[HP] Secret help

, then the bastard will walk over slowly, wrap his limbs, suck/suck his juice/juice--

"Ha..." The boy raised his neck impatiently.

"You know I'm not tying you up, do you?" Snape whispered in his ear.

Harry turned sideways, buried his head in the crescent of Snape's neck, and let out a puff of steam, "Shut up and concentrate—you old bastard."

Snape raised his eyebrows in the dark, peeled off the package with his thumb, and swipe his wrist along the slightly raised veins.

Harry let out a sigh from his throat, and put his arms around Snape's shoulders, they had already been lying together at some point, Harry's skin was against Snape's soft pajamas.

His whole body was steaming, like a small cake just out of the oven, with a thin layer of honey soaked out, exuding a sweet and creamy aroma.

"Relax, boy, I'm about to lose you." Snape's voice pressed against his ear, stroking his eardrums, "Give yourself to me."

Harry closed his eyes and pressed against the other's neck tightly, and whimpered vaguely in his throat, like a cat and dog trying to fawn viciously while begging for food.He hugged Snape's shoulders, dug his nails into the material, and pulled himself into Snape's hands.

Both of them felt hot, and it was unknown who's sweat made Snape's still intact pajamas damp, but they didn't feel cold, and they didn't even feel tired. Harry pressed Snape's neck, arrogant and fragile. He couldn't see or hear anything, and Harry didn't want to think about who was holding him, whose bed, whose arms he was in, his sanity had already All crashing, screaming at the critical point, falling into the craziest twisted dreams, is the ultimate wantonness and joy/pleasure.

Most of the things in the world that take people out of the rational framework can be classified into several categories: power, status, feelings, drugs, and sex/love, even the great savior is no exception.

He shot/in Snape's hand.

tenth glass bead

When he sank to the bottom, he was extremely empty and exhausted. Harry felt like a handful of fine sand on the seashore, surrounded by broken shells and crabs that had molted their shells, paralyzed there, warmed by the waves. Swaying slightly on the sandy beach.

He remembered that he seemed to be lying on his side on the bed, tiredly closing his eyes and looking at the light leaking in through the crack of the door—Snape had just gone out, turned on the light in the living room, and went to the bathroom over there to wash, the latch was lightly pressed Hitting the buckle, it bounced open a palm-width slit.Harry just quietly looked at the swaying figure behind the translucent frosted glass in the bathroom, with a vague hope in his heart.

It wasn't until the faint sunlight outside hit his eyelids through the curtains, and when Harry opened his eyes again, he realized that the figure in the living room was just a dream, and he had waited foolishly for Snape all night in his dream, The main character has long since disappeared.

He was the only one in the second bedroom, cold and quiet. Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up, reached out to touch his glasses on the bedside table, the little thing was not in the usual position, Harry looked over with some doubts, and found that it was just right It was placed neatly on the bedside table, against the wall, further inward than where Harry usually placed it.

Oh, right.Harry remembered that Snape helped him put away his glasses last night, and then, what else did he do, he—

"...f*k Merlin."

Harry cursed, fell back on the pillow, pulled up the quilt to cover his face, pulled the quilt back a few seconds later, and touched his pajama pants. Unsurprisingly, everything was dry, even still Exudes a fresh smell of fabric softener.

Harry rubbed his face and began to deny himself.

He has become so familiar with the activity in recent years that he sometimes skips the self-doubt stage himself.

For example, he now began to believe that what happened last night was his dream, there was no black shadow that was approaching and far away, there was no Snape's hand, there was no such suffocating and eager orgasm.

No matter how you think about it, it seems fake.Harry convinced himself.

He lifted the quilt and sat on the edge of the bed, he was stunned as soon as he stepped into the slipper with one foot, the pair of fluffy, lake blue slippers were neatly placed beside the bed, head to head, tail to tail.But this is not Harry's habit. The boy always jumps to bed, flicking the slippers on his feet to let them land as they like. Ever since he woke up, he has spent about ten seconds every morning looking for kicks by himself. Flying slippers, and right now, they're clearly not in the norm.

Unless someone has been in his room.

—So all that is true?Snape really came?

Or not--

Harry didn't want to think about it any more, he ruffled his hair roughly and unlocked the bedroom door.

The golden sunlight pouring into the living room made the floor shine brightly, and a layer of fluffy light was reflected everywhere. The sun came out of the thick clouds for a while. It had not been such a good weather for a long time. It was as good as Fake.

Harry walked into the living room. No one was there, and the room was equally quiet. There was a warm breakfast on the table in the dining room. Snape fried an egg, some sausages, and a small salad. , there was still a bowl of soup left, and a faint aroma of bread filled the air.

He turned his head to look at Snape's bedroom, the door was open, the bed curtain was raised to reveal the stretched quilt and pillows inside, which looked extremely soft in the golden sunlight.

Oddly, the little staircase leading to the potions room was gone too, Snape must have gone out, he wasn't in the house.

It took Harry a few seconds to realize the fact that for some reason he felt uneasy, that Snape had never left him alone at home, no, Snape never went out unless necessary, but he did. , leaving his house, even while Harry was still awake, it shouldn't have been.

He shouldn't have left me here.

Snape couldn't leave me here alone.

Harry angrily walked towards the gate, passing the window by the door, the outside was so gray that he couldn't see anything, he didn't know if it was fog or the condensation on the glass, Harry grabbed the doorknob and twisted it hard, but the handle remained the same. Not moving at all.

Snape locked the door behind him, and Harry took two steps back in disbelief, turning around to go back to his room to get his wand under his pillow.At this moment, there was a soft "click" from the door. Harry turned his head and saw that the doorknob was pushed down, and then it was knocked open. A dark figure fell in, and there was a heavy "bang". Hitting the ground, the cold air suddenly invaded the room, and the almost solidified mist guarded the door like a wall.

It was Snape.

"God, what's wrong with you?" Harry rushed over and hugged the man on the ground as hard as he could, letting Snape's head rest on his lap, the man was lying in his arms with a bloodless face, blood gurgling from his neck It flowed out of the two pea-sized holes on the side, and flowed to the ground, staining his lake-blue slippers red.

Snape clenched the boy's wrist, looked at Harry with his dark eyes, and said, breathlessly, "Look - look at me..."

"No!—" Harry threw himself at Snape's neck, "No, no, Snape!"

This kind of blocking didn't seem to have any effect. Snape's neck was bleeding profusely, like a broken fire hydrant, or like a Coke can that was shaken violently after opening, the blood gushing out, shocking Lee's palm.

He is powerless.

Harry pressed the wound with strength that seemed to snap Snape's neck, and blood dripped all over their bodies/beneath them.

"What can I do, what can I do, what can I do..." Harry muttered, groping in the pocket of his pajamas, suddenly, he felt something, in the pocket, a thin Long wand, Snape's wand, he forgot to take out his own things when he lent him the pajamas, Harry held the wand in his hand, and shot Snape's neck several times. The restorative spell didn't work, and Snape just looked at him without moving, as if blood was clogging his windpipe again, so that Snape could only make a bubbling sound, with blood foam coming from Snape's chest. The corners of the mouth overflowed.

Immediately afterwards, he closed his eyes and remained still.

Harry heard himself scream almost silently, turning the bloody tip of his staff to his temple.

"Sectumsempra—"

"Potter!" A huge force grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him out.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Snape growled in his ear.

Harry opened his eyelids slightly and was confused for a few seconds: "Professor...?"

Snape didn't answer, snatched something out of his hand angrily, opened the bedside table and threw it into it.Pain and consciousness flowed back into Harry's body at the same time. He rubbed his dull aching temples, sat up and leaned on the soft cushion at the head of the bed.

It was all a dream just now, Harry realized.

Yes, how could Snape die, he was rescued by himself, it was St. Mungo sent by Harry himself, the old bastard was alive and well, never died.

Snape looked at him suspiciously: "What did you dream about?"

"Oh...it's nothing, it's just old stuff, you know." Harry mumbled.

"Really?" Snape sneered.

Harry forced a smile.

"I thought that by now you should have at least one or two truths, but the savior still has the same bad habits as before, full of lies." Snape sneered.

Harry exclaimed, "I didn't!"

Snape snorted coldly: "Are there no bad habits that die hard, or are there no lies?"

Harry lifted the quilt and was about to get out of bed: "I don't want to argue with you about these unnutritious words