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Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Description: 16 year old Harry Potter has a problem and Snape lends a hand.
Note: Title taken from Kierkegaard's work by the same title. Thanks to beccafran for the beta.

"Sex is boring." Harry Potter walked away from the seventh year girl who had lifted her skirt and beckoned to him from behind the broom shed.

Everything bored Harry. Sex with girls, sex with boys, sex with candles and wands. All boring. He looked in the Restricted Section at night using his invisibility cloak and found books on Sexe ande Thee Wizarde that were so out of date they contained clunky moving woodcut prints of wizards wearing ruffs. Detecting which "f"s were "s "s and which were actually "f"s had given him a headache. These books were not going to tell him what was wrong with him. They were not going to tell him why a perfectly healthy sixteen-year old boy was unable to sustain an erection or achieve orgasm. He yanked the cloak off and closed his eyes. Before he had a second to feel sorry for himself and slip into a bog of "woe is me, there is a evil wizard trying to kill me, and my sex life sucks" he was grabbed from behind.

He couldn't breathe and his glasses had been knocked from his face. Rough wool bit into his Adam's apple, and the smell of Mrs. Skower's Magical Mess Remover and unwashed hair drifted in with the snorts of air Harry tried to take through his nose. Filch.

Harry struggled.

"I don't think we should let him go, my sweet. Not until we know what he was up to. He is dangerous. We've heard the stories, haven't we?" Filch stepped backwards, all the while talking to his cat, and Harry was forced to take a step back too. He was growing lightheaded. His heart was beating too fast. A cold sweat was breaking out on the backs of his arms and his thighs.

"What is this?" Filch held the book in front of Harry's face. "You nasty little pervert sneaking in to look at this filth. I shall have to report you." Filch let go of Harry, who sank to the floor lightheaded.

"Get up. I'm taking you to Professor McGonagall." Filch nudged Harry's leg with his dirty boot and shoved his glasses into his hands.

Oh No! I'm going to have to talk to McGonagall about sex. Oh No!, became a mantra dancing in Harry's mind on the walk there. He briefly considered making a dash for the forest - but in his pyjamas he thought he might freeze to death before morning.

His brain buzzed. Make something up. Anything -- He drew a blank as Filch marched him through Hogwarts Castle.

"What is this then, Filch?" Professor Snape stepped out of a side corridor and his lip curled slightly as he glanced at Harry.

"Caught Potter in the Restricted Section looking at dangerous dark books, Sir. I'm just takin' him along to Professor McGonagall." Filch sounded as if it were Christmas and he'd been given his heart's dearest wish: the power to use torture implements on rule breakers.

"Leave Potter with me, Filch. Dumbledore should know. I'll take him along." Snape reached out for the book Filch was holding.

Harry hadn't noticed that Filch had brought it along. Snape knowing he'd been looking at books about sex was worse than McGonagall, so much worse. But he stood rooted to the spot. He said nothing. His breathing was growing shallow.

Snape looked at the book's spine and pursed his lips, then broke into a great greasy smile. He turned the cat that swallowed the canary look on Harry, "Come along Potter. We need to see the headmaster."

Harry trudged after Snape and behind him he could hear Filch muttering, "...filthy boys, with their nasty muddy boots..."

Snape spun around just outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Potter, do you think the Dark Lord has anything to do with your need to look in this book?"

Harry's face burned. He just wasn't going to stand in the hallway and talk about sex with Snape. He wasn't going to talk to Snape about sex ever. He had hated this man since that first snide, uncomfortable potions lesson.

"Potter, is it Him? I need to know." Snape lost his sneer for a moment. The look was not pleading or soft - but for one moment Harry saw something else, something human and worried.

"No." The word came through clenched teeth. He was trembling with exhaustion and fear. He struggled to get his breathing under control. He would not pass out in front of Snape. His skin prickled. Snape was making him very nervous.

"Well, perhaps we don't need to bother the headmaster then. Come with me."

Harry stood rooted to the spot. "Shouldn't I return to Gryff--"

"Potter, for once, do as you are told!" Snape pulled out his wand and thrust it at Harry's right eye, stopping just shy of it.

Harry stepped back from Snape's wand and did as he was told. He marched in front of Snape all the way down to the dungeons.

He was trembling and his knees felt like they were not going to hold him up much longer. He slumped into a chair in Snape's classroom because he didn't even think he could make it into Snape's office.

Snape leaned across the desk and began firing questions. What was he thinking, how was he feeling, had he been having odd dreams, had he been eating? Over and over.

"I've answered that question four times. No, I have not had any weird dreams," Harry burst out and flecks of spit hit Snape's face which was inches from his.

Snape drew back and pulled out a handkerchief. His sallow skin was looking grey.

"Potter you have a habit of not telling the truth. I'm asking you to answer my questions for your own good as well as that of all of wizardkind. Why must you always be so arrogant? Why do you think you are so special? Is it a family trait, a Potter thing? Snape walked around behind Harry.

"Don't bring my father into this." Harry dug his fingernails into his palms. He would not lose control in front of Snape. "Don't you dare say anything about my father."

Snape walked back in front of Harry. His eyes glinted with malice and his voice was smooth as oiled silk and low, "Don't tell me what to do, Potter. You know as well as I do that your father was an arrogant, prideful, egotistic--"

SLAM

Harry had burst out of his seat and shoved Snape into the high table at the front of the room. He had his wand pointed at Snape's throat and was pinning him to the table. Snape weighed more than Harry but Harry was taller and in much better shape.

"If you ever criticize my father again in front of me I will make you incredibly sorry." Harry knew his threat was not totally empty - but the words didn't have the weight they should have. Bellatrix Lestrange had told Harry that to perform a proper Cruciatus curse you had to mean it - you had to enjoy causing pain. Harry had promised himself he would never enjoy causing pain. But he was enjoying this. He wanted to pummel Snape. He wanted to hurt him. Wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face. Images of Snape in torn clothing and with a bloodied face raced across Harry's mind in a dizzying montage. Harry put all his weight against Snape so that his body was pressed up against Snape's at every point. The weight of Snape's body under his was pleasant and Harry's rage wavered. His groin felt ticklish for a second and his cock stiffened and pressed against the small of Snape's back.

A huge surge of fatigue and horror rocketed through Harry and when his grip on Snape slackened, the older man spun and knocked Harry to the ground. Snape disarmed him and left the room without saying anything.

Harry curled into a ball, enjoying the cold stone floor against his cheek. If he limited his entire world to that cold feeling -- life wasn't so bad.

Snape grabbed the collar of Harry's pyjamas and hauled him up into sitting position. "Here," He thrust a glass of something at Harry. It was purple and viscous.

"What is it?" Harry sniffed it. It had no smell.

"Drink it!" Snape bellowed.

Harry swallowed. His eyes bulged. It tasted like nothing he had ever drunk before. It was fire turned into liquid. His eyes teared. He choked. Snape laughed.

Rage welled again under Harry's skin. He made fists and started to get up, but a sudden warmth took his body and shook all the anger out as easily as wrinkles are smoothed from a freshly laundered sheet. He opened his mouth to yell or demand and out came laughter.

They both laughed just for the pure joy of laughing. Harry's brain tilted and swam with the oddness of the situation. He was sitting in the dungeon with Snape, laughing after they'd had a scuffle and Harry had been turned on by Snape. He must be insane or he was having nightmare. Those were really the only two options.

"Potter?"

"Yes, Sir?" Harry was grinning. Seeing Snape laugh was so odd. It made him a different person.

"Why were you in the library," Snape picked up the book, "Reading this?"

Harry's smile faded. He would not talk to Snape about it. But his thoughts formed a little bubble and forced their way out of the recesses of his chest and out of his mouth. Harry didn't speak the words but the bubbles burst in the air and told his secrets in what sounded like boy's whiskey and soda voice. If the thoughts had not been so plainly his he would have doubted the voice was his own.

-pop- "Sex is boring."
-pop- "Something is wrong with me."
-pop- "I'm scared. I tried both boys and girls."
-pop- "None of it worked for me. Nothing turns me on."

"You gave me Veritaserum." Harry was burning with shame. Every inch of his skin was glowing with indignation and embarrassment.

"No. I gave you a draught of a cheering simple with an extra herb that encourages truthfulness." Snape held up his glass. "I had some of the cheering simple myself. Now, if I'm not mistaken when you were accosting me a few minutes ago you were quite aroused weren't you?" Snape waited.

Harry could feel the bubble trying to break out and escape into the air. He clamped down on his thoat and ceased to breathe. He knew he would not be able to hold his breath for long. The bubble was struggling and pushing against his throat and clenched teeth. It was like having violent butterflies in one's mouth.

The world started to dissolve and Harry automatically took a breath.

-pop- "Yeah, that was weird."
-pop- "That was the first hard on I've had in ages."
-pop- "I can't believe it was with you."

Snape flashed Harry a smile. It was a greasy and insinuating smile. "I need a drink." Snape summoned the bottle and poured them each a glass. Harry didn't need to be told to drink it. He knocked it back. For one moment he was sure he would vomit. The liquor roared and bubbled in his stomach. He'd drunk two things that burned like fire tonight and he wondered if there would be a hole burned right through his stomach wall and pyjamas. He giggled.

Snape had a second drink.

"Potter, I'm going to help you. But you'll owe me." Snape hauled Harry out of his chair and pushed him up against the wall.

His whiskey breath was hot against Harry's neck, "Does this turn you on?"

Harry said nothing. This just was not happening. Snape did not have his hands on his thighs. Snape was not pressing himself up against Harry's arse.

-pop- "Yes. Oh, yes."

Harry felt his cock stiffen as if it was only loosely connected to him. It certainly didn't seem like a part of him anymore and he didn't want to lay claim to anything that liked Snape.

"Do you want me to help you?" Snape's voice had a catch in it and Harry could feel Snape trembling against him.

The bubble was starting to rise and Harry knew what he had to do. "Yes."

"Very good, Potter." Snape slid his hand inside the waistband of Harry's pyjamas and tangled his fingers in the unruly pubic hair there. Harry grunted. He was leaning against a wall in the potions classroom with the man he hated more than anyone else at Hogwarts about to fondle him. That thought made him feel dizzy again. His body was betraying him. His brain was shouting, "We hate Snape," while his cock was saying in a quiet but insistent way, "Oh, no we don't." The throb in his groin increased and spread down his legs and up his torso, threading in and out of each rib and squeezing the breath out his lungs in an exotic rhythm. His brain sensed that it was about to lose the small edge it had when even more blood flow was diverted away from it and rallied for one last final attack, "Think about all the awful things this man has said to you and has done."

At that moment Snape's hand grasped Harry's erection with cool fingers and gave an upward stroke that was sure and smooth. All of Harry's thoughts dissolved. His brain went to sleep and all of his worries and qualms faded into nothing. All of his world became a small area of flesh filled with the rush and throb of blood. Snape stroked and squeezed. Faster then slower. It felt good. It felt fabulous. Fuck. Harry felt a moan starting to escape. He tried to suppress it. And a bubble was there, waiting to burst out. Snape was stroking faster now and not saying anything. The bubble was pushing and fizzing with magical energy. Harry might let Snape wank him off - but he wasn't going to let Snape know he was enjoying it. But the bubble burst out.

-pop- "ooooOOOOahhh"

"So you like it, Potter?"

A new bubble formed. It burned the way the drink had burned. Harry clamped down on his throat and stopped breathing just as he started to come. It felt like a bright explosion that happened in both the center of his head and blurred down his thighs and cock. It felt like the come raced from the edges of his body with burning pleasure and shot out of him. He gasped. Swore. Collapsed.

He leaned against the wall breathing hard. He felt so good, so alive. It was a terrible way to feel, because Snape was part of it. Harry did not want to open his eyes. He did not want to see Snape with a white mess on his hands or looking flushed. He felt sick and elated at the same time.

"Potter, look at me."

Harry opened his eyes and saw Snape smirking at him, wand out. "Obliviate."