Author: Parseltongue

Title: The Lighthouse Keeper

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry-Severus

Rating: NC-17+

Warnings: Male to male sex, just so there's no confusion.

Beta: Nemesis. With grateful thanks.

Author's Notes: This is AU and bears little, if any, resemblance to any of the JK Rowling's books, the characters therein or to actual record of the heroic act of Grace Darling in 1838 whence came the idea for this story. The Harry I write about is of legal age. Any similarities between this story and another are purely coincidental and I apologise in advance to any other author already published, if my work even remotely resembles theirs. I wish history was as interesting as this when I learnt about it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, Severus Snape, etc. They belong to J.K. Rowling and to whomever she sold the rights. I am making no money from this. It is a piece of fan fiction and as such is written for pleasure – mine and anyone else who cares to read it.

Archive: Part of the From Dusk To Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardsai.com/HPSS/story index.htm

Challenge: Historical.

Harry Potter stared out the window as the rivulets of water slithered down the glass pane. Jagged forks of lightning briefly lit the roiling clouds and Harry peered intently trying to pierce the gloom of the seething, boiling sea for the brief glance he'd managed a scant few seconds earlier. Trying to see past the huge waves battering the rock on which their haven sat steady as the rock of ages with sheets of spume and sea spray flung uncaringly into the sky Harry sought the small speck of colour he'd sighted in the grim darkness of mother nature's fury that smothered even the light from their lighthouse beam.

Wind howled around the metal work and rattled at the windows, its skeletal fingers seeking to pry loose the sturdy catch that secured the window frame.

Another jagged flash and on its heels the rumble of thunder. He caught sight of his target and frowned. Funnels. Several funnels. A steamship. Harry concentrated and waited impatiently for the next flash. There it was. No smoke. No spewing smoke from the stacks meant there was no forward movement. Harry's eyes flicked to the rocks bewhiskered with sea froth and back to the steamship. It was closer to the rocks. Furiously he scrubbed the fogged breath from the window pane with the cuff of his shirt and watched as more lightning arced across the sky. He gasped as a huge wave flung the floundering vessel hard against the Big Harcar rock. There was no sound that could reach over the wailing, wuthering, mithering wind as it fled over the sturdy stone of the lighthouse but even so Harry winced as the clean lines of the steamer were marred by the jagged stone. The stern broke away from the bow and even as a wave swept the bow further onto the rock the stern slid from its precarious position amid the crevices of the stone and gaping maw-wide slid into the sea and was – gone.

Harry searched for signs of lifeboats and saw none.

He drew back from the window and exited his room. He pulled open the door and stepped out onto the curling staircase that wormed its way up the inner side of the stone set against the elements. His footsteps were sure as he raced down the several flights of stairs and opened the door to the ground floor room. Lamp light showed Remus bent over the table that served as kitchen table, school desk and work table, the inked pen scratching furiously across the pristine page of the lighthouse journal.

“A ship's foundered on Big Harcar.”

The quill clattered to the table top, ink spilling across the wooden top marring its surface.

Remus turned and Harry noted the sudden paling of his skin and the tremor bedevilling his fingers. Remus followed his line of sight and immediately stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Harry regretted blurting out the news, biting his lip as he remembered the picture frame of a smiling woman and two small children in a pewter frame set by Remus' bed. Memories of three souls sleeping beneath the surface of the sea.

“Survivors?”

Harry winced at the grated query. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I can't see any. It's too dark even with the light spilling from the lamp.”

Remus' eyes closed and he hunched down in the wooden seat.

“And the sea's too rough and the North Sunderland lifeboat can't launch in these conditions. They'd never get it past the breakers.”

Remus nodded, eyes still closed deep creases marring his brow and cheekbones accentuated by his sallow skin. He shivered and then stood. He walked across to the small chest in the far corner and slowly knelt before it.

“Help me check the aid chest, Harry.”

“You think there might be survivors?”

Harry hurried across to join him at the brass bound chest. Remus shrugged.

“I can only hope and pray that there will be some spared this raging fit of Mother Nature so we must be ready to aid them. There is nothing else we can do while the waves rage and batter at the door and walls. Help me inventory the contents and then we'll check on the lamp and trust in God's mercy that no other ship will fall foul of Big Harcar.”

With that Remus lifted the lid and they began to sort through the chest checking everything against the list written in the neat hand of Sirius Black. Harry sighed. Sirius had gone to the mainland yesterday to collect their monthly stores and the oil for the lamp. Harry knew that they had more than enough stores and oil and wicks and polish to outlast this storm but winter was fast approaching and provisions had to be brought in before the worst of the storms isolated them for the next five or more months.

Blankets, woollen footlet slippers, cough tincture, brandy (for medicinal purposes only) Harry managed a brief smirk. He knew that Sirius hid his stash of the devils' drink amid the barrels of lamp oil and Remus had his hidden under his bed. Bandages, tinctures to stop fevers, needles, suturing cotton, all manner of things that they might need isolated as they were eight to nine months of the year.

All was carefully checked and then replaced.

Remus moved his neck and shoulders and slowly stood grunting slightly as muscles complained against long held positioning. Harry struggled to his feet and chewed at his bottom lip as he glanced at the clock. Oh, how slowly its hands moved!

“Check the fire, Harry and place some blankets in the warmer whilst I set soup to cooking.”

Hopefully there would be survivors to use the blankets and sip the soup clutched in cold-shrivelled and stiffened joints but Harry made no mention of the fact all too aware of the fickle nature of the briny.

The tasks were everyday ones but with each blanket set to warm or fuel loaded into the store box Harry gnawed at his bottom lip. Remus stood hunched over the wooden chopping board the knife blade slicing through potato, turnip, carrot and onion. The accumulated slices were slowly added to the sturdy stockpot that lived in the very back corner of the stove where tiles met iron.

As Remus gathered up the pot Harry strode to the pump handle and primed it before slowly pulling the handle down and back up again. The water spilled into the pot and when it was two thirds full Remus slid it onto the top of the stove and clapped the lid on it. It would simmer for several hours before it would be ready to eat. Harry grimaced. No fresh bread. Sirius was due to make it before he left but they'd been engrossed in watching the gulls and terns wheeling and diving around the school of fish that swam in the sea below the edge of their rocky shore and had lost track of time. Sirius had cussed a blue streak when Remus had called down to warn him of the passage of time and had left at a brisk walk to the larger vessel they used for ferrying their stores.

“Check the fire's laid in Sirius' room.”

Harry nodded and stepped out into the corridor. He shivered as he pulled the door behind him and stepped briskly over to the winding staircase once more.

“Be mindful of what I say, Harry. We never run in a lighthouse. It's too unsafe. If you should fall and break a bone there's no doctor here and the trip to the mainland would be a sea of pain, literally.”

Harry had taken the message from Sirius to heart and always walked to his destinations. And running on salt slicked rocks outside was an invitation to disaster.

He set foot to the bottom step of the staircase and surged up them skipping one every so often to make his legs stretch and help to keep himself limber.

Up the first flight of stairs and he opened the door and inhaled the sweet scent of cherry wood tobacco that Sirius favoured. He stepped over the threshold and noted the neat orderly mien of the room.

“Everything has a place, Harry. I'm lazy you know. I don't have to work so hard if I put everything back after I use it and I'll always now where to find it the next time. You should try that.”

Harry snorted at the memory for he knew it came from the necessity of keeping all your belongings in a sea chest. He sighed as he thought of his own chest with so much space in it.

He walked over to the small stove set by the inside wall and opened the door of the pot belly. The paper was set and the kindling too. All it needed was a match. Satisfied, Harry exited the room making sure to close the door behind him and then surged up the stairs to his own room. He checked the stove there too, added a bit of fuel and then drawing a deep breath walked over to the window and peered through the gloom.

The sky was lightening and he gasped for he could see figures moving on the rock. The monstrous swell was slowly subsiding. He dashed for the door and skidded to a halt. Mindful of the rules he walked onto the landing and took care as he moved swiftly down the staircase once more until he reached the ground floor. He was breathing a little faster as he opened the door.

“I saw movement on the rock. Someone's out there Remus.”

Remus nodded.

“Yes. And it is up to you and me to aid them.”

Harry blinked and then blinked again and thought back to the waves he could see from his window.

“Sirius is not here and I cannot do this alone. Will you help me Harry?”

Harry nodded.

“Then get ready and we'll launch the coble.”

Harry drew in a deep breath and walked back out into the corridor. He moved to the oilskins and Wellingtons and bent to unlace his boots. He set them to one side and slipped his stockinged feet into the legs of the oilskin trousers shivering as the material leeched warmth from his skin. He grimaced as his feet slipped into the Wellingtons and then reached for the heavy jacket. For a moment he stood stock still feeling the weight of the waterproof clothing weighing him down and then he shrugged. It would be of no matter. If they lost the boat or were flung into the sea they would die from the cold before they could drown. The weight of the oilskins would drag them under swiftly. Drowning was supposed to be a peaceful way to die but he'd seen too many dead bodies pulled from a watery grave to believe that. Resolutely he did up the stiff fastenings and shivered as the cold surface swiped across his chin. He grabbed the hat and clapped it on his head sliding the sliding cord toggle under his chin. The wind might tug at his headgear but with the cord tightened it would stay in place and hopefully keep the cold water from trickling down his back to chill him. He dug the woollen fingerless gloves from the left pocket and slid them onto his hands. They would help buffer his hands from the blistering of the rowlocks.

“Ready?”

He nodded and drew a deep breath. Remus slid the locking bars free of the door and leant against it bracing it with his body as he slid the catch free. Harry stood poised ready to fling his weight behind Remus if the force of the crashing waves was too much. Remus nodded and they battled their way out of their shelter, hovering on the step of the lighthouse before staggering against the wind as they fought to shut the door. After a tussle they managed to secure the door and began to crab their way to the boathouse using the roped line with its iron stanchions set deep into the rock.

Several times they slipped and clutched at each other before they stood at the door. Salt spray gusted over them stinging exposed skin and Remus reached out and grabbed Harry dragging him inside the stone building before slamming the door behind them. They leant against the door catching their breath.

The coble rested on the runners, the wooden chocks keeping it in place on the slipway. The oars and rudder rested across the bracing planks. With her deep forefoot and flat bottom towards the stern she was designed to be launched off broad beaches of low gradient into breaking seas the rudder not set into place until at sea. It would be Harry's task to set the rudder and to steer her whilst Remus rowed.

Harry released the chocks and clambered into the boat sliding the oars into the rowlocks and setting them inside the outer shell. The rudder he slid towards him as he settled in the stern. Remus gave a mighty shove and the coble slid forward along the greased rollers. He clambered on board as the coble gathered speed and settled in the middle of the boat, the oars grasped in his hands.

Harry watched as they slid towards the seething sea gathering speed as they went. He would have one chance to set the rudder once they cleared the rocks and he would have to do it swiftly before they were swept back against their own coastline to dash against the rocks.

The coble met sea and bucked. Remus slipped the oars into the water and set his muscles at odds with the briny. Harry scrambled to set the rudder amidst the pitching, yawing coble and worked at his task of setting the rudder. He cursed as it slipped and slid from cold, cramped fingers while Remus sought to make headway.

His breath was sobbing in his chest after five minutes of watching the slot and the rudder dance a jig against each other before fate allowed the final plunge of the coble to set the rudder sliding into place. Harry grasped the rudder and set it hard against his side planting his feet against the well caulked planking of the sides and lowered his head against the constant slapping, icy water that spewed over the sides of the vessel and beat against his back. Remus dragged at the oars and the coble sought to obey his demands as they set out for the survivors.

Stroke, raise the oars, drag them back, let them slip into the water and repeat the monotonous action time after time after time. His side numb where the rudder rested Harry raised his head to check their positioning. Remus' face was lined; salt encrusted and his hands white-knuckled on the oar grips. They'd cleared the jagged rocks to port but at a great cost. They had to fight every inch against the tide and wind and had covered a scant half mile. Jagged rocks beckoned the coble closer and Remus fought the sea and moved the coble onward.

Harry's lips were numb and he longed to touch the end of his nose to see if it was still attached for he'd long ago lost all feeling in it, but he dared not let go of the rudder.

The floor of the coble was awash with water and it danced and swirled around his boots but he could not afford to loose the rudder and bail it out. He could only pray that it would not be enough to swamp the vessel.

Harry watched as they inched ever closer to the Big Harcar rock. The cresting waves towered over the boat and Harry‘s heart thumped wildly in his chest as they worked to crest the wave and drop down the other side only to do it over and over again. No respite, no chance to stop and breathe but grind ever forwards towards the drenched souls cowering atop the rock in all the elemental fury of the sea and the wind.

Finally they pulled in sight of the rock and Harry worked the rudder loose and laid it to one side. He scrambled forwards tossed from side to side as Remus brought the coble closer to the rocks. Harry slid in alongside Remus and took hold of the port oar. Remus shelved the starboard oar till he cleared the rowlocks and then Harry dipped it into the water and fought to bring the boat closer to the rocks.

Remus tracked the movement of the boat and when the apex of the forward roll was reached he leapt from the boat and onto the rocks. Harry bit his lip till it bled as Remus slipped and slithered, arms pin wheeling as he fought to keep his balance. Finally his centre of gravity shifted enough so that he could regain his footing and he scrambled up onto the rock until he reached the survivors.

Harry worked the boat backwards and forwards trying to keep it from smashing into the rocks and yet be close enough for the bedraggled few to come back on board. He'd done a quick headcount. Nine so far. It would mean two trips for the Remus and him.

Two men came into view supporting a third. Another man and Remus followed dragging a woman between them. As the first of the survivors staggered towards the edge of the rocks the woman broke free from the grip of the other man and tried to run back across the rock. Remus grabbed her arm and shook her. She continued to fight his hold on her and finally Remus was forced to raise his hand to her and slap her across the face. She swooned at that and collapsed at his feet. The other man bent down to her and pulled her upright. Every so often Harry could hear a wail as the wind caught her voice and played tag with it. Remus left the woman with the second man and worked his way towards the edge of the rock and gestured.

Harry worked the boat closer. The coble bucked and heaved against the mawing sea. Remus and one of the men reached the boat and managed to get into it without tipping Harry out or sending the coble plunging nose first into the sea. Remus snagged the mooring rope and lifted the coil. He braced himself as well as he was able and flung the rope at the men standing at the edge of the rocks. They managed to catch it and hold it, using their bodies to brace the rope began the task of pulling the boat close enough to get the others on board and not have the coble dash itself to pieces on the jagged stones that made up the side of Big Harcar rock.

By dint of hard work, some swearing which Harry pretended not to hear, good judgment and timing they managed to get the injured man into the boat. Remus worked his way to Harry and gestured to the now unconscious man sprawled across the deck.

Remus and the other survivors went back and between them managed to bring the lamenting woman to the boat and force her into it. The mooring rope was flung back to Remus and he swiftly coiled it barely managing to keep his feet as he did so. Harry continued to work at keeping the boat stable until one of the survivors took hold of the port oar whilst the other the starboard oar. Harry slipped down to hold the injured man's head so that it would not be flung repeatedly against the sides of the boat and braced his back against the side his boots planted firmly against another rib in the keel. Remus helped to get the man settled and gestured for the remaining man to help him sit the woman down in the bottom of the boat. Remus handed her one of the bailing pannikins and the man took the other. Remus covered the woman's hands with his and began the bailing action. Finally she mimicked him and began to scoop the water out of the boat. Harry briefly wondered why Remus even bothered for as soon as she emptied one tin full more water would cascade over the stern or the bow and send more briny water scudding across the floor. Even with the second pair of hands bailing it made little difference.

Remus finally settled the rudder in place and turned the bow for home. The men rowed and rowed and rowed, taking turns at the punishing task of making headway against the fury of the storm and finally the welcome sight of their light and the lamp guided them home.

The coble‘s keel grated briefly against the slip before the men pulled the oars to and bent gasping over the hafts. Remus had pulled the rudder and slipped over the side to brace his back against the stern of the coble. Harry eased the unconscious man's head against the wooden side and forced cramped muscles to obey his orders. He fell over the side and braced his gloved hand on the rowlock and pushed with Remus. The men felt the small forward movement of the vessel and raised their heads. When they realized what Remus and Harry were attempting to do they set the oars down and after the one who had been bailing slipped over the edge of the boat they did so also and added their shoulders to the push. Harry slipped free of the coble and around to the bow. He grasped the mooring rope and hauled on it.

The coble bumped the first of the rollers and with one more push from Remus and the two men the still weighted vessel began too slide up the rollers.

Harry's breath was strained and gasping by the time the coble was once more in her cradle within the boathouse. Remus staggered towards him and leant down to pull the bailing tin from the woman. She fought him briefly but let go suddenly and began sobbing once more.

The unconscious man was still resting in the bilge water and the three who'd rowed back from the rocks worked together to get him out of the boat.

“Harry, we have to go back for the others. You will have to tend to his injuries and look after the woman whilst we're gone. You go ahead. I want to check the coble. I won't be long. “

Harry flinched when Remus spoke of returning for the others, but nodded. He would do whatever was necessary to help.

Harry and the third man coaxed the woman into coming with him and led the way to the lighthouse. The two who had done the final stint of rowing carried the injured man between them once more as Remus began to check that the coble was still seaworthy and that none of her planking had sprung or been damaged by the rocks.

The wind whipped around the small group, teasing loose hair, whipping it about the face, and sending icy tendrils skittering across exposed skin. They fought their way back to the lighthouse and Harry smiled as he thought of the hot soup and warmed blankets awaiting them.

He worked at the latch promising himself he'd not neglect the oiling of the hinges and lock ever again.

The door opened and the group staggered inside. One of the men slammed the door behind them. Harry pulled his hat free and tossed it onto the floor by the wet weather clothing pegs. He led the survivors towards the kitchen. As he went past the warmer he snatched blessedly warm blankets which he handed to the man who'd helped him with the woman. The other blankets he kept until he could hand them to the men. He placed one of the blankets around the woman's shoulders as she was urged into one of the wooden chairs set by the hearth.

The two men holding the third carried him over to the old couch beside the stove and laid him down. They slid down to rest against the side of the couch their trembling becoming more pronounced. Harry handed them a blanket which they clutched awkwardly. Harry noted the blistered hands and aided them in helping them to place the blankets around their shoulders. He went to the first aid kit and dug out the alcohol and some thick pads. He handed the items to the men and they winced as they recognised the label but began treatment at once. Harry winced at the muffled swearing and gasps of pain as they went about the task. It needed to be done before they began the second journey for those still trapped on Big Harcar or the damage would be worse once they returned.

Harry tugged his sodden gloves free and let them fall to the floor beside the sink. He struggled with the fastenings to his oilskin jacket and managed to free them. Once he had shrugged the coat from his shoulders he let it fall to the floor as well. He reached up into the cupboard beside the stove and drew down bowls. Plain white and totally unfashionable but he doubted that the survivors would care overly much.

He used the oven mitt to drag the soup pot closer and sniffed. It smelled delicious. He grabbed the ladle from the hanging rack and ladled some soup into the bowls. He handed each of the men one with a spoon and watched as the tension eased from their shoulders even as they winced as the heat from the bowls cut into their palms. They would need the hot food to give them the energy to return for the remaining survivors.

Not a word had been spoken by any of the survivors since they'd cleared the boatshed. Harry shivered and goose bumps marched across his arms and down his back. He held out a bowl of soup towards the woman but she simply stared at it unmoving. Harry sighed and slipped it onto the tiled edge of the stove. He could not afford the time to feed her while the unconscious man was in need of help.

Harry moved to him and looked down at a very pale face with an exceptionally patrician nose. The hair was matted from the sea and wind. The closed eyes were covered by salt encrusted eyelids ending in long lashes. The lips were pale and the bottom one had a small cut that was sluggishly oozing blood. Harry watched as the man's chest rose and fell several times. He was alive and it was up to Harry to keep him that way.

Harry watched the man's chest rise and fall as he tackled the buttons of the fine wool jacket. He opened it and sighed. Yet more buttons on what was once a fine brocade waistcoat this time. He set to work not stopping as he heard the outer door open. It would be Remus. The waistcoat yielded and Harry groaned as the fine linen shirt was exposed. There was a myriad of little buttons that held it shut. Harry muttered several of the words he knew that were never to be uttered in ‘polite' company and that Sirius used when angry and set to work. He wanted to tear the shirt away but doubted that his patient would be amused to find what had happened to his clothes.

Harry peeled back the cloth and his breath hissed between his teeth. The flat planes of the abdomen beckoned and he longed to slide his fingers across them and comb through the fine whorls of black hair trailing down into the hidden area below the waistband of the trousers. Harry turned to look at the woman. She'd not begun to eat and sat staring at nothing as she rocked forwards and backwards. She was very obviously not in the here and now. Harry undid the man's trouser fastenings and then shuffled down to work at his boots. The salt water had damaged the fine leather of this footwear and Harry fought his rising temper to free the laces so that he could remove the boots. Sodden stockings were peeled away and then Harry walked to the warmer and withdrew a blanket. He turned and Remus was there beside him.

“I'll roll him gently and you slip the first blanket under him. Use the second blanket for on top.”

Harry nodded and working efficiently they managed to get the man positioned and his sodden trousers and underwear removed whilst maintaining his decorum.

Remus slid his hands slowly over the man's head and stilled. He withdrew a hand. It came away red.

“Get a pad, Harry.”

Harry moved swiftly to the aid chest and removed a cotton wadding pad. He carried it back to Remus.

“Back of his head.”

Harry slipped the pad in position and they laid the man back down.

“Keep a close eye on him, Harry. Head wounds are unpredictable.”

Harry nodded and tucked the edge of the top blanket in a little more firmly before turning to Remus.

“Time enough for some soup?”

Remus shook his head.

“Every moment we delay the survivors are in danger. It's time to go back for those still on Big Harcar.”

The three survivors pushed themselves to their feet, moving slowly as abused muscles complained.

“They can stay here, Remus. You and I can go back.”

Remus shook his head.

“You're needed here. We three can take it in turns to row out and back. I need someone here that knows the light and the checks and balances. “

Harry nodded.

“I have my Saint Christopher medal with me, Harry. I'll be fine.”

Harry bit his bottom lip and nodded, unconvinced that the thin gold disc on the leather thong around Remus' neck would help him.

The men who'd not spoken word since they'd been found shifted their feet and Remus drew a deep breath. He smiled. Harry noted that it didn't reach his eyes.

“See you soon, Harry.”

Harry nodded, words stuck in his throat, his chest too tight to let air in or out and he shivered. He turned and checked on the unconscious man looking for spreading telltale bloodstains on the pad at the back of the skull. There were no new ones.

The slamming of the door made him start and he walked quickly to the door to the outside, frowning as he could hear the banshee wind as it howled outside. Remus and the three men might have never existed for all the noise they could be making. Naught could be heard above the wilful wind. Harry took the time to slip out of his Wellingtons and oilskin trousers. He shivered as the breezes that blew round the lighthouse slipped icy fingers under his jumper to tickle his ribs. He slipped his house shoes on and walked briskly back to the room where his two patients remained, gathered his wet gear and took it back to its rightful peg and hung it up before heading back into the warm room. He shut the door behind him and then walked over and picked up his sodden gloves. He wrung them out in the sink before placing them on a high drying rack set over the stove before checking on his patients. The woman had not stirred. Harry opened the far side chest and drew out more blankets and stacked them in the warmer. The frozen souls if they survived would have need of them. The bowl of untouched soup Harry tipped back into the pot and set a deep pan onto the back of the stove. He gathered the bucket that lived beside the sink and set it in the sink and then stepped around to the pump and primed it before pumping water into the bucket. When it was half full he carried it to the stove and carefully poured it into the pan grimacing at the rising steam for the first few seconds. With the bucket empty he repeated the process until the pan held a goodly amount of water. They would need the hot water to treat the survivor's injuries. Then he gathered the empty bowls and set them in the sink.

Harry checked on the man. He was still breathing and unconscious so he looked at the woman. She still rocked backwards and forwards and the warmed blanket had slipped from her shoulders. Harry walked to her and gathered up the blanket. It was quite wet and cold so he hung it on the warming racks above the stove away from the heating water and went to fetch another. He knew there were no female clothing in the lighthouse and wondered if she'd be affronted to wear some of his clothing whilst hers dried. He decided to leave that discussion until Remus was back. After all Remus had been a married man he would know how to talk to a woman. Harry shivered and wrinkled his nose briefly at the thought of getting close to a woman. He'd learnt early on that boy's bodies were far more interesting. Sirius thought so too. It was a secret they kept from Remus. His gaze slid back to the man lying on the old battered couch and his cheeks warmed as he remembered the finely muscled form. Resolutely he gathered another warmed blanket and took it back to drape around the woman's shoulders.

A low moan brought him spinning around so fast that he staggered a little. The man on the couch moaned again and moved. The blanket slipped to one side exposing pale flesh and Harry hastened to his side and gathered the blanket, lifting it and replacing it.

He turned back from tucking it in the far side to dark eyes gazing at him. He chanced a smile.

“You're safe.”

“Where?”

“The Longstone lighthouse.”

The man turned his head slightly and winced.

“Just we two?”

Harry shook his head.

“Remus and three of the survivors went back for the others. They've not long gone. It took us forever the first time. Do you think you'd be fine for a little while? Only I have to check the light.”

He gestured upwards. The man nodded and winced.

“If I might have a drink of water that is not salty …..”

Harry was up and moving before the man had finished speaking. He gathered a glass from the draining board and filled it from the jug of water kept on the edge of the sink.

The man turned and suddenly flushed. Harry lowered his gaze and looked at the floor as the man dragged the blankets a little more tightly to his person.

“Your clothes were soaked and you were chilled. Remus and I managed to get you between two blankets without anyone seeing … anything. Some of Sirius' clothes should fit you. I can bring you some to wear while yours dry.”

“Won't Sirius object?”

Harry shook his head.

“No. He's not here. He went for the monthly stores and got trapped on the mainland by the storm. He won't be back until the storm dies away. By then your clothes should be dry enough to wear. I can get some once I've checked on the light.”

The man nodded.

“Thank you …….?”

I took Harry a moment to realize what the unfinished interrogatory meant and then he flushed and chewed his bottom lip once more.

“Harry. Just Harry.”

“Very well, Just Harry. I am Severus Snape. Pleased to meet you Just Harry.”

Harry flushed even more and then gasped as the name registered.

“You're … you're the one that painted …. All the birds from Northumberland.”

Snape's dark eyes widened momentarily before he nodded.

“Yes. I was on my way to the soiree to be held by my patron Lord Malfoy when the Forfarshire foundered. Contrary to all polite conversation I find steam no safer than sail for sea travel. As of this moment I find I quite detest ocean travel altogether.”

Harry nodded and then started.

“I have to check on the lamp. I shan't be long.”

He stood and moved past the rocking woman. She'd taken no notice so Harry strode quickly towards the exit.

“Harry, a moment if you please?”

The gentle request phrased so politely caused him to falter briefly. He turned and was amazed to see the painter quite flushed.

“The .. water closet … if you don't mind.”

Harry swallowed hard.

“I think you might find it a bit chilly at the moment. I can fetch a chamber pot if ….”

Snape held up a hand.

“Thank you, no. I'd much prefer to risk the chill.”

He cast a meaningful glance at the woman and Harry nodded and gestured towards they exit to the kitchen.

“This way. But you might like to wait until I get you a pair of slippers.”

“Sirius'?”

Harry shook his head and smiled.

“No. The good ladies of the women's service organization of Ambersley sew felt slippers for the poor souls rescued from the sea. We have some.”

Harry darted to the bottom drawer of the warmer and pulled out a pair of nondescript brown material. He took them back to where Snape sat and knelt.

“Harry you don't have to wait …..”

“I … I … don't mind if you don't. It's awfully hard to juggle the blankets and get the slippers on at the same time. The last time …. A gentleman ended up embarrassing himself when he lost his grip on his coverings.”

Snape pursed his lips and shuffled about a bit and then a slender foot appeared from amid the pile of wool surrounding the man. Harry took gentle hold of the foot, his breath stopping in his throat as he cradled the warm flesh. He stared at the fine arch and swallowed hard as wayward thoughts sped through his brain igniting his traitorous body. He slipped one of the soft footlets onto the pale flesh, sighing with disappointment as the fine toes disappeared into the warmed material. Snape gave a little moan of appreciation and wriggled his foot. Harry curled his fingers so he would not be tempted to stroke the now wrapped appendage. A little more wriggling and the mate to the cloth covered foot appeared. Harry carefully lifted it and resolutely slipped the second slipper in place fighting the urge to kiss the fine arch and rounded heel.

He sat back on his heels and watched as the feet became hidden once more.

“Warm feet once more. Thank you.”

Harry swallowed heavily and stood quickly turning so that his interest was not quite so blatantly obvious trusting that the woman was still insensible to her surroundings. He heard the rustling of cloth and fought the urge to see if any of the pale flesh was showing.

Snape stood and gathered the blankets about himself no doubt wishing he had more than a single pair of hands for the endeavour.

“If you'd lead the way please Harry.”

Harry nodded and resolutely pushed away his lusty thoughts and headed to the door, opening it and stepping through. He heard the rustle of the fabric on the stone and gave in to temptation. Snape stood in the doorway one blanket covering the top half and the second wrapped firmly around his waist tightly held together with a white-knuckled grip. Harry crossed to the door that led to the small chamber and opened it. The roar of the sea and the harsh slap of water on stone filled his senses. Harry reached around until he found the box of matches and struck one using his free hand to shelter the flickering flame until he was able to light the small candle in the small votive holder. The glass windbreak kept the candle from guttering. The feeble light was enough to see by.

“Is that the sea I hear below?”

Harry nodded certain that Sirius' comments about the long drop and being careful not to lose anything of value down the shaft would be considered coarse and vulgar.

Harry stepped back and allowed Snape to shuffle past him. He turned his back thinking furiously. Had Sirius changed the hand basin water after he had shaved this morning? He darted a quick look and managed a slight smile. Clean water rested in the bowl and the ewer was two thirds full as well.

“I'll check the lamp and meet you back in the warmth of the kitchen. “

And with that Harry closed the water closet door behind him and strode quickly across the floor and began the ascent to the lamp.

He climbed quickly used to the constant trekking up and down the stairs and it was not long before he reached the landing upon which his bedroom was located. He continued up the ever winding staircase until he reached the final destination – the lamp. He checked the mirrors and grabbed a cloth when he noted soot clinging to the edge of one of the mirrors. Carefully he trapped the soot and drew it away from the shiny surface, He placed the cloth in the bin marked ‘used' snorting at Sirius' fastidiousness but not willing to be the cause of misfortune for the sake of a rule or three. He checked the level of oil in the lamp and chewed his bottom lip briefly as he measured it critically by eye. He nodded and collected the brightly polished oil dispenser and filled it from the store of oil set by the far wall. Mindful not to spill any with echoes of Remus' voice sounding in his ear, “Never fill the dispenser too full. If you do you'll spill some and oil plus slippery stone floor is a terrible combination. You could break a leg or fall down the stairs and snap your neck. Any manner of nasty happenings occur when lighthouse keepers get careless”, he carefully poured the oil into the reservoir. He used another clean cloth to wipe over the surface making sure to wipe away any residue and stepped away. All was well with the lamp. He made sure everything was in its proper place and headed down the stairs till he reached his landing. He stopped and gnawed his lip once more before making a decision and walking to his bedroom door and flinging it open as he rushed to the window. He pressed his nose against the cold glass and instantly it was fogged. He moved back and used his shirtsleeves cuff to wipe away the condensation and held his breath as he stared at the point where he'd seen the ship founder and break up. He searched for movement but could see nothing moving on the rock. He drew a calming breath and checked the small stove in the corner. It was set ready to light so he spun on his heel and left the room closing the door securely behind him.

Harry moved down the levels until he reached Sirius' door. He entered the room and walked to the smaller of the two chest set against the far wall. Unlike the main chest this one was never locked for it contained spare clothing. Harry lifted the lid and took out a dark green woollen jumper. Below that were several pairs of dark trousers. Harry grabbed a black pair and held them up against himself. They were a little long in the leg for him which meant that they might fit Snape. Harry slung the trousers over his shoulder and shut the chest. He bundled the jumper under his left arm and headed out into the corridor. He made sure to latch the door securely and began his descent to the ground floor once more.

He rounded the last few steps and stopped with a sharp intake of breath as he saw a blanket on the floor. He looked further down the corridor and saw Severus struggling with the woman. Snape lost his precarious hold on the remaining blanket as the woman wrenched herself free of his gasp and darted for the main door. Harry walked briskly the length of the corridor his eyes straying to the naked form before him scooping up the second blanket as he went.

“Mrs. Fotheringale, stop! You cannot aid your children, madam. Cease your attempts to leave!”

As Harry approached Snape he held the blanket out and continued on to the woman who was tugging futilely at the bar for the door. She had not managed to undo the locking clip. In fact Harry wondered if she saw it at all for she was reduced to tugging at the unresponsive wood.

After a minute or two of senseless grappling with the bar the woman screamed and hit her fists and kicked on the door.

Harry watched as though frozen in time as an adult female acted in a manner more like that of a tantrum throwing toddler. His heart beat increased and he shifted from foot to foot, his hands clenching and unclenching by his side as he wondered what to do.

“Both her children perished in the storm. We had to pry their lifeless bodies from her. Her violent reaction to this knocked me from my feet and resulted in my own injury.”

Harry started as Snape's voice sounded close by his ear.

“I fear for her life and sanity. Her grief is overwhelming. Can she free the door?”

Harry shrugged.

“If she calms down enough to look at the bar she could work out the mechanism. It is a simple one.”

With a last heart rending scream the woman sank to the floor, her hands laying limply I her lap.

“Help me move her back to the kitchen.”

Harry nodded and shifted the jumper to his shoulder and then stopped. He turned to Snape and held out the jumper and then drew the trousers off his shoulder and held them out.

“I'll watch her while you …”

Snape nodded and collected the clothing. He took a firmer grip on the blanket around his waist and walked back to the kitchen.

Harry stared after him his mind replaying over and over the sight of the plum coloured peaked nipples and well muscled abdominal area with its treasure trail of hair down the centre. The play of muscles as Snape walked back towards the kitchen made his stomach churn and his breathing quicken as he again wondered what it would be like to run his hands over the pale porcelain-like skin. Would it feel the same as his own skin or would it be harder? Softer perhaps, or sensually decadent like the small swatch of silk from his chest. He'd learned to like the whispering touch as he gloved his penis those nights when his balls were heavy. The slightest touch of the gossamer threads could have him aching and hard within seconds.

Harry drew a deep breath and released it through his nose. He was glad of the extra length of his Arran knit jumper but knew he was unable to bend to help the woman to her feet for a few minutes longer. He moved slowly to the door and stood in front of it. The woman took no heed of his movements and stayed where she had collapsed.

Harry assessed her. Her brown hair which was quite wavy and fell in ringlets down the sides of her face was a snarled and tangled mess. It showed that she was not altogether in her right mind, for any woman of good breeding would have wanted at her earliest opportunity, to have tended to it and brought to a manageable state. Her dress was of good quality though undeniably ruined due to water and salt. Her boots were leather and lacking in the heels so favoured by women. It looked as though they'd been broken off somehow.

Movement from the kitchen and Snape appeared – clothed and even more desirable. The jumper emphasised his wide shoulders and the trousers swept the top of his feet. Harry stared until Snape looked down, checking to see that the trouser front was secured properly. The check made Harry flush and turn to assist the woman. She still sat on the hard stone floor tears trickling down her face to fall unheeded down the front of her dress.

Snape walked up to them and leant down, holding out his hand.

“Mrs. Fotheringale if you would please be so kind as to take my hand?”

The pleasant tones roused the woman and she raised her head and placed her hand in Snape's. Harry moved to the other side and between them they managed to get her upright and led back into the warmth of the kitchen.

Once she was settled back in her chair Harry fetched another warmed blanket and placed it around her shoulders. She sighed softly and gathered it to her and began to rock backwards and forwards once more.

“Perhaps some tea?”

Harry nodded and gathered the old battered metal teapot from the tiled area at the side of the stove. He checked the pan resting at the back and used a mug to scoop some water from it to warm the pot. He left the warming teapot on the slowest hob and grabbed the kettle. It was too light in his hands. It needed filling. He took it to the pump and placed it beside the crock of fresh water and using the ladle filled it. He carried it back to the stove and nearly dropped it as Mrs. Fotheringale began to sing.

Her voice was reasonable and Harry instantly recognised the song. He'd heard it sung often at funerals. Remus sang it too, on the one night of the year that he drank himself into oblivion.

Harry set the kettle to boil and turned to see that he was under intense scrutiny by dark eyes. He flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets aware that his softening cock was rapidly firming once more.

Snape pushed himself off from the edge of the kitchen table and slowly advanced on Harry.

Frozen to the spot Harry watched as the dark haired predator stalked him. A slow curl of anticipation coiled in his belly and Harry felt the first spike of excitement hit his system. A slow flush of colour suffused his cheeks and Snape smiled as he noted the heightened colour. He stepped around the singing woman and moved to Harry. With each step closer Harry's breathing rate increased until Snape was standing alongside him moulded to his side.

“You've been watching me, Harry.”

Harry shivered at the deep dark, rich tones.

“Do you like what you see?”

Harry swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes never leaving the compact form encroaching on his space.

“I've been watching you and I like what I see.”

Snape leant closer and his warm breath gusted over Harry's ear making him shiver.

“I'd like to get to know you, to get closer to you, to become intimate with you. Would you like that Harry?”

Harry gasped and swallowed hard, whimpering as his cock was caught in the folds of his clothing. His hands were white-knuckled by his sides and he licked dry lips and nodded.

Snape shifted so that he stood in front of Harry, his back to the singing woman. Harry looked up into shining dark eyes and swallowed once more. One hand lifted and a slender fingertip trailed along his bottom lip. Snape gasped as Harry moaned and moved a little taking the cool digit into his mouth. Snape's eyes closed as Harry suckled the finger, rubbing his tongue over it and biting on the tip ever so gently. Snape swayed on his feet and his moan was breathy and needy as he drew the finger slowly from Harry's mouth.

“Oh, you're so wanton, Harry. I'd like your lips around something else.”

Harry nodded.

“I'd like that too, but we can't with her here.”

Snape nodded.

“True. Unfortunately.”

“You'll have to stay over night, maybe longer. You can share my room. There's a pallet I can use and you can have my bed. I'll have to keep a watch over you because of your head injury in between spelling Remus as he looks after the others.”

Snape smiled and nodded before wincing as the kettle whistle sliced through their ears with its shriek.

They moved apart slowly and Harry collected the pot holder and shifted the kettle to the tiles at the side of the stove. He walked across the room to get the tea caddy and grabbed a flat pan from the rack on his way and brought them both back to the teapot. Harry set the pan beside the teapot. He poured the water that had been heating the tea into the dirty dishes in the sink. He opened the caddy and was cheered to see it was still a quarter full. They had one packet left in their stores and he was sure it would be consumed by the survivors. He put in a teaspoon of tea for each person and one for the pot as he'd been taught and then poured in the boiling water. He sniffed, senses delighting in the smell of freshly brewed tea and clapped the lid on the pot. He poured the remainder of the water in the kettle into the pan and then grabbed three sturdy mugs from the hooks on the wall.

“Tea Mr. Snape?”

Snape nodded.

“I think under the circumstances that you have the right to call me Severus, Harry.”

Harry smiled briefly and nodded well aware he was flushing as he remembered the deep velvety voice that had made him shiver with delighted anticipation.

“We have no milk left.”

“I prefer my tea black with sugar.”

“Strong or weak?”

“Strong, thank you. My acquaintances despair of me for they say that I like my tea strong enough to melt the spoon.”

Harry wrinkled his nose at the description but knew that Severus and Remus shared the same taste in tea. “Treacle” Sirius called it and turned his nose up at the stuff. Harry poured a mug for the woman and set it to one side. He poured his own next and then one for Snape. He nodded at the almost black liquid and set the teapot to one side. He's rinse it out in a moment. He turned around to see Snape staring at him and flushed as the man's gaze fixed below his waist. Harry drew a calming breath and collected the three mugs and brought them to the table. He lifted the lid of the sugar bowl and turned back to get teaspoons from the cutlery drawer. He walked back in time to see Snape deftly spooning sugar into the mug in front of Mrs. Fotheringale and stirring it. Snape turned the handle to the woman and spoke once more.

“Mrs. Fotheringale, pray, take your tea.”

The woman stopped mid song and looked at him in surprise. He inclined his head and nudged the mug closer to her.

She looked at it for a moment or two and slowly reached out and collected the heated brew. She drew it to her mouth and sipped. Harry held out a spoon which Snape collected and used to shift sugar into his tea. Harry set a third spoon into the sugar bowl and took out the small amount of sweetener he preferred before setting the remaining teaspoon into the bowl and closing the lid.

They stirred and then sipped their tea for a few moments before Harry set his half drunk mug to one side and checked on the bowl of water. Some of the heat had to have dissipated and he used the tip of his little finger to check it. He walked across to the aid chest and pulled out some clean ragging and the pure sea salt. He walked back and placed them on the table and carefully carried the bowl of water there as well. Harry gathered another small bowl and tipped a capful of the salt into it before adding some of the warm water. Snape watched the goings on and raised an eyebrow at the preparations. Harry looked up and briefly chewed his lip.

“Your head wound needs cleaning.”

Snape sniffed and put down his mug before seating himself in the chair beside Harry.

“I take it that you've cleaned wounds before, Harry?”

Visions of Remus with his hand sliced to the bone and bleeding profusely as Sirius and Harry worked to stitch the wound and slow the blood flow two months ago rose up with sickening clarity in Harry's mind. He managed a tight lipped nod.

“Yes.”

Snape took another deep breath and placed his arms on the table. He lowered his head till it was resting on his forearms. Harry gently shifted strands of coal black hair until he found the site of the wound. Severus winced as he checked the puffy skin around the wound for miniscule shards of rock or other detritus. Harry used some of the cloth wadding dipped in the salt water to wash around the wound. The cut itself was a clean slice about an inch and a half long. There was no gaping flap of skin or white bone showing in the depths and it was only sluggishly bleeding. Harry drew a deep breath.

“Here, you might want to bite down on this.”

He held out another piece of folded ragging and placed it in Snape's hand. The long fingers he so admired clutched the cloth briefly before it disappeared under the mass of coal black hair. A brief movement as Snape stuffed it into his mouth and then he nodded. Harry drew a deep breath and resolutely pressed the pad against the wound site. Snape shuddered and there were muffled sounds coming from him that slowly tapered off. Harry gently removed the pad and set it to one side. He got a clean pad and placed it over the wound.

“You should lie down for a while and then I'll check it once more before I bandage it.”

Snape shook his head slowly. There was a spitting sound and then Snape spoke.

“Not just yet, Harry, Give me a moment or two please.”

Harry nodded well aware of how much the cleaning had hurt. He remembered his own head wound and how much he'd screamed when Remus and Sirius had treated him. He'd bucked Sirius clean off him as he tried to hold him down. The dizziness and the nausea were the signs that lingered the longest. While Severus rested Harry cleaned up and set the cleaned bowls and utensils to dry on the draining board. Mrs. Fotheringale sipped her tea and then placed the mug back on the table. She began to rock forwards and backwards once more. Harry stared at her for a few moments unsure of what to do about her strange behaviour. Did he need to guard the door?

Slowly Snape sat up and winced. Harry walked to his side.

“I think you should lie down for a while.”

Snape was paler than when he'd been brought into the lighthouse. Harry slipped his hand under Severus' elbow and Snape gave in to the gentle nudge. He gripped the table as he stood and Harry lifted an arm and slung it across his shoulders secretly pleased to see how well he seemed to fit there.

Harry stepped slowly away from the table and they moved to the couch. Snape sat at one end and slowly leaned down. Harry bent quickly and lifted his slippered feet up onto the couch and deftly grabbed one of the cushions from the unused chair beside the writing desk to slip under Severus' head. A slight moan escaped as Severus turned onto his back. Harry walked to the warmer and collected a blanket. Briefly he held it to his cheek and then opened it up to drape across Severus. Another moan but this one was not pain-filled.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“You're welcome.”

Snape snuggled into the warm cloth and Harry turned to see Mrs Fotheringale give a brief shudder. He collected another blanket from the warmer and held it out to her. She took it and hugged it to her briefly before opening it and tucking it around herself. Her sigh of pleasure made Harry smile. He turned and checked the blanket on the drying rack and was pleased that it was dry. He pulled it all the way down just to make sure and then folded it and put it with the others in the warmer. Then he made a trip out into the corridor to the huge fuel box and filled the coal bucket. He hauled it out and back to the kitchen and set it next to the tongs. He opened the door to the stove's fire and checked on the fire tossing in a few lumps of coal before closing the door. Then he stood and lifted the lid of the soup pot and gave it a stir so that it would not catch on the bottom of the pan. He looked at the level in the pot and added a little more water before grabbing the chopping board and another couple of potatoes. Briskly he chopped them into small pieces and tipped them into the pot. Then he put the lid back in place and sighed. He cleaned the knife and the board and leant against the sink.

He looked over at Mrs. Fotheringale and found she was asleep, her head tipped to one side, her hands lax in her lap. He glanced at Severus and found that his eyes were closed. He was either resting or sleeping and Harry decided he needed to check on the lamp again. Idleness was no good for his nerves. He quietly walked over to the door and stepped out into the corridor, shivering as the cooler air struck his face and hands. He shoved his hands in his pockets and set off to the lamp. Three steps up he drew his hands out of his pockets and increased his pace.

By the time he reached the lamp he was much warmer and he looked out onto an ever lightening sky. The storm still raged. He heard the banshee wail of the wind through the wires of the structure but of lightning and thunder there seemed no more. He collected the spyglass from its accustomed shelf and took it to the edge of the window. He raised it and looked towards Big Harcar. He scanned the rock. There was no sign of survivors now, nor was there any debris so Harry trained the glass on the ever heaving sea and looked for the coble.

Tracking from left to right in the search pattern Sirius had taught him Harry looked for sign of the coble and gave a small whoop as he located her. She was on her way back and making better time than Remus and he had going out. And so they should he chided himself. There were two men to each oar this time around and enough so that they could take turns when they were exhausted. Harry lowered the spyglass and replaced it on the shelf. He scrutinized the level of the lamp oil and topped it up and then looked over the mirrors and the glass panels and cleaned the thin film of soot from them. He checked and then checked again that everything was secure and headed down the staircase. He paused at the third landing and wondered if he should light the fire in his room. Fuel had to be hauled out to the lighthouse. Thrift was the catchcry of all lighthouse keepers. They were not highly paid and driftwood was rare on Longstone. He would wait until the survivors had landed and were settled before he lit the fires. If necessary they could all stay in the kitchen even though they would be tripping over each other in the process.

He continued down the staircase and detoured to the water closet. He lit the small candle and shut the door, slipping the locking bar down to prevent an unwelcome interruption and shivered as he undid his trousers. The cold air was very conducive to going about the business of voiding as quickly as possible and Harry completed the necessary ablutions and grimaced as he washed his hands in the cold water in the basin. He tipped the water down into the hole and set the bowl back in its place. He poured some of the water from the ewer into the bowl and decided that he would soon have to dig out the extra bucket they used in winter from the boatshed.

It was a good idea Sirius had come up with after several years of the water icing over in the middle of winter. As you went to the water closet you tipped some of the hot water from the kettle into the bucket and took the hot water with you to do the necessary. By the time you'd finished doing what you had to do the water had cooled enough to wash your hands. Since they'd done as Sirius' had suggested none of them suffered from chilblains.

His ablutions done Harry lifted the locking bar and blew out the candle as he stepped out into the corridor. Severus was standing there with Mrs. Fotheringale. Harry gulped and stepped to one side. Mrs. Fotheringale let go Severus' arm and walked towards the door. Harry wondered if she'd shriek like the last woman had when she'd seen the room.

“The … the candle's on the shelf beside the door, ma'am.”

She inclined her head as she stepped into the room. Harry heard her gasp as she sighted the accommodations and quickly reached out and closed the door.

Severus stood smirking in the hallway.

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and chewed his bottom lip. Should he stay or should he go? He really didn't have the slightest clue as to proper toilette etiquette for ladies. Severus smirked again and then beckoned to Harry.

“Ladies prefer to be alone.”

Harry let out a relieved sigh and trailed after Severus. They walked back to the kitchen and Harry promptly stepped close to the stove. Severus followed after he shut the door.

They stood side by side and Harry wondered how long they would have alone before Mrs. Fotheringale rejoined them. He glanced sideways at Severus and flushed as he realised that he was the object of Snape's complete attention.

“Would you allow me to sketch you, Harry?”

Harry blinked and floundered for words for a moment.

“Why would you want to sketch me? I'm nothing to look at.”

Severus snorted.

“Let us agree to disagree on that matter. Would you allow me to draw your likeness at a later date when I have access to appropriate paper and pencils once more?”

Harry shrugged.

“If you want to.”

“Thank you.”

Snape leaned closer.

“Would you model for me?”

Harry's cheeks flushed once more and he glanced sideways at Snape.

“I thought you only sketched birds.”

Severus chuckled and carefully shook his head slightly.

“When I have a patron I indulge their whim. Lord Malfoy's was the wildlife around his area. But when I am free to choose my own material …”

He leaned closer to Harry's ear and his smooth, velvety voice caressed his aural channel and sent shivers down his spine.

“Then, Harry, I choose beautiful young men to sketch. I would paint you in the Grecian style with a discus in one hand and a crown of laurel leaves, or perhaps as a Spartan warrior with shield, helmet and sword.”

Harry's breathing quickened.

“And the Greeks practised their sport in the nude.”

Harry gasped and licked suddenly dry lips.

“Would you dare to pose for me, Harry?”

Harry swallowed hard and drew a calming breath before he looked into the dark eyes.

“As long as it was just you and no-one else to see me, then, yes, I'd pose for you.”

Snape smiled and sighed.

“Then that is something to look forward to and cause enough to embark upon the forsaken sea once more. I'll hold you to that agreement, Harry.”

Harry turned slightly to give his hard shaft some more room in his trousers.

“I'd rather you hold me.”

“If we are given any chance I promise to do more than hold you.”

The opening of the door heralded the return of Mrs. Fotheringale and the men moved apart. Harry checked the soup and gave it a couple of stirs before putting the lid back on. Snape moved to the lounge and sat down. He rolled his shoulders and turned and twisted his neck. Harry heard an audible ‘pop' and Severus sighed and then raised a hand to touch the wound site. Harry moved behind him and Severus stilled.

“May I …?”

Severus nodded.

“Yes.”

He bent his head a little and Harry very, very carefully lifted the hair away from the wound. The edges were still a little puffy but the bleeding had stopped.

“I'll put a pad on it and bandage it in place. That way you won't get any blood on anything if it starts to bleed again.”

“I shall look ridiculous.”

Harry smirked and shook his head.

“No you won't, but it will remind everyone that you've been hurt and need to rest.”

“Rest you say?”

“Yes, but not alone. Remus said that I shouldn't leave you alone because head wounds are dangerous.”

“I would appreciate you staying by me, Harry.”

Harry shivered at the soft, smooth tones and hurried to the aid chest. He knelt before it and lifted the lid. Finding a roll of material at once and grabbing another soft pad of cloth he closed the lid of the chest and walked back to Snape. He placed the pad over the wound and then undid the first section of the rolled cloth and placed it just behind Snape's left ear.

“Would you mind holding that in place for me, please?”

Snape's long fingered hand came up and brushed against his fingers. Both men gasped a little and quickly checked on Mrs. Fotheringale. She was rocking and humming the hymn once again and took no notice of their interchange. Harry eased his fingers out from Snape's and began the delicate task of winding the bandage around the man's head to help keep the pad in place. He checked it often to make sure that it wasn't too tight or too loose and revelled in the chance to touch the man in an intimate manner.

Once the bandage was secured Harry stepped back and came to stand before Snape.

“Is it all right? Not too tight or too loose?”

Dark ebon eyes looked up at him and slowly trekked over his body, lingering at his hips and below.

“It seem just fine, Harry.”

A sudden noise from the corridor made both start and Harry was away to the door and wrenching it open.

“Remus!”

He leapt forward to hug him and stopped short when Remus shook his head.

“Let me get out of this gear. Help the survivors, Harry. “

Harry stopped and nodded and turned to see the corridor filled with drooping, stumbling figures.

Time became blurred after that with all that had to be done like handing out warm blankets and slippers to warm chilled bodies, finding places for the desperately tired men to sit and treating blistered hands and innumerable cuts and bruises. Snape stood by the stove and dished out bowls of hot soup to all and sundry.

Harry watched as Remus trudged towards the corridor and walked swiftly after him.

“Remus!”

He turned and waited. Harry hurried up to him.

“I've checked the lamp and filled the oil reservoir twice since you were gone. I've cleaned the mirrors as well. I've seen to the lamp, Remus, truly I have.”

Remus managed to dredge up a semblance of a smile.

“I know that Harry, but I have to see for myself before I can sleep”

Harry nodded.

Sirius was like that, too. He had to check the lamp before sleeping.

There was a loud shriek that had both men starting and they darted back to the kitchen. Harry was less tired and moved more quickly. He stood in the doorway, his mouth agape and watched Mrs. Fotheringale pummel the front of another survivor. The bedraggled, tired man allowed her to hit him over and over and over until she collapsed much like a puppet Harry had seen once before when the puppeteer had let go the handling rods. Mrs. Fotheringale collapsed and the man used his hands to wipe tears from his own eyes before he knelt to speak quietly to the sobbing woman.

”Why is she hitting him, Remus? What has he ever done to her that she treats him so?”

“Them man is her husband, Harry. Mr. Fotheringale. Their son Edward aged six and their daughter Margaret aged four did not survive the storm. We brought their bodies back. They're in the coble for the moment.”

“Is she angry that their bodies are here or that he didn't save them?”

Remus shrugged.

“Who can say for certain? Perhaps it is a little of both, though the children were with her when the tragedy struck. Perhaps she is angry at herself. Who knows?”

Remus straightened up, groaning as abused muscles complained.

“I'll see to the lamp. You light the fires in yours, mine and Sirius' room. There are enough pallets in Siri's room plus the bed for four to sleep. I've two pallets in my room and you've one in yours. The Fotheringales can stay in the kitchen. She may have the couch and he the chair with the ottoman. I'll leave you to escort them to their rooms.”

Remus managed a tired grin.

“I'm very proud of you, Harry. You've done very well.”

Harry shuffled his feet and blushed under the praise. Remus didn't give it often and so it was even more pleasing when he did.

“Thanks Remus.”

“I'm for bed once I've checked on the lamp.”

Harry nodded.

“We could all do with some rest.”

Remus smiled, nodded and trudged over to the staircase. Harry walked after him and trailed him to the first landing. He headed towards Sirius' room as Remus continued up the stairs.

Harry opened the door and crossed to the fire. He took the box of matches from the bookshelf ledge over the bed and brought it back to the stove. He opened the door and used his shoulder to keep it propped open as he struck the match. He held it close to the paper and tinder and was rewarded with the identifiable odour of burnt paper as the flames flared and curled the edges of the paper. The heat increased as the fire gnawed with tiny red, yellow and blue flames at the wood. Harry watched and waited for it to increase in ferocity and when it began consuming the wood with avaricious greed he slipped in a few small pieces of coal from the nearby scuttle. He knew there was enough coal in the scuttle to keep the fire going a goodly time for he'd spent part of the time dedicated to chores making sure all of the coal scuttles in the rooms were filled.

Once he was sure that the fire was burning steadily he left the room and headed up the stairs to the next landing and repeated the process with the fire in Remus' room and then onward and up to his room. Whilst he was there he pulled the pallet from underneath his bed and set it beside the stove. He checked on the fire once that was done and added a few lumps of coal before heading out the door and checking on the fires as he entered each landing. He was well satisfied for all three fires were burning steadily and beginning to heat the rooms.

Harry skipped down the last of the steps and walked towards the kitchen.

He opened the door and looked at the group. Each was silent, even Mrs Fotheringale, and tightly wrapped within the woollen blankets. They seemed to be dozing. It seemed such a shame to disturb them but they would sleep better upstairs. At least they wouldn't be sleeping on the cold floor.

Harry walked over to four huddled shapes near the couch and crouched down before them. One of the men opened his eyes and blinked slowly.

“If you follow me I've a room with beds enough for you all.”

One by one as though shedding a chrysalis the grey mounds unfolded amid groans and moans and softly uttered curses.

“Let me sleep, lad. I'm alive. I've a full belly and I'm warm for the first time in many a long hour.”

“Come now, there are enough places for you all to lie down.”

The men opened jaundiced eyes and sneered at him. They cast aspersions on his parentage but none actually offered him physical harm. Eventually they staggered to their feet and followed him, the lure of a bed to sleep on the winning incentive.

Harry led them out of the kitchen and in to the corridor where their curses became more lurid and their complaints louder. Harry ignored them and led them over to the staircase and chivvied them until they began to climb it.

“First landing there's a door. There's a fire warming the room and enough places to sleep the lot of you.”

The men slowly climbed the stairs and Harry turned back to the kitchen and sought out two more grey lumps. He bent down and went through the same procedure that he had with the earlier four men. These two, groaned and complained but they did stagger to their feet and trailed Harry as he led them to the stairs.

“On the second landing you'll find a door. It's Remus' room and he has a pallet for each of you. There's a cheery fire as well. You should sleep comfortably near the fire. The bed is Remus'. Be mindful of what I say. It is his bed and he gets to sleep in it. Understand?”

The lumps grumped some more but nodded their understanding of the strictures and staggered upwards towards the promised resting places.

Harry turned back once more to the kitchen and entered it. He glanced swiftly at Severus who nodded and then he spoke to the Fotheringales.

“Sir, I believe your wife would feel most comfortable down here with you. I do not believe she would handle the stairs in her current state.”

Mr. Fotheringale nodded so Harry turned to face Severus, a sudden coil of anticipation forming low in his belly as he caught the dark gaze.

“Mr. Snape my room is the smallest and the highest of the three but you are welcome to share what sparse comforts that it contains. There is a pallet to sleep on and a fire to keep the room warm.”

Snape inclined his head.

“Thank you. I am still quite tired. If you don't mind I will avail myself of your kind offer.”

Snape turned to the couple and slowly inclined his head, wincing as he did so.

“Sir, madam, good day.”

Mrs. Fotheringale continued to ignore all around her and it was left to Mr. Fotheringale to respond in kind.

Harry led the way out of the kitchen and to the staircase. He waited on the bottom step for Snape to reach him. Severus leaned forward and spoke softly into his ear.

“I shall delight in watching your sweet form climb before me. The sight shall stir my blood and heighten my desire.”

Harry coloured and fidgeted. As he was about to climb the firs step he started as his bottom was stroked. The caress was light and sent shivers throughout his body. He began to climb the stairs never looking back, his heart rate increasing as he climbed til, as he reached his landing, his heart was thudding wildly in his chest and his cock was hard and leaking. The rough scrape of the material of his trousers against his heated flesh as he moved heightened his arousal as did the prospect of long fingered hands sliding over his flesh.

He stopped at the top landing, panting and itching to release his cock from the confines of his trousers. Hot breath on his neck seared his skin and he stifled a moan before he pushed himself off the wall and staggered to his door. He twisted the handle and it opened and he walked inside. Snape followed and shut the door leaning against it.

“Dare we lock it?”

Harry shook his head.

“That would cause more questions than we have answers but only Remus would come up and even he would knock.”

“Does he know that you prefer men?”

Harry shrugged.

“He may. I've never flaunted my preferences. Sirius shares them…”

“And you?”

Harry shook his head.

“No. Sirius prefers his men to be larger and more …. forceful. He and I have never….”

Snape smiled. And walked towards Harry. He stopped in front of him and then slowly sank to his knees. Harry gasped and would have followed him down but Snape shook his head.

“Let me see you.”

Harry gulped and nodded. Snape reached out and slender fingers tackled the trouser fastenings. One by one they were undone. A slow, tantalising stroke of the hard flesh beneath the cloth was administered as each button was flicked free of its closure. Harry panted and his hands clenched and unclenched as he was exposed to Severus' hungry gaze.

The last of the buttons was undone and Snape inhaled deeply.

“You smell delightful, Harry.”

His fingers lifted up to the waistband of the trousers where braces buttoned onto the material and deftly he flicked the tabs free. That done he tugged gently on the thick wool and the material slipped free of the narrow hips and Harry's cock, ruddy and leaking sprang into view. Snape shivered and he looked up at Harry.

“Shall I take you in my mouth, Harry?”

Harry groaned and nodded speech beyond him. Snape breathed in and then blew gently across Harry's bobbing erection. Flames danced over his skin and Harry burned. His knees buckled and he would have fallen but for Snape's hold on him.

Snape drew back.

“You are such a sweet morsel, Harry. I cannot wait to taste you, but perhaps you should be lying down?”

He urged Harry backwards and Harry stumbled, his trousers at mid thigh. He reached down and drew them up around his waist, his leaking cock still jutting proudly forth between the gaps of his button fly.

Harry stopped when he reached the pallet and allowed Snape to guide him down onto the pallet. He shivered as he encountered the rough nap of the woollen blanket and was unprepared for Snape pushing his jumper and shirt up to suckle at his left nipple. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his senses reeled. The soft suckling and then the gentle nipping made him squirm and moan. He longed to reciprocate but every time he reached for Severus the wicked tongue would slide around a nipple or the lips would nibble around his pectoral muscles. Sweat dampened his body and that too was garnered.

Harry's breath was sobbing and he writhed under the onslaught of tongue and teeth and lips. Just as he thought he was going to explode Severus gave a quick tug on his balls and the incipient orgasm stopped cold.

“You look so debauched spread before me Harry. I must touch you.”

Harry nodded and fought free of his clothing. He lay panting on the bedding as Severus undid his trousers and let them slip to puddle around his feet. Harry gasped at the thick, leaking cock, underneath which swung full balls. He licked his lips and watched as the fine porcelain skin he'd spotted earlier was once more in view.

Harry moaned and held out his arms and opened his legs. Severus gasped and went to his knees between Harry's and slowly lowered himself on top. Harry gasped and cried out as heated skin met heated skin. He slid his arms around Severus' neck and groaned as the heavier weight blanketed him. He opened his legs wider and they both moaned lushly as their leaking cocks touched. Harry slid his legs around Severus' back and locked his heels in the small of his back. It felt so good, so right. Severus slowly pushed down and Harry panted.

“Do you like this, Harry?”

Harry could only nod.

Severus began to move slowly backwards and forwards and Harry whimpered. Their leaking cocks spilled dampness between them easing the way.

The delightful rubbing sent fire racing along Harry's muscles and he pushed up against Severus. Severus' hot breath seared his skin and when Severus dropped his head to lap at the skin at the base of his throat Harry mewled and his fingers clutched more tightly at ridged collarbones.

“You are beautiful, Harry. Come for me, Harry. Come for me. Set your seed to mingle with mine.”

Severus leant down and gently nipped Harry's left ear lobe.

Molten lave coursed through Harry's veins and he convulsed, seed spurting between them as he bucked his way though his orgasm. He felt the telltale splatter of Severus' seed and they both collapsed Severus atop Harry trapping him beneath his weight and making it difficult for him to breathe. Harry realised he quite liked the weight of another atop him and risked and kiss to Severus' left collarbone.

Slowly Snape eased back and slipped to one side. He rested beside Harry and trailed his fingers through their spilled seed. He scooped some up and licked it from his fingers. Harry watched as the action was repeated and opened his lips when the self same fingers covered in milky seed came to him and slipped inside. He licked the substance and found it salty. Severus' eyes widened as Harry cleaned his fingers, licking cat-like between each slender digit to capture each morsel of their mingled seed.

Harry gasped as Severus leant down and began to lick their combined seed from Harry's belly. Each strong rasp of his tongue sent tingles all along Harry's skin and he felt the quickening of desire once more and moaned.

Severus looked own at the slowly engorging cock and smiled before shifting his tongue to Harry's left nipple. Harry groaned and pushed his chest up into the wicked mouth.

“You like your nipples played with Harry?”

Harry swallowed hard and nodded.

“Do you like them bitten?”

Harry swallowed and licked his lips.

“Don't know … haven't ever ….”

Severus understood.

“Let's find out shall we?”

And he bet to take Harry's right nipple in his mouth. He tongued it till it rose into a hardened peak and then he trapped it between his teeth and gently bit down. Harry moaned and fisted his hands in the bedding.

“Oh, gods, yes. Harder.”

Severus obliged and Harry panted and thrashed his head from side to side.

“So wanton, so responsive, so delicious.”

And Severus shifted to Harry's left nipple and tongued it to a hardened peak. Then he suckled it and chewed it before trapping it between his teeth and tugging on it. Harry whimpered and offered his chest for further pain. Severus obliged and shifted a hand up to the nipple that he was not suckling, rolling it between his fingers and tugging it. Harry moaned and his head rolled from side to side. Severus released the swollen flesh and kissed first one then the other before he began kissing his way down Harry's stomach.

Harry panted as the gentle kisses slipped down his body his racing heart thudding in his chest as Severus moved lower and lower. He jumped as his belly button was tongued and he jerked and stuffed his fist in his mouth as Severus worked closer and closer to his cock. He sobbed and cried as his cock was enveloped in the moist heat of Severus' mouth and he convulsed into orgasm, hips bucking wildly when the very tip of his leaking shaft was treated to the leisurely curling rasp of warm tongue. Bright sparks went off behind his eyes and the world went dark.

Slowly consciousness returned and Harry opened his eyes to see Severus' smiling at him. He stretched, sliding his skin along Severus' and heard the sudden intake of breath as his thigh nudged the still leaking hardness between the strong thighs.

“You may touch him if you wish, Harry. I'd like it.”

Harry trailed a hand up the fine hair between the fine pectoral muscles and then across one pebbled nipple. He was rewarded with an indrawn hiss and a slight shiver.

“Will you let me suckle your nipples?”

Severus moaned and nodded.

“Oh, yes. And chew them too, if you'd like.”

Harry shifted and tugged Severus to lie down. Snape obliged and Harry rolled onto his side and then shifted so that he straddled Severus' thigh. He leant forward and Snape moaned as his leaking prick slid along Harry's side. Harry leant forward and lapped at Severus' left nipple.

Becoming bolder Harry closed his lips over the hard little peak and swirled his tongue over and around it. Severus' breathing hitched and he pushed against Harry's lips. Taking a chance Harry closed his teeth around the nubbin of flesh and gently bit down before tugging firmly.

“Ah, yes, Harry. Harder. Bite harder.”

Harry obliged and then released the swollen peak and switched sides. For several minutes he suckled at the right nipple before biting down on the swollen flesh. Severus gasped and moaned.

Harry released the chewed flesh and shifted his attention to the leaking cock spilling fluid from the deep purple crown. He reached out and curled his hand around the base making Severus jump and then he breathed on the tip and Severus tossed his head from side to side, long fingers clenched around the edges of the woollen blanket as his breath hissed slowly from his mouth. Harry brought his other hand to fondle the heavy sacs below the heated length of the thick cock and then lowered his head, opened his lips and licked the spongy tip of the cock before sliding his tongue around the under edge . Severus choked off a cry and dragged the closest edge of bedding to his mouth and bit down on it. Harry slipped the head of the leaking prick into his mouth and gently drew back raking his teeth lightly over the cock head as he slipped his mouth to the left side to trace the great vein that pulsed the length of the engorged cock. Severus cries were muffled by the material but ropes of seed spilled from his cock splashing Harry's face and coating Severus' abdomen and chest as his hips bucked through orgasm.

Eventually he quieted and flopped back, his hands letting go the bedding, his breathing evening out. Harry moved the blankets aside before leaning down and lapping at the pooled semen. He licked his lips rolling the taste over his tongue and sat up. He looked down into lazily lidded ebon eyes and lifted his hand. He licked the spilled seed from his fingers and between them.

“I like your seed, Severus. I'd like to taste more. Will I get the chance?”

Severus drew a deep breath and released it.

“I'm sure you will inspire me. “

His hand snaked out and he leant forward to place a kiss on the tip of Harry's cock. It stirred and began to swell. Severus smiled.

“We have a few hours to get to know each other better before the others are fit to socialise. “

Harry smiled and reached out to rub Severus' nipple.

“Good.”

Severus nodded.

“Yes. It is.”

Fin.