Title: A Kiss for Luck
Word count: 554
Summary: Harry's cheek finally gets him in trouble
dementordelta asked for Snarry and a prompt of Kiss for Luck. This may be a bit of a cliche, but heck, we all love cliches now and then, right?
“Come on, Harry, we wouldn’t want to be late for Binns’ class.” Weasley bumped his shoulder against Potter’s and rolled his eyes.
“Exactly.” Granger grabbed Weasley’s hand and pulled him toward the door of the Potions classroom. The other students were already filing out, everyone looking tired and worn, usual for final exams week. “Come on, Harry.”
Potter waved his friends away. “I’ll be there soon.”
Wonderful, so it would be another of those days, would it?
Severus pretended not to notice when the brat approached his desk and then stood silently until Severus looked up at him. Merlin, couldn’t he be left in peace?
“Your final exam is over, Potter. Please leave.”
Potter grinned. “Hard to believe it’s my final two days at Hogwarts. We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we, sir?”
Severus snorted. “An understatement. Killing a Dark Lord is more than a lot”
“My last exam is next. History of Magic.”
“Hurrah for you. Is there a point to this conversation?”
Potter’s face flushed. “My point is I’d like a kiss for luck… sir.”
Usually, Severus would give Potter a look as if he were something odd and disgusting, and then ask him to leave. But today, he wasn’t in the mood for playing nice. No, this mockery had gone on entirely too long. He aimed a locking spell at the door, and then lunged out of his chair and shot around his desk.
“You have baited me since the final battle, Potter. I have tried... TRIED… to allow you your fun without losing my patience. But as usual, you have pushed too far. Harry Potter never realizes there are bloody boundaries!” He grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and shook him, raising the pitch of his voice to imitate the boy. “Sir, would you show me how to grip my rod correctly? Sir, I can think of more interesting detentions. Sir, I’d like to get in your fucking pants.”
“I… I never used that one,” Potter stammered.
Snape knew he was spraying Potter with spittle as he continued his rant, but he hardly cared. “Do you go back to your little friends and have a good laugh at my expense? Lonely, pathetic Professor Snape, probably thinks Harry Potter is actually interested in him. Isn’t that what you all say? Isn’t that the joke, Potter?”
“There’s no joke…”
Severus shook him all the harder, hoping the boy didn’t realize anger was covering up desire. Desire fueled by months of being flirted with mercilessly.
“How about this?” Severus spat. “How about I call your bluff? Will you have the nerve to tell your friends that the great, ugly bat had his lips on you? Who would ever want you then?”
Before the boy could move, Severus grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him forward, crushing their lips together.
Instead of pulling away, Potter moaned and ground closer, opening his mouth, inviting Severus’s tongue in.
They were half-dressed, frotting frantically against each other, when Severus realized maybe, just maybe, he’d been wrong about Potter’s intentions.
And if Harry missed History of Magic completely and had to make up the test later that afternoon, squirming in his seat from a rather sore bum, well, the boy had it coming, didn’t he? After all, such cheek really had to be punished.