Firewhiskey was aptly named, Harry decided as he finally gathered up his courage and tilted the contents of the tumbler down his throat. He winced and shook his head as the fiery liquid seared a path down the middle of his chest. Dreadful stuff, firewhiskey, but it was worth putting up with the momentary vile taste on his tongue for the warm, pleasant glow it left behind as it settled in his stomach.


He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there brooding over his drink, but judging from the thick layer of smeary fingerprints on the sides of his glass he reckoned it had to be over an hour. The pub had grown steadily noisier while he had been nursing the glass of whiskey, as dozens of wizards of all ages and descriptions streamed in to celebrate the end of the work week. At first he sat with his head down and his shoulders hunched, afraid he might be recognized; the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight was that Boy Who Lived bollocks. He'd had enough of that nonsense before he'd finished Hogwarts to last him the rest of his life. But a cursory glance around the pub revealed that most of the patrons didn't bother much with looking at their potential partners' faces, preferring to hold entire conversations with their eyes trained below the waist, instead. No one paid him any mind, and after a while the tension drained from his posture.


He shouldn't be here on Friday night, drowning his sorrows in a seedy gay pub in the worst part of wizarding London. No. He should be at home, with Severus, talking over the events of the week as they had their usual Friday evening meal in front of the fire. He should be ignoring his pudding in favor of slipping to his knees between his lover's legs, burying his face in Severus's lap while the older man urged him on by whispering obscenities and tangling his long fingers in Harry's hair. He should be spreading himself out on their bed, writhing with pleasure as Severus fucked him languidly for hours, until the sheets were in a wrinkled ball at the foot of the bed, greasy with lubricant and stained with come.


That had been their pattern every week for the seven years they had been together. It was comfortable. It was predictable.


And that was the whole problem.


"Another," he called to the barman over the noise of the crowd, pointing to his empty glass with one hand and digging for coins in the pocket of his trousers with the other. The barman smiled as he grabbed a dark flask and poured Harry another hefty serving. "Leave the bottle," Harry said, tossing a few galleons onto the bar.


"You all right, mate?" the barman asked, plopping the bottle down in front of Harry with a dull thud.


"Yeah, fine," Harry replied, giving the man a brief smile. He braced himself and took another swallow of his drink.


"Lemme guess," the barman said, leaning in conspiratorially as Harry blinked back whiskey-induced tears. "Bad day on the job, right?"


Harry nodded, wishing the man would go away and leave him to his misery. He hated chatty barmen almost as much as he hated the taste of Ogden's Old.


"You work at the Ministry, don't you," the barman said, eyeing the crest on Harry's robes. "S'not hard to understand why your day was bad then, what with the mess the new Minister's got the place in and all. And I don't suppose it 'elps that you had a row with your boyfriend last night, eh?"


Harry looked up at the man in surprise. "How did you know?" he asked in an astonished tone.


The barman chuckled at the blush coloring Harry's cheeks. "I've been watchin' you since you first came in 'ere. When you've been keepin' bar as long as I 'ave, you learn to recognize the signs." He tapped Harry's shoulder lightly. "Not to worry, mate. You've come to the right place. An 'andsome bloke like you won't 'ave any trouble findin' someone else to fill your bed tonight."


"Oh, no, you don't understand," Harry protested, though he wasn't sure why he was bothering to explain himself to a complete stranger. "I'm not looking to pick anyone up."


"If you say so," the barman said, straightening up and scooping Harry's money off the bar. "Just keep an open mind. You never know what might 'appen." He winked at Harry and turned to deal with some rowdy patrons seated further along down the bar.


Harry couldn't help but notice the barman's firm, denim-clad arse as he walked away. "Nice, ain't it," a deep voice said conversationally, making Harry jump and look away guiltily. A burly, bald-headed man dressed in a leather vest and trousers swung his leg over the stool next to Harry's and sat down heavily. "Don' worry," the man continued, "Geoff won't mind you lookin' at 'im. 'is arse is a thing of beauty. Tight as a bleedin' drum it is, too. I've 'ad a bit o' that meself." He took a long pull at the tankard of ale clutched in his fist as Harry looked on in surprise, trying to think of something to say. He was suddenly aware that the room was swimming in a blurry haze around him. He must have had more to drink than he'd thought.


"I'm Ian," the huge man said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't think I've seen you 'ere before. I couldn't 'elp overhearin' what you and Geoff was talkin' about, and 'e's right, you know. What you need to take your mind off your troubles is a good fuck." He leered at Harry and sidled in closer. "I can 'elp you there."


The earthy, masculine scent of leather and perspiration emanating from the other man was overwhelming. "No thanks," Harry said firmly, finding his tongue at last. "I'm not interested."


"You're sure?" Ian said, dropping a hand into his lap and stroking his crotch. "I promise you won't be disappointed."


Harry watched in amazement as the bulge in Ian's trousers began to grow. Encouraged by Harry's dumbstruck expression, Ian leaned forward and spoke in a low growl. "I bet that sweet arse of yours twitches real nice when it's crammed full o' cock, eh? You probably squeal like a little girl when you come. What say we find out?"


He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, and for the first time Harry noticed a ring of small, brightly lit alcoves set into the pub's walls. In one of these alcoves, a young, sandy-haired wizard bearing a striking resemblance to Remus Lupin was kneeling at the feet of a much older man, delivering an enthusiastic blowjob while a group of men seated nearby looked on. Ian squeezed his crotch again and Harry realized that this giant of a man wanted to drag him off to an empty alcove and bugger him senseless in front of God and all.


Harry swallowed a gasp and looked away quickly, his heart racing. An image flashed into his mind, an image of being pressed up against the wall with Severus behind him, his head thrown back and his hips thrusting rhythmically against Harry's while the crowd cheered them on. The thought sent a bolt of lightning sizzling straight to his cock. This was just the sort of thing they needed to bring the spice back into their sex life, Harry mused, but in the next moment he realized the thought was totally ridiculous. Severus was far too reserved a man to ever consider such a thing. Their argument the night before only served as confirmation of that fact.


Misconstruing Harry's silence for agreement, Ian slid one hand between Harry's legs. "C'mon, then," he said, lightly stroking Harry's inner thigh. "The night's not gettin' any younger."


Harry lurched to his feet and stumbled back a few steps. "No," he said again, even more forcefully this time. "Leave me alone." Reflexively, he felt for his wand through the pocket of his robes, prepared to hex the other man into oblivion if he decided to try and press the issue.


But Ian merely shrugged his shoulders. "Your loss," he said, his eyes already scanning the crowd for a more willing partner. "There's plenty o' other fish in the sea." He stood up and moved off without another word.


Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief and straightened his robes. It was time to go, he decided. He didn't belong in a place like this, and besides, Severus was probably wondering where he was. Best to just go home, see if they couldn't come to some sort of an agreement and let the matter go.


He turned and was about to make his way toward the door when something caught his eye and made him stop short. A dark-haired man was sitting alone at a table near the back of the room, idly watching the couple in the alcove as they stroked each other's erections. He was dressed all in black, his long legs crossed at the knee and one foot swinging casually in time with the music blaring through the pub. The elegant fingers of one hand traced the rim of the glass sitting on the table beside him, then curled around it and brought it to his lips for a long swallow.


It was Severus.


Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Was it Severus? No. It couldn't be.


He was about to dismiss the thought as a drunken hallucination when the other man looked up and acknowledged his stare with a slight nod. With a start, Harry realized it was Severus. What on earth was he doing in a place like this?


Frowning, Harry groped on the bar behind him for his glass and the bottle of firewhiskey and marched across the room to confront his lover. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his chest tight with a sharp surge of anger.


"I beg your pardon?" Severus replied nonchalantly.


"I said, what are you doing here?" Harry repeated.


"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Severus said. "Do I know you?"


"Severus, I'm not in the mood for..." Harry started, but Severus cut him off.


"My name is Michael, not Severus," he said. "But I suppose you can call me whatever you like." He arched one eyebrow, a tacit invitation for Harry to join him in the game. "And you are...?"


"Neville," Harry said after a moment's hesitation, giving the first name that came into his head. He cringed. He really had to come up with another name for situations like this.


"Neville. I see," Severus replied, the corners of his mouth quirking upward into a tiny smile. "Well, Neville, will you join me?" He gestured to the empty seat next to him and Harry slid into it uncertainly, putting the bottle down on the table. The situation bordered on the surreal, but he was curious as to exactly what his lover was going to do next.


"So, Neville," Severus said, shifting slightly in his seat so he faced Harry, "what brings you here tonight?"


"Oh, just looking to get pissed," Harry replied lightly. "Care for a refill?" he asked, lifting the bottle and pointing at Severus's nearly empty glass. Severus nodded and pushed the glass across the table.


"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to drink alone?" Severus teased gently as Harry filled his tumbler. "Well, no matter. I'm sure an attractive young man like yourself will be swarming with hopeful paramours before the night is through." His eyes met Harry's over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of his drink. Harry couldn't help but notice Severus's Adam's apple bobbing as the whiskey slid down his throat, and the sight lit another spark of arousal in his abdomen.


"Well no," he said, clutching his own glass to steady his hand. "I'm not in the market."


"Oh? And why not?" Severus replied, setting his glass back down on the table.


"I'm already involved with someone," Harry said.


"Ah. Someone wonderful, I'm sure."


"Actually, he's rather a snarky git," Harry said, grinning impishly to take the edge from his words. He was starting to enjoy himself. To his surprise, Severus smiled back.


"Yes, well, I've always been partial to obnoxious brats, myself," he replied.


"Well then, we should make sure our Floos are connected, and if I ever meet one I'll be sure to send him your way."


"A fine idea. Let's drink to it," Severus said, picking up his glass once more and offering Harry a silent toast. "You've piqued my curiosity," he continued after they had each drained their glasses and Harry had poured another round. Funny how the more he drank, the better the stuff tasted. "If you're involved with someone, why are you here by yourself?" Severus asked.


"We... had an argument," Harry said. "And I'm not quite sure where we stand."


"I see. What did you argue about?"


The oddity of what they were doing struck Harry with the force of a rogue Bludger just then, and he had to fight back the overwhelming urge to throw his glass against the wall and stalk out of the pub. After all he and Severus had gone through, all the time they had been together, was this the only way they could have a meaningful discussion about their differences? By acting the part of two strangers meeting in a pub?


"It's a long story," he sighed, sitting back in his chair. "And a bit embarrassing. I'd rather not get into it."


"No need to be embarrassed," Severus replied, leaning forward as though he realized the facade was about to crumble. "Here, I have something that may help you get past your discomfort." He dug into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a small vial filled with greenish liquid.


"What is it?" Harry asked curiously as Severus handed him the vial.


"A potion to ease your inhibitions. I brewed it myself."


"Is it safe?" Harry bantered, unable to resist the barb.


Severus sneered. "Of course. I know a thing or two about potions, I assure you. But if you don't trust me..." He took the vial from Harry's hand and unstoppered it, swallowing half its contents in one go. He passed it back and Harry drank the rest, grimacing at the bitter taste.


"How long before it starts to work?" he said, but before he even finished asking the question he could already feel the edges of his mind giving way. The room melted into a swirl of bright colors as every worry he had ever had receded faster than Devil's Snare in the sunlight. He felt incredibly free and open and completely unrestrained, like a helium balloon that had torn loose from a Muggle child's hand and drifted away into a clear, blue sky. At that moment, he decided there was nothing in the world he couldn't accomplish and nothing he wouldn't be willing to try. It was glorious.


"Wow," he breathed. "This stuff is amazing!"


"Quite. So, what did you and your lover argue about?" Severus asked again. His dark eyes glittered in the half-light, the pupils so huge it seemed his irises had disappeared altogether.


"Our sex life," Harry responded immediately. "We've fallen into a bit of a rut, you see. Don't get me wrong, the sex is great, it's just... we never try anything different, you know?" He realized he was gesticulating wildly as the words poured out of his mouth. "I always initiate. He always tops. We always do it in bed and nowhere else in the flat. And so on, and so on, and so on. I thought it was time we tried something new, so I made a few suggestions for things we might do. But he was... unreceptive."


"It sounds like he's a creature of habit," Severus said. "Perhaps your suggestions caught him off guard."


"I suppose," Harry said. He took another sip of his whiskey and the incredible feelings the potion had engendered grew stronger. His vision narrowed until all he could see was Severus's face: the sharp angles of his nose, the wisps of hair gently framing his cheeks, the tiny scar marking the middle of his chin. He'd seen that face every day for the past seven years, had watched it express every emotion from anger to hatred to passion, but as he looked at it now he felt as though he was truly seeing it for the first time in his life.


"Tell me, what sorts of things did you suggest?" Severus said, shaking Harry loose from his daydream.


"Well, I started off by hinting I'd like to top, for a change," Harry said. "He's not much for giving over that kind of control so he's only let me do it once or twice, but I loved it. When he didn't say no straight away, I decided to tease him a bit by suggesting we could bring someone else into bed with us. But he flat out rejected that idea."


"I can't say as I blame him," Severus said quietly. "If it were me, I wouldn't want to share you with anyone, either."


Harry's heart skipped a beat at these softly spoken words; it was the closest Severus had ever come to making an open declaration of his feelings. "Yeah, well I was only kidding, really," he went on, deeply touched. "But then I got serious and suggested we might try experimenting with bondage. It's always been a fantasy of mine to tie him down. He... went a bit mad when I brought it up." That was putting it mildly. The intensity of Severus's rage at the suggestion had taken Harry by surprise, and after witnessing Severus's reaction to Sirius in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago, that was really saying something.


"Hmm. Did you ever stop to think that there may have been certain... incidents... in his past that make the idea of being restrained during sex terribly unpleasant?"


Harry looked at Severus dumbly for a moment, his mouth falling open in surprise as the implications of this statement became clear. Severus never talked about his days as Death Eater, and Harry had learned long ago not to ask. This was the first time Severus had ever hinted about the horrors he had suffered at Voldemort's hand. Harry wished the miserable snake was still alive, just so he could kill him again with his bare hands.


"No, I didn't," Harry admitted, clenching his fists. "But it makes sense. He's had... a rough life."


"I'm sure he's not looking for your pity," Severus replied harshly, his eyes narrowing in a bright flash of anger. But then his tone softened. "He'd probably be satisfied simply to have your understanding." He took a sip of his drink and Harry could see by the lack of tension in his posture that Severus was feeling as relaxed as he himself was. "Did you ask for his opinion on what sorts of things you might try?"


"No. I had a few other ideas, but after he got so angry with me I figured the discussion was over and I went to bed. He ended up sleeping on the couch." Harry grinned. "I wish I had asked him, though. Turns out he has an interest in role-playing I wasn't aware of."


Severus laughed shortly as he set his glass back down on the table. "Has this been bothering you for a long time?" he asked quietly, his expression turning serious once again.


Harry nodded.


"Why didn't you talk to him about it sooner, then?"


"I don't know," Harry sighed. "I didn't want to put him off, I suppose. It took us a long time to get together and I didn't want to mess things up. But yesterday I had an owl from an old school friend and he was describing some of his sexual adventures and it just... got to me." He looked down at the table. The letter from Ron had been a real eye opener. The youngest Weasley son had turned out to be quite a ladies' man and seemed to spend the majority of his free time shagging as many women as he could lure into his bed. It had given Harry a momentary stab of regret to think about what he was missing. "Besides, Severus and I don't talk much about personal things," he continued after a long moment. "Mostly we just trade insults or sit together without talking at all."


Severus cleared his throat. "Perhaps it's time for that to change," he said calmly, grasping one of Harry's hands. "Harry."


Harry looked up. Severus gazed back at him with his customary grave expression, but there was an intensity to the look in his eyes that Harry had never seen before. It made the breath catch in his throat.


He scooted his chair closer to his lover and rested his forehead against Severus's shoulder. "I'm sorry we argued, Severus," he said.


"As am I," Severus replied, wrapping one arm around Harry and drawing him nearer. "Things will change at home, I promise you. And next time don't wait so long to tell me these things, you ridiculous child."


Harry grinned against Severus's collarbone and closed his eyes. He felt light as a feather and awash with relief that they had managed to come to a new understanding, even if the circumstances of their reconciliation had been a bit bizarre.


They sat together in companionable silence for a long time. Harry's head buzzed pleasantly as Severus traced lazy circles on his back with the palm of one hand, occasionally dropping a gentle kiss in his hair or brushing his fingertips along the nape of Harry's neck, drawing goosebumps. The sights and sounds of the pub faded into obscurity as Harry burrowed his face into the juncture of Severus's neck and shoulder, breathing in the warm scent of his skin. Placing one hand on Severus's chest and the other around his waist, Harry felt safe and anchored. He felt complete.


He had no idea how long they had been there like that before he noticed the rise and fall of Severus's chest was getting faster. The nipple beneath his fingers grew tight and he toyed with it unconsciously, entranced by the feel of the taut bud through the thin cotton of Severus's shirt. But it wasn't until the arm draped across his shoulders tightened its hold that Harry finally recognized his lover's body had gone rigid in his chair.


Harry glanced up questioningly. "Severus?"


Severus did not answer. He seemed to be transfixed by something in one of the alcoves across the room and did not appear to have even heard Harry speak. Curious as to what had inspired such a reaction, Harry craned his head up to see what had caught Severus's attention. The sight that met his eyes made the air rush from his lungs with an abrupt whoosh.


Ian had apparently found the other "fish" he had been seeking. Two of them, in fact. One was on all fours in front of the huge, kneeling man, his body jostling back and forth roughly as Ian pummeled him from behind. The second stood astride the bowed back of the first, grasping Ian's ears firmly as he fucked Ian's mouth with a long, thin cock. The men in the crowd were loudly cheering the performance, stomping their feet and clapping their hands, whistling and shouting words of encouragement.


It was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen.


Harry sat up in his seat and reached for his glass, taking a large swallow of whiskey to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. Blood pulsed through his groin as he set the tumbler back down with a shaking hand, feeling even more lightheaded than he had before. A quick glance at Severus's flushed cheeks and parted lips told Harry that his lover was just as turned on by the spectacle before them as he was. It was a delectable sight. A sight which simply begged for a response.


Made bold by the potion and the alcohol, Harry brushed the hair from Severus's shoulder and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the tender flesh on the side of the his neck, swiping at the salty beads of sweat he found there with the tip of his tongue. Severus shivered and dropped his head back, and Harry attacked the newly exposed skin with relish, chasing the tiny quivers up the long column of Severus's throat.


He slid one hand down the front of Severus's shirt, flicking the buttons from their holes as he went, until the garment was open enough to allow him to slip his fingers inside and trace the line of his lover's ribs. The potion seemed to have heightened his senses as well as destroying his inhibitions, for his fingertips tingled with magic as he circled the tight swell of Severus's nipple again. A gentle pinch and roll between his fingers as he nipped at a sensitive earlobe, and he was rewarded with an answering touch between his legs, a sharp tug on his trouser buttons, a swift rush of cool air on his erection as Severus pulled it loose.


The familiar feel of the work-roughened palm coiling around his cock was such a marked contrast to the novelty of their situation that Harry's heart began to pound like the wings of a caged bird trying to escape. His hand seemed to move of its own volition, drifting down along Severus's trembling belly and past the waistband of his trousers into his boxers. The head of his cock was already wet with need when Harry skimmed his thumb across it.


"Severus," he murmured against the shell of his lover's ear, "let's go home. I want you to fuck me."


The older man turned his face toward Harry's so their lips could meet. "No," he sighed into the kiss, giving Harry's cock a slow squeeze. "Here."


Harry pulled back in surprise, searching Severus's expression for any signs that he was being mocked. His eyes were glowing with a fire Harry had never seen before. "Are you sure?" Harry asked, incredulous. "I think that potion has made you a bit nutty."


"The potion, yes," Severus replied gruffly. "And the alcohol, and this beautiful cock in my hand." His hand tightened around Harry's cock again, drawing a low moan from Harry's throat. "All I'm really sure of is I want you, and I want to make you happy, and I feel so good right now I would be willing to shag you in the middle of Diagon Alley if you asked me to, so just shut up and stop asking questions before I change my mind. You might never get a chance like this again."


He stood and offered Harry his hand, helping him to his feet, and a moment later they were stepping up into one of the empty alcoves. Heads swiveled in their direction as Severus pulled Harry against his chest and brought their faces together for a deep kiss. Oblivious to the hum of conversation and the scrape of chair legs on stone as the crowd shifted in their seats to watch, they undressed slowly, toeing off their boots and working each other's buttons, their mouths conjoined until the need to shuck off their trousers and shorts forced them to separate. When the clothes were in a heap on the floor their tongues intertwined once more, hands sliding over heated skin, hardness rubbing against hardness.


It didn't take long for the pressure to begin building in Harry's groin. "I need you, Severus," he whispered against the other man's lips, flicking his tongue against the corner of his mouth. Recalling his earlier mental image of Severus fucking him into the wall, he withdrew from the embrace to turn and offer himself.


But to his surprise, Severus pulled him back. "No," he growled. "I want you to fuck me, tonight." The strange glow reappeared in his eyes and Harry blinked as the breath hitched in his chest.


Before Harry could ask again if he was sure, Severus had braced himself against the wall, tilting his hips up and back. His skin was flushed as Harry nervously ran one hand across the small of his back and along the cleft of his arse, cupping his buttocks as he let his cock graze the same areas a moment later.


A tube of lubricant sat on a shelf nearby, its length indented from the many fingers that had squeezed it previously, and Harry grabbed it and expelled a large dollop of the slick into his palm. Severus tensed as Harry tentatively pressed a finger between his arse cheeks, teasing the pucker within, parting it gently. The men in the audience started making impatient noises, urging Harry to get on with it, but he took his time stroking the tiny crevice until Severus's muscles unclenched enough that Harry felt he could safely ease his finger inside.


He worked at preparing Severus for a long time, opening him carefully, gauging the success of his efforts by the sounds escaping from Severus's mouth, the twitching of his shoulders, the toss of his head. When Harry found the sensitive spot he had been seeking and gave it a deliberate nudge, he was rewarded with a harsh cry. "Now, Harry," Severus demanded, gasping. "It's enough. Now!"


And it was enough, for both of them. Harry fisted the lubricant down the length of his erection and steadied himself with a hand on Severus's hip. Severus was so relaxed and open that the head of Harry's cock popped through the ring of muscle with surprising ease, and slowly, he slid into paradise.


The crowd began to cheer.


It was a tight fit. So incredibly tight as the muscles opened around the head of Harry's cock and then closed again around the length of his shaft that followed, gripping him like a cushioned vice. Harry watched, mesmerized, as his cock disappeared into the clenching warmth that was Severus's arse. The friction was very nearly unbearable as he pushed his way inside, deeper and deeper until his balls were straining against the back of Severus's upper thighs. His heart pounded like a freight train as he pulled back just as slowly, then surged forward again, faster this time. His movements were clumsy and his inexperience showed when he tried to establish a rhythm, pulling out just a touch too far once or twice and nearly bending himself in half as he tried to sink back inside too quickly. Finally he settled for short shallow strokes rather than longer, smoother ones, and soon he had them both hissing with pleasure.


Every nerve ending in Harry's body seemed to be centered in his cock as he rocked his pelvis back and forth, thrusting into Severus again and again, harder, then faster. He couldn't get enough of the feel of Severus's muscles quivering under his hands, the spicy-sweet taste of his skin when he flicked his tongue across Severus's shoulder blades, the pungent aroma of the rivulets of perspiration the hot lights in the alcove made run along his flanks. He wanted to make Severus feel everything he himself felt when Severus was fucking him, wanted to reach around and stroke his lover's erection, find the right angle to drive his cock against Severus's prostate until he keened with hoarse abandon, but he quickly discovered it was just too much to think about at once. The audience chanted, "Go! Go! Go!" with each thrust as he gave himself over to the siren song of his own desire and pumped as hard as he could, until the sinew in his calves and thighs was shrieking and the pressure in his balls had reached the boiling point. He closed his eyes as he plunged headlong over the edge of his climax, bright colors and flashes of light creating a whirlwind of patterns behind his eyelids, spasm after sweet, sweet spasm forcing waves of pleasure so intense he feared he might faint. He slumped against Severus's back as the waves receded, gasping for breath, mumbling his lover's name.


When Harry had slipped free of Severus's body, the older man turned in his arms and kissed him hungrily, his still unsatisfied cock jabbing into Harry's abdomen. Together, they curled their hands around it and stroked it quickly, once, twice, three times, and then his cock swelled against Harry's palm and his hot seed was gushing through their joined fingers, his head falling back and his lips parting in a loud, agonized groan. Harry smeared it across Severus's nipples and licked them clean with the point of his tongue, relishing the familiar taste as the crowd screamed its appreciation for the performance.


"Thank you, Severus," he whispered when the other man's glassy eyes were finally able to focus on his face again. "That was..."


"Amazing?" Severus supplied breathlessly, swiping his sweat-soaked hair off his forehead.


"Amazing," Harry repeated. "Simply bloody amazing."


Dazed and sated, his head still spinning, Harry barely remembered getting dressed or climbing down from the alcove. He didn't come back to his senses until he and Severus pressed through the crowd on their way toward the door. It seemed every man in the pub wanted to talk to them on the way out, telling them how good they looked together as they clapped Severus on the shoulder or surreptitiously pinched Harry's arse until he was sure he'd be black and blue the next morning. As they passed the bar, Geoff caught Harry's eye and waved him over.


"I told you you'd find someone, didn't I?" Geoff crowed, a huge smile splitting his face in two. "Now you go on home and tell that boyfriend of yours exactly what he's been missin', all right? Will we be seein' you two in 'ere again sometime?"


Severus and Harry exchanged glances. "What do you say, Michael?" Harry asked, grinning from ear to ear. He leaned in and whispered in Severus's ear, "Maybe next time without the potion?"


Severus sneered. "Don't push your luck, Neville," he said scornfully. But he too was smiling as they pushed the door open and walked out into the cool evening air.