Fic: Sparkling Clean (Harry/Snape)
We'll pretend I posted this before midnight, eh?

This is for the lovely bethbethbeth, who graces fandom with good humor and polished skills. I hope you had a wonderful birthday at Terminus, dear! And that you enjoy this, whenever you see it.

Title: Sparkling Clean
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Rating: Eh. Hard R or NC-17, depending on your tastes
Warnings: Nary a one, for kinks. But if you want to stay completely unspoiled for the Twilight series, don't click.
A/N My thanks to my Twitter enabler/betas: Femme, Atrata, Lola, and Catrinella for the quick read-through and the ebullient ending.

Summary: Harry's a fan. Snape is not.



The door swung open with a reluctant groan, and Severus walked past it into the cottage’s small parlor. He’d have to oil the damned hinges again soon.

Harry’s red Auror robes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, next to the sofa, and Severus wrinkled his nose. He thought he'd finally trained Harry to be tidier. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. Harry hadn’t started dinner yet either, evidently. Curiouser and curiouser.

Harry was upstairs, soaking in the long tub they’d installed after moving in a year ago. Severus could see from the doorway that he was in a bit of a funk. The bubbles sloshed back and forth as Harry idly tapped one foot against the end of the tub and glowered into the middle distance. A book lay flung down on the rug next to the tub.

Severus twisted his head to the side and read its spine: Breaking Dawn. Oh. That tripe. Harry had been looking forward to the final volume. For weeks. And had gone on and on about how it might end.

“I need to find out if she ended up with Edward and how they worked it out,” he’d said at least ten times, until Severus had wanted to throttle him. Or better yet, throttle Bella. Although any character who was at all like the real Bella wouldn’t have taken this long to make up her mind. Not that he’d tell Harry so.

Severus had read the first volume in the series (well, the first fifty pages or so) but Harry had not received his initial insights on the series and its author in the proper spirit; after going more than a week without a blow job after the second debate regarding the series’ literary merits, Severus had decided to keep his opinions on this subject to himself, thereafter. The series was ridiculous, but Harry was never going to realize that.

“Your book arrived.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s tone was glum. “Seamus called me from the bookstore to let me know that the copies were in, and I even took off early to get mine. Not much going on at work today, anyway.”

“You don’t seem pleased by it.”

Harry’s head snapped up. “Oh, God, it’s . . . well, you’re just going to say I told you so, so what’s the point?”

Severus opened his mouth to respond that of course he wouldn’t have held a grudge, but then closed it again. Perhaps he might have pointed out that the series hadn’t held much promise, even to begin with.

“She just . . . bollixed it up completely. It was, um, unbelievable.”

Severus felt like pointing out that the entire series had been unbelievable (and designed only to appeal to young witches who were nervous about losing their virginity, in his opinion) from the very start. But perhaps now wasn’t the time to rub it in. He opened the linen cabinet and pulled out a bottle of massage oil instead, and pulled up a stool to sit near the end of the tub, where Harry’s feet were propped up on the rim.

“First Bella and Edward get married. I actually quite liked the wedding scene . . . “ Harry’s voice flowed over Severus, but he tuned it out and began to work on the sole of one foot, rubbing and pressing, allowing the pine scent of the oil to fill the small room.

Harry groaned happily. “Oh, yes. Do that, yeah, again. But then Bella got pregnant, and that just wasn’t on. I mean, vampires weren’t supposed to have children, they said that from the start. You can’t just change the rules like that in mid-game.”

Severus looked up sharply. “Vampires couldn’t reproduce?” Even a blind pig finds a truffle sometimes, he thought.

“No. I mean, that’s what she said. The author. But then Bella did get pregnant, a kind of a half-vampire magical fetus, and it was terrible. The baby was about to kill her from the inside and Edward had to bite her out. Ugh. That’s one film I’m not going to go see.”

Severus hoped not. Because then there’d be no chance that he’d be dragged along. He wondered what sorts of uses a half-vampire magical fetus might have as a potions ingredient, and poured out a little more oil before starting on the other foot.

“And after that it got even worse. And the book was about twice as long as it should have been.” Harry sounded quite glum, and Severus cast about for a way to distract him. He really didn’t want to sit here listening to a retelling of the whole wretched series all evening.

“It’s your turn to cook tonight, but we could look in at the pub instead.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m not really hungry. I got a sandwich before I started to read, since I knew I wouldn’t want to break off before I was done. “

Severus wasn’t actually hungry either. He shrugged off his robes and climbed in the tub, facing Harry. There was a slight grumbling noise as the tub stretched a couple of feet to give them more room, and the water level dropped. Harry sat up to turn on the tap again, tipped in some more bubble bath, and then spread his legs a bit to take Severus’s feet up on his stomach. He wasn’t nearly as good at foot massages as he was at blow jobs, but it was a step in the right direction. Severus leaned back and closed his eyes.

Harry pressed his thumb into the center of Severus’ left sole, and he felt his cock twitch and start to fill, as Harry worked his way down the center of the foot. Perhaps Harry’s technique had improved: being exposed to Severus’ footrubs must have helped. His cock was buried inches deep in bubbles, though, and Harry didn’t notice.

Having been proven right, perhaps he should make an effort to be generous. “I’m sorry the ending disappointed you,” he offered.

“Yeah. And what she did with the werewolf was ridiculous.”

Werewolves. He shouldn’t have brought up the subject again. Harry started to natter on about the detestable “vampire” story again, but at least he didn’t stop the foot massage. Severus reached down under the bubbles and began to stroke himself lazily. His palm was still a little oily, and feeling hands on both his cock and his feet at the same time was delicious.

Severus could tell when Harry finally noticed that he was sharing a tub with someone who was wanking (at least five minutes after most people would have picked up on it, Severus estimated), because Harry suddenly fell silent, and reached up to start massaging Severus’ calves. Severus moaned happily, and began to use firmer and more rapid strokes. It didn’t take long after that.

And in the tub, there was nothing to clean up afterwards. Severus lay back, feeling warm and boneless.

He heard Harry snort, and then little waves began to lap at his chest. Severus opened one eye slightly, and saw that Harry was following his example. Well, the boy did have a learning curve of sorts.

He sat up a bit and pulled one of Harry’s feet (now water-logged and wrinkled, but clean) up to his own mouth. He popped the big toe into his mouth and began to suck, laving the underside with his tongue.

“Ohhh. That’s good.”

With encouragement, Harry never lasted very long. Afterwards, Severus lay back and stared up through the skylight they'd installed over the tub. At this point in the summer, it was still quite light outside and light fell down onto the now-dispersing bubbles.

The water sloshed almost over the rim as Harry sat up abruptly. "Sev, your cock . . . I could swear it just, uh, sparkled."

"Don't be ridiculous. The light just caught the bubbles."

Harry lay back, apparently satisfied, but Severus was still careful to turn slightly as he stood up and reached for a towel. Drying, he walked over to the mirror to check on the glamour he used on his teeth. As usual, climaxing had brought out the sparkle a bit more, and he recast the yellowing glamour wordlessly before turning back to Harry.

In that moronic series, Severus recalled, the "hero" had been afraid to shag because he feared damaging his partner. Ludicrous. The errors in the first volume alone were too many to count. But that particular mistake . . . well, he supposed that some people preferred unresolved sexual tension.

"Would you care to join me in the bedroom?"

Harry nodded, and reached for his own towel.