd seen him getting off?! And... _holy shit_... he'd heard Harry screaming Snape's name during his orgasm! Well, of course he heard it; Harry _always_ did that when he wanked. But Snape had actually _watched him?!_

"Snape... I..."

"Severus. Call me Severus," he whispered, that silky voice now lower in pitch, husky with desire. Tilting his head forward, he pressed his lips to a spot low on Harry's neck and began trailing kisses up the length of it, his tongue darting out to lick and tease the area just beneath Harry's ear. Then he replaced his tongue with his teeth and bit down, the exquisite sensation prompting Harry's knees to buckle slightly, strong jolts of arousal shooting through every part of him.

"Ahhhh... Oh... Oh shit!" Harry moaned, breathing out ragged breaths as he struggled to speak."Sna– Sev– Severus... Wait... How did you know? How...?"

Severus chuckled against his neck and then answered Harry, his voice laced with amusement.

"I don't need a blasted cloak to become invisible, Harry. And as we've already established, I have little trouble entering your home. How long is Ginny away this time?"

Harry's brain was still reeling, unable to get past the unbelievable revelation that Severus had been spying on him when his wife was away. The man had watched him masturbate, for God's sake! He had stood unseen in the shadows of this very room and watched as Harry stroked himself to completion. He'd seen... and heard... _everything_...

_Harry's eyes squeezed shut... his body taut and trembling... lips parted... breaths coming out as desperate, heavy gasps and moans while his right hand worked the smooth skin of his erection up and down... faster and faster until at last he came... screaming Severus' name at the top of his lungs..._

Dear God! How many times? How many times had he watched Harry in secret?!

Harry knew he should be outraged. He should be absolutely livid with this man for invading his privacy, for entering his home without permission and for watching him during his most private moments. He should just throw Severus out right now and then change the wards so that he would never again be permitted to enter without Harry's knowledge or consent.

This is what he _should_ do, but Harry knew there was no way in hell he could do that. Not with that probing tongue tracing long licks down the column of his throat and not with those sensual lips sucking on the sensitive skin below his ear. Not with that hard, aroused body pressed up against his back.

And not when the man he had fantasized about for more than a decade was here, now – very much alive – and wanting him.

"She... ahhh... _fuck_... she... she comes back... um... Monday," Harry stammered, his ability to speak rapidly declining now that Severus had started to suck on his neck even harder.

"Mmmm... good. Plenty of time," he whispered. "Now, there's something I want to know, Harry, and I want you to tell me the truth."

Severus paused here to press his lips to the hollow of Harry's neck again. Then he moved back up the long column of his throat just as skillfully he had done before, his thin lips placing wet, open-mouthed kisses while his crooked teeth skimmed and scraped along the skin teasingly. He bit down once he reached the same spot he had marked before, this time harder.

The abrupt stimulation flooded Harry with intense pulses of blissful pleasure and he clamped down on his lower lip with his own teeth in an effort not to cry out.

When Snape finally released the abused flesh, he placed his lips back to Harry's ear, speaking once more in a throaty rush of hot breath.

"How long have you wanted me?"

Harry swallowed hard, his heart racing anew. He had no idea what Severus' reaction would be to finding out that he had been pining for the man since he was fifteen years old, but what the hell? There weren't many secrets left between them. He might as well divulge this one as well.

"Um... since... ahh... since fifth year, I guess."

Severus groaned deep in his throat and tightened his powerful hold on Harry, pulling him closer while his mouth attacked his neck again with fervor.

Harry shivered when the man's actions caused Severus' erection to press harder against his arse.

"Wha– what about you?" Harry chanced.

"Same."

Harry whimpered at Severus' response, both aggrieved and euphoric at learning that his years spent in secret longing had actually been reciprocal all along. His whimper of regret soon turned into a gasp though when Severus abruptly shoved his tongue into his ear. Instantly, Harry could feel his own erection growing harder at the penetrative move, throbbing and pulsing uncomfortably within the tight imprisonment of his jeans. With his body now tingling with sensation, waves of heady desire coursing through him like ripples of liquid heat, Harry couldn't help the moan that fell from his parted lips or the way he drove his hips back into the hard, wanting body holding him hostage.

As if spurred on by Harry's fervent response, Severus doubled his efforts, clutching the other side of Harry's head in a tight grip while he swirled his tongue around the shell of his ear and then thrust it back in once more. The probing tongue repeated its sensual routine, swirling and thrusting, over and over, again and again, until Harry could hardly breathe. Soon, Severus' teeth joined the erotic assault, nipping and tugging at Harry's earlobe before drawing it into the hot, wet cavern of Severus' mouth where it was sucked aggressively.

Just as Harry was driven way past the point of sanity, his breaths coming out in hard, rapid puffs and his face hot with the surging flames of arousal, Severus withdrew from him. Harry had but a split second to mourn the loss of that warm, hard body pressed against his back when his hand was swiftly snatched up.

Severus tugged, pulling him further into the room before dragging him onto the bed.

Once on the bed, Harry immediately turned to face Severus, wanting so badly to kiss the older man, to taste him, to feel that strong tongue ravaging his mouth, but it was not meant to be.

Severus had something else in mind entirely.

With impressive speed, Harry was maneuvered to an upright position on his knees and then spun around so that he was facing the foot of the bed, the Muggle television in full view directly in front of him. Then his hands were placed on top of the bed's wooden footboard causing Harry's body to be bent forward, his shoulders almost as low as his hips now. The position made Harry feel exposed and vulnerable... yet it only seemed to add to his escalating arousal and mounting excitement.

A moment later, Severus leaned forward as well, his body molding to Harry's, hips crushed against Harry's backside and chest flanking his back. Then those soft, thin lips were once again brushing the shell of Harry's ear, whispering to him amid aroused, quavering breaths.

"Tell me what you see... I want to hear you..."

"Wh-what? What do you mean?"

"The movie... tell me what you're seeing..."

Harry glanced up at the scene unfolding on the screen and gulped.

It was two different men now, both of them fully clothed. One was lying face down on a bed while the other was busy divesting him of his shirt, kissing and licking every inch of the newly exposed skin once the barrier of fabric was removed.

"Harry... what do you see? Tell me."

"Um... one of them is removing the other's shirt and he's... um, kissing his back..." Harry answered, his voice quavering, trembling and broken by heavy breaths.

Immediately, Severus grabbed the bottom of Harry's t-shirt and yanked it over his head. Then that hot mouth was moving across his bare shoulders – kissing, licking, caressing and biting. Voracious lips traveled down his back next, trailing wet kisses down the length of his spine while the man's hands gripped Harry's hips, squeezing and rubbing, his long fingers digging possessively into the soft skin.

Harry could barely breathe when those lips brushed along the skin of his lower back, his hot tongue skimming a slow wet path just above the waistband of his jeans.

"God, Harry, you taste so good," Severus murmured against his skin before straightening back up and placing his mouth to Harry's ear again. "Now what's happening? What do you see?"

"He's taking off the man's trousers now and... oh..." Harry croaked, his whole body trembling now, "and he's removing his boxers, too."

Severus' slender fingers released their firm grip on Harry's hips and slid around to his stomach. With quick, agile movements, they unfastened the top button of his jeans and before Harry could even take his next breath, his zipper was being pulled down with torturous slowness, the man's fingertips teasingly caressing the outline of his clothed erection during the descent. Soon, those skillful hands were back on Harry's hips, his fingers curling around the waistbands of both his jeans and boxers and then...

...and then nothing.

Severus' hands relinquished their grasp on Harry's remaining clothing just as a whispered incantation reverberated throughout the small room, the spell bringing an abrupt end to the sounds and sights of escalating passion issuing from the Muggle television.

Confused, Harry snapped his head to the side and peered over his shoulder.

He was just in time to see Severus pulling away from him.

**Chapter End - TBC**

**A/N:** Sorry for the cliffhanger, guys. Honestly, it's not my intention to leave you hanging like this – it's just that this is the most logical place to end this second chapter. And anyway, you won't have too long to wait to find out what happens next. The third and final chapter will be along very soon. Probably late next week. So, stay tuned. :)

**And as always, please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Whirlwind**

**Chapter Three**

_When you withdrew from me, my first thought was that you had finally come to your senses – that the tree branch which had broken your leg earlier that night must have also struck your head, damaging your ability to reason, and now that your mental faculties had returned, awareness of who exactly you were touching and kissing and undressing had suddenly forced its way back into your conscious mind._

_Quick to accept this conclusion as truth, I became convinced you were disgusted by me, your abrupt withdrawal proof of your eagerness to distance yourself from your least favorite student. And in that brief fragment of suspended reality – a reality fraught with my own panicked deductions – I was absolutely gutted... deeply mortified... and more heartbroken than I could ever remember being._

_I was also very much mistaken._

_Thank Merlin!_

––––––––––––––––––––––

"Wha–?" Harry blurted out but then faltered, his mind too distracted by the sudden removal of those eager hands on his skin and that long, lean body pressed against his back to function properly. Heart aching at what Severus' departure might mean, he tried once again to speak, but was denied the chance when the man grabbed his left wrist and spun him around to face him.

"Harry, do you want this?" Severus asked, his voice sounding so different than before – a hesitant, almost fearful edge coloring his tone. "Are you certain you want... _me?"_

Harry's chest tightened as he listened to the man's tentative words – words intimating not just uncertainty, but also fear and profound insecurity. Releasing a shaky breath to ease his own tension, Harry let himself fall into those dark, enigmatic eyes whose ebony depths were so steadfastly locked with his own. Staring deeply into the cavernous pools of black, Harry realized with a jolt of comprehension that these open, vulnerable eyes were nothing like the apathetic ones he'd remembered his old professor using to stare down his students in Potions class. Though they were certainly the same color – and just as intense – _those_ eyes had been cold and distant... devoid of any real emotion. _These_ however... _these_ eyes were filled with doubt, yet they blazed with hopeful longing.

Harry's breath hitched and his heart gave another lurch as the reason for the discrepancy suddenly became clear to him. For years, the cold, distant and often hate-filled eyes of the forbidding Professor Snape had served as a shield for the man's wounded, yearning heart. They had acted as a protective mask, concealing away their owner's every real emotion – his pain, his fear, his love. But here... now... there was no such mask. These eyes were soulful and emotive... open and eager. They were the eyes of a man who, at long last, was taking a chance – a man whose soul was laid bare and whose heart was yearning for love.

Suddenly, the true meaning behind Severus' tentative words, as well as that strange and intense look he had directed at Harry time and time again this evening, made perfect sense.

Severus wanted him – _all_ of him. Not just his body, but his heart, too. And now that the moment was finally upon them, he needed confirmation that his most desperate desire, secreted away and denied for so long, was also Harry's.

Without another thought, his aching heart now beating a mad rhythm against his ribcage, Harry placed his hands on either side of Severus' neck and edged closer, leaning in so that their lips were mere inches apart. Closing his eyes, Harry paused, becoming momentarily sidetracked by the exquisite sensation of the man's erratic breaths ghosting over his own lips, their heat and fitful pulse sending shivers of arousal and excitement down his bare back. Unable to wait any longer, his heart almost exploding with anticipation, Harry finally came back to himself and pushed forward, crushing their mouths together in a deep, driving kiss.

Severus reacted with avidity, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and yanking him closer. Deepening their heated kiss, he pushed his tongue into Harry's willing mouth and twirled it around, trailing it along his teeth and sliding it across his lips. Soon, his hands moved from Harry's back to either side of his face as he intensified the already sensual oral onslaught, plunging his strong tongue in and out of Harry's mouth, penetrating it with motions resembling wild, unrestrained sexual thrusts.

Harry moaned into Severus' mouth and then gasped when that mouth withdrew, his fingers clenching reflexively at the fabric of Severus' robes as he sought to steady his quickened breaths. He ended up sucking in another sharp breath when his hips were grabbed a split second later and he was spun back around in a single, lightning-fast move. Another muttered incantation met Harry's ears and the DVD resumed its exhibitionistic display. Gulping in anticipation, Harry grabbed the bed's footboard again and then glanced up at the heated scene unfolding on the Muggle TV screen just as Severus grasped the waistbands of both his jeans and boxers, jerking them down past his hips and exposing his rock-hard erection at last.

"Talk to me, Harry," Severus rasped, the desire in his tone urgent now, raw, unbridled. "Tell me what you see."

"The man is on his knees now," Harry whispered hoarsely, voice shaking, "and the other man is grabbing his... grabbing his..."

"Say it."

"...his cock." Harry burst out, louder this time, forcing himself to push past his shyness. "He's... he's grabbing his cock and squeezing it... stroking it."

Harry closed his eyes, a fiery burst of pleasure tearing through him as Severus wrapped his long, slender fingers around his hard length. They gripped tightly, squeezing the base hard before sliding all the way up to the sensitive head where his thumb brushed along the tip, smearing the hot fluid collecting there.

"Oh God, Severus!"

"Now what? Talk. Tell me what's happening." Severus had moved in closer and was now whispering directly into his ear, his hot breath caressing Harry's sensitive skin.

"Oh," Harry whimpered, excitement and nervousness warring within him as he stared at the men on the screen. "Oh, he's... he's..."

"Say it, Harry. Say it, and I'll do it to you."

"Oh God... he has his other hand... his fingers... on the man's arse. And he's rubbing his fingertips around... Ahhh!"

Harry never finished. Severus murmured something under his breath and immediately Harry could feel the unmistakable sensation of cool lubricant coating his entrance. The man's fingers were on him a second later, the very tip of his index finger circling the slick, puckered skin. Another incantation was whispered, causing the DVD to pause again, but that finger carried on with its fervent task, now pushing against the resisting ring with gentle, coaxing pressure. It withdrew a moment later though, as did the other hand gripping his erection. Before Harry could react to their absence, an arm encircled his chest, dragging his now pliant, trembling body away from the footboard of the bed and guiding him to lay back on the mattress with his head on the pillow.

Not certain what would happen next – and loving the uncertainty of it – Harry watched Severus climb off the bed and shrug off his cloak. Heart hammering in his chest, Harry continued to stare, transfixed, as the man stripped off his layers of black – first his shoes and socks, then his many-buttoned vest and shirt and finally his trousers – until the only thing remaining was a pair of black silk boxers. Harry took the opportunity to feast his gaze on the man's long, willowy body, green orbs traveling over the arousing sight of that pale, smooth-looking chest, the perfect flat stomach below it and then all the way down the narrow trail of fine hair that led to the clothed erection which was straining against the dark silk confining it. Harry's hungry eyes darted back up to equally hungry ebony ones in time to see their owner sink back onto the bed and stretch out beside him.

Wrapping his arms around Harry's waist once more, Severus pressed their bodies together, adjusting the both of them so that they were lying on their sides, facing one another. Then he claimed Harry's mouth again, distracting him with deep, driving kisses while his right hand inched its way down between Harry's legs, his index finger quickly resuming its earlier efforts. After several long minutes of Severus plundering his mouth while simultaneaously teasing his entrance with slow, wet touches, Harry was reduced to a quivering pile of desperate need. In spite of that escalating need, he couldn't help the sharp gasp that escaped his lips when Severus began to ease his finger into his tight channel.

It wasn't painful – not really – but it was definitely a new sensation. Not in all the times he had masturbated while watching his movies had he ever touched himself there, let alone simulate penetration with the aid of his fingers – a fact he was certain Severus was aware of, given that the man had habitually watched him from the shadows.

"Shhh... it's OK. I won't hurt you. Push back onto my finger when you're ready, Harry."

After a few deep, calming breaths, Harry felt his body relax a bit and he followed Severus' suggestion, inching his hips back toward Severus' hand until that partially buried finger was all the way inside him.

"Mmm..." Harry moaned. Small ripples of pleasure were rushing through him now, each one of them causing his inner muscles to clench and then relax in turn. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, losing himself to the new blissful stimulation.

"Look at me, Harry. I want to see your eyes as I pleasure you," Severus whispered.

The instant Harry submitted to the request and their eyes met, Severus curved his buried finger and brushed hard against something deep inside him.

_"Fuck!_ Oh... _Oh God!"_

A burst of mind-blowing pleasure ripped through Harry with such intensity, he screamed out loud, his back arching and his fingers digging into Severus' shoulders, hips bucking back into that pleasuring finger.

Another finger was inside him now, but Harry had no idea when it had joined the first, so engrossed in those tight waves of rapturous ecstasy that were coming faster now – faster and stronger – as Severus pumped both of those fingers in and out of him.

A sharp burn rocketed through Harry a few moments later when a third finger was added. But that burn faded as quickly as it came when Severus began to stroke that glorious spot inside him again before renewing his quick rhythm of powerful, driving thrusts. Again and again, Severus drove those long fingers deep inside him, angling them for greater access, twisting them and turning them to stretch him. Every third or fourth thrust, he would brush hard against that lovely spot inside him until Harry could no longer think, his body trembling, his every breath harsh and quivering.

"Severus... Severus, please... p-please!"

"Please, what? Say it. I need to hear it, Harry. Say it."

"Sev, please..." Harry stammered through ragged breaths. "I-I need... I need you to... to f-fuck me."

A feral growl erupted from Severus' throat as he withdrew his fingers from Harry and jerked upright like a shot. After yanking off his boxers with breakneck speed, he placed his hands on Harry's shoulders, pushing him back onto the mattress as he positioned himself between Harry's parted legs.

Harry only got a fleeting glimpse of the man's thick and slightly curved erection, before his ankles were snatched up and his legs forcibly wrapped around the man's slim waist.

Once again, the dominate, driving motions of that strong, sinful tongue ravished Harry's mouth, serving as welcome distraction while Severus began to press the turgid head of his erection into Harry's entrance. Another minute of deep kisses and insistent prodding, and pain tore through Harry.

"Ahhhh..." he cried out, the burn of being breached wresting the breath from his heaving lungs.

Severus stilled instantly, his lips sliding to the corner of Harry's panting mouth where he feathered a soothing kiss. "You tell me when you can take more, Harry. I don't want to hurt you."

Tears gathered at the corners of Harry's eyes and he blinked rapidly, taking in long, shuddering drags of air while trying to relax his tensing muscles. After a long moment where Severus remained still, holding him tightly, kissing his neck and cheeks and lips while Harry took several more slow breaths, his pain lessened at last.

"Mmm... Severus... more..."

Severus pushed forward another inch and then stopped, allowing Harry's body to adjust before pushing forward again. After several achingly slow, careful pushes forward, each one followed by tender kisses, quivering breaths of shaky restraint and sweet pulses of building pleasure, Severus thrust in the rest of the way.

"Does it feel good, Harry? You want me to move?" he purred in his ear. "Do you want me to make you come?"

That last question hurled Harry's aroused mind right back to the erotic fantasy he had remembered earlier in the evening while talking to Severus in the kitchen. The reminder of it now, while Severus' cock was buried deep inside him, nearly prompted him to come right then and there, but he held himself back long enough to answer him.

"Yes. Yes, move... please..."

Severus pulled out almost all the way and then thrust back into him in one slow, wet stimulating slide of friction.

The action caused a cascade of exquisite sensation to rush through Harry's entire body, his arms, legs and groin all tingling with pulsing pleasure. Sucking in a sharp breath, he grabbed onto Severus' shoulders, his fingernails piercing the man's sweat-dampened skin when every muscle in his body clenched reflexively in reaction, his legs tightening around that slim waist, back arching up further.

Severus shifted above him, widening his stance so that his knees were further apart. Then he leaned forward further and curved his hips downward.

The adjustment in position altered the angle of that rigid length inside Harry and when Severus pulsed his hips forward once more, it slammed into that spot his thrusting fingers had rubbed against earlier. The new stimulation caused Harry to lose all sense of reality and he howled in pleasure.

As if spurred on by the unbridled cry of ecstasy, Severus pulled out of Harry with deliberate haste and then plowed back in, making sure to hit that same blissful place before withdrawing and plunging back in.

Harry moaned and panted through the sensual onslaught of vigorous pounding, his volume and desperation increasing with each powerful, frenzied propulsion. And each time, Severus drove with more force – each thrust faster, deeper, harder than the one before it.

Every one of those intense thrusts heightened Harry's already razor-sharp arousal, prompting him to spread his legs wider and buck himself up into each mind-blowing plunge, his remaining self-control swiftly dwindling as his pleasure rocketed through him.

"More... Oh God, Sev... harder... deeper..." he cried out.

Severus pulled out of him entirely and then grabbed his hips, spinning him around and yanking him up to his knees. In a flash, Severus was embedded inside him again, this time from behind, and in no time he was driving into Harry once more, harder and with more intensity than ever. After a few powerful thrusts, he leaned all the way forward, angling himself so that his buried length was brushing up against Harry's most pleasurable spot. Then he moved his hips in small circles, the man's cock stroking and rubbing his prostate on every rotation, the intense stimulation propelling Harry to a state of mindless delirium.

"YES! Oh God! Severus... don't stop!"

Harry was so close now, teetering blissfully on the edge of what he knew would be the most intense physical release of his life, and he could tell by Severus' ragged, labored breaths and escalating grunts and groans of feral bliss that the man was right on that edge with him.

Harry soon found himself plummeting over that edge when in the next second, Severus grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair. Pulling his head to the side, he leaned down further, pressing his lips to Harry's newly exposed ear and whispering into it huskily, "Come for me, Harry. I want you to come while my cock's buried deep inside you... thrusting into you... fucking you... claiming you. I need you to be mine, Harry... mine... now come for me..."

Harry's orgasm was ripped from him in a tidal wave of unfathomable pleasure, unfettered explosions of rapturous bliss rocketing through him in deep, stimulating waves. The pulsing undulations of ecstasy encompassed all of him – not just his body, but his heart, mind and soul as well. Each one of those intense waves of pleasure seemed to release another deep-seated, crushing doubt that had laid claim to him and festered deep within him for years and Harry willingly let every one of them go – every lie meant to conceal or distract, every desperate act of repression, every single debilitating fear surrounding his own sexual hunger and his yearning for a love both socially unconventional and morally reprehensible. It was all gone now, leveled to the ground in this one moment of mind-blowing pleasure and release and Harry proclaimed its joyful absence in a scream of exultant ecstasy.

"Yes, Severus! YES! I'm yours! FUCK ME! CLAIM ME!"

Severus gripped his hips harder and plowed into him over and over again until at last, the man's entire body went rigid and a deep, growl-like cry issued from his throat. Harry felt the man's hold on him tighten as a surge of wet warmth filled him, coating his insides in deep, rhythmic pulses. Each pulsation caused another tremulous moan to fall from Severus' mouth, his body shuddering through his release.

After a long, long moment filled with trembling, shallow breaths and racing heartbeats, Severus tipped forward, wrapped his arms around Harry's quivering stomach and guided them both back down to the bed. Out of breath and wonderfully sated, they held each other in comfortable silence, Severus curled up around Harry with his chest pressed up against Harry's back, his lips brushing soft kisses to the back of his sweaty neck.

Long seconds passed into longer minutes with only the contended sounds of heavy breaths lengthening and deepening filling the heavy silence. As the protracted afterglow of physical and emotional gratification wore on, dissolving back into the mundane tedium of lucid reality, Harry felt his elation falter, an entropic downfall into panic beginning to take hold of him.

_Oh God! What have I done?! I just cheated on my wife!_

Despite the loveless state of his marriage with Ginny, Harry had never imagined he would stoop to infidelity. He knew this would mean the end of his marriage – a fact which both saddened him and filled him with overwhelming relief – but he had _never_ wanted to engender that end by being unfaithful to his wife. He had figured, if it had ever come to the point where the both of them were willing to face reality and put an end to their failed marriage, it would happen peaceably – a mutually agreed upon termination of a flawed union. Now that end would be brought about in a very different light and under very different circumstances. Harry couldn't stop the deep caustic waves of shame from swelling inside his aching heart as he considered that inevitable variance fueled by his fall from grace.

His shame soon morphed into all-out dread when his next disturbing thought barreled through his now racing mind.

_What about our children? Would Ginny be angry enough upon learning of my adultery to keep them from me?_

Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight and exhaled a shaky breath as the dull ache in his heart intensified into a sharp stabbing pains, the possibility of losing his children nearly suffocating him. Could Ginny become so vengeful and bitter that she would deny Harry the right to spend time with Lily and the boys?

No, he answered himself, a wave of relief washing over him as the certainty of the situation became more clear. No, Ginny wouldn't do that. She was an incredible mother who loved their children without pause, unconditionally and selflessly. She would never do anything to cause them pain, especially something as emotionally damaging as refusing them time with their father.

But even as that small bit of comfort settled into his heart, another uneasy question begged for his attention.

_What about Severus?_

What about Severus indeed. The man obviously wanted to be with him, and Harry was fairly sure the man's desire for him extended well beyond physical longing. He had seen the yearning for emotional requital blazing within the depths of those jet-black eyes and had felt, through the man's kiss and touch, the burning need inside his heart to have all of Harry – his heart, body, mind and soul.

But perhaps Harry had read too much into that blazing look and those careful, tender touches. Maybe he had misinterpreted their night of passion. A new pang of fear twisted his heart as he dared to consider that this was really just a one off for the man, that this was just sexual gratification and nothing more.

Good God! What had he thought? That he and Severus were going to end up married and living happily ever after in Sirius Black's childhood home? Had he really been dim enough to envision Severus Snape – former Death Eater and purveyor of doom to all Hogwarts' potion hopefuls – taking on the role of surrogate parent to his three children? Severus had always hated children! For that matter, he had always hated Harry, too!

The sound of his name being whispered wrenched Harry from his spiraling reverie and he stiffened at the feel of Severus' warm lips and breath brushing the shell of his ear, terrified that the man might have somehow perceived his panic.

"Harry," Severus whispered again, more insistently this time, "look at me."

Obeying the request, Harry turned around in Severus' arms so that they were now facing one another. His gaze instantly fell into those blazing dark orbs and in the next second, Harry felt the familiar sensation of a subtle brush against his mind. It receded a moment later, followed by another whispered utterance as the man pulled him closer, pressing his lips to Harry's and speaking again in rush of soft, hesitant breath.

"I'll guide you – you need only to look deeply into my eyes and speak the incantation."

There was little doubt as to what Severus was referring. The man's impromptu mental caress, followed by his hasty withdrawal made it obvious to Harry which spell he wished Harry to cast on him. What remained a mystery however, were Severus' reasons for wanting it. Harry had only ever delved into Severus' mind once and that occurrence had been rather unpleasant as it had resulted in Harry being thrust into a memory from the man's less than happy childhood. He couldn't fathom why Severus wanted to risk a possible repeat of that moment or why it seemed so important to him.

Despite his bemusement, Harry readied himself. After drawing a steadying breath into his lungs and releasing it in a long, slow exhalation, Harry deepened his gaze into those dark, cavernous orbs, lengthening his focal point. Letting his tight grip on his own consciousness loosen, he breathed out the required incantation to enter Severus' unshielded mind,_ "Legilimens."_

His first thought was that he must have done something wrong. Harry wasn't certain what he was expecting to see, but he had never imagined this.

He found himself standing just outside the back door of Grimmauld Place, the very spot he'd stood earlier that evening when he'd heard Severus cry out in pain. This time however, there was no storm or fallen tree, no howling winds or driving rain. It was a bright moonlit summer's night – the air warm and still with stars strewn across the inky sky.

The backyard was set up for some kind of gathering. Dozens of chairs were lined up in neat rows and facing a small platform set under the very oak tree that after last night, lay broken and demised across his storm-ravaged lawn. Smiling people were milling around the decorated yard, laughing and conversing with one another, and as Harry watched them begin to move toward those lined up chairs and take their seats, he realized that these people were his friends and family, as well as his former professors from school. Harry recognized the entire Weasley family, as well as Hermione, Neville, Luna, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Hagrid and many others. Moving closer to the settling crowd, he noticed with a pleasant lurch to his heart, that all three of his children, dressed in their best robes, were sitting in the front row with Ginny. His boys were sporting identical smiles of elation and excitement while Lily seemed engrossed with a small stuffed unicorn she was playing with as she sat in her mother's lap, giggling to herself.

Harry furrowed his brow as he considered what it was he was seeing. This was not a memory. It couldn't be. This was _his_ backyard and _his_ children. Harry knew he'd never hosted any kind of gathering… or ceremony… or whatever this was at Grimmauld Place. So that only left one possibility – this was a fantasy, a dream – _Severus' dream_.

"I still can't believe Ginny agreed to come," came a whispered voice behind him. Its tone was faint, but its intonation was so weirdly familiar to Harry that he spun around and moved toward it without conscious thought. He soon found himself standing frozen in shock in his own kitchen, eyes wide and transfixed upon the surprising sight in front of him.

Dream versions of both himself and Severus were locked in an embrace, both clad in stunning dress robes – Severus in midnight black with silver trim and Harry in emerald green, the same vivid pigment as his eyes. The dream-Severus pulled away and smiled at dream-Harry, a beautiful, beaming smile filled with affection for the man gazing upon it.

"Of course she came. She's the mother of your children and she still cares a great deal for you." Severus brought a hand up to cup Harry's cheek as he spoke, his thumb sweeping affectionately across his cheekbone.

"Yeah. I know," dream-Harry replied. "I guess I just figured it might be too weird for her to watch her ex-husband marry her former Potions Professor."

"You worry too much," Severus chided, his smile growing. "You always have."

"I never thought you'd be the optimistic one in this relationship," Harry chuckled, before reaching for Severus' hand and lacing their fingers together. Then he looked up into Severus' dark eyes, his grin widening, and whispered, "Ready, love?"

Severus didn't answer. Instead he pulled Harry back into his arms and pressed their lips together, kissing him with such deliberate slowness and tenderness that emotional tears were soon sliding down dream-Harry's cheeks. When Severus withdrew, he wiped those fallen drops away with his fingers and then spoke in a hushed voice.

"Yes, Harry. I'm ready. I've been ready to make you mine for a long time. And I love you… so much."

Mind reeling and body trembling, Harry tumbled out of Severus' consciousness and gasped for breath, his heart racing at a frenzied pace and his thoughts jumbled and spinning.

Immediately, Severus tightened his grip around Harry and pressed his lips to Harry's cheeks and his closed eyelids, peppering soft kisses to his heated skin while Harry took deep gulps of air into his lungs to steady himself.

At length, Harry opened his now tearful, burning eyes and returned his gaze to those emotive dark eyes, startled to see them glistening with tears as well.

"Was that… was that just a dream?" Harry breathed out, voice trembling. His heart clenched in pain at the fleeting thought that perhaps what he had just witnessed was simply a delusion brought about by fitful sleep, a freak delve of the man's slumbrous mind into bizarre nighttime hallucinations.

"Not just a dream, Harry. It was a wish. A hope. An outpouring of truth embodying my heart's most desperate desire," he whispered. Then he brought his lips to Harry's and kissed him – the same way dream-Severus had kissed dream-Harry – deeply, slowly, lovingly.

Severus pulled away slowly, his lips still brushing against Harry's as he spoke once more, his voice now cracking with emotion.

"I have no idea what the future really holds for us, Harry. But I was being truthful when I said I wanted you to be mine." Gazing deeply into shimmering green, Severus paused, seemingly searching for the right words before continuing. "I can't promise you that the road ahead will be easy, but I'm not about to let you go – not now that I have you. I do have you, don't I, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry breathed out without hesitation, heart pounding again. "Yes. You have me. God, yes!"

Their lips met once more in an emotional, passionate kiss and Harry let the love in his heart guide his every touch and hold and intimate caress. He brought his hands up to Severus' face and then slid his fingers through the soft, ebony locks framing it as their kiss deepened and their bodies melded together, limbs entangling and heartbeats thrashing in tandem, breaths coalescing and shallowing in escalating desire.

"If you want… you can have me again right now," Harry breathed out into Severus' mouth, his arousal renewed and pulsing its fervent need.

"Oh, I _will_ have you again, love. To that you can be sure," Severus answered, his lips turning upward in a devilish smirk as he ground his hips against Harry's. "We have until Monday, after all. And I'm just getting started with you."

––––––––––––––––––––––

_Yes, it was the wind that changed my life that night and it did so in such a profound way that it ushered in the beginning of a whole new life..._

_A life with you by my side._

_Of course, it wasn't just the wind that engendered this new life. Your heartfelt, honest words that night might have also had something to do with it, Severus. Or maybe my new life's inception had more to do with me than you. Maybe it began the moment I finally noticed how my heart seemed to come alive when I stared into your eyes, beating in ways it never had before as you confessed your fervent need for me, your longing for me to be a part of your life… now and forever._

_I suppose it could be argued that I didn't deserve to feel such bliss that night, especially after so many years of living a lie, after hiding who I truly from those friends and family who cared about me. Maybe I was right to consider myself – as I had for so long – a truly awful person... a deviant... a perverted, sick and unfaithful freak._

_But in those first moments of stolen passion and emotional honesty, love, those moments of unparalled joy spent in your arms and dreaming of the years of exquisite moments that were to come, I found myself – for once in my life – caring very little for how the rest of the world viewed me... or even how I used to view myself._

_My only thoughts that pivotal night were about how much I needed you, how alive I felt now that you were finally in my life after so many years of emotional numbness and sexual repression, and how unbelievably grateful I was that fate had brought us together…_

_Grateful for the wind…_

_...and for the whirlwind love that came about because of it._

**Story End - TBC?**

**A/N:** Sorry that I was a couple of days late posting this but... well... you know how real life is... always getting in the way! Anyway, this concludes this three-part story, but if you liked this fic, you'll be happy to know I plan on following it up with another one sometime soon. Just consider this story the first of the **Whirlwind** series. But please don't ask me when the next one will be posted because I really have no idea! Maybe in the fall? :)

**Please review!**


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