Author Notes: Hello, everyone! This is the fourth and final installment of my Turn Around series. Again, PWP fluff in Severus' POV.

Summary: It is still Valentine's Day and Severus is ready to give Potter his third gift at last.

Rating: 'M'

Appreciation: Thank you to Vine Verrine for looking over something that is so not her cup of tea. You are more patient than you think, girl! *hugs you* And I will work on TMS after this, I promise.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the brainchild of JK Rowlings.

- Story Start -

It is late afternoon on Valentine's Day.

A day I have tried to forget for the past twenty years by immersing myself in my beloved hobby; reading about the latest breakthrough in the field of potions, writing scathing letters to challenge such breakthroughs, and experimenting with my own inventions to support my claims.

Today however, Potions is the last thing on my mind as I share the sofa with Potter, my arm around his shoulders and his around my waist. Wrapped in warmth from the crackling fire, the liqueur in the chocolates and Potter's unreserved embrace, I float in a sea of sleepy wellbeing that nothing can break, until -

"Severus?"

"... mmm?"

"Can I open my third present now?"

Like a curious finger touching a placid pool, forming ripples on the surface while displacing nothing below, his words cause my heart to skip a beat yet my resolve stays unchanged.

For the past seven weeks, I had fought against initiating a deeper intimacy with Potter, sticking to prosaic reasons such as protecting my job and my role as spy for the Light. In truth, I did not want to reveal my inexperience to a boy half my age.

There were opportunities to rectify the situation in the past, but they had been far and few in between, and truth to tell, they had never held much appeal. As the years flew past, so did they.

"Severus?"

Potter sits up, causing my arm to slip from his shoulders. He looks at me, green eyes bright with curiosity beneath unruly bangs.

I smile, knowing that while I will never understand the attraction I hold for him, I am past the need to fight it. With my insecurities still held at bay by the liqueur in the chocolates, I pluck up the last and smallest gift from the table and hand it to him.

"Yes. You may open this now."

Potter looks down at it and then back up at me.

"You've given me three gifts, Severus. I have one for you too, but -"

I touch a finger to his lips.

"Later."

I will cherish Potter's gift, whatever it is. But this is also a gift to myself, something I hadn't dared to believe in, or hope for, or even think about... until he kissed me in my Potions lab on Christmas morning.

Like the book and the chocolates, Potter unwraps his third present slowly and with care. He picks up the tiny glass vial and frowns at its clear pink contents, the pastel hue an unfortunate concession to today's ridiculous celebrations.

I hold my breath as he uncorks the vial and takes a cautious sniff and then another. When his eyes widen in surprise, confusion replacing anticipation, I start breathing again.

Just as I thought - he is ignorant of what he holds in his hand and I have been worried for nothing. Not that I was worried; it is obvious he is as new to this as I am and we are equals... in this one respect, at least.

"Severus, what potion is this? It smells like strawberries!"

With Potter's artless words chasing away the last of my doubts, I smirk at him, far more relieved than I care to admit.

"It is a lubricant."

"Lubricant? But why... oh!"

Startled green eyes flick down to the vial's contents and back up to my face, youthful cheeks taking on the same shade of pink in belated comprehension.

"I trust you have thought of a way to put this gift to good use?" I ask, teasing a deeper blush from Potter.

He doesn't back down though, chin going up as his eyes take on a familiar gleam.

"I thought you'd never ask," he counters with his trademark frankness that has infuriated and enchanted me for years.

Lifting a steady hand, I trail a fingertip down a flushed cheek.

"I am not asking, Harry," I tell him in all seriousness.

Potter's smile wavers, but only for an instant. Instead of rightful indignation, he presses my palm against his cheek, his steady gaze never once leaving mine.

"You don't have to," he says. "You never had to."

Yes, I know. I have known that since last Christmas morning when he first kissed me, I had just never dared to act upon it... until now.

"So you do know what it will be used for?" I probe, thankful that my voice doesn't betray my galloping heart and hammering pulse.

Potter nods, eyes now bright with renewed anticipation.

"To make me yours," he answers, tilting his head towards the vial in his hand with a pleased little smile.

"No. It is to make me yours."

Potter's eyes widen in shock, but I know it will not last. Being a Gryffindor, he will pounce on the opportunity given, fumble his way through and apologise profusely at the end.

I need only submit to him, learn from his mistakes and forgive him at the end. He will be none the wiser... nor disappointed when it is my turn to claim. Standing up, I turn around and extend a hand to him.

"Shall we?"

When Potter swallows and nods, putting his hand in mine, I pull him up and lead him to my bedroom.

As always, the floor is swept and the bed is made, thanks to the ever diligent Hogwarts house elves. Two plump pillows lean against the headboard, resting on green covers that are pulled taut and smooth.

The moment the door closes behind us, Potter stops.

"Severus, wait."

With one eyebrow raised, I turn to him.

"Why do you want it... this way?"

Potter no longer resembles the confident young man who had portkeyed me away for a horrific pink tinted lunch earlier, but an anxious boy with worried eyes and lower lip caught between his teeth.

"Because it is your gift," I reply as if it is the most logical thing in the world.

Potter frowns at that and then he shrugs, lips curved in a deprecating smile.

"I know, but I don't want to hurt you," he admits. "I... I've never done this before."

With elation and sheer relief sweeping through me in equal measure, and almost deafened by the blood roaring in my ears, I speak without thinking for the second time in my life.

"Neither have I."

Sweet Merlin, so much for Slytherin cunning! What on earth made me say that?

"What?!"

There is always hope, I tell myself. There is always hope when it comes to Potter, despite his imitation of a landed fish right now, because if there isn't, then I have just put another blade in his hand.

"Severus? Are you saying that you've never – that you're still..."

I hold up a hand to stop him. If anyone is to articulate what I am in words, it will be me.

"Yes," I say firmly. "This will be my first time. With anyone."

Potter blinks and shakes his head, either doubting his hearing or trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his Potions Professor is still untouched at thirty seven. I try to pull my hand from his, but he shakes his head again and grabs both my hands, holding them tightly.

"I... I've never thought about it being this way," he admits in a low voice.

A long moment of silence ensues and then Potter exhales and smiles, looking far more pleased at my revelation than he should be. He reaches up and presses his lips to mine, green eyes brighter than ever.

"In that case, Severus, I am honoured to be your first."

Trembling like a leaf, I wrap my arms around Potter and kiss him. He doesn't hesitate to take the lead, making use of my complicity to start unbuttoning my shirt, our robes already discarded on the sofa outside. He displays a surprising talent for multitasking, hands and lips working together to drive me to distraction as he walks me backwards until I sit down on the bed and pull him down with me.

Trapped beneath the sweetest weight imaginable, I unbutton his shirt in turn and marvel over every inch of smooth skin I uncover. Potter can have little to marvel over unless it is the novelty of undressing his staid Potions professor. The sudden chuckle above me makes me wonder if I have spoken aloud, but no, Potter is looking at the scattering of pink confetti on the sheets from our clothes.

"I'll get that," he says and sits up, straddling my hips as he searches his discarded robes for his wand.

I drink in the sight of this young Adonis with his shy smile and his shirt slipping off of one smooth shoulder as he Vanishes the confetti, pushing aside the pillows as he does. Then he frowns and lifts one up, peering underneath it.

"What - is that a... stuffed snake?"

Oh. Slither. I had forgotten that snakes like cool and dark places, and that Slither is no different, always making the tiny sliver of space between headboard and pillow his home no matter where I set him down in the morning.

Potter doesn't say anything when I sit up and push him off of me. I turn my back to him, feet on the floor and fists clenched in my lap, a hundred reasons for Slither's presence flying through my head, each more illogical than the last. Then the mattress shifts and warm hands squeeze my shoulders.

"Severus, turn around."

Slowly, I turn my head to see Slither now curled around Potter's neck, both of them looking solemnly at me.

"What is his name?"

I turn around a bit more and clear my throat, feeling like I haven't drunk water for days.

"Slither."

Potter's lips are quivering, no doubt with the monumental effort to stay straight. His eyes betray him as well, crinkling at the edges and twinkling with what can only be suppressed mirth.

"I like him," he declares. "I hope he won't mind sharing you with me."

Does he think me blind? With Slither now looking like he was made for Potter's neck, it is I who should be asking the wretched thing if he minds sharing Potter with me.

"You like him," I state instead.

"I do," Potter agrees with a fervent nod.

I lick my lips and dart a glance at Slither who winks at me, the top of his head pressed against the underside of Potter's jaw.

"You don't think him... ridiculous."

Potter's smile has its way at last. He shuffles closer on his knees and loops his arms around my neck.

"I think I just fell in love with you even more," he says and kisses me again.

- o -

Potter undresses me the same way he unwraps his gifts. Slowly and carefully with a focus that is both exhilarating and frightening.

With Slither now curled up at the foot of the bed, Potter takes in every inch of pale scrawniness that he uncovers. His lips are eager to follow the trail of his worshipful fingers, his tongue not far behind.

Left with nothing to do but lift one arm and then the other, my hips and then my feet, I record each and every of my imperfections in my head, both real and imagined, until I lie fully naked before him at last.

"You look incredibly sexy," Potter says and silences my protest with a kiss. "And now, it's your turn to look."

With a shy smile, he strips off his clothes, his eyes still devouring me. I lean up on my elbows and stare at him in turn, knowing my view is far, far prettier than his. He moves between my legs, young, vital and very much aroused.

"Tell me if I do anything wrong, all right?"

I can't help but smile at that. How can I when I know as little as he does?

"You won't," I assure him.

Potter nods and sets himself to the task, acquainting himself with every part of my body until I have nothing left to hide behind. No part of me is ignored or untouched, least of all the straining length between my legs and the entrance below it that he finds and explores with strawberry scented fingers and careful, earnest attention.

Breathing in the sweet, fruity scent, I close my eyes and feel his fingers go deep, enhancing a startling experience that I enjoy far more than I should.

Potter, wretched brat that he is, proves all my assumptions wrong once more. There is not a single thing he does that he need apologise for; not a single movement he makes that I cannot learn from. By the time he moves between my legs to crouch over me, my thighs lying atop his, there is nothing I desire more than to be joined with him.

He takes a moment to look deep into my eyes and I know what it is he sees. Everything I am... everything I think I am... and everything he thinks I am. Yet again, his words still take me by surprise.

"You are mine now, Severus," he says, the mix of satisfaction and question in his voice making me smile.

"Just as you are mine, Harry," I remind him.

With a smile brighter than the sun, he nods and starts pushing into me with exquisite slowness, our breaths stilling as my body gives way to his.

Caught between pleasure, pain and a sweet, aching fullness, I let Potter dictate the pace of our joining, never before more appreciative of his newfound patience than now. He takes me higher and higher with neither fear nor hesitation, and I follow without question, just like how I have followed him all these years.

Protecting him.

Watching over him.

And now, loving him. For always.

- Story End -

A/N: I have a kink for Harry topping an innocent Severus, hence the direction of this story. Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a review before you go :)