There were groans echoing throughout the Potter-Snape quarters at Hogwarts that night, but not good ones.

"Why me?" said Severus Snape, the stern-faced Potions master as he hung indelicately onto the toilet. He grimaced, heaved then lost the fight, spilling his guts into the gleaming ceramic bowl.

"There, there," Harry Potter, Seeker for England and thrice-winning recipient of 'Swish And Flicks' I'd Go Straight For Him Award (which caused no end of amusement to Potter's middle-aged lover, and no end of confusion to Potter's legion of gay and straight fans) soothed. "I'm sure you'll feel better soon".

"I wonder if that will be before or after I expel a piece of my small intestine?" Snape snarled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd blame that abomination Granger served as dinner."

"It's Hermione, and those tacos are a perfectly acceptable Muggle dish. Now stop being pissy – would you like a glass of lemonade?"

"I'm not being pissy," Snape said pissily. "Does it have real lemons in it, or some bland alternative?"

Muttering under his breath about whinging Professors who didn't need anything but a good kick up the arse, Harry left the bathroom, only to come back momentarily with a large glass of chilled lemonade.

"Here," he said, pulling Snape's stringy hair back and thrusting the glass under his beakish nose.

"It's got bubbles in it," Snape complained. "Everyone knows it has to be flat or it won't work."

"Now listen here," Harry said, his eyes glinting. "You will drink the lemonade, you will stop vomiting, you will have a shower then you will get into bed."

The two indulged in a staring match until Snape turned a lovely shade of green and recommenced throwing up in the bowl. Harry sighed, put down the glass and pulled Snape's greasy, lank locks back. He rubbed the sick man's neck, cooing softly in his ear.

"Oh my god," Snape's voice echoed. "I don't remember eating carrots!"

Harry snickered. "Are you finished yet, 'cause these tiles are hurting my knees."

"I'm cold," Snape whimpered.

"Awww, the pouty face," Harry teased.

"I don't pout," Snape said, turning away. "Pouting is for children."

Harry stifled his laughter and ran his hands up and down Snape's back. The velvet of his moss-green bathrobe felt silky under his hands. Harry's hands gradually rubbed lower and lower until...

"Potter! Ten points from Gryffindor for taking advantage of a Professor whilst he's incapacitated."

"I'm only rubbing," Harry complained, neglecting to mention what parts he was rubbing.

Snape growled and spread his thighs, encouraging the hands to rub over certain parts of his body that were feeling quite good. Harry grinned and trailed his thumb slowly over Snape's hole.

"Is that all right?" Harry breathed into his ear.

"I'm hungry," Snape replied, his head resting on his crossed arms as he thrust back. "Finish off what you're doing and get me some potatoes with applesauce."

Harry crinkled his nose as his fingers breached Snape's body. "That's disgusting. Even Hermione didn't eat that when she was pregnant. If I didn't know any better..."

Snape's head flew up, a look of mortification on his face.

The blood rushed from Harry's face, leaving it pale and slack. "But - , but - "

"Do you mean to tell me," Snape growled as his right eye began twitching, "that you haven't been performing contraceptive spells on yourself?"

"But we're men!" Harry exclaimed, as the blood in his body ran down his torso, picked up the blood hiding in his terrified cock, and hid in his feet.

"Did it escape your attention that we are men who wear dresses, play with wands, wear pointy hats and sometimes, you complete ignoramus, grow up in closets?"

"Oh shit," Harry said, slumping to the floor.

"Oh shit indeed! How am I supposed to perform my duties in this establishment if I'm to be known as the daft piece of arse that got knocked up by the Boy-Who-Lived?" Snape roared, then quickly turned his head and threw up in a spectacular fashion.

"No, oh shit as in I'm picturing the maternity outfits Albus is going to buy for you."

Snape gaped at him, considerately moved to the side, and the two lovebirds threw up together.