Recipient's name: femmequixotic
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/ Draco Malfoy/ Severus Snape
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and those to whom she has licensed her creations, including without limitation Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. I make no money from this and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Severus learns an intriguing bit of information about what Harry and Draco get up to on Boxing Day and he wages a one-man war of seduction to secure his invitation for Boxing Day.
Warnings: food smut; everyone bottoms and everyone tops; a little bit of power exchange; frottage; sex in public places; voyeurism; a tiny bit of foul language; and a silly little man named Edward.
Author's/artist's notes: Thank you to my wonderful betas—you know who you are
Potter turned up several days later, alternating between scowling about something Professor Corner had done and blushing every time Severus’s fingers brushed his while exchanging parchment or tea service.
“What are your thoughts on integrating the Protego Charm with the Felix Felicis potion? They share common attributes in terms of will and intent. Potter? Potter, are you even listening to me?”
“Hmm? Oh, sorry. What did you ask?”
Severus cursed under his breath. “I’m not in the habit of repeating myself. Either come here prepared to work or don’t come at all.”
Potter flushed and ducked his head. “Sorry. My head’s not in the game tonight.”
“What did you say?”
“I—I said my head’s not in the game. It’s a Muggle--”
“I know from whence it is derived. I’m curious, though, about why you would choose that particular phrase.”
Potter looked away. “It’s not important.”
Alarmed at the thought that Draco had spilled his plotting, Severus leaned forward. “It is important if you show up here, scowling, unprepared to work. Tell me.”
Potter rolled his eyes and picked at the filigree edge of his podstakanniki.
Severus pulled Potter’s hand away but didn’t let go. At Potter’s shocked gaze, Severus said, “I’ll not have you ruining my grandmother’s things just because you’re in a foul temper.”
Potter grimaced. “Sorry. I—look, it’s really not that important.”
Severus arched his brow in a familiar way that said clearly Potter was to tell him everything. Now.
Potter huffed and stared straight ahead. “You’ll think I’m being stupid, no doubt, but it’s Corner.”
“What about him?”
“He just . . .” Potter shrugged. He looked away. “He makes me feel stupid. He says that the only reason I’m allowed to teach is because of who I am and what I did.”
Potter turned back. His expression begged Severus to tell him it wasn’t true. That he wasn’t stupid. That he’d earned his position as a Professor.
“You should not let Mr. Corner get to you like this.”
Potter looked down. “I know, I mean, I get that. It’s just—I think he’s right, I guess.”
It went completely against Severus’s nature to give comfort, but he was reminded that in the not so distant past, when he’d been feeling a bit like Potter was feeling, an anonymous benefactor had made him feel important.
“It is true that you are, perhaps, not the most academic professor Hogwarts has ever seen and, let’s be truthful, Potter, your name has cache value.”
Potter looked up. His jaw was set with defiance and his eyes glittered with spitfire. Electricity zoomed through Severus’s veins, coalescing in his groin as Potter’s nostrils flared and his cheeks pinked with indignance. Before Potter could ruin the moment by saying something, Severus continued.
“Allow me to finish. Despite those things, you engage the children and make them want to learn. You make them believe that they can achieve what you set before them. Corner is a bookish prat who connects more with moldy pages than with people. I should know—it takes one to know one. He’s an idiot and you’re an idiot for listening to him.”
Severus felt a squeeze to his hand. He looked down. Somehow, Potter had tangled up his fingers with Severus’s.
Severus inclined his head. “I never tire of telling you that you are an idiot.”
Potter laughed. The sound made Severus feel inexplicably light. Potter untangled their fingers and resettled his hand elsewhere. The guilty flush to his cheeks, though, made Severus’s lips curl into a smile.
“So, er, the Protego Charm?” Potter ventured.
Severus toyed with whether to go forward. Decision made, he pushed the tea, and what remained of the dark chocolate toffee bites, aside. He snapped his Potions tutorial closed and stood. “I believe we’ll not accomplish more on that topic. Come. There are other things we can do this evening. I need assistance in the lab.”
“I’m not scrubbing caldrons.”
“A good idea, but not what I need. No, I need your assistance with preparing my sopophorous bean pods for the Master Potions Guild conference next week. You have heard of the Master Potions Guild, haven’t you?”
Potter had the audacity to smirk. “I may have. You’ve only mentioned this conference about thirty times over the last fortnight.”
“It is a great honor to be selected for the League. My membership was in dispute due to my past. It was only an anonymous benefactor that got me in. I’ll not squander my chances nor will I abide any ribbing about it.”
Potter’s face sobered. “It is a great honor. One you deserved. I’m—Draco and I, that is, we are rather pleased for you.”
Severus pursed his lips. All of the honesty and comfort and earnestness hanging heavy in the room made his skin itch. He turned and motioned for Potter to follow him to his small laboratory.
“The opened pods need to be put in the Suspending Solution in that jar, just there. Remember, the tip of a silver blade down the seam of the pod is all that’s necessary.”
Potter rolled his eyes. “I actually got a NEWT in Potions, if you’ll recall.”
“By the skin of your teeth, as I recall. Silver blade. Tip. Seam of the pod.”
“And what will you be doing?”
“Pulling the stingers from Peruvian Pufferfish. Why? Do you suggest a trade?”
Potter shuddered. “Not on your life,” he mumbled as he slit the first bean pod and dropped it into the Suspending Solution.
They worked in companionable silence for a long while—letting the seriousness of their earlier conversation dissipate.
Severus happened to glance at Potter and nearly dropped the pufferfish he was plucking. Potter, in a deep state of concentration, was poking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and swirling it as he carefully split each seam. It was obscene what the man did with his tongue . . . obscene and deeply arousing. Severus felt the stirrings of an erection as Potter’s tongue swirled with each neat cut of the blade. Draco’s encouragement to speed things along came back full force. There was nothing like a good bit of sexual maneuvering to cure the itch of earnest compassion.
Severus put down his pufferfish and removed his lab coat. “Do you need to let Draco know where you are?”
Potter looked up. His perfect little tongue darted back into his mouth. His brows furrowed in confusion. Severus rather liked that particular expression on Potter.
“Draco knows where I am.”
“Ah. So he’s not expecting you back at any time?”
“Erm, no,” Potter said slowly, as if trying to figure out what Severus was getting at.
“I often hear so many people bemoaning the fact that they have to let their partners know where they are at all times of the day and night. It’s refreshing to hear that you and Draco aren’t like that.”
“Oh. We trust each other, we’re our own people with our own lives.”
Severus walked around the corner of the table with an exaggerated swagger and said, “Wouldn’t you worry about him? Spending all night, alone, with another man? He’s grown into quite a fetching young man, you know.”
“Er, yeah, he—he has.”
Severus looked Potter up and down. “And so have you. No longer a scrawny street urchin, are you? So, shouldn’t Draco worry about you? Alone. With another man.”
Potter flushed. “I—I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Come now. Surely you’d realized that I’d noticed the glances you’ve tossed my way—and the ones I’ve given you,” Severus said after a slight pause.
Potter looked terrified for a moment before breaking out in laughter, the sound flustered and nervous. He got hold of himself and tried to strike an alluring pose. It was quite comical, Severus thought. Potter was all long limbs and fumbling, furtive movements. It wasn’t any less arousing, however.
“It’s not like I—either of us, Draco and I, I mean—have anything to worry about being with you. You’re far too honorable a man to try and woo one of us, aren’t you?” Potter asked with a saucy wink, playing along.
Severus gazed at Potter and hoped that it was smoldering. He rather liked the idea that he had a smoldering gaze. “No, not just one of you—you’re quite the matched set.”
“Sir?” The word lilted up with a small squeak.
Severus rolled his eyes, all the while stepping closer. “You’re not very good at teasing, are you? That’s a Gryffindor for you. No Slytherin sensibility.”
Potter bit his lip. “Ah, yes, well . . .I guess I’ve never known you as the joking sort.”
“Hmm,” Severus answered.
Potter looked uncertainly at the bean held fast between his thumb and index finger. He lifted the knife to make another cut, but hesitated. “Sir, I mean, Severus?”
Potter hesitated again. “Nothing. Sorry. Um, how are these, then?” he asked while gesturing towards the finished beans.
Severus swept around the side of the table and stood very close to Potter while pretending to scrutinize the sopophorous beans. “Ten points, Mr. Potter, for clean Potions work.”
Potter nodded, his head still down, the silver blade poised at the top edge of the bean he was still holding.
“Though I suppose you’re not a student anymore. Perhaps I should find a more suitable way to reward you?”
And then, in Severus’s estimation, the most fortuitous thing happened. The knife skittered across the bean and nicked Potter’s wrist. He yelped in surprise and grimaced. His gaze shot to Severus, showing he at least had the sense to know that sopophorous bean sap in the blood stream—even in minute quantities—was dangerous.
Severus wasted no time. He grabbed Potter’s wrist and brought it to his lips, sucking and tonguing the wound, drawing out the sap. There were, of course, other, more practical ways to accomplish the task, but Potter wasn’t complaining about Severus’s methodology. In fact, he seemed quite taken with it.
He smiled inwardly as Potter groaned. Confused eyes met his, but Severus gave him no quarter.
Severus continued to stare as he licked and sucked, making sure he’d drawn all of the sap out. Even after he was sure it was gone, he didn’t let go of Potter’s wrist.
“Is—is it all out?”
“Not sure.” Severus licked Potter’s wrist with the flat of his tongue.
Potter moaned and swayed on his feet.
“I think I need to keep checking. One must be thorough in a delicate operation such as this.”
“I—I don’t think--”
But Severus didn’t give Potter a choice. Instead he smiled and returned to tonguing Potter’s wrist. When Potter’s eyes fluttered closed and he began making incoherent noises in the back of his throat, Severus withdrew.
Potter’s eyes snapped open, the haze of lust apparent.
“You seem out of sorts, Potter. I think you should sit down.” Severus led Potter to a chair in the far corner. Potter seemed to fall into it, unable to keep himself upright. He wiggled and panted and tried in vain to keep his eyes on the far wall.
Severus kneeled in front of Potter, drinking him in—the flush of his cheeks, the soft panting breaths, the wild, confused gleam in his eyes. Potter looked as though he was on the verge of breaking apart.
Severus’s thumb moved back and forth across Potter’s wrist. Potter’s head jerked to the side as if noticing for the first time that Severus still held it. His eyes followed the back and forth sway of Severus’s thumb over the pulse point.
“Why are you doing this?” Potter whispered.
“I’m merely attending to your wound. That could have had terrible--”
“No, that’s not what you’re doing. You’re—you’re . . . trying to . . . trying to seduce me. I think. Why?”
Severus reached up with one hand and brushed away a lock of Potter’s hair. “You’re a very attractive young man and I know you’re attracted to me.”
Potter looked away, the flush of his skin more pronounced. “M’not.”
“Oh, but you are. I see it in your eyes.”
Potter whimpered. “I—I’m with Draco.”
“I know that. But I know that you like to have fun on occasion. I thought you might like to have fun with me. Like you did with Edward.”
Harry gasped. “You—how do you—does Draco know you know?”
Severus smirked. “Think about that, Potter. Would I dare do this if he didn’t?” Severus drew Potter’s wrist to his mouth and licked and suckled until Harry was moaning and jerking his hips.
“St-stop. You—you have to stop,” Potter said, but his free hand moved down and started rubbing frantically against his cock.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Severus said between licks. “I saw you two that night. In the Prefects’ Bath. Fucking each other. I saw the way Draco bit down on your wrist, making you sing like a siren. I know what you like. What you want. What will put you over the edge.” Severus bit down on Harry’s wrist hard, nearly coming when Harry screamed, and arched, and writhed.
“Please, stop. Fuck. Please.”
“I stop when you stop.”
Potter moaned again as Severus used the point of his tongue to circle the pulse point. Potter slid down in the chair, his hand working hard and fast against his cock.
“I’m going to—God—stop—I’m going to—I’m going to--”
“Stop talking and do it already,” Severus snarled as he bit again and gloried in Potter’s wailing cry.
Potter’s body went slack and started sliding out of the chair. Severus grabbed him by the waist and hauled him back into a sitting position. Potter eventually came back to himself, but Severus didn’t let go. Not even when Potter’s eyes fluttered open and caught sight of Severus.
They stared at each other until Potter’s breathing slowed to normal, until Potter looked down at Severus’s hands, still curled around his waist.
Potter groaned. “We-we shouldn’t have done that. Draco’s going to kill me.”
Severus couldn’t help but laugh. Only Potter would say something like that in the post-coital moment. “I rather think he’ll want the gory details, Potter. You’ve nothing to worry about with Draco.”
Confusion passed across Potter’s face until his comprehension made his eyes narrow into jealous little slits. “You’ve done something with him, too, haven’t you?”
Severus gave an enigmatic shrug of the shoulders.
Potter knocked Severus’s hands away and stood. He started charging for the door before Severus was on his feet, grabbing Potter from behind. He pulled him flush against his chest and snaked his arms around, thus containing a snarling, struggling Potter.
“Let me go, you bastard. I can’t believe you’d do this to me, to Draco. To us.”
Severus pulled Potter closer and dropped his lips to Potter’s ear. “Stop struggling. Stop it. Right now. I want you both, you idiot. Together. Both of you.”
Potter stopped struggling and cocked his head as if to better hear Severus’s words.
“That’s right. Both of you, do you understand?”
Potter’s breath caught. He nodded. “Why?” he asked.
Severus nipped at the shell of Potter’s ear, taking note of his soft gasp. “Does it matter?”
Potter tried to twist around so that he could face Severus. “Of course it does.”
Severus sighed. Draco had warned him about this. He should have known that Potter would require meaning behind every gesture, every decision. Why could he not accept that Severus simply wanted them both and had set out the claim them?
“Come for dinner the Saturday night after I return from my conference. The both of you. Perhaps sharing a meal, a few drinks, and a bit more might explain things to you, hmm?”
“I—I don’t know. Draco--”
“Draco knows about this, Harry.” And, Gods, didn’t that name fail to trip off the tongue? “He knows. He wants it, too. Talk to him.”
Potter let his head drop. “You—you just want Draco, really. I—I know what happened. That night during the war.”
Severus let Potter go, though Potter lingered for a few moments before stepping out of Severus’s embrace. He didn’t turn around.
“Perhaps that was the case. In the beginning.” Severus reached out, his fingers almost touching Potter’s hair before he let his hand fall away. “Not anymore.”
“Talk to Draco. Come for dinner on Saturday after next.”
Potter swallowed and nodded. He turned and left, closing the door softly behind him.
Severus had just taken a bite of rare roast when Draco finally came out with whatever he’d been smirking about all through lunch. He’d been rather annoying, actually. Even as Severus had regaled him with tales of his Potions convention, Draco smirked.
“Harry was an incoherent, shagged-out mess when he came home Thursday before last. It took an entire night of wild sex to calm him down. Didn’t think I’d be able to sit for a week after that.”
Severus choked. Through the watery glaze of tears, he thought he saw Draco smile as if he were the cat with the cream.
“I did warn you, you know,” he continued, pretending not to notice Severus’s distress. “Harry’s not as pragmatic as you or I about human affairs. What did you do to him anyway? He wouldn’t say. He just blushed and stammered and fucked me harder every time I asked.”
Severus reached for his water goblet, unable to breathe for the coughing and choking.
“Severus? You okay?”
Severus slammed his empty water goblet on the table and fixed Draco with a stare that he hoped Draco could feel burning through the back of his head. “Boasting, Draco? Just what shortcoming are you compensating for? Or, perhaps, it’s an issue of size?” Severus was going for snide, but the rasp in his voice rather queered the effect, he thought. Still, he managed to provoke a distinct bristling before Draco rallied back.
Draco leaned forward, his eyes glittering with malicious glee. “Trust me when I tell you that you’ve nothing to worry about in the size department. When I shag you, you’ll feel it to the very tips of your toes.”
Severus’s fork dropped to his plate. The choking returned.
Draco’s heavy lidded eyes looked him up and down. “How’s it feel to have the shoe on the other foot? Or, do you prefer the foot to cock analogy better?”
Severus quelled the ridiculous choking sound he was making and got back into the game. That was one thing he liked about Draco—his gamesmanship was par excellence. In that regard, he and Potter were completely mismatched.
Severus dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “Feeling a bit sexually frustrated, Draco?” He leaned back in his chair, as if he meant to run his socked foot up Draco’s leg, across his thigh, and rub against his cock. “Perhaps a repeat of our last lunch is in order?”
Draco laughed. “Not this time. No, I think it’s time you got a taste of your own medicine.”
Severus arched a brow. He made a point of looking at his lap. “Funny, but I’m not feeling anything. Is your foot that small or are you being gentle?”
Draco smiled, not rising to the bait. He raised his glass in toast before tossing his head back and drinking his wine in one long, sinful swallow. Severus’s mouth went a bit dry.
“So,” Draco began, changing the subject. “When he was finally coherent, Harry told me that you’ve invited us for dinner this Saturday. I never knew you were so hospitable.”
“I can be quite charming when pressed,” Severus said with a deliberate sneer.
“Of that I have no doubt. Will there be actual dinner involved or is that code for drinks and shagging?”
“Dinner, of course. I’ve seen how tetchy Potter gets when he’s not had his requisite supply of sugar and meat, and that would rather kill the mood I think.”
Draco laughed. “Unless you’re into angry wall sex, that is.” Draco stared at the far wall, as if remembering something. He licked his lips. “We should try that sometime. You against the wall, me pounding into you, Harry, between you and the wall, taking you down to the root.”
Severus’s erection, which heretofore had been pleasantly interested in the conversation, stood as tall and hard as it dared, as if it could leap into the conversation.
Draco’s eyes cut to Severus’s. “I bet you’re harder than you’ve ever been in your life right now. Just like how you’ve made me feel every lunch we’ve shared lately. Just like how you made Harry feel when you did . . . well whatever you did.”
Severus felt the press of a socked foot against the inside of his calf. He pushed away from the table with a wry smile. “Careful, Draco, it doesn’t do to be predictable.” He stood from the table and got as far away as he could as quickly as he could.
Though, in retrospect, the toliet wasn’t very far away at all and, depending on how one looked at it, it was either the best or the worst decision he could have made.
It happened so quickly. In one moment he was willing his erection down so that he could take a piss and in the next, there was a flash of blond hair, the feel of a body pinning him from behind, and the tingle of a cleaning spell skating across his cock.
“What in the hell do you think--” Severus’s words dissolved into a groan as pale hands grabbed hold of his cock and began running up and down.
“This too predictable, Severus?”
“Forgive me for thinking that you wouldn’t sink so low as to accost me in the toilet,” Severus said, while flexing his hips. His eyes flicked to the door. “A warding spell or a simple Confundus wouldn’t be amiss.”
“I don’t think so. Come fast or come in front of strangers. Your choice.”
The thrill of getting caught zoomed through Severus. With an incoherent grunt, he braced himself against the wall and closed his eyes, bucking his hips in earnest. “Then put your back into it and mind the head,” he groaned, his forehead resting against the large mirror in front of him.
“I know what this is all about. You think you’ll finally get your wish. You want me to fuck you. Hard. You’ve always wanted it. Haven’t you?”
Draco’s hands moved faster, his breathing sounding rough and labored to Severus’s ears. He felt Draco’s erection digging into the small of his back and nearly came undone.
“You’ll finally get it out of your system, yeah? A night of fucking. Is that what you want?”
“No,” Severus groaned. Draco’s hands faltered, apparently as surprised as Severus at the word. Severus hastened to amend the statement. “Not—not just one night,” he wheezed, spurring Draco back to work. “Not just you. Potter, Harry---the both of you.”
Draco leaned in and bit Severus’s shoulder, just like he’d done to Potter all those weeks ago in the Prefect’s bath. Severus’s back arched from the stinging pain of it. “Ah,” he cried out, his hips jerking in uneven time, syncopated against Draco’s equally uneven squeezes and slides.
“And if . . . and if it was just the one night?” Draco panted as he rutted against Severus’s backside while masturbating him from the front.
“Then I’d take it,” Severus said in a rush of words as his arousal reach fever-pitch.
“And if there were . . . there were others?”
Severus growled and snapped in response, sounding more animal than human.
A puff of warm breath hit the back of his neck. “Possessive. Not surprised. You’re asking for a lot,” Draco said.
Severus looked up then, startled by his reflection in the mirror. Color tinged his cheeks and his face was contorted in an expression that seemed half ecstasy, half agony. But it was Draco’s face staring at him in the mirror—his eyes intent, his hair ruffled—that undid Severus. “I’ll take what you can give,” he gasped before come shot out of him in thick, ropey spurts. He continued staring as Draco’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back as he rutted harder and harder against Severus, finally coming himself with a small gasp.
Draco fell heavily against Severus, pushing him further against the urinal wall and the mirror. His fingers skimmed across Severus’s soft penis, as if soothing it. Severus’s hand reached down and tangled with Draco’s, squeezing. After a long stretch of silence filled only by soft pants and the rustle of cloth, Draco’s hand withdrew.
Severus cleaned himself off and redid the zip of his trousers. He didn’t bother to tuck in his shirt. He turned, expecting to find a cocky smirk on Draco’s face. What he found instead was earnest appraisal, questions that couldn’t be voiced, and affection.
“Why is this so important to you?” Draco asked in a whisper.
“Because I want it and you both want to give it to me.”
Draco nodded, though Severus wasn’t sure if it was a nod of understanding. “I thought—I thought this was just a game to you.”
“It is, but then everything’s a game, Draco. Just because it’s a game doesn’t lessen it’s meaning.”
Draco swallowed and looked away.
Severus stepped forward. His fingers skimmed the side of Draco’s face. “You should know by now that I play to win. I think we all know that I’ll have my one night, at least. But I plan to have more—much, much more. The both of you in my bed for as many nights as I can win.”
“I told you, we don’t--”
“I know what you said, and I’m telling you I don’t care. I’ll take all that I can get by fair or foul. I want you both, and I’ll have you.”
“We’re not possessions.”
“No, not if you give yourselves freely. Come Saturday. I’ll give you a small taste. Perhaps you and Potter can do the same.”
Anything else they might have said was cut short by a small wizard dashing into the toilet. He looked at them strangely before going about his business.
“Saturday, then,” Draco said before he left.
“Saturday,” Severus repeated.
The table groaned under the weight of platters of bliny stuffed with caviar and sour cream, pelmeni, golubsty, smoked pork loin, smoked salmon, and other delicacies Severus remembered from his youth. The samovar, gleaming in the firelight, hissed and steamed, suffusing the room with the rich smells of black tea and mint. His grandmother would have been proud, Severus thought. Perhaps his mother as well. There was a certain order to welcoming people to one’s home—it was a tradition that Severus had never seen fit to take part of. Until recently.
Severus turned to see Draco standing in the doorway, Potter hovering next to him. “By all means, let yourself in.”
Draco smirked and strode in, flinging his winter cloak in the general direction of the cloak rack by the front door. Potter stood on the threshold, biting his lip.
“You’re letting the cold air in. Come in and shut the door,” Severus said.
Potter stepped through and busied himself with removing his cloak. He dropped it twice before he managed to hang it. Even then, his movements were jerky and fumbling.
“All of this for us?” Draco asked, surveying the laden table.
“Dobby prepared the meal.”
“Knew Harry was coming, I guess,” Draco murmured.
A muted clink caused Draco to look in Potter’s direction. Severus’s gaze followed. Potter had knocked over an antique brass scale and was trying to set it to rights.
“He’s a bit nervous,” Draco said, staring at a plate of bittersweet chocolate pieces, looking a bit disconcerted.
“I never would have guessed.”
“Now’s not the time for sarcasm,” Draco hissed as Potter finally joined them.
“All of this looks amazing,” Potter chirped. He pointed at the golubsty. “Look, Draco. Stuffed cabbage.” He leaned forward to get a better look and came close to knocking the pork loin platter to the floor. Severus caught him just in time.
“Sorry,” Potter said with a rueful grin.
Severus’s lips pursed. The evening was not starting as he would have hoped. “Perhaps some tea would be a good way to start,” he said.
“I’ll help,” Potter chirped in that annoyingly over-bright voice he had when he was nervous.
Severus stopped him. “No. You sit on the sofa before you knock anything else to the floor.”
Chagrin blossomed across Potter’s face in a beautiful shade of scarlet. Draco narrowed his eyes and leveled his most poisonous glare at Severus. Severus rolled his eyes and turned away, trusting Potter to sit and Draco to follow.
“You don’t have to be such a bastard. I told you he was nervous,” Draco hissed as he clanked teacups on saucers.
“Careful with those. They’re quite valuable,” Severus said as he poured the tea from the two teapots on top of the samovar.
“What’s this, then?” Draco asked, staring at it.
“Ask Potter,” Severus said, deciding to add vodka to the cups. After a moment’s hesitation, he added another shot to the cup on the far right.
“What are you doing?”
“Loosening everyone up.”
“And the one on the end? Who’s that for?”
Severus glared at Draco.
“Oh. That would be for Harry, then.”
“Yes, that one’s for Potter. Now, take his cup and yours and let’s go make agonizing small talk until the vodka works its magic.”
Draco’s grin was positively salacious. “You’ve never seen Harry tipsy, have you?”
“Sadly, I have been denied that particular pleasure.”
“Don’t tease. And it is quite pleasurable. He’s quite affectionate when he’s drunk,” Draco said with a wink before sauntering off.
Draco gave Potter his cup and whispered something that made Potter smile. Draco ran a quick hand through Potter’s hair before sitting beside him. It was such a small gesture of affection—one given unconsciously, Severus suspected—but so telling in its simplicity that it made Severus ache.
Potter looked up and caught Severus’s gaze. Severus took a hasty sip of tea to cover the fact that he’d been caught staring. Potter examined his cup with furrowed brow. “Where are the podskanni--”
“Podstakanniki,” Severus corrected, wondering if Potter would ever learn to pronounce the word correctly.
“—podstakanniki, right. So where are they?”
“I’ve only the two.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot.”
Draco watched the wordplay bounce back and forth, clearly not understanding. A vicious sense of satisfaction soared through Severus at the fact that he and Potter shared something that didn’t include Draco.
“They were my grandmother’s—the podstakanniki. Potter’s quite taken with them.”
“They’re nice,” Potter grumbled before taking a large sip of tea. His eyes shot wide. He broke out into a coughing fit, slamming the teacup on the saucer. “What’s—what’s in that?” he gasped out in a raspy voice.
“Vodka. You seemed nervous.” Severus took another sip of his tea, amused by Draco’s fussing over Potter as he continued to cough.
Potter’s mouth fell open. He turned accusing eyes to Draco who shrugged and nervously sipped at his own tea. “I’m not nervous,” he said, snatching up his cup and taking another large sip, suppressing his coughs in its wake.
PART ONE | PART THREE