Pairing: Severus/Blaise/Harry.

Rating: NC-17.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Characters owned by J.K. Rowling.

Summary: A Slytherin sandwich with Gryffindor meat. PWP.

"Open your mouth."

Those were the words that Blaise Zabini first said to Harry in seven years of sharing Gryffindor/Slytherin classes. Harry hadn't expected them. At all. And he blushed, looking wildly at the people around them, chatting and oblivious to the momentous occasion.

The Farewell Feast had been supremely boring. It dimmed in comparison to the celebration they'd held a year ago commemorating Voldemort's defeat. But Harry had attended as a matter of principle, despite his eagerness to retire to Hogsmeade to his new flat and his new Quidditch training schedule.

He hadn't expected the mysterious and quiet Slytherin to accost him during the feast. He hadn't expected Zabini to lean in, a morsel of food in his hand, and say, "Open your mouth."

So shocked he was, he blushed. And obeyed. Blaise smirked and introduced the bit of food in Harry's mouth, his fingers lingering at the edge of Harry's lips. Harry closed his mouth quickly and chewed, for lack of a better thing to do, his eyes trained on the other boy.

Who smiled. Who lifted those same fingers to his own lips and licked them with a drowsy stare.

It was the hottest fucking thing Harry had ever seen.

It was also the most perplexing thing he had ever seen. "What--"

"You want to take a walk? If this thing gets any duller, I might just die from brain failure." And the Slytherin smiled, flashing a row of predatory teeth that Harry found absolutely delicious.

He couldn't say no. He even forgot to tell Ron and Hermione that he was leaving. He just wanted to see where this led. Having harboured a discreet crush on the enigmatic student, Harry wasn't going to be difficult about this surprising turn of events. He was already hard just thinking about what Blaise might have in store.

Of course, he could be walking into a trap. But he was willing to take the risk. Besides, with Voldemort gone and most of his followers festering in Azkaban, Blaise had little reason to hurt Harry. Even so, he was glad for the weight of his wand near his hip. "Where are we going?" he asked as soon as they'd cleared the doors.

"Somewhere private."

"Aren't you being presumptuous?" Harry murmured. While intrigued, he didn't want to appear too eager.

"I don't think so," Blaise said over his shoulder, his eyes half-closed and his lips pulled back in the most animated expression Harry had ever seen on the boy's features.

By the time Harry realised they were descending into the dungeons, Blaise stopped abruptly and shoved him against the wall midway down the stone stairs. Harry tensed, readying his breath for a curse, only to have it sucked into the mouth of the other boy as Blaise crushed his lips over Harry's.

Harry discovered it was possible to melt, and he did so against the wall, tension dissolving from his muscles. "Why--" he tried to say, lips wet and swollen and bruised as Blaise devoured him, for lack of a better term, his hands gripping Harry in a lustful vice.

Blaise pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking in the sight Harry made. Harry wondered what made him so interesting. He was just standing there, an idiotic look of awe on his face and his mouth gaping stupidly. "You're beautiful," Blaise whispered. Not bloody likely, Harry thought, but he said nothing. To return the compliment would have sounded cheap, even though Harry had seared this very thought about Blaise whenever he'd looked at the other boy.

Blaise pulled him from the wall and led him further down and into the Common Room. It was deserted. Harry glanced around nervously, but soon forgot his anxiety when Blaise let go of his hand and sat down on the leather couch. He lounged back, a playful smile on his lips. "Are you going to join me?" he asked.

Harry decided he had absolutely no experience at this, and he nodded numbly. Blaise took pity on him and took his hands, helping him over his thighs. A rush of heat blossomed in Harry's face as he settled down in Blaise's lap. Blaise's interest was suddenly quite tangibly confirmed. Harry moaned when Blaise lifted his hips. "I want to fuck you, Harry. I've been wanting to fuck you for years."

What did one say to that, exactly? Harry was completely lost as to the etiquette for this sort of thing. Should he thank him? Or should he be honest? Honesty had always served him right (mostly), so Harry leaned in and breathed, "Oh god, me too." Upon revision, and the amused smirk on Blaise's lips, Harry blushed anew. "That is, I want you-- to-- god. Kiss me again, please?"

Blaise bit his lower lip casually and settled back against the couch, lifting his arms over the back. He smirked. "No, Harry. I want you to kiss me. And I want you to get undressed. Then I want to make you scream."

Through the swirl of blood pumping madly through his body, but mostly his face, Harry thought that was a brilliant plan. He wanted very much to scream. Yes. Blaise's eyes darted over Harry's shoulder but closed before Harry could make anything of it. "You can start anytime," Blaise breathed, rocking his hips under Harry.

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He advanced eagerly, inhaling sharply when he detected Blaise's intoxicating musk of arousal. This was better than fantasy. He braced himself against the back of the couch and slowly pressed his mouth to Blaise's. A languid kiss, this one, as Blaise opened his mouth drowsily, his tongue rolling into Harry's mouth with sinful indolence. This electric union tore away Harry's last inhibitions and he spread his thighs against Blaise's pelvis, digging his erection firmly into the other boy's belly. Blaise moaned.

And Harry knew with crystal clarity that he would never tire of hearing the sound.

He was still kissing when hands settled over his shoulders and a whisper in his ear made him freeze. "Is this truly any way for the Boy-Who-Lived to act in the presence of a teacher, Mr Potter? Or has the defeat of Voldemort taken away your caution that would have you thoroughly check a room before you made it your own personal red-light district?"

That silky, dangerous voice couldn't belong to anyone but his Potions teacher, and Harry felt a strange tremor surge down the length of his spine. Blaise didn't seem overly concerned, because his hips were still rocking and he was voicing his enthusiasm much louder. Harry shifted, pulling away, rigidly trying to extract himself from the union. He couldn't muster the courage to explain.

Besides, he couldn't have done that very well, because Blaise insisted on another kiss, and Snape was now pressed up against him, forbidding any escape. Harry found it very difficult to breathe. "Sir--" he said helplessly against Blaise's mouth. "Sir, please, I can-- Blaise, stop, please," he whimpered, his eyes closing without his will as he felt his arousal mounting despite his fear and embarrassment.

"Don't stop on my account," Snape whispered in his ear. "You were doing so well before I intervened." As he spoke, Snape was slipping Harry's robes up and using his free hand to curl it around his waist and undo the clasp of his jeans. Harry whimpered, bucking his hips in surprise -- or need.

Blaise grinned against Harry's mouth. "Let him, Harry. It's all right. We've discussed it."

Indignation rose in the back of Harry's throat. They'd discussed it, all right, but without Harry. That didn't seem very fair. But it sounded very Slytherin, and Harry could hardly find fault in that line of logic. He arched his head back and felt Snape immediately kiss the revealed patch of skin beneath his ear. He gasped. He'd never imagined that sensation could travel such a long distance as the one separating his neck from his cock. He groaned.

"Please," he breathed.

His jeans were loosened and pulled back, as were his underwear. Harry shifted to take them off, but Snape held him in place. "I prefer you like this, Mr Potter. Debauched and eager." Cool hands roamed up his back, pushing up his robe and shirt at his neck and freeing his back. "Impertinent little boy with thoughts of economy of movements, because time is of the essence. You never know when a teacher might catch them." Snape emphasized this with a row of bruising kisses over Harry's spine and Harry hiccupped, looking at Blaise desperately, wanting, needing.

Blaise smiled lasciviously and pushed the robe and shirt up at Harry's front as well and bent down to suckle on a nipple. Harry wailed at the exquisite sensations, curling his hands over Blaise's head and rocking his hips back against Snape.

A finger insinuated itself between his crumpled underwear (just barely exhibiting his backside) and the cleft of his arse. A needy sound wrestled from Harry's throat as Snape moved the pad of that finger around the damp hole, gathering sweat to push through the ring of muscles.

A moan strangely like pain spilled into Blaise's hair, but it wasn't painful, at all. More like relief, and Harry clenched his thighs as Snape slipped his finger further inside. A small surge of pleasure vibrated up his spine. "God, please, more -- fuck me," he breathed.

Blaise looked up, his mouth wet and his eyes gleaming. "I think he's ready."

Snape hummed against Harry's back, and he twisted his finger harshly. Harry cried out. "More than ready," he agreed.

"Who--" Harry began to ask haggardly as he was pushed and pulled over the armrest of the couch. He leaned his head against the cool leather.

"We've decided that we'd both like to fuck you, dear Harry," Blaise murmured as he wrenched Harry's jeans and underwear down his thighs.

Harry yelped and looked over his shoulder wildly. "Are you mad--"

"Shh," Blaise said, reaching out with a hand and pushing Harry's face forward. "Just enjoy it." Harry breathed out slowly, wondering how he would possibly enjoy being stretched the size of two cocks, but the point was moot when he felt the slick press of Blaise's erection against his arse. Suddenly physics didn't matter anymore and Harry dug his fingers in the armrest as he pushed back.

This was the best Feast of any kind he'd ever had.

The push into Harry was slow and exquisite and Harry was left a panting mess over the leather arm. "Oh god," he moaned, shuddering and reaching under him to grasp his erection firmly. He shut his eyes. "Please, fuck me," he edged.

"Oh I'm not going to fuck you, Harry," Blaise murmured over his shoulder blade.

Before Harry could make sense of that statement, he felt Blaise's hips pull back then drive back hard. When Harry recovered from the intensity of the pleasure, made more so by the dangerous edge of pain, he realised he'd heard Blaise cry out as well. He looked over his shoulder again. Blaise was now in a similar state of dress as Harry, and Snape was biting the line of the other boy's neck. The Potions master's hands were squeezing Blaise's hips.

Harry revised his claim of what had been the hottest thing he'd ever seen. And felt. Snape drew Blaise back once more and drove him forth in a hard rhythm. Harry decided to stop looking, and he buried his face in the couch. Soon, the beat became frenzied and violent and perfect as Harry lost himself in the cries filling the Common Room. Blaise, who was suddenly not so reserved, groaned and pleaded for more from Snape. Snape, normally reserved and surly, breathed hard against Blaise's neck and grunted at each thrust.

And Harry, who'd somehow died and gone to Heaven, screamed.

He slumped forward, his cock spent and the leather stained. He could feel his arse contract over Blaise's contribution, and the boy was draped in a slick press against Harry's back. Snape was already seated, fastening his trousers and smirking.

Harry winced and shifted experimentally. He looked over his shoulder groggily. "I take it this was planned for a while?"

Blaise lifted his head and slipped down in a seated position next to Snape. Harry followed, slumping down and uncaring of the fact his jeans and underwear were still hanging around his ankles much like Blaise's were. "Oh yes. A long while."

"Two hours, at least," Snape nodded with a smirk.

Blaise sighed. "Careful strategy is one of our better qualities."

Snape snorted and rose. "I'll leave you boys to plan our next strategy, then."

Harry shook his head and slumped sideways against Blaise. "You're both mad."

"I'm afraid so, Harry." He smiled. "But isn't it nice?"